Chapter One
Summerfest in Athex 4058. Hot, sweltering heat
radiated down from the heavens to bake the first day of a month
long festival celebrating the end of spring and the start of summer.
It was so hot and humid even the ground was sweating. It was
best to stay out of the heat during midday so you wouldn't suffer
from heat attacks.
Hats had become increasingly popular over the last two
weeks, not just because it was so damn hot, but because several
celebrities had been seen wearing hats. Pothax Doxon was seen
wearing a felt fedora and two days later it was the newest fashion
rage. Next came the spitfire caps, because Graf Rades was seen
wearing one.
But who were Pothax Doxon and Graf Rades, a foreigner
from the island kingdom of Cherte might ask? Well, they're
members of the Crimson Companions, a band of hero-celebrities
that took part in both Kobalix's Quest and the Third Ice War.
Being from far away Cherte, the foreigner asks about the Quest
and the war. In reply half a dozen people will jump to the challenge
and try to tell their version of the two wars that had occurred over
the last year. Once again the foreigner would ask who are these
celebrities. Once again half a dozen people will try to get their
version of the much talked about heroes across to the foreigner.
Eventually the foreigner would give up and forget about the incident,
later discovering who the heroes were.
One foreigner however already knew who the Crimson
Companions were. At the top of the list, the most popular hero is
the Paladin Assassin, a man named Wynic Doxon, then there was
the Owl, a cutthroat called Pothax Doxon, and Wynic's wife,
Brigadier Victoria Doxon. These three were the best known of the
somewhat elusive Companions. Some interesting things had
happened in the last while to these three, as Nevada's sources told
her. Pothax was no longer living in Athex but was in the
Ambassadorial wing in Avolic's Royal Palace. Wynic and Victoria
whereabouts were unknown to all of Nevada's resources. The
lesser known Companions were usually easier to find. They
included Admiral Savin, General Gisoni, Lord Redhawk, Brigadier
Mathex, Doctor Roderick, Dame Larel, Graf Rades, General Chek
and King Waytorn. Waytorn, King of Cutthroats, Emperor of
Thieves, Prince of Pirates, and better known as the King Culprit.
He was the reason why Nevada was here.
The crime world had become united under the strong will
of Waytorn. He had went from a simple cutthroat in the back
alleys of the Kinian capitol of Jaton to Crime Lord of Kinian, then
Arthian, Colnic, Stornium and finally the Minotaur Empire. His
power exceeded all others combined, his wealth was uncountable.
But all that needed to happen was one killer break from the neat
line he had created and kill him. If Nevada was that killer, all his
wealth, all his power would be hers. If she could control his empire
of crime was another matter.
She had no doubt about that though. She had handled
Cherte for five years now without any major problems, why
couldn't she come to the mainland and handle it here? She doffed
a spitfire cap, and grabbed a white cloak to keep the sun off her
back. It was time to check what Terencio had learned.
Outside her inn the streets were flooded with five million
people celebrating in the biggest city in the world. But Nevada
wasn't stupid. She knew it would be near damn impossible to
make it to the inn where Terencio was staying. She climbed out
the window and scaled the trellis with all the skill of a burglar.
Making her way across the rooftops, she headed in the direction
of Terencio's inn across from the Drunken Dragon tavern where
she knew he'd be likely to be sitting in a booth waiting for her.
She climbed down the side of the Drunken Dragon tavern
and approached the front door warily. Someone was playing
bagpipes within, though not like any other she had ever heard.
Nevada walked through the doorway and looked around.
What luck! It was Graf Rades himself playing. She'd heard
the former Lieutenant was a great musician, though he never played
the same song twice and made them up as he went. He was sitting
up on the bar playing while several barmaids dressed in traditional
Arthian kilts and white blouses with tight fitting bodices who danced
and served the patrons.
Nevada spied Terencio slouched over in a booth at the back
of the barroom and she made her way through the crowd of cheering
patrons to the killer's booth. "May I join you, senor?" she asked in
Escherten.
"Of course, senorita Nevada. I have news though whether
it is good or not, I don't know."
Nevada sat down. "What has happened?"
"There is a rumour that Waytorn has announced his retirement
and declared one of his deputies, a man called Sinclair, the new
Crime King. Your bid for Queen looks desperate."
Nevada sat there in stunned silence. She'd been working
on planning Waytorn's death since the start of spring and he has the
gull to retire! How can he retire anyway? No crime lord has ever
succeeded in retiring, let alone a crime king? Maybe he hasn't
totally succeeded in retiring yet? There still might be a chance?
"If my source is correct, there will be a lot of confusion and
chaos in the next short while. It may even break into smaller
lordships like it was before Waytorn came along and joined the
different groups. If we can wait it out and come along and kill the
conqueror of the battles that will follow."
"There will be a fight over the leadership then," Nevada
finally spoke. "This changes everything. We are no longer the only
group vying for the throne. If we strike now, we'll be killed in the
confusion. If we wait too long, the new King will secure his hold
on the throne." She frowned. "For now we will wait and enjoy the
festival."
The portly barkeep waddled over to their booth and took
out a piece of slate and a chalk. "What will you have, Lady?" he
asked in the accent Nevada found amusing.
"Sarsaparilla," she replied. She detested the habits of
seemingly constant drinking of the mainlanders. They had Kinian
wine, Colnic coffee, Stornium wine, Arthian whiskey, Minotaur
Vodka and a dozen other drinks that were popular here. There
was no Cherten wine this far inland.
"Kinian wine," said Terencio. He liked the intoxicating
smell of appleblossom-grape wine. Maybe it was just the festivities
that were causing these people to drink so much.
Nevada sat back and looked across the room at the one-
eyed musician. A scribe was at his side hastily writing down all the
notes of pure harmony that flowed from the bag pipes. She found
it interesting how Rades could pick up an instrument and create a
song completely from scratch.
His past however was talked about a lot. A Stornium from
Castle Deltex, the first castle to fall during Kobalix's Quest. The
Siege of Deltex was historic. The Minotaur Army massacred the
castle without even entering the now abandoned castle. Rades had
been sent north to warn the King of Arthian. There he took part
in the Siege of Athex and was among those who went on the
mission to destroy Kobalix's Citadel and close up the sulphur,
charcoal, saltpeter mine that was near the citadel. The mission was
later nicknamed the Picnic and the explosion that blew Kobalix's
Citadel sky high the Barbecue. Nevada thought the Mainlanders
gave their events strange names.
Later, in the past winter there was a Third Ice War between
the Ice Folk and the Kinians. Rades went north with his Arthian
friend, Sir Dillard, and got lost in the Kinian Mountains. He
eventually wound up at Fort Phal, half dead and half frozen. Fort
Phal was perhaps a hundred leagues from Jaton where Rades had
been going. He was then betrayed by a spy and taken to the
poacher's headquarters.
The Ice War was caused because the Ice Folk accused
Kinian of poaching. The Kinians tried to solve the problem by
getting rid of poachers, but they couldn't even find the poacher
headquarters called the Lair. But thanks to the Crimson
Companions they found the Lair eventually and Wynic Doxon,
the Paladin Assassin, assassinated the Lairmaster.
During this Rades had been tortured and had his eye torn
out by the Lairmaster. The empty socket was sewed shut and
Rades now wears a eye-patch to cover the wound. Later he was
thrown in a mining pit as a slave, but not for long because he led
a slave revolt and overthrew his captors. This provided a distraction
for the Kinian army and the Lair was conquered easily.
Sir Dillard had died in the battle however. Rades had almost
no friends, his best friend was dead, his home in ruins and disgraced.
It had taken music to pull him out of his melancholy slump, though it
was rumoured he was still fighting to get out of it.
He looked fine now. Short blond hair as was typical of
Storniums with a slight curl to it gracing his brow under a spitfire cap.
His eye-patch seemed to draw the attention of women and Nevada
had to admit the young man looked dashing. He had a slight quirk
to his lips that made him smile constantly. He was barely over five
feet tall, broad chested and thickly muscled. He sat there with
nothing more than a kilt and a pair of boots on. Oh, yeah, and the
spitfire cap that was so popular now. He was darkly tanned and
sweat ran over his bare chest as he played.
"Hey, Billip!" the Stornium shouted to the portly barkeep.
"I'm sweating buckets over here. Get me some Sarsaparilla or
something to cool me down!"
"He's an unusual young man, don't you think?" Nevada
asked Terencio, sipping at her drink.
"Si."
"I wonder..."
"What?"
"If I could teach him Malaguena. It's really..." She stopped
and looked up. Terencio too looked up at the one-eyed musician
as he resumed his playing. The music was still the joyous thing it had
been a moment ago, but it was the melody itself. "Mi Dios!" she
swore in Escherten. "He's playing it!"
Terencio stared at the Stornium. "But-but that's impossible!
He can't be! He couldn't have possibly heard it before!" Yet it
was Malaguena, only on bag pipes!
"Malaguena!" shouted a man in the doorway. He was
middle-aged with long flowing mustaches and a broad grin. He
waved at the Stornium. "I told you could play it, Rades!" An older,
slightly stooped man stood at his side, leaning on a cane.
Who was this other man with the Cherten accent? Nevada
didn't know him, yet he looked vaguely familiar. Is he truly a friend
of the hero? Did he teach him Malaguena?
"Guten tag, Rodrigo," shouted Rades. "Sing, if you wish!"
The Cherten did sing, as did the old man and Nevada found it hard
not to join in. Terencio did however join in and poked her to join
his great baritone voice that sailed across the barroom to join in
harmony with the man called Rodrigo. Finally Nevada opened her
mouth and sang. Her soft, melodious soprano blended with her
fellow countrymen and for the first time in several years she felt a
sort of pride in her Kingdom.
Pothax and his son, Bren went from rooftop to
rooftop in what was one of the hottest days either could remember.
The city of Avolic lay before them in the sweltering hot Colnic
desert. The geyser at the center of the city went up every half hour
for an estimated three hundred feet and showered the city with hot
rain. Which would have been refreshing had the city's occupants
not already been baked. Yet, while most people were inside taking
a siesta, Pothax was showing Bren around the city where he'd
grown up. The old slave pits where he'd been beaten countless
times with a whip, the colosseum where slave gladiators had once
been forced to fight beasts dragged in caravans across the desert
to this oasis of life. The Avolic green farms were sparse, but those
that did exist were very fertile with tropical plants and vegetables
that are hard to find anywhere else on the continent.
Avolic might have been a paradise were it not so hot and
infested with crime. It was not safe to walk down any alley in this
city, even the main streets were frequent hosts to fights between
warring noble families. Once again, Pothax was taking his son
down the gloomiest of alleys, where every second man was a killer,
the others either drunks or beggars.
"Bren," said Pothax, the black haired cutthroat bending over
and twisting the handle of a half rotten door. "This is where I stayed
after I was released from the slave pits," he explained. Not for the
first time he thanked the Lord he had been released when slavery
was abolished in 4029, almost thirty years ago. He opened the
door and led the way in.
"Go away, Cam," shouted a female voice from within. "I'm
not working today! It's too hot!"
Pothax opened the door wider, curious to see who had
taken up his old home. He was greeted with a punch to the face.
He thought it unusual that the hand was green and orange. He fell
back, remembering he was back in Colnic where tattoos were
common, even on women.
Bren snarled and held his dagger ready as the attacker
stepped through the doorway. The boy was only ten but living on
the streets of Athex had toughened him up and he looked almost
fourteen. Pothax knew with a fair bit of pride that he could also
throw that dagger with pinpoint accuracy up to twenty feet now.
The woman stepped back defensively and held up a hand.
"Who are you? You'ren't Cam!"
"Indeed," muttered Pothax, getting to his feet and running
a hand through his graying hair. Not surprising since he was at least
forty, he never bothered to count his years and had no idea when
his birthday was, having been sold into slavery by his own father.
"I'm Pothax Doxon, the Arthian Ambassador."
The woman gasped, a hand going to her mouth. Pothax
took a step back and studied her. A prostitute wasn't rare in Avolic,
but one that has a full body tattoo and shaved her head was.
Another rarity, though it was hard to tell because of the tattoo was
that she was so young. She was perhaps four years older than Bren.
She wore a knotted sash across her breasts and a kilt around her
middle plus a pair of light sandals on her feet. The tattoo itself was
of a coiled desert snake, making it look like she had a snake
wrapped around her naked body. "Pothax!" she blurted.
"Pleased to meet you. I hope you kept good care of my
home while I was gone?"
"I-I once heard that you'd lived around here, but certainly
not... Yes. Of course, I took good care of it. Would-would you
like to come in?"
"Why, thank you," Pothax replied. My God, I never thought
I'd ever become a damn hero let alone have people stuttering so
much when they talk to me, he thought. Unless, of course, she
always stutters.
Inside there was a small room with an extremely low ceiling.
Pothax had never noticed before just how low it was, but he did
now that he bumped his head on the ceiling. It was relatively cozy
and clean for a place in the slums of Avolic. There were two rickety
chairs and a pile of pillows to sleep on. Any food in the place was
kept in the pantry which was off to the side. As always, Pothax's
eyes riveted to the third brick from the wall on the fifth level of bricks.
"Well, Bren, what do you think?"
"It's pretty clean," the boy noted. "Our chambers at the
palace aren't this clean." He turned around and looked up at the
woman. "You can go back to your siesta, if you wish, we won't
steal anything."
The prostitute looked to the pile of pillows and shook her
head. "I'd never get to sleep now, and besides, I've never had such
famous guests. "Would-would you like something to drink...?"
Pothax pivoted the brick and pulled it out revealing a stash
of coins, gems and wine bottles. "No thank you," he said, selecting
a bottle. "But if you'd like some, you better fetch a glass from the
top cupboard in the pantry. Or at least that's where I kept them."
She saw that it was Kinian wine, a rare treat in the desert
and almost ran for the pantry. She came back with three clay cups,
and handed one to Bren and the other to Pothax. "I've never had
Kinian wine before," she said eagerly.
"What's your name?" he asked, pouring the precious liquid
into her cup. "I can't toast someone I don't know."
"Phiona, sir," she said, lifting the cup and smelling the bouquet.
"Not 'sir'. I'm not a knight," admonished Pothax. "And now
a toast to how well kept you kept this place! My congratulations!"
"Thank you, milord...ambassador," she said embarrassedly,
smiled with a shrug and took a sip. The liquid was warm and tasted
like she was under an apple tree, except she had never seen an apple
tree and doubted she ever would. She swallowed and nearly choked
as the liquid burned her throat with fiery pain. It was over quickly
and she looked up, bleary eyed at the cutthroat.
Pothax finished his wine, and set the empty cup down. Bren
finished up his and set down beside his father's. "We best be going,"
said the ambassador. "We don't want to be late."
"But-but what about the wine and-and your coins?" Phiona
demanded as he bounded out the door.
"I'll return for them tonight."
Waytorn had told him about a Cherten woman that
had her eyes on the crime throne, but Rades hadn't known it would
be this easy to find her. If anything, she found him before he even
started to look for her. There she was singing along with the song
Rodrigo had played for him earlier on a pipe. He wasn't even sure
if he was playing the right notes or if the timing of each note was
correct, but it sounded right and if he did make any mistakes, nobody
noticed.
