CHAPTER 2 - TRESS
The slender female figure moved with great care and stealth through the night, picking her route through the twisted branches and thick prickly bushes without leaving any sign or trace of her passing. Tress drew in her brown enchanted cloak tightly around her and instantly faded into the tree line as the undergrowth was disturbed by something close behind her. Her pounding heart could still be heard inside the cloak but its magical powers retained all sound and body heat within its enchanted folds. She stopped and listened, even though the overpowering urge to run was screaming in her mind, her years of training could contain such urges. Her unknown pursuer was now very close, but it would be unlikely to find her with her magical cloak of concealment. Had her pursuer been human she would have had very little to worry about and would have already been back untethering Patch her pony and riding off into the night. Unfortunately for Tress it was not.
Anak was an exceptionally old and twisted magician, he had seen and done things that even he would like to forget. He was the oldest member of the Brotherhood of Keth and should have died years ago, but through the mastery of the powerful dark arts of blood magic, combined with the perks of renewed youth that the Brotherhood could provide, his life had been preserved. In truth it was his pure bitterness and hate that dragged him through each day. He should have been the leader of the Brotherhood years ago, but now after one little misunderstanding with his order he had been banished from returning to his God and Queen. What a fool he had been all these years carrying out her dirty work whilst she remained powerless and dormant trapped forever in a timeless rift. His only revenge was the knowledge that his continued survival immensely irritated those that he once called friends.
Now that he had at last recovered from the shock of losing the better part of his left hand to Tress’s blade he awaited the satisfaction of his beast ripping her flesh apart. His thoughts of vengeance blotted out the pain as he looked down at his hand and laughed insanely. The vicious blow had severed the last three fingers with surgical precision taking him completely by surprise. Tress’s sabre had flashed out from nowhere slicing his ring and fingers from his outstretched hand as he reached across for a manuscript in the apparent safety of his library. As the magician had recoiled in pain with his blood pouring onto the ancient papers, the masked intruder had scooped up Anak’s fingers and ring, completing her mission, then vanished once more into the night. This was not the first time that Anak had endured a severe wound; his scarred body was testament to that. The majority of his wounds were however self inflicted, hazards of the trade, but then blood magic demanded a high price be paid for its use.
Anak was filled with a burning rage of a type that he hadn't felt for at least a century, which only served to further fuel his considerable powers. He felt affronted that his inner sanctum had been infiltrated; the powerful seals of protection that he had personally placed had been disarmed, inconceivable by one so young. Why would that bitch go to so much trouble for his ring? He would consider this later, for he knew that he needed to act quickly if he stood any chance of exacting revenge. This 'Tyranny of Wizards', as she had been named by the Brotherhood, had acquired quite a reputation for striking quickly, then silently slipping away again into the night. He had called upon his dark powers once again and offered further sacrifice from his own blood to tempt out something from the dark places that held unknown terrors. He soon called forth one such terror with the scent of his blood, a scent that would lead the beast to his missing fingers or if it failed it would instead come looking for him. He immediately raised his household guard and began creating his defences. He would kill them all for their failure if they returned without her.
Tress had heard the magician’s further screams of pain behind her – this meant only one thing, something evil was now after her.
The rustling bush behind her was the first indication that something was near, perhaps a badger? No, not so lucky – this was bigger and now it was close – really close. With the slightest of movements Tress adjusted her view from within the deep hood of the cloak, she had used the enchanted cloak on many previous missions and each time it had been crucial to her success, keeping her hidden and out of harms reach. However, its use in the past had always been against men – she had picked one hell of a time to field-test its powers against creatures from the void.
