A/N: The plot continues… (insert creepy music). Yes, here it is: the next chapter, as promised. Earlier today I had my first midterm exam, so the following few chapters may be a little late. I'll try to keep up, but in all fairness school comes first!

The Freemen

"Hold it right there!"

Alocas half-raised his hands at his sides, all-too-aware of the knife digging into his back. He wasn't sure whether to be terrified or overjoyed – terrified because the Freemen's perimeter guards were notoriously bloodthirsty, or overjoyed because he could finally stop blundering around in the forest looking for their base camp.

Rough hands frisked him and removed his knife, and his arms were bound behind his back. "Now wait a minute," he said to the three guards as reasonably as he could. "I'm one of you–"

"Quiet!" a guard snarled. He glared at the spy suspiciously, but wrenched up Alocas' shirt, baring his left hip. The spiralling tattoo was there as promised, and the man frowned in disappointment. "All right," he said grudgingly. "We won't kill you – yet. Come along."

After a few minutes of stumbling over fallen logs and hidden tree roots, they reached a large clearing in the trees, the base camp for the Freemen.

Alocas was led around tents and cooking fires until they reached the heart of the campsite. "Sit here," the guard grunted, shoving him onto a bare patch of grass, and sauntered off while the other two guards remained to watch him. Alocas carefully avoided eye contact with everybody who went by. Instead he stared at a pinnacled tent a short distance away, recognizing it as the leader's quarters. Armed guards stood at the entrance, and everybody gave it a wide berth. Alocas had never personally met Gamori, the leader of the Freemen, but he had seen the mysterious necromancer from afar a couple of times. Perhaps Gamori wasn't leader of the Freemen anymore. Alocas had a lot to find out.

A tall figure stalked by bad-temperedly, and everybody else scuttled out of his way. Alocas recognized him as the necromancer Raum, Gamori's second-in-command, whose vile temper was as famous as his unpredictability. Saleos had been third-in-command, killed by Abhorsen four years ago. Actually, Raum had killed Saleos; Abhorsen had merely imprisoned the other necromancer in Death, which had made him a ridiculously easy target.

"It can't be!"

Alocas glanced up, squinting against the sunlight. For a moment he did not recognize the young man grinning down at him, but then his face broke into a smile. "Danel!" he greeted his old friend.

The other man crouched down beside him, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Never thought I'd see you again," Danel admitted. "Since you disappeared, I've been partnered with that twit Morax. What happened to you?"

"I was caught," Alocas admitted. "They kept me in the dungeons for four years."

Danel whistled, running a hand through his curly hair. "Well, how did you escape?"

Alocas glanced up at the guards, who were giving rather good impressions of being statues even though he knew that they were listening to every word. A hundred excuses flashed through his mind, most of them absolutely ridiculous. He settled for the truth. "I… I agreed to turn spy," he admitted. "It was the only way to get them to set me free."

Both young men were silent, knowing that Alocas would be tortured. Danel sighed, his usual cheerfulness gone. "I'm sorry," he said miserably. "When I first got you involved, I didn't know it would be quite like this." He looked up as he was hailed by a passer-by, raising his hand in acknowledgement.

"You seem to be quite well-known now," Alocas noted.

His friend gave a lopsided smile. "I've been busy the last four years," he answered. "I moved up the ranks a bit, and even know Gamori. But I don't have enough influence to get you off the hook, Alocas."

"I know," the assassin said, shrugging fatalistically.

The two friends watched as an old woman shuffled through the campsite and ducked through the flap of the leader's tent. It was none other than the witch Carabia, one of Gamori's advisors.

Alocas idly wondered what would happen to him. No, actually he knew what would happen to him; it was just the matter of when that seemed pertinent. He diverted himself by watching the people around the campsite. Several he recognized as old associates of his, fellow assassins and guards. Still others went about hooded and masked. These people were informants, whose identities were known only to the highest-ranking Freemen.

The unpleasant guard from before swaggered up to Alocas and grinned at him with his yellow teeth. "Come on," he grunted, pulling the young man to his feet. "Gamori wants to see you."

Alocas exchanged a terrified glance with Danel, who followed as he was led over to the leader's tent. The guards did not stop Danel, and Alocas guessed that his friend was more influential than he was letting on.

He was pushed through the tent and shoved down to his knees, just barely managing not to land on his face, and cursed his bound hands. The first thing he noticed was that he was kneeling on a very fine carpet. He did not dare raise his eyes. "This was the man we found on the outskirts, milady," the guard was saying. "He has the tattoo."

"I see," said a cold voice – a woman's voice. "Thank you."

Alocas kept his eyes fixed on the carpet, and listened to the guards leave the room.

"Danel," said the woman next, "do you know this man?"