Sweat ran down his back in what felt like a waterfall until he
saw Billip hurrying his way with a tall stein of sarsaparilla. He set
the bag pipes aside and jumped down from the bar. He grabbed
the stein from the barkeep and lifted it to his lips. He downed the
liquid as much as he could, the rest splashing out to wet his face
and roll down his chest as he drank.
Billip poked him in the side and whispered, "If you keep
drinking like that, I'll have to start watering down the drinks so I
don't run out!"
Rades snorted and nearly choked as the foam from the
drink went up his nose. He set the empty stein down, patted a
friendly barmaid's bottom and hopped back up on the bar with a
fresh smile. He picked up the bag pipes and his eyes went to
where the woman he knew now was Nevada was sitting in a booth.
He began to play a rollicking tune with heavy emphasis on a good
beat. Soon he had the whole tavern stomping their feet, and the
barmaids dancing with some of the patrons.
Meanwhile he was going over what Waytorn had told him.
Rades had been seduced and betrayed during both Kobalix's
Quest and the Third Ice War, this time it was going to be different.
He knew that Nevada was a professional and that she would
likely try to seduce him in order to learn more about Waytorn. The
rumours should have started by now concerning Waytorn's
retirement, Sinclair's successorship and finally Waytorn's
disappearance. Now when Nevada is desperate to find Waytorn,
Rades would present himself as a beacon. She would seduce him
and try to learn Waytorn's whereabouts and he would tell her that
he's hiding down near the docks in a little inn called the Sailor's
Port. Which, of course, he wasn't. The King Culprit was just
down the street staying in the estate beside the park. Wynic Doxon's
estate where Rades was currently staying along with old Graf
Johann von Deltex, Grandee Rodrigo and even the Kinian Princess,
Kelly. While she seduced him, he would seduce her, learn more
about her and report back to Waytorn. This was a tricky game he
was playing. She might realize that he was seducing her, but if he
was lucky, she'd be too preoccupied with learning more about him.
He jumped down from the bar and started dancing and
playing. The music changed subtly to a dance and soon even Billip
was dancing with one of the barmaids. Though large, Billip had a
lightness of foot and a deftness that made him an extraordinary
dancer.
He began to tire however, good timing too! Now that he
knew what Nevada looked like, he could present himself as a target
by leaving. He passed by Rodrigo and nodded in the woman's
direction. The Cherten grinned and winked. He stopped abruptly
and bent over to whisper in the old man's ear, "Guten abend, mein
Graf." He had to speak in old Stornium because Graf Johann had
forgotten the common language after living up in the Ice Lands for
twenty years. "Keep an eye on her. Fine?" he asked in old Stornium.
The old man nodded. "Ist das sie?" He nodded again in
Nevada's direction.
"Ya, that is she," Rades replied in old Stornium. He avoided
looking at her directly, which was hard because she was really quite
gorgeous and innocent looking. Part of the seductive appeal, he
supposed. "I'll have to go now, Billip. I'll be down in the park if
anyone needs me." There was the bait, he just hoped it wasn't too
baitish looking.
"This is my chance," Nevada whispered in Escherten
as the old man and the Cherten sat down in the booth beside her
and Terencio's. "Try to learn more about his friends in the next
booth," she said as she got up. She set down a gold doubloon coin
as payment for the drink and left.
Terencio watched her go and turned his attention to the two
men talking in the booth next to him. They spoke in both Escherten
and a different tongue he guessed to be old Stornium from the old
man's accent. He understood only bits and pieces of what they were
talking about. Waytorn seemed to be their main topic of interest.
He got up, deciding to go buy his countrymen a drink.
They looked up as he approached and the old man stopped
in mid speech. "Good day senors. May I join you and maybe buy
you a drink? I rarely run into fellow countrymen this far inland."
"Indeed," said the man with the mustache. "But how can
anyone refuse free drinks? Sit down senor."
Terencio sat down beside the old man and before he could
open his mouth to speak, the barkeep bustled over and took out a
slate and chalk. "Guten tag, Graf Johann. Has the fish taken the
bait?" he asked in old Stornium.
Johann nodded in reply. "Ya, I'll have buffalo stew and a
tankard of Stornium beer. Preferably Glist," he said in old Stornium,
knowing the Cherten next to him didn't know what had just passed
between the two men, other than an order for buffalo and Stornium
beer.
"And you sir," Billip said in common to Rodrigo.
"I understand you have some venison left over from
yesterday? I'll have some of that. I wouldn't want it to go to waste.
Plus my private stock of Cherten wine for me and my fellow
countrymen here. The bottle from King Waytorn."
"Yes, of course," said Billip, jotting the order down and
noting the other Cherten's surprise. "Would you like anything else,
sire?"
"Some more venison for me as well. Thank you," said
Terencio. He looked at Rodrigo curiously after Billip left. "I
thought I was going to buy?"
"Oh, you can buy the meal. But I prefer Cherten wine to
these mainland blends. Don't you?" Rodrigo asked, twisting the
signet ring on one of his fingers. Terencio noted that the signet ring
was of Cherten design and that the eagle was the sign of a warrior.
"Yes, of course. I hadn't however expected to find Cherten
wine this far inland. Tell me, did you really get it from the King
Culprit?"
"Could you please speak in Escherten for my friend's sake,
he doesn't speak the common tongue," Rodrigo explained.
"Si, of course," said Terencio in Escherten. "Did you really
get the wine from the Culprit?"
"Si. He paid me with several antique bottles for my work
during the Ice War. They're quite good as you'll soon see."
"You're a warrior?"
"A matador," Rodrigo replied.
"Ah, a trained killer. Tell me, do you plan on participating
in the Summerfest Games? I believe the Cherten embassy here has
announced to have a demonstration of a bull fight?"
"Si, I have agreed to fight an auroch in the colosseum after
the race two days from now. Ah, here comes Billip now!"
Terencio turned to see the barkeep waddling in their
direction with two platters and a barmaid carrying a third platter
plus a bottle of wine. He could smell the wine from here. He
breathed deeply.
Rodrigo smiled. Everything was going as planned. Doctor
Roderick had given him a sedative for his signet ring. He took the
bottle from the barmaid and uncorked it with his dagger. He
poured it into two glass goblets, twisting his signet ring and pouring
the sedative into Terencio's drink. "Here you go my friend," he
said, passing the goblet to the Cherten. "To Cherte!"
"To Cherte!" Terencio toasted and drank the liquid in one
pull. He smiled goofily and promptly fell out of his seat.
"It works faster than we thought," Johann muttered in old
Stornium and poked the slumbering man with his cane.
"There he is," said Wynic, pointing from his study
window down into the park. "And there she is. Devid," he said
to his retainer. "You can tell Billip's barmaid that the fish is circling
the hook and is sure to bite." He smiled.
"So far so good," said Waytorn. "Let's hope this plan
continues to work."
"Let's hope Mathex's telegram machine works or Pothax
won't get the message," muttered Victoria. She smiled and leaned
back in her chair and patted her plump abdomen. She could feel
the little fellow inside her, kicking. "Should we review the plan and
make sure there's no kinks?" she asked.
"Sure," agreed Waytorn. "It's my neck on the line here, and
I'd like to keep it." He sat down beside the pregnant archeress.
"Rades leads Nevada on a wild goose chase down to the waterfront
while we get in a covered carriage and sneak out Northgate and
head north to my keep. We leave Sinclair with all his problems to
take care of his own hold on the throne while Maseri and several
other killers are planning his death in an attempt to take over the
throne. We give Johann, Billip and Rodrigo the message that the
fish is following the bait. They tell Mathex, Prince Nebonex and
Gisoni at King Willium's palace, and they send the message to
Queen Elexenia's palace in Avolic. Assuming the machine works
over long distances, they will get the message 'Long live the
Monarchy', and reply 'Long live the Monarchy'. The message will
go throughout both cities as a message meaning to those involved
that I'm on my way to my keep and to warn them of the confusion
to follow when the crime world goes into upheaval. The extra
confusion of the message will help what goes on here, especially
with Summerfest going on. When we arrive in my keep, we will
stay in there until the worst is over and the new crime king, if the
crime network is still intact, that is, has secured his throne. Did I
miss anything?"
"Yes, the Colnics."
"Ah, yes. That's the biggest problem. The Colnic
underworld will revolt and Queen Elexenia will have a civil war on
her hands. Let's hope it doesn't spill over into Arthian and disrupt
Athex as well. We'll have enough confusion here already. Pothax
spreads the word over there that Sinclair is now the new King
Culprit and then gets the hell out of there along with the royalty before
all Hell breaks loose." Waytorn was a relatively average looking
man. With the exception of his face. He was handsome beyond
compare with strong cheekbones, sculpted visage and sharp eyes.
On the left side of his face that is, on his right? Scars that covered
the whole right side of his face and made most people want to
vomit when they see him.
Victoria smiled. She remembered gagging when she first
met the cutthroat. Now she didn't even grimace, because she'd
grown accustomed to the strange visage. She herself was not as
beautiful as she used to be, well, not necessarily as beautiful.
Wynic told her everyday that she was beautiful and had a special
glow about her. She just wasn't as thin as she used to be. That
plump spot in her middle kicked her again. Though she would be
again, soon.
Wynic smiled. "Yep, there she goes," he said, pointing
down into the park. He turned and ran a hand through his red hair.
He and his brother Pothax were almost totally identical, though
Pothax was about ten years older, black haired and had a few
premature wrinkles. "She's taking the bait."
Rades looked up and saw Nevada making her
way through the garden of finely trimmed rose bushes, flowerbeds
of Sweet Willium's, late blooming irises and day lilies. He smiled
and shifted uncomfortably from his seat under the Arthian Oak.
This would become difficult if he didn't watch it. He better let her
do the seducing for the moment. Think sad thoughts so I look like
I need company. That wasn't hard. All he had to do was think of
Deltex.
Castle Deltex had been his home before Kobalix's Quest.
He had been a fun loving dandy to say the least. He'd had many
friends, and even Susanna, the prettiest young Fraulein around.
Had. Past tense. Susanna is dead. Castle Deltex is abandoned,
everyone there was slaughtered when the Minotaur Army went
through there on the way to Athex of the Walls. Rades had been
sent just before the battle to warn King Willium in Athex. He and
Johann, the Graf who disappeared in the Kinian Mountains twenty
years ago, were the only people left who could say they were from
Deltex.
"Are you okay?" asked Nevada, sitting down beside him on
the bench. Her accent was similar to Rodrigo's, except more coy
and innocent. Her eyes were very wide and her breathing was deep.
Gott in himmel, Rades swore inwardly. She is good!
"Ya, I'm okay. Just thinking of someone," he replied,
looking up, backing away and feigning shyness. "Graf Rades von
Deltex," he said, offering her his hand.
"I know. I saw you playing at the Drunken Dragon. You're
really very good!" She placed her hand delicately in his and he bent
over and kissed it lightly. "I'm Lady Nevada of Morado Monte in
Cherte."
"Thank you, Fraulein. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd really
prefer to be alone," Rades said. He knew he was teasing her
abilities, making it harder for her. But that would serve as a
distraction so Rades could learn more about her.
"I'm afraid not, senor. Being from Cherte, I've never been
to Athex before and I can't remember the way back to the inn
where I was staying. I hear the streets in Athex are crowded with
vermin. Could you take me to the Royal Athexian?"
Slick, mused Rades. "My, my! Aren't we laud-dee-da?
Tell me why does a woman from Cherte come all the way to Athex
just to sit in a big fancy inn like that? Certainly not just to listen to
a bagpipe player and get lost in the world's largest city?" He stood
and offered her his arm for support. They started down the street
towards the inn.
"Why, thank you, senor Rades. And no, I'm afraid I didn't
come here all the way from Cherte to listen to you. Or get lost for
that matter. My family is interested in buying gems. We have a
monopoly back home in jewelry shops and we need to keep our
merchandise in stock. Wouldn't happen to know anyone with large
amounts of gems they'd like to sell, would you?"
Once again, Rades had to admit she was good. She knew
Waytorn had plenty and knew that Rades knew Waytorn quite well.
She didn't know that he knew that though. "Why, yes I do. King
Waytorn has gems to spare! Why I even saw his giant emerald
once! It's bigger than my head!"
"Oh, really? He wouldn't be tempted to sell it, would he?"
"I'm afraid not. He's having it fashioned into a crown as
soon as he finishes with this throne business. Have you heard about
that?" More bait, the more the merrier!
"Why yes! Somebody called Sinclair I believe?"
"Of course! He was the logical choice! He's been in line
for the throne for years now! It will be just a few days before he's
got the show running smoothly, though there's been rumours that it
won't last long because Maseri wants the throne. Which means a
fight to the death and a probably a couple power struggles. But it
will be back to normal in no time! I'm sure!" A complete and utter
lie meant to make her think he's really that stupid. As soon as they
reached her room at the inn, she'd be convinced he was a complete
fool. "Tell me more about you, Fraulein Nevada?" he suggested
with a glance at her.
"Ah, let's see... I like to ride horses, go sailing, what exactly
do you want to know?"
"Nothing much. Why you're here, I suppose?"
"Other than buy some merchandise, I'm supposed to sell
some merchandise, see the Summerfest Games, buy some souvenirs
and go back to Cherte."
"Here we are," Rades announced, rounding a bend in the
street and going up the boulevard. "There's the Royal Athexian.
Now don't get lost again!" he warned her with a smile, turning to
leave.
"No, please senor. Come up to my room for a drink? It's
the least I can do for you!" she asked, gently tugging on the
Stornium's arm.
"Well, okay, but just one. Wynic and Victoria will be
wondering why I'm not back yet," he said. He let her lead him inside
the grandly decorated inn, past the lobby, the barroom and up the
grand staircase to the second floor and into her richly furnished suite.
He noted that everytime he turned around she waved at someone.
She must have plenty of bodyguards with her.
She closed the door and went into one of the adjoining
rooms. "Please sit down somewhere, and make yourself
comfortable. I'll be right back."
"Nice place," he said, sitting down in a plush purple couch.
The room had all the luster of a palace including crystal chandeliers.
The Athex, Glist or Jaton palace that is. Avolic's is supposed to be
pretty drab. He smiled when she appeared again carrying a tray
with a wine decanter and two crystal goblets. Her wine coloured
dress clung to her curves and buttocks, and distracted Rades from
the fact that she was a damn fast dresser.
She poured two goblets and handed one to Rades before
sitting down on the couch beside him. The straps of her dress
were loose and he could see soft white flesh beneath. He took a
quick sip of the wine, swished it around in his mouth since he'd
never tasted Cherten wine before and downed the rest. "Gotta go,"
he said quickly, getting up to leave.
She intercepted him. "Please senor, stay a while longer.
You've barely tasted the tip of the iceberg of Cherten hospitality."
"Oh, really?" asked Rades. "What else is there to taste?"
Now would she only take the bait?
"Taste my lips," she murmured, her soft hands rubbing his
chest and raising goose bumps. Her lips came forward like a
barbed harpoon, meeting his. Her tongue sneaked between his
lips and his met hers in a Kinian kiss. Her hands came up deftly
and she knocked the spitfire cap off his head as she ran her hands
through his blond hair.