The beast’s pale eyes could now be seen, reflecting through the moonlight that penetrated the forest canopy, its hairy dark mass disturbing the undergrowth as it closed. It moved on all fours slowly, slavering and expelling a misty breath that held small particles that glimmered and reflected the moonlight, marking its position in the night. The rummaging creature was the size of one of the larger breeds of hunting hounds; its bony exoskeleton also reflected the faint moonlight that penetrated the tree canopy. The beast huffed and growled its way past Tress, the cloak’s magic was indeed strong as the demonic beast passed harmlessly by her feet. A trickle of sweat ran down her neck as pure terror filled her belly and her grip tightened on her sabre’s hilt with grim resolve. The beast was now so close that its pungent breath caught the back of her throat. The putrid stench of decay sent her to her knees in convulsions. As she fell retching and gasping for clean air she managed to unsheathe her sabre as the beast turned quickly revealing large fangs that protruded in every direction. Sensing victory it turned and advanced on its incapacitated prey, surprised to note that instead of being in the final death throes from its deadly breath this one still had some movement left in her. Still, it would soon be feasting on the lady’s entrails - flavours that it knew and enjoyed for it had visited this world once before.
A blinding light from the runes etched in the sabre’s blade suddenly illuminated the forest, its magic filling the creature with a new emotion. The beast stepped backwards confused. It had never before known fear.
It was a short-lived emotion as Tress found the strength in her trembling body to twist on her knee and send the point of the vorpal blade through the creature’s throat. The night hid the awful sight of the demon’s dark blood pumping from its mortal wound. The hound’s final attempts to howl just resulted in a grotesque gurgling sound as the dying creature spun in circles splattering further blood on the forest floor. Tress’s second strike severed the oversized head from the beast. Anak would need every ounce of his great power to survive the loss of this creature from the void, Tress knew all too well from her own teachings in magic, that the master of a summoned creature shares a special bond with the creature in order to maintain control. Even if he still lived he would be severely weakened, so she knew the pursuit would effectively be over. More interestingly her sabre had at last revealed an insight into its runic powers that had remained dormant since the Magician had presented her with it, although she always preferred to complete her missions without needing to use its sharp edge. Her blade had sent a wave of fear into her enemy, which had given her the vital seconds required to slay the beast. Remembering her training she changed her original direction once again and resumed her stealthy and indirect route to her waiting pony. She was far from being out of danger yet. This would still take some hard riding and time before she could relax, she thought to herself - but then again, the living have time.
The rush of the fresh morning air had helped to clear away much of the stench from the beast, which had annoyingly managed to linger in Tress’s throat and clung within the fibres of her clothes. Patch, her pony, was also pleased to stretch her legs again after the cold night spent tethered in the dark makeshift corral. She eased the reins – reducing the gallop and patted Patch’s neck.
‘Better slow down girl, we’ve a long way to go. I’ll give you your breakfast once we are over the next peak, we can relax a bit then.’
The close tree line that followed the path and led out of the valley could be better scanned at this slower pace, the dark shadows that loomed between the sweet smelling pine trees could easily hide an assailant laying in ambush. Tress knew her cloak would offer no protection whilst on horseback, so she did not bother to whisper the magic words that triggered its invisibility. Besides it was a bad practice to use magic longer than necessary, she was a hunted woman and most who sought her would begin their search looking for the signature of magic being used, even the use of her cloak could be tracked if you had time to study its powers. For now she would have to rely on her astute wits and survival instinct, as this was the only way out of the valley. She had already travelled this route twice before this month in preparation for this mission; nothing was left to chance once her mark had been acquired. Another hour winding around the uphill path would take her to a good vantage point that had an unusually fine view of the valley, including the woods and paths below. She knew beyond this point she had a further two days’ ride before she and Patch would be through the Great Gate of the Tanarian pass and then home free.
The ring of Anak was of no real importance to Tress other than a large purse of gold, although since escaping slavery she had spent a great deal of time in her own personal interest of acquiring other items of power, first it had started through a necessity to survive, then later as her career progressed and she became more established she would freelance and steal for personal order and profit. Harnessing the powers of blood magic in her experience often meant trouble and the use of these tainted items were often unpredictable. No, this one would not be for Tress, but her employer’s agent had paid a convincing advance sum for it. Forewarned with the knowledge that a manhunter was now on her trail, Tress hoped the magician would keep his word with the promised amulet and the hundred gold crowns on receipt of the ring. The problem with these deals that sounded too good to be true was the predictability that they would usually result in some form of disappointment, so naturally Tress expected a double cross at some point further down the line, but she would prepare for and deal with it once she was safely back in Tanaria.