"Alocas was my partner for two years, milady," his friend answered. "He was captured when he tried to eliminate Princess Farelle. We assumed he was dead."

A pair of embroidered slippers entered Alocas' field of vision, and a long-nailed finger tilted his chin up. The young man found himself looking into the face of the leader of the Freemen. She was a beautiful woman, clothed in blue and gold silk and adorned with jewels. Pale skin and long flaxen hair reminded Alocas uncomfortably of a drowned corpse, or a leper. She could have been anywhere from twenty to fifty years old, although it was difficult to tell the true age of a necromancer.

"So, Alocas," she said quietly, but not at all kindly, "Tell us how you managed to find your way back to us."

Alocas gulped and licked his lips, trying to get moisture into his throat which had suddenly gone dry. "They released me, milady. I – I agreed to turn spy for them, if they would let me go."

The woman's eyes darkened to the colour of thunderous clouds, and Alocas knew that a storm was indeed about to break. "You are the first Freeman to have returned to us from captivity," she murmured. "Many are killed in the line of duty, especially now that the King has strengthened his guard. Others take their own lives, rather than let themselves be taken. But you did neither." She rested her hand lightly on his cheek, and it took all of his effort not to flinch. Her skin was ice-cold. "So why did they release you, I wonder?" she carried on, increasing the pressure of her fingers. "What information did you give them in order to make them trust you?" Alocas cried out in pain as her fingernails dug into his cheek, drawing blood. She released him with a sound of disgust, and he bowed his head, trying to shield his face with his hair and hopefully blend in with the carpet. If his hands had been free, he probably would have covered his head and cowered right there on the floor.

The woman strolled back to the other side of the tent, arranging her long turquoise skirts as she settled into an ornately-carved chair. At her right stood the tall threatening figure of Raum, and at her left was the old witch Carabia.

"Answer the question!" Raum bellowed, hand twitching to the massive sword at his side. "What did you tell them?"

"I – I didn't tell them anything," stammered Alocas as sweat prickled on the back of his neck.

Carabia cackled, tossing her shaggy mane of white hair. "Liar," the witch croaked gleefully, rattling her bone bracelets.

"The King is not stupid," Gamori agreed. "You told him something in order to be released. The question is, what?"

"I speak the truth," protested Alocas. They would press him into admitting everything if he started changing his story. His only hope was to make it a good one, and stick to it. "The King and his advisors found my tattoo and guessed that I was part of a plot to assassinate the Royal family. I told them that the members of my gang were all anonymous, but said that if they let me go I would turn spy for them and find out what I could. The King is a trusting fool. He believed that I was repentant, and convinced his advisors to let me go." Alocas hoped that this mixture of truth and fiction did not sound too unlikely.

Raum shook his head in disbelief. "They must have tortured you," he said flatly.

"Check me for scars, then," Alocas said earnestly.

The tall necromancer snorted, sounding like a wild horse about to trample something. "There are several methods that do not leave physical marks," he pointed out. "And I do believe you could have kept quiet. You lack the spine. You must have told them about the Freemen, or about our work to destroy the Charter." He turned to Gamori. "We should kill him, just to make sure."

"No!" Danel took a quick step forward and sank to one knee. "I will vouch for him, milady," the young man said grimly. "I've known Alocas most of my life, and he and I joined the Freemen together. I believe that he is telling the truth, and ask that you withhold interrogation and execution."

Gamori regarded the two young men thoughtfully. "I respect you judgement, Danel," the necromancer said finally. "But I cannot afford to take any chances."

"If he proves innocent," Danel answered, "I request that he become my spy partner and that Morax be reassigned."

"Spymaster Seare will determine that," thundered Raum, and Danel ducked his head. For a moment Alocas was worried that his friend had gone too far, but Gamori's next comment gave him a whole new set of worries.

"Guards!" the necromancer called. Two men armed with spears ducked through the entrance of the tent. "Take this man to Bune," the woman instructed, "and ask him to find out what he told the other side. You will remain here, Danel."

As Alocas was pulled to his feet, he caught sight of Danel's fearful expression. Truth be told, Alocas was afraid too. Bune was Gamori's Master Torturer. Sure, Alocas had known Bune before. The man had bought him a round of ale and gotten him stone drunk on his nineteenth birthday. But nobody disobeyed a direct order from Gamori, and he could expect no mercy from him.

As he was dragged out into the night, Alocas wondered somewhat gloomily which was worse: being racked by an enemy, or tortured by a friend.

A/N: Does Alocas confess everything? Does he tell half-truths? Or does he remain silent? Well, I'm not going to tell you. I actually wrote the torture scene, and what followed after, but then decided it would be better not to post it. I'm cruel, I know – must be all this torture stuff I've had to research! My mind will be positively medieval by the end of this story.