Rades closed his eyes and wondered how Waytorn had
talked him into this. He smiled. Maybe I wanted to be talked into
it? He grinned and untied the straps of Nevada's dress. It fell to
the floor and he felt her soft breasts rub against his bare chest.
She stepped back and he saw she hadn't worn so much as
a petticoat under her dress. There was a lot of women who
probably agreed, what with this heat? Her body was soft and
delicate looking. Her skin a pale peachy colour. White where her
breasts and lower torso was concerned. Her hair was ravenous
black now that she no longer had a hat on and he could see. Her
chest was heaving and she stepped closer. "Oh god, Rades,
make love to me!"
I'll bet you say that to all the guys, mused Rades and did
as told. He grasped her by the waist and lifted her easily onto the
couch. He climbed on top of her, she untied his belt and before
he knew it she had pulled him inside her and was shouting his name.
Whether this too was an act, Rades didn't know. He doubted she
was even enjoying it.
He could hear shouts out in the street. 'Long live the
Monarchy!' was one of them. Confirmation that the message had
been sent, Mathex's machine worked. He didn't care, he was busy.
"Long live the Monarchy," the minotaur announced.
Pothax smiled and melted into the background as the
surrounded nobles cheered and continued to celebrate. It was time
for him to spread the word and make the riches he knew would
result. He also had to return to his old home and get what's left of
his belongings there before going back to Athex.
He went to a window and slipped out onto the balcony.
From there he shinnied down a tree crossed the burnt lawn and
climbed a different tree and escaped over the palace walls into the
darkness. It was but two blocks down one alley and he was there.
There was no curfew tonight because of Summerfest and
because it is the coolest part of the day. However as he approached
his old home, he heard voices.
"Where did you get this stuff?" demanded one angry voice.
"Pothax Doxon. This used to be his place!" replied Phiona's
voice.
"Don't lie to me." There was the sound of breaking glass and
Pothax could smell Kinian wine. "You've been working for someone
else! I warned you that you work for me and nobody else!"
"But-but I didn't!"
"Shut up!" shouted the voice which was obviously male
though hoarse. "I warned you..." There were sounds of someone
being struck and Phiona was crying.
Pothax had been a slave as a child. He'd been sold into
slavery by his own father, a brutish man who'd taken pleasure from
beating up people. It was his father who had tortured his friend
Rades and torn his eye out for a collection. When Pothax and Wynic
later caught up to their father they had found jars and jars of pickled
eyeballs. Bren wasn't really Pothax's son, but a boy off the streets
in Athex who had father that was beating him. Pothax had always
been tempersome where that sort of thing was concerned and killed
the man. Wynic would have been sold into slavery too, had it not
been abolished. Instead their father had beat him. Wynic had
attacked his father eventually and had pretty much killed him, but
somehow the old man had survived and become the Lairmaster in
the Third Ice War. It was then that Wynic and Pothax, not only
because they wanted to but because they were being paid as
assassin's to kill the leaders, killed their own father, though both
agreed later that the world was better off without a man who
pickled eyeballs.
He charged through the rotten door. His dagger coming
out in a flash as he whipped it across the room at the man beating
Phiona. Pothax never misses, even in the dimly lit room the dagger
slid into the man's bare chest with pinpoint accuracy. The man fell
over and knocked a burning candle onto the floor. "Oh shit!"
shouted Pothax as the wine caught fire and quickly spread across
the room.
Phiona screamed and ran to join Pothax at the door. She
was naked except for one single sandal. He pushed her aside,
with a "Dammit!", and plunged into the burning room.
A fire at this time of year could burn down an entire city if
one didn't put it out fast enough. Pothax looked around, choking
on the smoke and didn't see any water period. He grabbed his
dagger and fled back out the door.
Falling to his knees, he scooped up a handful of sand and
ran back inside to douse the fire with it. No use. He scrambled
back out the door. "We gotta find a well or something!" he shouted.
"There isn't any!" she protested. "Just the geyser, and that's
four blocks away!"
People were already gathering and pointing at the flames
rising above the burning building. Shouts of fire and evacuate
quickly spread across the city. "Com'on," Pothax shouted grabbing
the girl's arm. "Let's get outta here!"
During the First Night watch at the Athex palace in Arthian
on the first night of Summerfest in the year 4058, they received a
telegram reading CITY BURNING HELP.
Chapter Two
Ricardo de Cherte tossed back his head and
laughed. Nevada had that Stornium being led around by the nose.
He finished his drink and got up. Soon the Graf would reveal
Waytorn's location and the band of killers in the Royal Athexian
Inn would depart for whatever hole Waytorn had crawled into.
He made his way up the grand staircase and down the hall
to listen outside her door. They were talking now. Not surprising,
men were always vulnerable afterwards. He went to his room
down the hall and waited for the knock that was sure to come.
When it did, she opened the door and was careful not to slam it
behind her.
"The waterfront. Northport. A warship called the Icicle,"
she said quickly and left.
Ricardo grabbed his bandoleer of daggers and slid out the
window. By the time he reached the alley below, several others
were also on their way down to join him. They headed down the
street, one of them feigning drunkenness and they sang rowdy
songs as they dragged him along towards Northport, passing a
covered carriage as they went.
One red haired man stuck his head out and grinned. When
he stuck his head back in, Ricardo heard him say, "Looks like
they're going fishing down at the docks!"
Inspired, Rades thought. Of all the ships he could
have picked, he picked the Icicle. The biggest warship in the
harbour and belonging to the ex-pirate captain, now an admiral
Savin. And what about it's crew? Five hundred cutthroats strong?
Kiss those Chertens good-bye!
He stood and looked around. Feigning sleep was the
chance they had both needed. She could tell her friends down in
the barroom and lobby, and he could snoop around up here. He
started by going into one of the other rooms and snooping through
the drawers in a cabinet. Clothes, a couple pieces of lingerie most
women would be embarrassed to be seen in, nothing more. The
oaken trunk revealed a hoard of gems, a few daggers, and several
bottles of wine from Casa Azul, wherever that is? He doubt there
was anything under the bed, but checked anyway. A fine steel
sword, finer than any steel one he'd seen before.
Before he could examine the sword in the light he heard foot
steps coming down the hallway and he quickly ran back to the
couch, feigning sleep. The door creaked open and he looked up,
acting surprised as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked
around as if realizing where he was and back at her. "Guten morgen!"
"You didn't sleep that long, senor. Barely a minute. There's
a rumour about some kind of message from Avolic that arrived on
some machine. Hard to believe isn't it?" she asked. "No, not
really. Mathex invented it. It would appear that I missed the
message. It was 'Long live the Monarchy', correct?"
"Yes, but there was a second part of the message. Avolic
is burning."
"What?" shouted Rades, jumping to his feet. "The city's
burning? What happened? I have to get to the palace!"
"Why?" she asked innocently.
Why indeed? What could he do? He was supposed to
be here, distracting Nevada and seducing a seductress. "You're
right," he said, crossing the room quickly. His arms wrapped
around her. "I'd only add to the confusion and be of no help
anyway." He reached inside her cloak and felt her soft flesh with
eager hands. The cloak slipped to the ground as she leaned forward
and met his lips with hers. "Much better to stay here, don't you
think?" he murmured.
Nevada wrapped an arm around him and led him towards
the bedroom. "Of course. You don't happen to know where
Waytorn was going, do you? I'd really like to buy that emerald!"
"Of course, but you have to promise me not to tell
anybody!" he warned. She nodded. "He's going south to Goved
where he has a town house. No one will look for him there!" He
smiled. "Now it's your turn to tell me something," he said, pointing
to the scar on her shoulder. "What happened?"
"Accident when I was little-"
"That's funny, it looks like a knife scar," Rades interrupted.
He was right too and they both knew it. The scar was too straight
and deep to be anything else. She'd been stabbed there.
"Well, let me examine some of your scars," she said, pushing
him gently onto the bed. She sat down beside him and started
counting.
Rades reached under the bed and pulled the sword from it's
case. "What's this?" he asked, holding it up for her to see. "Are you
a warrior?"
Nevada paled. "Of course not, silly! It's a gift for my
brother when I get home!" She reached forward to take it from him.
"But it isn't made in Athex!" Rades protested, pointing to the
markings on the hilt. "This is Cherten steel!" He saw her reach into
one of her pillows and he snapped the sword up so it was under her
chin. "Take your hand out of the pillow!" he ordered. "Slowly!"
Nevada was very pale now. She looked like she was going
to cry as she slowly withdrew her hand with a silver dirk resting in
her palm. She gulped and looked at him with doe eyes.
"Throw it aside," Rades ordered. She tossed it over by the
oak trunk. "Has it occurred to you that I've been seduced before?
Did it cross your mind that I might reverse the role and learn about
you? Did you ever once think that I was bait, a distraction and a
spy? Get up!" he shouted. She stood up obediently. Rades came
around the bed and faced her. He reached inside the cabinet and
tossed her a white gown. "Put it on."
She trembled for a moment and then picked up the gown.
She pulled it over her head and adjusted it to make it look neater.
"Could you tie the back up?" she asked timidly.
"Place your hands on the wall and don't move them," he
ordered. She did as told. He set the sword down where he could
reach it easily and tied the straps of her bodice tightly. "Keep your
hands there," he said, picking up the sword and opening one of the
drawers. He took out a pair of stockings. "Put your hands behind
your back," Rades said. She did as told and he tied her hands tightly.
He smiled. "You can sit down now," he said, setting the
sword aside. He rummaged through her drawers, the chest and in
the remaining pillows for weapons and tossed them out in the main
room. Next he searched the remaining rooms and dressed. When
he returned to her bedroom she was on her knees trying to saw
through her bonds with a sharp edged gem. He took the gem from
her and pulled her to her feet.
"Hijo de una perra!" she spat in his face.
"You're one to talk, perra," he said in reply. He smiled. "I
have to thank you for the sword. It's really quite magnificent," Rades
said, holding it up and admiring it in the lamplight. "Now I must go.
Waytorn is long gone by now and most of your men are dead." He
took one of her daggers from his belt and tossed it on the floor.
"You can cut yourself free with that," he said and left.
A fool. He'd played her for a fool! How dare he! Well,
don't get over confident, Graf Rades, she thought furiously. She got
down on her knees and picked up the dagger. What will Rades
think if I order my men to take drastic measures? If I order anyone
of authority killed? A massacre? I sent but a token of my force
down to the docks!
Terencio awoke in an alley way in one of the
filthiest areas of Athex: the Southport District. The entire area was
one big slum that spilled over into parts of the Northport and
Southgate Districts. There were no city patrols in this area because
there was no point. Everyone who lived here was either a criminal,
a beggar or a damned fool.
The latter, was the reason why Terencio wanted to leave as
soon as possible. He was dressed in rich fineries and his purse was
heavy with silver and platinum. A perfect target for any cutthroat,
cutpurse or pick-pocket. A man dressed as he would not live long
in this area.
He scaled a wall quickly and started towards Northgate.
That Cherten, whoever he was, was going to be in a demonstration
of matadorial skills tomorrow. He'd find him at the colosseum.
"Com'on," shouted Pothax, leading the girl through
a stable. "We have to free the animals before the fire reaches here!"
He drew a dagger and cut the bond of a door for a stall and shoved
the weapon into her hand. "Start letting them go girl!"
Phiona stared at the bloody dagger in her hand. This was
the dagger that killed... She shook her head and started sawing
through the hemp that kept the stall gates shut.
"Camels," muttered Pothax. "We're going to need something
faster than camels, even a fair footed donkey would be better." He
smiled and looked down the stalls to a sign proclaiming the stalls
occupant to be called Sanddancer. He ran down to the stall and
cut through the hemp easily. "Okay, Sandy, out you go!"
There was a snort from within the stall as the door swung
open. A black hoof stepped forward and Pothax peeked curiously
around the door. A huge black stallion stepped forward.
Correction, a huge black warhorse, judging from the horse's carbon
black armour.
Pothax thanked the Lord the stableboy had been absent
minded enough to forget to remove the saddle and armour, and
mounted the stallion. It snorted diligently and pawed the ground.
The cutthroat looked down, a bit uncertain if he could control such
a large horse, and nudged the horse's flanks with his heels.
The beast lurched forward at a trot and Pothax had to hang
onto the reins tightly to control it. "Get on," he shouted, offering
Phiona his hand. She took it tentatively and he pulled her up onto
the saddle behind him. "Hang on," he shouted and kicked the horse
in the flanks.
Sanddancer burst out of the stables running through the
crowded streets at breakneck speed. People hurried to get out of
the huge horse's path as it sprinted towards the palace. The sight of
the huge black stallion and its black clothed rider when the city was
burning was enough to make people wonder if Death himself rode
the streets tonight.
"Where are we going?" Phiona yelled.
"To the palace barracks. I've got friends there."
"Surely the fire won't get through to the palace!"
"Not through stone. But the wood that supports the stone
will burn, the palace will collapse if that happens."
Dame Larel, Marine Commander and Kinian Knight,
woke that night from her sleep at the sound of people screaming and
the chaos that occurred during any fire. But this fire had already
spread across a fair chunk of Avolic and was not going to let out
until it ran out of fuel.
She quickly strapped on her armour, plus grabbed her sword,
shield, crossbow and quiver. She stepped out of her private room
and into the barracks. "Everybody up and get in a line," she shouted.
The four marines were already up with the exception of Eluth who
was sleeping, but they quickly got in a line.
"Somebody wake Eluth up!" she shouted. Carlo grabbed a
bucket of water and threw it at the sleeping knight. Eluth jumped
up, startled as always and quickly got in line.
"The city is burning! Strap your belongings onto your horses
along with at least five days supplies. Get your armour and anything
else you may need and meet me at the palace gates in five minutes.
Now move it!" The marines hurried in their separate ways to
collect those things they'd need and the Dame smiled. Perhaps the
city was burning down for good and that was a waste. Perhaps the
Kingdom of Colnic would collapse like Pothax had told her, but this
way it would go down in a fire, and not a civil war. She ran to fetch
her horse.
"Larel!" shouted a voice. The Dame turned to see Pothax
on what was one of the biggest horses she'd ever seen. Damn huge
Colnic breeds! "Take care of this girl, will you? I gotta go get
Bren!" he shouted as the girl dismounted.
Larel nodded and turned to the girl. She was naked! It was
kind of hard to tell because of the huge snake tattoo that covered
the bulk of her body.
"Heh, heh, heh!" said Eluth, staring at the prostitute.
"Shut up and get back to work!" snapped Brenda, the only
female marine. She tossed a cloak to the girl to wear.
Larel stopped staring and shook her head. This is definitely
not Kinian. Colnic culture was a world of difference. "Put that on
and go get a horse from the stables over there," she pointed. "Then
report back here." The girl nodded hastily and ran to get a horse.
Bren already had everything packed into two saddle
bags by the time Pothax got to their chambers in the palace. Pothax
smiled proudly and hugged the boy upon entry. "Is that everything?"
"Everything except you and the horses," Bren said with a grin.