With the reputation that was associated with her work she always used a trade name when dealing with clients: Tyranny – master thief and relic collector to the rich and exotic, she had always found her success to be in her anonymity and the knack of keeping her dealings away from prying eyes. As a hunted woman she had always led a double life to cover her activities, most of the time she lived a mundane life as an anonymous travelling rope and hemp merchant, a truly thrilling career compared to the years that she suffered in slavery.
Despite her immediate concerns about the fantastic offer that the magician had laid out to her, Tress had almost been forced into taking on this job. Her new employer had entered her dreams without any problem, but at least with the magic amulet as a prize for this job, there might be a chance to stop its reoccurrence, this was of course based upon his words being true. A month before, she had lain on the uncomfortable bed, tossing and turning, attempting sleep, but the cheap inn’s straw mattress scratched her back and the thought of some of the stains that marked it were better forgotten. She wished she had spent a few more coins on a better room with a less flea-ridden mattress, but this kind of place drew fewer questions and gathered less attention. She had learned her trade well.
As sleep eventually took her, a voice in her head pushed its way to the front of her mind. At first quiet, it slowly grew louder and louder.
‘Tress, Tress do not be alarmed, you are not dreaming – I am using my powers to contact you from afar.’
She thought to sit upright, but her body still lay motionless in its slumber on the bed. ‘How do you know my name? Who are you?’ She questioned inside her dream, beginning to feel her anger rising at the helpless situation. How could the voice know her name? How could this person enter her mind? She had read of such abilities but never encountered them before.
‘Oh, you know the answers to these questions Tyranny,’ a lump caught in her sleeping throat as her trade name was used and she realised that her current thoughts were being read.
‘I am a practitioner of the arts, but don’t be alarmed, I am not from the Brotherhood or amongst those that hunt you and I have no intention of revealing your whereabouts or cashing in on the substantial reward on your head. I’m sure the town watch cares nothing about the items that you have stolen from all those magicians. In fact I imagine they would probably chip in a few coins, to pay for your continued harassment. Is it working out for you being a thorn in their sides?’ asked the mysterious voice in her head.
‘Perhaps I may be one in yours?’ Tress proposed tentatively.
‘No, I can assure you, you wont be,’ the voice vibrated through her head confidently.
‘Do not tar me with the same brush as the other magicians you have encountered, Tress.’ The voice began to laugh, but not unkindly.
‘In fact Tress it is quite the opposite, you have already started along a path that shares a mutual interest with my own, although you may not have been aware of it; you have already completed one task for me. Do you remember the Soul Vase of Tridus… well, more to the point, the merchant ‘Regus the Fat,’ secretly - he was working for me.’
He chuckled again. ‘You also refused my employment on several other jobs, but now I don’t have the time for such subterfuge. Several times in the past my agent tried to hire you, but you suspected a trap and flew the nest. Know now that I can find you at any time, as I have done so tonight, also know that should I have wanted to cause you any harm I would have done so by now rather than chat. Fear me not my little slave girl, the Tyranny of Wizards, I only ask that you continue to bring retribution and irritation to those who deserve it and undertake another task for me, I ask for only one thing - which is to steal a magic item from an old friend of mine. In return I will pay you an agreed amount of coin and also supply you with an invaluable gift for an up-and-coming thief. I have an amulet that can hide you from the magic and the man that constantly seeks to find you. It is yours if you complete my work. You know that I found you without too much effort, even with your magic cloak that hides you from sight. It cannot protect you from the kind of mind seeking-spells that I and others of my art can use. To be honest I am surprised that you have lasted so long on your own.’
‘I’m one slippery fish,’ replied Tress defiantly.
‘You know that such an item could ensure the long term freedom of an escaped slave girl and it would stop meddling wizards like me from ever finding you.’