"Okay then, let's go," Pothax said, grabbing a bag and slinging
it over his shoulder. Bren nodded and did the same as he followed
the cutthroat down the hallway. They went down the grand stairs
and that's where they ran into Lord Jacog, the Prince Consort and
Queen Elexenia.
"Pothax!" shouted Jacog. His wife giggled and he scowled.
"What was that you wanted to tell me earlier?" he demanded.
"Nothing much, just that you should expect a crime upheaval
in the next few days! Which isn't going to happen now because of
this fire!" Pothax shouted, heading in the direction of the Grand
Vault. "You'd be best to just pack up and leave as soon as possible
because staying here will be a death wish!"
Bren grinned and opened one of his pouches as they neared
the Grand Vault. He pulled out a thin piece of wire, extra long
because he knew the lock on the Vault would be rigged with a
poisoned needle that would thrust out when he tripped the needle.
He inserted the wire into the key hole, tripped the needle
harmlessly and heard a faint click.
Pothax pushed on the door and ducked as a poisoned dart
shot out and passed harmlessly over his head. He reached inside
a canvas sac and pulled out two pairs of boots, handing one to
Bren. "These will protect you from the scorpions."
Bren nodded and pulled the boots on, discarding his sandals.
He glanced back the hallway to where servants and royal guests
were hurrying in their own directions, oblivious to the two thieves.
Normally there would be ten Royal Guards at the Vault. He stood
and opened a canvas sac. "What should we take?"
"Copper's almost worthless, and silver and gold isn't much
better. Plus gold is way too heavy. Platinum is the ticket, but the
gems tend to weigh less and be worth more. Go for the gems,"
Pothax replied, stuffing handfuls of the hoard into his sac. "The
mules are still out in the orchard?"
"Yes, I tied them with a reef knot to that single oak tree
that's out there. Nobody will be in the orchard and they can't go
anywhere. However, what if the fire spreads to the orchard?"
"We better hurry then. The fire is only two blocks away
now and we don't want it to out flank us so we can't get out of
the city," explained the Ambassador. He didn't like the thought
of being stuck in a burning city. He heard a faint drumming from
the ceiling, meaning the geyser had just went.
The sound of water pounding on the ceiling of the
barracks alerted the marines that the geyser had just went. Carlo
swung up on his gelding, careful to keep his feet in the stirrups.
The ex-sailor had already fallen off often enough to know better.
He grinned and turned in the saddle to see Brenda.
She smiled and swung up on the horse, deciding to ride it
bareback. "I'll have to teach you some time how to ride without
that saddle," she said to him.
"Indeed, but I'm still wondering how you got up without a
stirrup."
She smiled again and nudged the horses flanks with her
boots. The stallion lurched forward and she galloped past him and
out the barrack gate. Her blond hair trailed behind her like a
yellow flag dragging in the wind.
Carlo nudged his horse without success several times
before the horse even took a step. "Stupid half mule," he said with
an oath and kicked the horse in the flanks and hung on as the
horse started at a breakneck gallop towards the gate. "Sohn auf
eine hundin!" he swore in old Stornium.
He nearly ran into Pothax and Bren, spooking one of the
mules that were trailing behind them. He sawed at the reins
desperately and managed to avoid a collision with Dame Larel.
Gripping the saddle horn and wrenching the reins in the other he
managed to get the horse under control.
"Well, at least you're not late," Larel commented. She
frowned at the line of mules behind Pothax. "Surely you don't
need that many things?" she asked the Ambassador.
"Documents," Pothax said with a grin. "Can't let them get
burnt, can I?" Carlo thought the saddlebags looked unusually
heavy for documents.
Eluth and an angry looking Roreed galloped out of the
barracks to join the group. "Can we leave now, or are we waiting
for someone?" Roreed demanded. He spat and started towards
the palace gates.
"He doesn't like getting woke up in the middle of the night,"
Eluth commented with a grin.
Larel looked around. Pothax, Bren, Eluth, Carlo, Brenda,
Roreed and that girl, Phiona, yep, all here. "Okay. Let's go.
We'll go out the north gate since the fire is to the south. Hurry
and beware the fire doesn't out flank us and block our way to
the gate!"
They camped that night several leagues away from the
city, but close enough that they didn't need to light a fire in order
to see. Neither Pothax or Phiona would say what started the fire.
Pothax had sworn her to secrecy, saying it was probably best
this way. Better than the Colnic Kingdom going down in a bloody
civil war.
Ricardo hadn't joined his comrades in boarding
the Icicle. It hadn't felt right. Like he was walking into a trap.
Instead he watched from an abandoned dinghy as his comrades
encountered the pirates and were slaughtered to the last man. A
trap indeed.
When he returned to the Royal Athexian he found a very
angry mistress. She sent him immediately north to intercept the
carriage one of her people claimed to have seen Waytorn in. So
he took to the roof and made his way to the stables.
He never once thought someone would be waiting for him.
He never saw the dirk flash out of the darkness and impale him
in the back of the neck. He had always dreamed of dying like a
true warrior and fighting on despite his mortal wound. Instead he
died instantly due to the poison tipped dirk.
A short cutthroat with a broad grin walked out of the
darkness, leading a mule. He bent down, plucked the dirk from
the man's neck and tucked the man's money pouch in his pocket.
"Well, Betsy," he said, taking the stall key from Ricardo's belt.
"Looks like I'm going to be trading you in ol girl!"
He stood and walked over to stall XV. Inside he saw a
fine, white Cherten breed. He had only once before seen a
Cherten horse this far inland. To steal one? Now that might
prove profitable! He opened the gate and led the horse out by
the reins. He noted a fine antique saddle worth a small fortune and
slung it over the back of the horse. "And what's your name fella?"
he asked the horse. "Being Cherten, you should have a Cherten
name. Alejandro? Aye, Alejandro is a good name. Don't you
think, Betsy?"
The mule snorted in response.
"Ah, what do ye know? You're just a damned mule!" he
said, hauling Betsy into the empty stall and slamming the gate
behind her. He turned around to face the Cherten horse. "Well,
Alejandro? What do you say to a ride north to Cutthroat Keep,
the home of the ex-king of the crime world, Waytorn?"
The horse pawed the ground.
"I agree. What are we waiting for? The oats at the Keep
are some of the best, you know!"
The Fall of the Vormian Empire and it's Last
Dynasty went out in a bang. A huge bang that left a crater which
later turned into the world's largest lake: Lake Vormia. The
cause of this galactic explosion was due to the extremely large
quantities of black dust and an invention that according to the
history texts was called dynamite. Whatever the case the Fall
was the end of a historic era in the history of the Vormian continent.
It resulted in the ban of black dust in all industries, whether
they be military or simply mining. It wasn't until now, 4057 years
after the Fall, that black dust was starting to be used again in a
batch of new age weapons. Brigadier Mathex, warrior and
inventor, realized the destructive capabilities of one kind of
weapon, fire arms, and had them all dismantled beyond use. All
except one.
Rades reached inside his belt and drew forth the last
remaining pistol. He'd kept the weapon a secret from all his
friends but one. The Kinian Princess, Kelly.
She sat on a sofa in Wynic's sitting room, petting a small
black and white kitten. Her hair was still extremely short from her
capture up north during the Ice War. The poachers had chopped
off her hair and beat her up pretty badly, not to mention raping
her. Rades was the only man she tolerated, having become what
Dr. Derick calls an androphobic. A person who's afraid of males.
Even the month old kitten was female.
He made sure the weapon wasn't loaded and walked
forward to stand in front of her. "Don't you know what time it is?
The sun will be coming up soon," he asked. He looked down at
her and took off his spitfire cap.
Kelly looked up at him with large brown eyes. "It's too
hot. I couldn't sleep," she replied. She went back to petting the
contented looking kitten.
Rades sat down beside her with a frown. "Did everything
go as planned? Are Waytorn, Wynic and Victoria on their way
to the Keep?"
"Yes. They left your payment in your room and asked me
to thank you. They said it must have been difficult after what
you've been through." Not really, thought the Stornium, I quite
enjoyed it like I was getting even with Darcy and Kristine for
seducing and betraying me.
"Well, that sounds good. Would you care to help me go
shopping tomor... today, I mean? It's past midnacht already."
Kelly frowned. To go outside would mean being with a
lot of men, but her sister Kerry had warned her that she'd eventually
have to go outside sometime and the sooner the better. She
nodded slowly.
"We can rent a carriage and go down Park Boulevard
where all those really expensive shops are! Plus I want to contact
a land agent so I could buy a small estate! I have all the money
from this and from selling Dillard's townhouse..."
Kelly looked up and saw a brief tear in the man's one eye.
All the money in the world wasn't going to cheer him up. She'd
heard Wynic and Victoria saying how Rades just wasn't the same
Rades they knew anymore. He'd changed and it had been a
frightening change. She couldn't see anything frightening about this
troubled man other than his eyepatch.
"Oh, I want to show you something!" Rades exclaimed,
changing the subject. He drew a sword from his belt and held it
up for her to see.
It was a shortsword, but oh, what a sword! It shone like
the sun with a dazzling brilliance that could only be found in
platinum! Yet this was steel! There might have been a hint of
silver in the blade, but it was still steel. A diamond was encrusted
in the hilt and the handle and pummel had fine semi-precious
stones encrusted in delicate gold patterns. The hilt was small and
oval shaped, a design that was very rare with tiny engravings of
eagles, bulls, lions, and dragons all intertwined around the brilliant
metal.
"It's beautiful!" breathed Kelly in awe.
"And damn sharp too. I've already cut myself twice with
it," Rades muttered and tucked it back into his belt. "I'll need a
damn good sheath for it!"
"Did you hear about Avolic?"
"Oh, yes. Not to worry, the geyser there has already put
out the fire."
"The last report was that a quarter of the city was
on fire," said Prince Nebonex. The huge minotaur was almost
eight feet tall and weighed well over twenty stone. He had ivory
white horns protruding from his bull head and sharp white teeth.
It unnerved King Willium sometimes when he felt like he was
talking to a bull. But aside from his bull head, horns and shaggy
brown hair, he looked very much like a human, a very large,
heavily muscled human who could pick up a horse easily.
Then there was the matter that humans commonly held the
belief that minotaurs were extremely stupid, being somehow
related to cattle. They were not at all stupid, if anything they were
smarter than humans. Some of the less informed minotaurs held
the belief that humans are pretty stupid too, being somehow related
to apes.
Prince Nebonex was definitely not a stupid brute. He was
as intelligent as they come and an excellent painter, though the sight
of him with a tiny paintbrush in his huge hand was somewhat
ridiculous.
"Well," said King Willium. He frowned and looked at his
feet, which he could barely see because his belly was in the way.
"Should we or should we not send aid? After all by the time our
army gets there, the fire will be out and all the battles over with.
The Colnic Kingdom was always the rockiest of the Western
Kingdoms and to see it go down might be a good thing. Plus
there's the matter that Queen Elexenia has been married three
years now and still hasn't produced a child. Without a heir to carry
on the line, the other noble families would get into a bloody dispute
over who gets to become the monarch."
"Of course," said Gith, Nebonex's painting teacher and the
one person Willium could honestly say he preferred his advise. "Then
there's the matter of those independent cities on the western coast
of Colnic. Though I wouldn't call them cities, more like large,
fortified towns. They've been feuding with Colnic for the past
century now and show no sign of letting up. If they decide to
march in right now there'll be no stopping them and we'll have to
acknowledge them and start trading with them or risk border
disputes. I suggest you place the army on the border between
Arthian and Colnic. They'll be able to watch what's going on in
Colnic, serve as refugee stations for those Colnics who decide to
leave Avolic, they'll be ready if we need them to march in, they'll
prevent any border disputes if the independents do take over,
though they're more likely to fight amongst themselves until a clear
conqueror has come out on top."
"Good idea for now," said Willium, turning to his retainer,
Elsades. "Go to Marshal Pegs and tell him Gith's idea." He
smiled and turned back to Nebonex. "I feel like a great weight has
been lifted off my shoulders. I've been worrying about the Colnic
situation for years. Maybe we can finally get it resolved without
lifting a finger." He sighed. "So, how's Mathex's inventions going?
I still haven't decided if we should ban fireworks, even if Mathex
says its perfectly safe."
"Well, the telegram line we worked on for the last month
just fell through, though Waytorn sponsored it and it did accomplish
it's intended purpose. Kind of ironic of the message don't you
think? Long live the Monarchy?" asked Nebonex
Willium snorted. "It would appear that it has the same
effect that saying good luck to an actor does."
"Oh, how true! I believe Mathex also wants to talk to
you sometime about another new invention that will need
sponsoring if it intends to get off the ground. It's a steam engine
that runs on tracks so it won't fall off and it's faster that way! He
showed me a model of it earlier, and I think the model would make
a damn good toy if the real thing doesn't work!"
"I'll have to see it before I'll sponsor it. Otherwise he'll have
to go to Waytorn to get it sponsored."
"He can show it to you after the parade today. Right now,"
said Nebonex. "I'd like to go get some sleep. It's been a long day
and I'm exhausted."
"Agreed," Willium nodded. He too felt exhausted and had
to admit he was more tired than he'd been in a long time. He stood
up and left the parlour room and made his way through the dark
hallways to his bedchamber in the left wing.
As he entered the room a hand closed over his mouth and
he heard the sound of metal sliding against leather. Over the years
he had known this sound to only come from a sword or dagger
being drawn from it's sheath. He immediately bent over, buckled
his legs and threw his weight forward, executing a somersault that
he hadn't done in years because of his sore back. All his training in
wrestling rushed back to him and it was only a moment before he
had the assailant firmly pinned to the carpet.
"I think ye have some explaining to do," Willium muttered.
The scuffle had made quite a racket and he could hear boots
marching in his direction. The door opened and Willium looked up
to see not a Royal Guard, but Lord Redhawk, who was a guest
staying just down the hallway.
The Kinian Knight lit a torch so he could see. "Willium?"
he asked as he approached. Redhawk was a tall, strong knight
with long brown hair and mustaches. He was an excellent fighter
and a long time friend of Wynic Doxon. In addition he was also a
Crimson Companion, and the Prince Consort of Queen Helen of
Stornium. "You okay?"
Willium shifted his weight around and stood up, hauling his
assailant up with him. "Caught an assassin, that's all," he said,
shaking the darkly clothed killer. The hood fell free to reveal a
maiden with short, black hair.
She stood there stoically, betraying no emotions. Willium
wondered how she could be so calm when she'd just been caught
and when sentence for attacking the monarchy is death by hanging
and has been for two thousand years. He knew that they should
abandon those old laws, but everytime he called parliament together
to discuss the matter, there's always somebody who believes the
old fashioned way is the best way and to abandon that would be to
risk abandoning the greater aspects of their culture.
Redhawk frowned. "This could take awhile and I'm awfully
tired. Do you think we could just turn her over to the Royal Guard
and settle this matter in the morning?"
Willium nodded. "I believe we'll be needing our sleep for
the next few days."
Chapter Three
Doctor Roderick wasn't a real doctor, just an
apprentice doctor. He was also Lord Redhawk's squire and one of
the lesser known of the Crimson Companions. Now as he stood on
the palace parapets, watching the parade below, he was just another
face in the crowd. An angry face.
Down below in the parade marching down Grand
Procession Boulevard was animals of the like that hadn't been seen
in this part of the world for many centuries. There were giant bison,
mammoths, giant elk, a giant ground sloth and then there were some
creatures the Kinian hadn't even heard of, let alone pronounce, like
baluchitherium, syndyoceras plus quagga and zebra. Most of them
came from either the Minotaur Empire or the Tigalo continent. It
was amazing they had even captured the baluch, let alone transport
it all the way to Athex for the parade. It was about eighteen feet
tall and approximately twenty-five feet long and god only knows
how much it weighed.
What bothered Derick however was the terrible shape they
were in. They looked half starved and were covered with scars
from whip lashes. The baluch had burns and tattoos on its hide, and
looked like it was going to collapse from the heat. He'd been angry
when they had discovered all the hides at the poacher's Lair up in
the Ice Lands, now he was damn well furious. How could they
harm such strange and wondrous creatures?
"Shameful," muttered Queen Helen. She was beyond
beautiful, she was gorgeous. Pale blond hair the colour of spring
maple syrup, smooth white skin that had taken on a bit of a tan in
this incredible heat. She had a supple, polished look about her, like
she hadn't been born but sculpted by angels and granted life. She
was considered the most beautiful woman in the world. She was
also smart, no she wasn't the scholarly type, she was quick-witted
and shrewd, which made her a damn good queen.
Redhawk nodded. "I mentioned the poor shape of them to
Willium and he promised to look into the matter. Whichever
merchant caravan brought them here is going to be in trouble.
These animals should have been put down days ago!"
"What was all that racket about last night, milord?" asked
Derick.
"Assassination attempt by a Cherten. Strange how we've
only recently contacted their kingdom to set up better relations and
they send assassins our way? Not a good way to start trade
between their kingdom and us here on the continent!"
"The Chertens?" asked Queen Helen. "There were more
than one assassination last night then!"
Redhawk frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Lord Neil, the Earl of Castle Dakot was murdered last
night, presumably by a Cherten."
A passing noble stopped in mid stride and turned to face
the Queen. "Lord Neil too? How many have they killed now?" he
demanded angrily.
Redhawk frowned and grabbed the man by the collar.
"What do you mean? There are more murders?"
The noble hooked an arm under Redhawk's shoulder and
wrenched himself free. "Of course! Haven't you heard? There
were twelve deaths just last night and nine more this morning!"
Redhawk took a quick step back and nearly toppled over
the parapet. He would have been lying dead on the cobbles below
if Derick hadn't reached out and caught him. "Twenty-one people?
What's going on here? Who are you?"
"I am Lord Osmond, the new Baron of Castle Delias. My
sister Bardelias was amongst those killed last night. It was the only
fortunate death."
Derick had to agree. Lady Bardelias had been a noble pain
in the ass. No one would grieve for her death not even her brother.
"What about Torr Bardeliasson?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Scarlet fever, I'm afraid. Only Bardelias herself mourned
his death. As I recall, he was involved with that Lord Ponde incident.
One of the trouble makers?" replied Osmond.
Redhawk nodded. That had been a stupid incident that
had occurred just before the Ice War and could have been easily
stopped if Lord Ponde hadn't insisted on starting a fight over it.
Ponde's dead now, though nobody seems to know who killed him.
He was found in a back alley of Jaton with his money pouch
missing and his throat slit so everyone assumed he'd been killed
by a cutthroat. Although Redhawk knew cutthroats preferred a
simple backstab rather than going through the trouble of actually
cutting someone's throat, meaning this had been for show. A
show off, which meant Larry. "Who are the people that are
dead?" he asked, getting back to the original topic.
"Bardelias, Lord Neil, a Colnic countess by the name of
Winona, Madam Ruby of Castle Blueflame in Kinian, Lord
Courtney, a human ambassador from the Minotaur Empire called
Ivan, Lord Dallas, Lady Dora, Sir Westcott, King Willium's
nephew Felix, Madam Leala, Fraulein Elsa, Lord Ashford, Sir
Aubrey, Dame Cassidy, a minotaur noble called Leonardex."
Osmond stopped with a frown and drew a breath. "Even as I
speak, I'll bet'cha there's more turning up! Shall I continue your
majesty?"
Helen shook her head. "I've heard enough. Thank you
for your time good sir. I pray that you watch your back!" He
asked her to come to his barn dance tonight but she politely
refused. She watched him smile and walk away. "Gott helfe
mich!" she swore in old Stornium. She looked up at Redhawk.
"Surely this isn't because of Waytorn's abdication?"
"I don't know," Redhawk shrugged though his face was
pale. "I received a message this morning that Sinclair is no longer
the crime king and has been killed by Maseri. It's just become
general knowledge now of Waytorn's abdication and of Sinclair's
succession. Even as we speak the word is being spread that
Maseri is the new crime king, but probably not for long if more
contenders start to battle for the throne."
Nevada had chosen her strategy carefully. She
would seduce one of her rival contenders and help him to come
out on top and stay there long enough to get the crime network
under control. Then she would strike and wrest control from
him.
Waytorn had got away and it was probably better that
way. As for Rades? Well, she supposed it was time to call off
the killing spree. She'd get her vengeance once she was in control.
For now she would concentrate her efforts on the crime
deputy called West who Terencio claimed to be a very good
horseman and competing in the wall races. So she decided to pose
as a Cherten rider and take her stallion, Fernando. It was so simple.
When she arrived at Fernando's stall however she
recognized Ricardo lying on the ground a few stalls away. "Get
up you stupid drunk!" she yelled in Escherten. He didn't move.
In fact his chest wasn't moving at all. She walked over and
wasn't entirely surprised or dismayed to find him dead. He wasn't
that good and she'd never liked him anyway.
She shook her head and went back to Fernando's stall.
Unlocking the gate she led the tall, fiery horse out and mounted
him bareback. After all, she'd have to impress this West if she
was to seduce him.
Athex was a huge city and it helped just to wander around
for a day so you knew where everything was. Even then you
couldn't see all of it, but you'd know enough not to get lost. There
were the different districts, Southgate, Northgate, Westgate,
Southport and Northport, and one did well to stay out of the latter
two. The port districts were the worst for crime and the city
patrols that went through there always ran into trouble. Southgate
was mostly market, Northgate, expensive stores, plenty of estates
and inns, and Eastgate was where most of the populous lived.
Smack dab in the middle of everything was the Royal Palace of
Athex with its pristine white marble walls and statued columns
depicting past monarchs.
She nudged the horse out into the crowded Park
Boulevard and looked around for a clear path through the crowded
street. They really should create a general rule about where
pedestrians and horses walk, not having the horses walk right over
every second person's toes. She muttered an silent oath in
Escherten and nudged the horse up behind a carriage that was
making it's way through the street.
As she neared the carriage she nearly fell off Fernando's
back when she saw Rades riding within. She bit her tongue to
keep from swearing at the man and making a fool of herself. The
carriage stopped suddenly outside the Drunken Dragon Tavern
and Fernando nearly collided with the rear end of the carriage.
Rades jumped out and ran inside the building, returning a
moment later with a keg of sarsaparilla. The chubby barkeep
Billip followed him out, carrying a wooden platter filled with spiced
ham, fresh raspberries, a small bottle of maple syrup and roasted
corn. Nevada had never seen roasted corn before but she had to
admit that it smelled delicious and that her mouth was watering.
She found it odd that they even had ripe corn here this early in the
summer.
The Graf tossed Billip a platinum coin and bade the driver
to continue. Nevada followed, trying to stay out of sight and wishing
she'd worn a little more than this new white blouse she'd bought
yesterday and her plaid kilt which was in fashion this time of year,
even though it was so damn hot outside. It was almost noon.
Her stomach rumbled and she remembered she still hadn't
eaten since last night. Up ahead there was a vendor selling fresh
bread and roasted pieces of spiced buffalo steak. She wondered
how anyone could eat hot spices on a day like this but she quickly
stopped and bought some anyway to soothe her growling stomach.
"Damn," swore Rades up ahead to the driver. "I forgot
they closed up Grand Procession! We'll have to go down Londun
Road past lady Bardelias' Estate!"
Nevada smiled. They were going to the beach in the
Northport District. It was the only beach in Athex without going
outside the city walls. It was obvious Rades disliked Lady Bardelias
so perhaps she'd done him a favour in having the baroness
murdered last night. Oh well, she could always send another
cutthroat after Lord Osmond who everyone seemed to like.
She would have liked to see Rades' surprise when he
found out Bardelias was dead, but she had to go east, not west,
if she was to compete in the wall races. She headed down
Eastgate Avenue and busied herself with studying Athex's collage
of architecture. Being built before the Fall of Vormia, it had
every type of architecture that was used in the past four thousand
years, whether it be classical, domed, Vorminesque, Colnic,
minaretic, Arthroque, or even Kinique. There was a Vorminesque
revival about fifty years ago that had created a new style called
New Vormique that made the city looked quite strange in a way
with the big blocky buildings and thin minarets of all the different
styles.
Up ahead she could see the walls of Athex. It was hard
not to, they were after all over a hundred feet high and thirty feet
thick, which isn't mentioning the hundred, fifty feet high towers
that over looked each gate or the gate itself which was a sixty foot
high, ten foot thick slab of solid granite that they had somehow
managed to erect, creating one of the greatest architectural
marvels of all time. The fact that they'd even found such a huge
slab seemed impossible in its self, let alone stand it up on its side
and use it as a gate. It took about half a hour to open and close
the damn huge thing though how they did it was beyond her.
She passed by the colosseum and noted Terencio waiting
in the huge line up to get inside and watch the festivities. Whoever
owned the colosseum was going to make a huge profit, she thought
as she peered down the street at the line of people that kept going
until it disappeared in the distance. She wondered if the colosseum
could even hold so many people.
The gates loomed ahead and she could see the horsemen
already lined up for the wall races. The walls of Athex were thirty
feet thick which meant at least six horses could ride along the
parapets at a time. As she made her way up the long ramp to the
top of the wall she overheard a pair of horsemen discussing the
walls construction and she finally noticed that the ramp's top layer
was dirt, not cobblestones.
"Wal, ye see, it's like dis. When da ol' Vormians built da
vurst wall, dey thought it wuz big enough, but later, during dat last
dynasty da emperor decid'd he want'd all da walls enlargen'd.
Anyway, hez architecs said da most dey could do iz build a second
wall around da city, so dey did. Den dey fill'd in the middle 'tween
dem walls with dirt and rocks and whatever else dey could find.
Probly der iz a lot of shit in der too! Dey had to put it somewhere,
didn't dey? Eh?"
After she managed to figure out what the man was saying,
Nevada looked down at the soil between her feet and smiled. The
mainlanders were strange but smart. A thirty foot thick wall of
dirt would stop any boulder hurled it's way.
The man continued to ramble on about the towers. He
was from the highland, which was the area north of Athex which
was where all these dancers and bag pipe players seemed to come
from. With the exception of Rades who came from Stornium
which was so far south it was almost a different world.
"Wal, hallo der missy!" said the highlander.
Nevada turned abruptly to face the man who was now
riding beside her. She felt a moment of fear as she realized just
how big he was. She smiled and her hand went inside her white
blouse to where she had a dirk hidden. "Hello."
"Da name's West and might I add dat ye sure art purdy!"
he said, grinning broadly and spitting out a wad of tobacco.
Nevada smiled, quickly working out what she should do.
She was a fair bit surprised and she wished Terencio had told her
more about this man. Especially his accent. "Nevada," she said
with a smile.
"Good ta met'cha Nevada! Ye ain't from 'round dese
parts, art ye?"
"No senor, I'm from Cherte."
"Cherte? Wal now, dat means yer lost! Ye'll have to get
off dis ramp, cause we're 'bout ta hav da wall races, ye know?"
"No senor, I'm not lost. I plan on participating in the races-"
"Ye art? Wal now, surely ye don't think a fine lady like
yerself should be taking part in dese races, do ye? It's not lady-like!"
"Fernando here is the best mount I've ever had and I'd hate
to keep him from a race he is sure to win. Besides I'm probably a
fair better rider than you are!"
"Oh, really? Wal missy, how's 'bout a wager? Loser treats
da winner ta dinner at say... da Drunken Dragon?"
"Deal," said Nevada. This had been easier than she had
thought it would be. Even if she lost, she'd be in a good position
with West. She wondered how this man could actually be in
position to be vying for the crime throne. He seemed so...honest.
Rades frowned and told the driver to stop outside
Bardelias' estate. "Hey Osmond? What's going on here?" he
demanded, pointing to all the people wearing black. "Doesn't
anyone know black is the worst thing to wear when it's so damn
hot?"
Osmond nodded, took off his black fedora and rubbed his
forehead with an already soaked kerchief. "Bardelias was murdered
this morning. That mass of gossip behind me are the mourners
who've insisted on showing up for the funeral early," he sighed.
"Amazing isn't it? The body's not even cold yet due to this heat
and they've already shown up to gossip about the bitch!"
"I've heard you never liked her. Who's the new baron?"
Rades grinned despite himself. No one had hated Bardelias more
than he, with the possible exception of Osmond who had to tolerate
her all his life.
"I am. She had no heirs since Torr died from the fever," he
smiled and doffed his fedora at Kelly. "Good day Princess," he
said politely.
Kelly shied away from him like a startled horse from a dog.
She sat in the corner of the carriage seat with very wide eyes.
Rades frowned and bent over to whisper in her ear. "It is
customary for a Lady to offer her hand to a gentleman. Don't
worry. Even if he did try something, I wouldn't let him hurt you."
She smiled and edged closer. She offered her hand to Osmond.
Osmond glanced at Rades with a slight frown. He bent
over and kissed the Princess's hand. She snatched her hand back
quickly. "I see that her highness is still unused to the company of
men. I shall try to fix that. Your highness, Rades, I'm inviting you
to a barn dance tonight. We'll have highland dancers, bag pipers
and fresh cider there. I hope you bring your bag pipes, Rades.
I haven't had the chance to hear you play since the Ice War
banquet." He nodded politely at Princess Kelly. "Have fun at the
beach, I'll be here sweating buckets."
Rades nodded and waved as he sat back down in the
carriage. "Drive on," he shouted to the driver. He turned to look
at Kelly. "Do you want to go to the dance? It will be a lot of fun?"
Kelly thought for a moment. "There will be many men
there?"
"Most likely, but nothing will happen that you need worry
about. I'll be there to protect you as well."
Kelly nodded slowly. "Will you bring your bag pipes?"
"Of course."
Rodrigo was dressed in a silk jacket heavily
embroidered gold thread, skintight pants and a montera hat. He
looked very small down on the field, walking towards a snorting
buffalo which weighed over sixty stone. Terencio had to admit
his countrymen was very brave.
Laughing in the row in front of him caught Terencio's
attention and he listened in closely. "Look at that fool," said the
one dandy with a guffaw. "He's wearing red!" Terencio frowned.
What's the big deal with red? "Doesn't that fool know that bulls
hate red, let alone buffalo?" continued the dandy.
Terencio laughed so loudly he caught the attention of the
dandy. "You mainlanders are so stupid! Bulls don't hate red!