‘I was free before I was enslaved and I have my freedom back again already – you offer me nothing I don’t already have wizard. This amulet, if it exists at all, might be of interest to me, but before I make my decision, answer me this. What would a great enchanter such as yourself require of an escaped slave girl, turned to thievery? You could also start to win my trust by telling me everything that you know about those who hunt me?’
‘I can certainly shed some light on these questions,’ returned the dreamy voice. ‘Firstly I must point out that I do not employ slaves, all those that assist me do so willingly and are well remunerated. However current events have stretched my resources further than I initially foresaw, so I have decided that it is time to bring in some new blood, you will be pleased to know that I only recruit the talented. You are no stranger to me, I have been following your career for a while,’ he continued. ‘Unfortunately so have several others – your former master, Zerch is at the front of the long queue and his net is slowly closing in on you. Don’t get me wrong, you have done an incredible job to evade him for so long, two years hiding from someone with the talents of Zerch is amazing, but I must take some wind out of your sails – it has not been without a little help and misdirection from myself. However, what you really need to know is that after upsetting the others in the Brotherhood, they have now combined resources and also hired a killer to hunt you down. I suspect he is in the city right now.’
‘What, Who is he? What does he look like?’ questioned Tress.
‘This I cannot answer, as he evades my sight, but I have seen the results of his work – deadly. The mob of a dozen thugs and renegades that I paid to intercept him before he reached the City now lie in little pieces on the road side. I suspect him to be a Su-Katii for only they possess such skill, although I can account for all twenty of their order, so perhaps he had just had partial temple training at some point, there has been some talk about half trained students dropping out of their order and earning their fortunes in the arenas, so I urge you Tress, for both our sakes, please take up my offer and get out of the city quick, this man is seriously dangerous.’
Tress weighed up the situation. ‘You know you don’t need to be a magician to foresee my answer. I knew I was hunted but I didn’t realise my situation was quite so dire or perhaps you are just very convincing. One further question, before I give you my answer – what is your name?’
‘I have gone by many names before,’ he said, ‘But you, my dear lady, can call me by my real name – Tamar. If you survive the night I will come to you in your dreams with the details of your next assignment. Now awaken Tress and live.’
Patch was rapidly approaching the top of the ridge line and Tress’s mind snapped back to the present. She knew cresting the hill at this point would silhouette her figure making her visible throughout the valley, so she quickly dismounted and selected the best route around the peak. After securing Patch to a strong branch and leaving the pony happily munching on her nose bag, Tress returned to the ridge line, concealing herself with her magic cloak once more, she found a nice position that offered full visibility of the valley below. Instinctively she still stooped as she crested the peak, although the magic weave blended her form perfectly with the blue sky beyond. Her busy eyes worked their way through every feature far below methodically looking for the slightest signs of movement.
Tress’s attention was diverted by a hawk which swooped down close by, bringing an end to a hapless vole. She began to rescan the area. This was part of her procedure on high ground and she had more cause than usual to stick with the practices that had saved her life in the past. It was amazing what an overactive mind could see in the ordinary shapes below. A large flock of birds flew up from a heavily wooded area and caught Tress’s attention. Something must have startled them. She re-scoured the area and Tress bit her lip as the small dots that were riders emerged on the path. Damn – how many were there? Her best estimate was between ten and twelve riders as the trees obscured her full view, even from this distance they looked like the kind of mercenary scum that Anak would have employed. Anak must have survived long enough to send men out after the failure of his void terror, it was a common practice for most magicians to also employ some hired muscle for the more physical work, or as a bodyguard. His building had been extensive and could have easily housed a regiment. She cursed the evil wizard; she should have cut his balls off and finished him when she had the chance – rather than just his hand. Why her client had demanded that she cut him was beyond her, but they were paying good money. She wished that she had the stomach to take life more freely; it would have made her getaway easier on several other missions, she had been trained to kill without mercy but a little of the softness that existed in the young girl before her slavery still existed, it had been dormant for many years but she was unsure if it was a good or bad thing that it still existed. She calculated that she had maybe two hours’ advantage over the riders as she ran back to Patch.