They're colour blind! What a bunch of morons you are! Bulls
chase anything that moves you idiot! The damn cape could be
blue and the bull would still chase it!"
The dandy flushed red. Terencio laughed harder. "Stop
making your face go red boy, what if a bull sees you!"
"Do you want to step outside and discuss this-" The
dandy stopped suddenly and looked down at the sword blade
that disappeared below his chin. He could feel the very point of
the weapon resting on his apple.
"What was that you were going to say boy?" asked
Terencio still giggling.
"Nothing," the beleaguered dandy replied. His friends
were laughing and joking behind his back.
"Good," said Terencio, his sword disappearing back into
its sheath as quickly as it had come out. "Don't believe every
fools story you hear from now on boy." He laughed and went
back to watching the fight.
Rodrigo was just twirling the cape over the buffalo's head
in a Veronica maneuver. Terencio admitted the old Cherten knew
what he was doing. The beasts horns had come within inches of
his heart and he hadn't flinched, but what he did afterwards was
only for a very foolish man, or perhaps an expert matador. He
gripped the beast's horns as it made it's pass and swung over the
beast's back and landed on the other side.
Queen Veronica would have been proud of her people
today. It was she that had founded the Kingdom of Cherte by
uniting the entire island, and in celebration hosted the first
bullfighting competition in the capitol. Her killers, or matadors as
they were called in Escherten, had become icons of the Golden
Age of Cherte. It would appear a new age was coming. A
Platinum Age?
The buffalo was tiring, which meant it would soon be time
for the matador to quit and let the picadors attack the beast with
lances. Which meant it was time for Terencio to go down and
kill Rodrigo. Though he was starting to have his doubts about
killing such a brave, fellow countryman.
He started making his way down to the gate where Rodrigo
would come through. The crowds were very thick down there
because it was closer to the field and therefore easier to see what
was going on. Terencio wondered just how many people were
crammed into the colosseum.
The applause had become thunderous, meaning Rodrigo
must be done since it was tradition to only applaud when the bull
was actually doing a pass. Rodrigo's head came through the gate
and disappeared into the crowd of cheering people. Terencio had
to push to get through the teeming crowd. His ears hurt and he
thought he was going to throw up. Rodrigo was nowhere in sight.
Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into a doorway
in the side of the building. He reached for a dagger and saw it
Rodrigo pulling on his arm. He reached for the dagger again.
Rodrigo laughed. "Don't worry lad. I just want to say
sorry. I was just doing my job, senor, you understand?" he
shouted in Escherten.
Terencio paused and frowned, uncertain. Rodrigo could
have killed him in the Drunken Dragon, could have killed him a
dozen times since then, but he hadn't. He'd been paid to act as a
distraction so Waytorn could get away and it had worked. He
felt somewhat guilty for trying to kill his fellow countryman.
"Come on! Let's go toast the days events with a bottle of
Cherten wine?"
Terencio nodded and smiled. He discovered that he liked
Rodrigo, even envied him, despite himself.
The beach was a highly popular place to go. One
could rent a boat and go fishing, build a sand castle, get a tan, go
bathing or get robbed. Thieves were common on Athex's beach,
and so there was a constant patrol of city guards along the beach,
even then the crime was incredible. Today wasn't bad because
Princess Darylinn had come to the beach. And so had half the
Royal Guard, particularly those that were good swimmers.
Rades shielded his eye with his spitfire cap from the glare
off the lake. "Drive over and we'll set up a picnic beside the
Princess's entourage," he shouted to the driver. The old man
nodded and clicked his tongue. The carriage rolled up beside the
Royal Cabriolet and the Stornium hopped down to greet a
sunburnt Captain Alfred. "Guten tag, Cap'n!"
"Hello there, Graf Rades," said Alfred with a grin. He
looked inside the carriage at the Princess. "Good day, Princess
Kelly. I'd advise not going out to far today. We seem to be
getting a bit of an under-tow."
Kelly offered her hand to the Captain reluctantly. She
glanced at Rades as the Captain took it and kissed her hand lightly.
She tried not to show her fear by not snatching her hand back too
quickly.
Rades smiled somewhat proudly. Though slowly, Kelly
was starting to get reaccustomed to men. She tolerated Rades
because he had always been kind to her, protective in many ways,
and because there was something about Rades' music that seemed
to calm her down, though Rades swore up and down that he
couldn't understand why she so calm about noisy bag pipes as
compared to say a flute or a piano, which she shied away from.
A pretty young maiden wearing a short kilt and a bathing-
tunic, the latest fashion in swimwear, walked by. Rades suppressed
the urge to whistle. There was no such thing as a public beach
down in Deltex, let alone swimwear. If you felt too hot you simple
went to that one spot of isolated beach that no one went to and
swam nude. Here in Athex there were people everywhere, thus
had beachwear become popular amongst the wealthy rather than
getting their fine clothes wet.
How they kept the leather and suede from going solid in the
water was beyond Rades. Mathex had tried to explain the oil in
which the manufacturers dip the leather in, making the leather water
resistant. By the time Mathex explained that water and oil don't
mix, Rades was totally lost and was regretting he'd brought up the
topic.
Nevertheless he'd bought a leather water-resistant kilt just
this morning when he and Kelly had noticed a shop titled 'Tob's
Swimwear'. He thanked Alfred for the advise and helped Kelly
down from the carriage. She too had changed into a kilt and a
bathing tunic, though Rades doubted she'd go that far out in the
lake to actually need it. Kinian's tended to prefer skiing over
swimming and very few actually knew how to swim.
He laid a buffalo skin blanket on the sand and took out the
platters and the keg of sarsaparilla. The Stornium took a deep
breath, savoring the smell of the roasted corn. "I'd say Billip did
these to perfection, just like mutter used to!" His smile turned to
a frown when he remembered his mother had died along with
everyone else in Deltex.
Kelly, despite her timidness, was very observant. "I've never
had roasted corn before. What's it taste like?"
"Corn silly! Only it's the best tasting corn you'll ever taste!"
He drew a knife and opened the butter jar, taking out a fair bit
and smothering it over the corn until the butter melted and soaked
into the kernels. He sheathed the knife and offered her a cob. "Be
careful," he warned. "They're still pretty hot!"
Kelly took the cob gingerly, melted butter dripping off the
cob and sliding down her arm. She tried not to giggle and bit into
the corn. It had an unusual sooty taste to it, yet every kernel was
at peak ripeness and perfectly cooked so it was beyond delicious.
She grinned and butter rolled down her chin and dripped onto her
tunic.
Rades smiled at her, corn kernels stuck between his teeth.
"I forgot to bring tooth picks," he grinned sheepishly. "But a little
sarsaparilla will wash that out!"
Willium would have much preferred to be on the
beach with his daughter, but instead he was stuck here in this
accursed hot palace interrogating his would be assassin. Even then
he was sitting back and letting Prince Nebonex do the talking. The
young minotaur needed practice if he was to become the Minotaur
Emperor, though Willium felt Nebonex could already fit the role
adequately Nebonex still insisted he wanted to be the best damn
emperor ever.
"Who sent you?" Nebonex asked for perhaps the hundredth
time. The maiden refused to answer, in fact, she didn't appear to
have even heard him.
"I wonder if she's a deaf mute," mused Gith, one of Willium's
friends and the best damn advisor he'd ever had. "Or maybe she
doesn't speak common. Escherten?"
The maiden looked up, somewhat startled.
"I'll be damned," swore Willium. "I didn't think Cherte would
dare to risk war with the mainland, especially so soon after setting
up diplomatic relations."
"You're forgetting all the other deaths today, Willium," Gith
stated. "The war may have already begun."
"Go fetch the Cherten Ambassador," Nebonex shouted to
one of the guards in the room. "Or at least someone who speaks
Escherten!"
"Wal, Darlen', I must admit I wuz wrong, but ye
don't need t' gloat o-ver it!" laughed West, sitting down across
from Nevada. "And if ye gonna gloat, then gloat t' me money,
'cause I'm not a listen'n!"
"But of course you are!" snorted Nevada. She bent over
the table, revealing her cleavage and kissing West on the cheek.
"I'll have a bottle of Kinian Ambrosia and a platter of fried venison
and roasted corn. I've been wanting to taste roasted corn!"
"Ambrosia! Whut d' ye take me fer woman! A damn
prince?" shouted West, although he was smiling.
"Judging by the fact that you carry not one, but two heavy
looking money pouches, yes I'd say you'd make a fine prince.
Maybe even a King! Although your accent could use some work."
Nevada had be careful here, she was skirting around the title of
the Cutthroat King. "Besides I'm awfully thirsty after winning that
race, plus I'd like to get my-I mean your money's worth!"
"Speaking of nobility, did ye hear about da new King
Culprit?"
Nevada rolled her eyes up ward in feigned frustration.
"That's all I seem to hear about these days! That or the fire in
Avolic! I'm afraid I'm not really that concerned about some
mainland thief. It doesn't effect me after all, and if you think about
it, he mustn't be very good if everyone knows who he is."
"Not exactly, da crime network ez a huge industry and da
King Culprit basically owns it. Can ye imagine how much money
Waytorn gain'd out of it? He's so rich he can't even count it all!"
"Oh really? It must be interesting to be so rich!" Nevada
noted Billip waddling through the crowd towards her booth.
"Ambrosia!" she shouted to him as he got nearer.
"Ambrosia?" asked Billip. "Are you sure? You'll have to
pay up front you know?"
West grumbled and reached for his money pouch. He
pulled out a platinum coin and laid it on the table. "Dat should
cover da entire meal," he said. "I'll have a buffalo steak, highlander
style, and I'll have a small bottle of scotch."
Billip picked up the coin and turned to Nevada. "And
you?" He inspected the coin to make sure it wasn't just platinum
coated.
"I'd like some fried venison and roasted corn."
Billip looked at her weirdly. "I'm afraid roasted corn isn't
on the menu. We're you here earlier when Graf Rades picked up
his picnic meal?"
"Yes, I was on the horse behind his carriage."
Billip frowned. "That roasted corn was a favour for Rades
playing here, but I'll see what I can do. I'll send a waitress out to
tell you how it's coming, okay?"
"Okay." She watched him walk away, muttering to himself.
"That's strange?" she said to West with a shrug. She tried not to
think about what had just occurred. Something didn't fit and Billip
seemed to know what it was. It couldn't be the corn, she was
certain of that.
"Wal now, what might ye be doing tomorrow Darlen'? I'd
like t' see some more of ye!"
"Oh really? Why wait until tomorrow? I'm not doing
anything tonight and it's not safe for a lady to be out in streets at
night. Not without a man by her side."
"Iz dat an invitation?" West demanded.
"Of course, but are you busy tonight?"
"I am now!"
Nevada smiled and kissed him on the cheek. He was
caught now! All she had to do was coax him.
Rades looked around Osmond's barn and had to
admit this was going to be a damn good party, even though he and
Kelly were early and most of the people hadn't arrived yet. In fact
some of the servants were still setting up the cider barrels.
It was a fairly new barn from what Rades could tell, no
animals had yet been kept in it and from what he remembered
Dillard saying about barn dances, they only occurred when someone
built a new barn. There were still saw dust and wood chippings on
the floor left by the carpenters and constructors. Rades wouldn't
be surprised if the water pipes for the horses still hadn't been
installed, which would be necessary in this heat.
Lord Osmond ran over to join Rades at the door. "How
was the beach? While you were out there swimming I was here
sweating like a pig in a stove, trying to think of times when I actually
got along with Bardelias."
"And?" prompted Rades.
"I couldn't find one. I swear she and I were like oil and
water!" he laughed and turned to Kelly. "Your Highness," he said,
bowing. "Your very presence does my horse barn honour, though
whether the horses will care I do not know!" he said with a grin as
he stood back up. "Enjoy yourselves, I'll be back in a moment," he
said, walking away hurriedly.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Rades, giving her
a comforting hug around the shoulders. He looked around the barn.
"It's not the royal palace, I'll admit, but this is the cleanest barn I've
ever seen. Has a kind of homely feel to it, what with all this oak?
Don't you think?"
Kelly nodded. She knew Rades was trying to get her to
relax, but she couldn't. There was just so many of them.
Everywhere she looked there were more and more of them, and
they kept arriving! She felt a moment of panic when a group of
five dandies showed up laughing and poking fun at their one
friend, calling him the Red Matador. What that was supposed to
mean, she could not guess.
Rades tugged her over to a less populated portion of the
barn where a group of highland dancers were preparing to dance.
She was more than happy to be away from the bulk of the
population. "I wish my sister was here," she murmured. Rades
was okay, but Kerry and Kelly were twins and loved each other
more than the world itself. Kelly had always been the sensible
one, watching over her sister and Kerry the one to take chances,
getting into trouble consistently. Now Kelly only wished Kerry
was there to help her through this tough time.
Osmond stridded over, wiping his brow with a soaked
rag. "If only we could save all that cold from winter for when we
need it in the summer. I could use a nice cold snow ball fight right
about now!" He grinned and motioned Rades and Kelly to an
Arthian Oak table. He took a bun from the basket of fresh bread
on the table, dipped in into a bowl of maple syrup on it and dug
his teeth into it.
Kelly's mouth watered at the smell so she hastily grabbed
a bun and dipped it in the maple syrup. The smell was driving her
crazy as she bit into it and chewed. She relaxed and ate
contentedly. Ah, this was the life!
One of the dancers looked familiar to Rades and he looked
closer. Yup, it was the girl from the beach. My god, if only every
woman in the world was as beautiful as she! Quit shaking your
ass girl, he thought, you're making me dizzy!
"I hope you brought your bag pipes, Rades," Osmond
muttered between a bite. "I'd really like to hear you play!"
"So you've told me," said Rades, only half listening, most
of his attention on the dancer's hips. He shook his head and broke
from his trance. He smiled at Osmond sheepishly. "Being new to
the world of nobility, could you introduce a new Graf to your guests?"
"Of course," said Osmond, pointing his bun at the dancer
for starters. "That girl you've been staring at is my cousin, Rebeka."
Rades nodded and memorized the name instantly. "Over there
is ol' Pete Farley, he isn't nobility, but he does run my cattle ranch
to the south of Athex. Behind him is Lord Alison and that red-
haired fellow beside him is Sir Alroy, Alison's bodyguard. Over
by the cider barrel is Lord Somhairle, Sir Marton, Sir Garfield,
Baron Garvey, Lord Stanfield, and the ol' Count is Hugo Skelly."
Osmond frowned. "That's funny! I've never seen the fella behind
ol' Skelly before! I'll go talk to him!" He laughed. "I can't
introduce you to someone I haven't been introduced to!"
Rades nodded and watched him go. His gaze switched
however when Rebeka danced by his table, her eyes catching his.
"You're making me dizzy," he said, smiling up at her.
She grinned. "Why don't you play your bag pipes Graf
Rades?"
"I doubt anyone could keep up with the lively tune I'm
anxious to play right now."
She smiled and shook her head. She stopped dancing
and her grin curled into a frown. She stared behind Rades and
the Graf couldn't help but turn his head to see what she was
staring at.
Old Skelly was lying dead in a puddle of blood beside
Osmond who had a gaping hole in his chest. The Baron was
desperately trying to keep the blood from flowing between his
fingers. He stared above him at the stranger with his sword in
hand.
Rades' reaction was incredible. Kelly knew that he had
changed since the Ice War, before he'd always been a haphazard
fighter, now he was a sharpened killer. His new sword flew from
his scabbard before he probably even realized it and he threw it
handle over hilt towards the stranger. The brilliant blade flashed
beautifully and imbedded itself up to the hilt in the stranger's chest.
Kelly had seen Rades kill before and although she never got
over it, she was used to it. Everyone else screamed and rioted.
Rebeka standing beside her screamed briefly and burst into tears.
She grabbed Kelly and began sobbing uncontrollably on the
Princess's shoulder. Not knowing what else to do she put her
arms around her and tried to comfort her.
Rades was kneeling beside Osmond, helping him to stop
the flow of blood that just seemed to keep coming. He didn't
remember sprinting across the room, or even killing the stranger.
Everything was going too fast!
"Rades!" shouted Derick, running up and kneeling beside
the Graf. He tore the arm off his silk tunic, ripped it in strips and
started to wrap it tightly around Osmond's chest. "Mop up that
blood!" he ordered Rades.
A lifetime in the army had sharpened Rades to the point
that he didn't stop to argue. He knew that stopping to argue would
mean he'd only get in the way. His eyes caught Osmond's as he
wiped the splattered blood from the Baron's forehead. "You'll be
okay. I've seen worse." He had seen worse, but that didn't mean
the owners had lived to tell about it.
"Of course he'll live!" muttered Derick. "The blood is just
making the hole look bigger than it really is!" Already Derick had
managed to bind the baron's chest to the point that the flow of
blood was lessening. He ripped the other arm off his shirt and
continued to bind the wound. "Lord Redhawk lost twice this much
and you saw him just this morning!" he said to Osmond with a
reassuring grin.
"Who was that guy?" Rades demanded, pointing at the
stranger, lying dead on the floor. He frowned when he saw the
man's sword. It was similar to Rades' new one.
"A Cherten. Domingo, Dominco, something like that!"
Rades shook his head. "Nevada," he muttered.
Castle Dallas was a huge granite building that stood
out in the desert like a patient vulture. Indeed, with it's black
spires and gray-brown walls it looked very ominous and vulture-
like. Even the guards at the gate and the people within seemed
very vulture-like. Pothax and Larel had agreed this was the best
place to travel to, being it one of the places where the wires for
Mathex's telegraph went through. They could easily contact King
Willium back in Athex and advise him of the situation. That was
before they asked a barmaid about Lord Dallas and learned the
real reason why everyone was wearing black.
The sobbing bar-maid turned away, wiping at her tears
with her apron. Apparently Lord Dallas was well loved in his
home, surmised Pothax. He frowned in concentration when he
remembered Colnic nobles weren't well loved, the desert being a
very harsh place to live, especially in the summer.
A puffy-looking merchant chuckled and waddled over to
sit down across from Pothax and Larel. "I see ye've learned
about his lordship, but that missy didn't tell ye the whole story, did
she now?" He gestured at the poor barmaid.
"No sir," replied Pothax. He raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Is there something else I should know?"
"Indeed lad. Ye've heard about Avolic, infact I'd go so
far to say ye were there, judging by the soot on yer face!" He
chuckled lightly. His face became severe. "But ye haven't heard
about the Chertens, the Independents or the King Culprit?"
"No, we haven't," said Larel, leaning an elbow on the table.
"Well, there's been all these deaths in Athex, including an
assassination attempt on King Willium, and everyone's pointing the
finger at the Chertens. Then the Independent Cities have attacked
already captured half of Colnic, though they're soon to start
fighting amongst themselves. Then there's place's like here that the
death of the King Culprit went pretty bad and a local bunch of bad
guys have decided to take over and start up their own independent
state."
Pothax fell out of his chair. "Whut?" he shouted. Larel
jerked him back into his seat and glared at him with disapproval.
She turned to the merchant. "Could you explain what
happened exactly?"
The merchant shook his head and stood up. "I'm afraid
not, I wasn't here, but if ye listen closely ye can hear'em coming.
If I were ye, I'd start heading for my room," he said, crossing the
taproom and heading for the stairs.
Pothax stood and listened. The Doxon's senses were far
more in tune then any regular person and he could easily hear the
cries and shouts of what seemed to be an approaching mob.
Could it be possible? Someone has proclaimed himself King of
Dallas? He knew there was going to be chaos in the next week,
but a castle ruled by a thief? Sure, he himself was an ambassador
and a famous cutthroat, but this was getting to be too, too... weird.
The door burst open and several thugs charged in. The
sobbing barmaid was still behind the bar, having been too
distracted to notice what was happening around her. One of the
men grabbed hold of her and pulled her roughly over the bar. He
placed a dagger to her exposed throat.
"Everyone line up," shrieked a burly thug. "His Highness
has set forth a new law! You are all slaves, and if one of you dare
to try anything, we'll kill the bitch! And then we'll kill you and the
person beside you!"
There was almost nothing Pothax hated more than slavery.
He'd been sold into slavery when he was a child and it wasn't until
the death of the old king of Colnic and the new Reign of Queen
Elexenia had slavery been abolished. Or rather the old reign.
Colnic no longer existed. Nevertheless, Pothax had felt the lash
of his masters whip more than once as a child and knew what it
felt like. The difference between him and Wynic was his brother
had been beaten by his father, Pothax had been sold into slavery
by his father and beaten by his master. It was very hard for him
to stay still, and if it wasn't for his friends standing beside him, he
would have already attacked.
Bren too knew what this felt like, having been beaten by
his real father before Pothax adopted him. He too had to struggle,
being beside his new father and Phiona which he had recently
become infatuated with, though Phiona barely noticed him.
When nobody moved because they were still in a state of
shock, the man holding the bar-maid shouted, "Line up!" He dug
the edge of his blade into the girl's skin and a trickle of blood ran
down her neck.
Swearing beneath his breath, Pothax took one step forward
and got in line in front of Larel. It was the hardest thing he'd ever
done. To know that he'd submitted to slavery, to have let Bren
down, his friends and companions.
Carlo stared as Pothax got in line and watched
dumbfounded as several others joined the cutthroat in the line up.
There was more than enough warriors here to take those thugs, but
they couldn't, not with that barmaid being threatened. As a
Stornium he had never known slavery and was appalled by the idea.
How could he submit? He could fake fainting, but that might place
the barmaid into further danger if he couldn't keep up the facade.
On the other hand, he thought, standing and heading to join the rest
in the line, they might decide to kill us all?
He glanced at Brenda and winked, trying to look confident.
He pulled a Stornium star from his belt, held it aloft for a bare
second and threw it at the man threatening the barmaid. It slid
easily into his neck, the poison quickly doing it's job before anyone
realized what had happened. By the time the man had slid to the
floor at the girl's feet, Carlo, Brenda and the rest of his companions
had drawn their weapons and were advancing on the enemy.
The barmaid ran, screaming, across the room and hid
behind Eluth's bulky form. He grinned somewhat and looked
down at her. By the time he looked up, Pothax and Bren's
poisoned daggers had finished off the rest of the thugs.
Carlo ran to the shuttered window and peeked outside.
There were at least fifty more men out there, though they were
busy shackling about two hundred others. "I don't think we want
to go that way!" he said fearfully. "Out through the stables!" he
said, grabbing Brenda's hand and leading the way.
Pothax took a quick glance out the door and had
to agree. Even if they went that way and caused a fight between
the thugs and the new slaves it would probably mean getting killed
in a bloody massacre because nobody really knows who's an ally
or a foe. Leaving the castle now was out of the question too, the
gates would have been shut and locked securely. "We can't get
out!" he shouted. "Let's hide on the roof! Nobody will find us up
there!"
Larel nodded and headed up the stairway. Roreed
followed, breaking in doors and telling the people within to head
for the roof where they'd be safe. Larel was already planning
out a strategy, the flat roof being an idea place to defend. Then
they could travel across the castle, though in her mind, the
fortress was closer to a large keep, or a very small fortified city.
Then they could set up some kind of base where they could
strike out and perhaps end this tyranny.
Pothax had other plans, but his way was the way an
assassin would do it and not an experienced campaigner. He
planned to find this 'Highness' and assassinate the bastard. In his
mind this would put a stop to this madness, but that just meant
another would take his place, and eventually another and another
and so on. Frustrated, he realized this was a job for an
experienced campaigner, like Larel. Of course, if they both
worked independently they'd manage to frighten and put the
enemies' forces into disarray. The constant lack of a leader and
the increasing number of attacks from Larel's Marines would
eventually cause the enemy to flee.
It was obvious to the companions that the news was a
shock to everyone in the city, the response ranging from riots to
quiet submission. Many of the thugs wore uniforms, suggesting
that there had been many traitors amongst Lord Dallas' own men.
The companions could hear the screams of people being
slaughtered, beaten or raped, yet they could do nothing about it.
Nothing that would make a difference.
Bren woke with a start and looked around quickly,
forgetting momentarily where he was. He glanced wistfully at
Phiona and shook his head. She wasn't the one who had screamed.
He'd heard a lot of screaming today, more than he'd thought
possible. He thanked the Lord their screams hadn't haunted his
dreams, giving him nightmares like Roreed, who was twisting and
turning in his bedroll beside him.
He stood up and looked around the flat rooftop of the inn
and then at the clear night sky and the stars shining brilliantly. It
got awfully cold in the desert at night, though in his mind it should
have been almost as hot as day. He shivered involuntarily and
wrapped his arms around himself, ignoring the pain of his sunburn.
He forced a smile as he thought of Eluth complaining about
sunburns on his sunburn. It was good to keep his mind off what
had happened today. He shivered again and began to get back
into his bedroll.
Another scream shattered the still desert night.
Bren frowned and tried to remember something else to
take his mind off the scream. but everytime he tried, he'd seem to
hear it again in his mind. It continued to nag him until he finally
stood and pulled on a thick woolen tunic Aunt Vicky had bought
him. He pulled a dagger from his belt and swiftly slid down the
side of the inn to the empty street below. If you wanted something
done, you had to do it yourself.
He crept down the street, ready to bolt at the first sight of
danger. None came and he eventually came to a two story
building with an alchemy shop on the first floor and what looked to
be someone's home on the second. He scaled the wall and
looked in through the shuttered windows. He blinked his eyes to
adjust to the firelight streaming through the shutters in splutters.
A man and a woman lay on a bed. Bren wasn't surprised,
having had similar thoughts about Phiona, though not to the extent
of tying her down. Again she screamed in pain and he heard the
man mutter something about killing someone. The window was
locked and Bren didn't bring his lock picking wires with him so
he scaled down and entered the alchemy shop, looking for a
stairway to the room above.
Bren couldn't read that good, but he knew from talking to
Mathex what an acid was, especially one like hydrochloric acid,
though Bren doubted he could spell it properly. He put the dagger
back in his belt and lifted up the bottle gingerly. After all, he figured,
it might come in handy. He made his way across the room to
where there was the narrow stairs led up to the second floor.
He paused and looked directly beyond the stairs, to a
shadowy figure huddled behind the stairs. Setting the jar down,
Bren drew his dagger and came closer, his feet barely making a
sound across the floor as he approached the figure. He relaxed
when he saw the figure was smaller than he and tied up in a thick
braid of rope. Apparently the brute upstairs preferred rope to
shackles. Bren didn't really care about the man's preferences, he
just cut the rope and shook the figure awake.
The figure woke suddenly, flailing around with a small cry.
Bren covered the figure's mouth and shook his head. "Be very
quiet!" he hissed. "Don't make a sound! Okay?" He released
his hold and pulled the figure into the starlight so he could see
what he had already guessed to be a her.
"Okay," came the timid reply.
"Stay here," he whispered. He backed away from the tear
streaked girl, picked up the bottle of hydrochloric acid and started
up the stairs. He was nearly to the top when the step beneath him
creaked loudly. Bren swore they could have heard him coming
up the stairway in far flung Evicoth, but no one noticed because the
woman screamed again.
"Haven't you learned by now that no one's going to hear
you and come to your rescue yet?" taunted a voice that wavered
between deep and falsetto. Bren thought it sounded a bit like a
donkey. "Or are you screaming for more," laughed the voice
cruelly.
Bren opened the door and stood there for a moment,
having forgotten how bright the firelight from the wood-stove was,
and being momentarily blinded. He heard swearing as the man
got to his feet, his voice getting really high-pitched that it sounded
like a pig squealing.
Bren opened the jar and threw the contents into the man's
face. His vision finally focused and he saw the man shrieking with
terror as he rubbed at his deteriorating face. The skin seemed to
pull right off his flesh wherever he rubbed, desperately trying to
get the burning liquid off his face. Suddenly the man stopped and
stared at his hands, watching the skin peeling off them. He
screamed, ran past Bren and fell down the narrow stairway. The
boy listened to his screams disappearing into the night.
He turned to face the woman and grinned sheepishly, his
face blushing.
The woman returned his smile, though it was grim, and
her bruised and tear covered face showed just how awful she felt.
"As an... an alchemist, I'd-I'd say he's in...a lot of pain." She
forced a smile.
Bren frowned. He knew he lived in a harsh world, but
sometimes he wondered. He wondered what was the point of it
all? He thought of the Colnic's almost barbarian culture and
thought, "I'm not going to Hell, I've already been there."
Carlo grinned and rolled over languidly, stretching
his arms cat-like. Brenda smiled and kissed the Stornium's
forehead and pushed him back onto his side of the bedroll. "Time
to get up dear," she grinned and wrapped her arms around him.
Carlo yawned loudly, stretched again and bounced to his feet.
And nearly fell off the roof.
Brenda grabbed his leg and yanked him back from the
edge. "You're lucky I keep watching out for you or you'd be
dead by now, you klutz! How you became a sailor I'll never
know!" She grinned and stood.
Carlo glanced around quickly making sure no one else
was awake to see his naked lover. Bren and Pothax were
missing, but other than that, everyone was still sleeping. Eluth
was snoring. The Stornium smiled and kissed Brenda, his arms
encircling her waist and his hands clutching her buttocks.
Brenda molded into his arms, pressing her breasts
against his chest. She felt safe in Carlo's arms, despite his
somewhat clumsy appearance. Carlo was also strangely
dangerous looking, like he was a dreaded killer, a lunatic. A
wild card she'd heard Pothax once comment about Carlo.
She herself had been trained as a killer. Waytorn had
trained her as his bodyguard, giving her the best training anyone
had ever known. From Cherten matadors to Kinian Knightschool
to Kalarippayat to the Academy of Combat in Evicoth, she'd
been trained to physically martial perfection. Kalarippayat was
the deadliest, she could kill a man instantly with a single blow.
Carlo took a step back and admired her in the light of the
rising sun. The light created a halo of light around her silhouette
and he wondered briefly if she was an angel incarnate. "Mein
Gott, du bist schon!" he swore in old Stornium.
Brenda smiled. "What's the common translation?"
"My God, you're beautiful!"
"Danke schon!" she thanked him. She heard Eluth's
rhythmic breathing change and she snatched a kilt and a tunic
from her pack, knowing her fellow marine would soon be awake
and probably hungry. Eluth was always hungry.