‘Come on old girl – snack time is over; back to work.’ Patch resumed her pace and the heather and scrub land flew past their faces as they took flight. It was a few leagues of exposed land downhill from the ridge line and they had to make good time to reach the next set of cover that the terrain could offer. If the riders spotted her in the open they would increase their pace and the land was far too exposed to attempt to dog-leg around them. Out running them would be the best policy for now, the Great Gate to Tanaria may now be perpetually left open in these times of peace as a good will gesture to the barbarians, but once inside its lawful territories its policed trade routes and roads would soon deter a band of armed men from going far. At best they would need to split up to continue their pursuit and then no single man would be the match of her.
As she rode her throat still itched and burnt, she reached up and pulled at the red crystal necklace that irritated her and threw it far from the track. It was of no real importance just a pretty gift from another lonely soul. Mind, that night had turned out to be a surprising pleasure. She had awoken early with a thudding hangover yet still craving more, only to be met with the parting gift of a crystal necklace placed on the pillow and a cold empty bed. Surprised with herself at failing to notice his departure as she was normally such a light sleeper. She had immediately sprung from the bed and checked her purse and possessions. Fortunately everything had been exactly as she had left it. The coloured necklaces had become all the rage since the discovery of thousands of the small stones in the Tolian mines. Deep in the scrub the poisonous vapours of the beast swirled about inside the discarded crystal necklace, its untapped power having reacted on contact with the lethal gasses as it had drawn them in saving her life.
Tamar had needed to get very close to Tress in order to delve deep into the places of her mind that he needed to explore. His many years of work may yet depend on this woman working for him, she had been crafted into a tool by another, almost as dedicated as himself. Although, before this could happen he needed to know that every fibre of her existence could be trusted, and then he could steer their path to victory, even more so because he had noticed that she bore the branding of Zerch on her skin, he had never met the magician but knew that his powers rivalled his own. Her upbringing was indeed unsavoury yet perfect for the work ahead. He decided to use his powers of illusion to take on an attractive new form, this way getting close, but without stirring any suspicion from the astute Tress. Through wearing the dragon toothed necklace, his magical signature was effectively concealed from any who would otherwise detect magic. There was often a thin line between right and wrong and occasionally you need to cross that line to reach your goals. He had felt the stress from her missions in her when he had originally entered her mind, but unable to read her fully at that long distance he had used this information to formulate his new plan. His original intension had been to just get close to her in the tavern and read her mind from within the room. But as he sipped his wine and watched her, he found it difficult to gain the leverage into her thoughts that he sought. It takes emotion to fully release the mind. As she sat with her back towards him, her sleek shape filled his eyes with a desire that he had not felt for a long time. Was it the wine or her silky smooth thigh exposed under the table? With his need to fully read her mind and at the same time address his growing urges, he decided that their mutual pleasure and lovemaking would satisfy all of these demands, besides he had a growing desire for her after his first encounter; it was the type that you just needed to fill then put behind you, he thought to himself. Even magicians’ have urges that needed to be satisfied, and it must be at least a year since he had found time for such pleasures. He had waited for the right moment for his deception, after her second bottle of wine. Then he formed his illusion from the small fragments and attributes in her mind that he knew would attract her, he had genuinely been surprised at how little inside her, there had been to work with.
Tress had surprised herself at her romantic encounter, she normally kept her distance from everyone - but then she would never normally drink more than a half bottle of wine in a night, even watered down as it was. Unusually she must have been feeling the stress before her mission and with two bottles behind her she had overindulged herself in more ways than one that night, the man she could hardly remember, she had a problem remembering faces with too much wine, yet she did recall that he had displayed a tenderness that was unusual in such drunken rutting.
Her mind wandered with the boredom of the ride and her thoughts drifted back from her recent encounter to the recurring dreams that haunted her. Tress had suffered in every way possible as a slave for sixteen hellish years. She had just turned eight when the Northern raiders had taken her. She could barely recall anything of her younger life now, apart from the day when she was taken, she could recall every little detail from that day. Everything else was more just a feeling of happiness or a warm glow of emotion. Her parent’s faces were long forgotten, but their slaughter was forever branded into her mind. The wood pigeons had been calling from the trees as Tress had played with her sister Bella, under the warmth of the mid summer sun. She remembered seeing the birds take to the skies as the armoured riders crested the mound, their war banners fluttering behind them in the wind. The sound of hooves had filled her ears as they ran and terrified they sprinted for the safety of the farmhouse and father. They never made it. Scooped up and flung over the saddle she had watched helplessly through her tears as the raiders cut down her loved ones as they rushed out to their aid and her new life as a slave had begun.
Flea-ridden, tick bitten and shaking with malnourishment from the long journey to Aristria she had been presented and sold at a bargain price to her first master, as a kitchen hand. Aristria was the second major power on the content, being Tanaria’s equal in advancement with the exception that it still openly tolerated slavery. General slavery amongst the riffraff of the population was increasingly being frowned upon, but within the ranks of Nobility and the rich, it was very much still a mark of power, or an indication of how rich you had become. It was to one such landholder that Tress was sold.
The work had been tough and her master and his guests wicked and cruel. As the years passed by, she never became accustomed to the regular beatings and, in later years, the rape that would accompany one of her master’s extravagant parties. But then under Aristrian law she was just an object for her master to use and do with as he saw fit. Most of the other slave girls in the estate would immediately comply with any command from their master as they had been conditioned to do so, but inside Tress there still burned the flames of desire, to resist and escape. She had come close to death after several of the more severe beatings, most had been expertly dished out in order to leave little trace, as her master liked his slaves to look good at all times. She had the attitude at the time that death would just be a release from this living hell. As a prosperous land owner her master loved to impress his peers with lavish feasts and lewd parties, but after one such feast and too much wine he had arose in the middle of the night with the urge to scratch an itch. He had wanted to indulge his pleasure on his slaves as usual earlier in the evening, after feeling tantalised by the revealing bust line of the outfits he insisted his serving hands wear. He had ordered two of his slave girls to strip on the feasting table and pleasure each other. His party invitations were highly sought after as they often turned into orgies and his young and influential bachelor guests were suitably impressed with the display. Unfortunately that night his wife and the real landowner had returned from her business trip unexpectedly before the real entertainment had begun. Being tired and crotchety from her long journey, the feast was prematurely cut short. His gracious guests had made their excuses and left early. With his wife soundly asleep upstairs his desires were still burning inside him, his mind told him he should take Rea, she was busty and compliant, but he knew his loins really desired taking out his frustrations on one of the girls that would scratch and bite back tonight, it would help to ease his dissatisfaction with his wife’s early return. With his judgment clouded by too much wine he dragged a kicking Tress from her billet. He knew from the contempt that always burned in her eyes that she best fitted his mood tonight. Pulled from her covers by her long blonde hair he forced her over the nearby table, kicking the chair out of the way he slammed her face into the pine planks and ripped her night gown from her. Tress bit his hand; submission was not in her nature. He smiled as he battled against the smooth legs that flailed out at him.
‘Yes, yes, that’s it my little snapper, I can feel you,’ there was blood running from the tooth marks in his hand. ‘Now it’s your turn to feel me,’ he grunted excitedly.
Her screams filled the night. The other slaves in the room feigned sleep, but secretly they were all relieved that it was not their turn tonight. It was then that the master’s wife walked in, disturbed from her sleep, she was furious, like a venom spitting snake she struck out at both of them beating anything that moved. She had always known of her husband’s little indulgences with the slaves, they were her gift to give to him from time to time, but for this slave girl to temp him into this action without her permission was an affront to her generosity. The beating that she inflicted on Tress that night had been severe but worth it, as the master’s wife had quickly sold her on to a new master and a new chapter in her life.
She was unsure of how to take her new master – Zerch, at first. He had moved amongst the na