Carlo pulled on a kilt and remembered his first encounter
with Eluth and Roreed. They had been amongst those sent on the
mission to capture the minotaur Kobalix. Eluth had been a colonel
then and Roreed a brigadier, while Carlo had been a commodore.
Eluth had always seemed somewhat shy yet competent, Roreed
a strong leader and a damn good fighter. Now it seemed to Carlo
that his comrades had changed subtly, Eluth was a slob and
Roreed a tempersome yet extremely competent fighter. Perhaps
it was because Roreed had a wife and children back in Stornium.
Eluth apparently had some debtors and had no intention of going
back to Stornium. Carlo, well, Carlo was happy right here beside
Brenda and the sea would always be there until he got back.
Eluth's snoring stopped abruptly and he groaned. "Who's
turn to make the breaking-the-fast meal?"
"Yours!" muttered Roreed with a snort.
"I don't think so! It's yours! Isn't that right Carlo?"
Carlo shook his head. "All I know is it's not my turn since
I made it yesterday."
"Okay, we'll ask Larel then!" spat Eluth, he groaned as he
sat up and looked across the roof to where Larel lay. "Hey, Larel!
Who's turn to make breaking-the-fast?"
Larel grumbled beneath her bedroll. "Yours!" came the
reply.
Roreed snickered. "You always have to ask, don't you?
Don't you know by now that whoever asks is the one who has to
make it?"
"Well, then it is your turn!" argued Eluth.
"Both of you do it!" shouted Larel. She grumbled something
about smashing Eluth's and Roreed's heads together and seeing if
the two of them actually could make a full brain instead of two half
wits. She snorted that the left side of the brain would probably
argue with the right side and vice-versa.
Carlo looked around the roof and nudged Brenda.
"Where's Pothax and Bren?" he asked.
His 'Highness' wasn't exactly correct as Pothax
found out. He ducked as one of their Highnesses walked by the
window he was crouched behind. King Hyatt and Queen
Sinead were arguing over yesterdays new slavery law.
"Well, I can't reverse the law, you know!" argued Hyatt.
"I've already given out the law and it's been carried through. If
I let the slaves free, they'll kill me!"
"Oh, shut up!" Sinead snapped. "You and I know that
you were just trying to get back at them for putting you in the
colosseum back when you were a slave! Why not just lock up
all the old slave lords and have them tortured? No need to
enslave everyone else!"
"Oh, all right, I'll give the order to search the slaves for
former slave-masters. Okay?"
"Okay, but check with me next time you decide to make
any new laws."
"Yes, your Highness."
"Thank you, your Highness."
Pothax heard the two laugh heartily and decided that
perhaps he should let things go its course, for the moment. After
all, who says these people wouldn't make fine rulers, despite the
fact that they were quite enjoying calling each other 'Highness'.
Pothax rather liked the idea.
Larel crossed her arms across her breasts and
glared at Pothax and Bren. "First of all, you should have told me
before either of you went off on your own. Second of all, you
Pothax were supposed to be standing watch. Third of all, you
can't just go around assassinating anyone you feel like. Fourth of
all, you Bren, should know better than to bring others here. You
could have been spotted and followed, and then we'd all be in
chains right now. What do you two have to say for yourselves."
Pothax scratched his chin and crossed his arms across his
chest. "First of all, I'm not one of your marines that you can order
around. Second of all, I don't plan on becoming a marine if my
commander is like this. Third of all, I didn't assassinate anyone
tonight and I don't plan on killing either King Hyatt or Queen
Sinead. I happen to like them. Fourth of all, I don't like you
bossing my son around when he did absolutely nothing wrong. I
taught him to scout out the perimeter before moving into an occupied
area."
Bren nodded. "I'd have to be a complete fool to lead
someone here without checking first. I only saw one fella and he
was dead drunk!"
"And what about those you didn't see? The ones that might
be watching you?"
"I backtracked several times, I would have seen them."
"And if they saw you coming? Wouldn't they hide?"
Pothax shook his head. "Larel, let it rest. He did better than
any of your marines would have done. Since we haven't been
attacked yet today, I'd say we're pretty safe." He smiled at Bren
proudly. "In addition, I was able to sneak in and send a message to
King Willium using that code of Mathex's. Whether they received it,
I don't know."
"What was the message?" demanded Larel.
"Will-Colnic is no more-send army-chaos-Doxon," replied
the ambassador. "I'd suggest that we leave Dallas and head for
Athex. There's nothing we can do here." Besides, thought the
cutthroat, I have to make sure my loot gets safely back to Athex.
"Maybe not," muttered Roreed. He pointed down into the
street where there was sounds of more fighting. Pothax knew that
the fighting had resumed but he didn't know why so he ran over to
take a look.
Down in the street it was the slavers themselves that were
fighting. It looked to be a struggle between two opposing powers,
each vying for what looked like an empty throne. The reason why
Pothax knew the Throne of Dallas was empty was that one of the
men down below bore two heads on a pike-staff down below.
King Hyatt and Queen Sinead's heads, to be precise.
"Does anyone know where the slaves are being kept?"
demanded Pothax.
"The castle dungeons, where else?" replied Roreed.
"Very well. Larel, I think its time to give your marines
some field practice. Invading the dungeons would be good
practice, don't you think?"
There was thirty men guarding the main entrance
to the castle dungeons. Phiona froze and began to wonder if she
should continue. Pothax said they needed a distraction, but why
her? Sure, running naked past the gate would certainly make
quite a few of them give chase, but exactly how would they get
away. Pothax said he, Bren and Dame Larel would be waiting
around the corner to help her escape. But could she make it to
the corner? Sure, she was a damn fast runner, but surely someone
among the guards was faster still, plus they'd probably see her
coming and cut her off before she could even get by them.
Phiona took a deep breath and peeked around the corner.
The guards looked fairly sleepy and not too observant. Maybe
they wouldn't notice her until she was almost around the corner?
She exhaled, took another breath and ran.
Ran like she never ran before. Her sandled feet thumped
loudly against the cobbled granite street as she pumped her legs up
and down, trying to keep her eyes focused on the corner and not
on the guards that were staring at her. Pothax said that probably
about half of them would give chase. He was wrong.
She nearly panicked when almost all the guards stood and
started running, angling to cut her off. She ran harder, her heart
pounding in her chest like it was going to explode. One man
attempted to tackle her but she dodged to the side and he slid to a
stop with a curse. The next time she didn't manage to dodge and
she felt the man's hands close around her waist.
There was a sharp twang from a crossbow and the man's
hands slid free limply. "Thanks Larel," Phiona murmured. She ran
on, the corner was only another couple steps away...
Another man managed to get his hands around her waist,
dragging her to the ground. Phiona cried out with disspair, trying
to fight him off with her hands and legs. The man stubbornly
refused to let go.
Pothax stepped around the corner, punched the man and
lifted the struggling girl over his shoulder. It wasn't until they were
around the corner that she realized it was Pothax she was hitting
and not one of the guards. "Keep struggling," he whispered. "They
think I'm one of them."
Phiona nodded and continued to pound on Pothax's back
as he disappeared into a second alleyway. A few yards behind
Pothax she could see the guards running to catch up, though they
did so at a more relaxed pace. Probably waiting their turn.
Suddenly there was a loud noise from up above and she
glanced up to see a wheel barrel, a whole wheel barrel full of bricks
flying down towards her. She screamed, thinking she was going to
be squashed under the load of bricks. Pothax swerved into a
different alley and the load of bricks landed where'd they'd been
just a moment before. Several men had been killed, or at least
knocked unconscious by the falling bricks.
Bren glanced over the wall from above and winked at
her. Several other men, including that puffy-looking merchant
that Pothax had talked to yesterday, grinned and waved. Phiona
smiled and blew a thankful kiss to her rescuers.
Pothax stopped and set Phiona down on the granite
cobbles. He drew his shortsword and went back to the pile of
rubble to look over. Phiona followed cautiously. At the other end
of the alley was a second pile of rubble, blocking the guards escape
route. Even if the men trapped inside did get over either pile,
they'd have to face either Pothax or one of Larel's crossbows,
depending on which pile they went over. Plus there was the added
factor that they couldn't stay where they were because of the small
horde of people above who were throwing bricks and pieces of
rubble at the guards.
With only eight guards left it was decided that
Brenda would lead the attack, with Roreed and Carlo guarding
her flanks and Eluth guarding their rear. Brenda's halberd, a
typically brutal weapon in the hands of someone who knew how
to use it properly however was what made the supreme difference.
She quite literally chopped through the eight remaining guards
without any real help whatsoever from her fellow marines.
Carlo watched as she engaged the first man, parrying his
sword stroke with the axe blade and driving the handle of the
halberd into his groin. He doubled over in agony and she promptly
slit his throat with the axe blade. The next man lashed at her with
a whip. It caught on the axe blade itself, but Brenda simple
reversed the handle and smashed the spade-shaped barb on the
other side into the man's chest like a logger swinging an axe.
Carlo had always thought that barb to be purely decoration and
he had to admit that if anything it was the more dangerous part of
the weapon, because it plunged right through the man's ribs with
an audible crack and the spade tip came out of his spine.
The next guard didn't attack Brenda but simply dropped
his axe and fainted. He clearly couldn't handle the sight of blood,
though Carlo had to admit he sometimes got pretty scared of just
how much blood seemed to come out of one body. Next came
a pair of two guards, each coming forth cautiously. Brenda swung
at the one on her left and it looked like Carlo might actually get a
chance to fight here except at the same time Brenda also shoved
the base of the halberd into the ground and launched herself
upwards like a high jumper at the Summerfest Championships.
Her boots connected with the man on her right, driving her toes
into his throat, seeking to collapse his windpipe. Once a man's
windpipe collapsed he would suffocate on his own.
The man on her left stood there stunned and was still
staring when Brenda ripped the base of her halberd out of the
ground and smashed the handle into his forehead, shattering his
skull and creating a crater where his forehead had been. He fell
back into one of his comrade's arms as his eyes rolled upwards
to seemingly stare at the hole in his head. The man behind him
cried out in shock and turned towards Brenda, swinging his sword
in a cruel arc towards her neck. Carlo looked away but was
surprised when he heard a solid clang and looked up to see the
man's sword imbedded in the axe blade of Brenda's halberd.
"Gott in Himmel!" swore Roreed in old Stornium.
Everyone stopped and stared at the two weapons probably
permanently locked together.
Brenda dropped the halberd and drove her fist into the
man's neck, snapping it off to one side with a sharp crack. Only
two men remained and these charged at her desperately, thinking
her to be finally unarmed. Placing one foot on the fallen man's
sword hilt and the other foot under the blade, she levered both
sword and halberd into the air, and deftly caught the halberd's
handle. The two men paused in their rush and looked from one
another to the awkward looking sword and halberd stuck together.
The marine didn't give them time to think, and swung the
weapon at the closest man. He raised his shield and blocked the
sword blade, but he forgot to block the halberd's axe blade
because the sword blade snapped and the axe drove into his side,
breaking several ribs. He groaned weekly and stared at Brenda
and then at his comrade before falling to the ground with a groan.
Brenda wrenched the axe blade free, the sword tip still
imbedded in it, and turned to face the remaining man. This fellow
backed away, tossed a ring of keys into the air and fled, tossing
his sword and shield over his shoulder as he ran.
"I don't know why we made that distraction," muttered
Eluth. "Brenda could have taken them all on by herself probably."
King Sanford of Dallas didn't have a throne.
Indeed, he barely had the remnants of a small army of outlaws.
In addition the previous King and Queen's slaves had escaped
with the aid of several members of the Crimson Companions
including Pothax Doxon. And so Sanford decided that he was in
no position to be trying to reestablish a monarchy and instead
decided it would be better to go talk to Pothax and discuss the
matter of who should be in charge of Dallas, thus improving his
chances of gaining control.
If Pothax didn't like it then it would be the perfect
opportunity to bring out Covell, an incredibly, brilliant swordsman,
but lacking the mental power of a true leader. Covell had no
choice to follow Sanford's orders or else he'd never see his family
again. A year ago during Kobalix's Quest Sanford had kidnapped
Covell's wife and three daughters and hid them in some remote
place of Colnic. If Covell killed Sanford he'd never see his family
again, since it was Sanford that made sure Covell's family was
fed and taken care of, it was in Covell's best interest to keep
Sanford alive, or else his family would starve without someone
sending food for them to eat.
Thus when Sanford met Pothax in the open glade in the
castle gardens, it was his full intention to have Pothax killed once
he had Dallas in the palm of his hand, much like Covell was.
"G'day Ambassador Doxon," he greeted Pothax warmly. "I've
heard much about you. I quite admire you!"
"Thank you," replied Pothax. He turned to the armoured
woman beside him. "This is Dame Larel. She is the Marine
Commander."
Sanford nodded at Larel. She was tall, strong and fairly
sharp looking. A dangerous opponent, Sanford was sure, but
what really concerned him was remembering hearing about a
member of the Crimson Companions, also called Larel, was
probably the best crossbowist on the continent. There was finely
carved crossbow slung over Larel's shoulder and cross-pistol in
a holster on her belt. "G'day Madame. The reason why I asked
you here is because I'd truly like to know what you plan to do with
Castle Dallas. Lord Dallas is dead and he has no heir, which is
what prompted Hyatt and Sinead's accession to what I consider
a very small throne."
"But worth fighting for," commented Larel dryly. "We've
sent word to King Willium, the Arthian Army will be here in two
days. Three at the most, depends on what sort of trouble they run
into along the way."
Sanford concealed a frown. If the Arthian Army came
he'd never get control of the castle. But perhaps... perhaps if he
was left in charge he could ransack the castle, take as many slaves
as possible, and escape into the desert. "That's welcomed news.
I've had more than enough of this chaos. Who are you leaving
behind to look over the castle?"
Pothax turned around, presenting Sanford with a golden
opportunity to stab him in the back. A fool's gold, considering
Larel with her fist firmly holding her sword by the hilt. The
ambassador waved a puffy-looking man forward. He looked like
a merchant from the rich clothes, though they were rather tattered.
"This is Master Holmes, he's an experienced caravan merchant,
which takes a lot of knowledge of how to plan things, plus he's
honest so I trust his judgment." Pothax turned back to face
Sanford. "You however, with your current power, would make
an excellent lieutenant. Don't you think Larel?"
Larel nodded speculatively.
Sanford grinned inwardly. Lieutenant? That would be
good enough, as soon as this Holmes was dispatched he could
become filthy rich. "Thank you Ambassador," he said quickly.
Pothax was already mounting his horse to leave. "Good
luck to you both," he said as he adjusted his sword at his side.
"The army will be here soon so you shouldn't have to worry much."
Unfortunately Holmes was every bit as good as
Pothax had said he was. He placed guards on every street, hired
a band of mercenaries to patrol the streets and keep the peace.
He even hunted down many of the former slave masters and had
them thrown in prison until the army was due to get here. Thank-
fully that didn't include Sanford.
As they sat across a large oak table in the grand hall,
Holmes began rambling on about a tiny little village north of Castle
Dallas called Dryden. Sanford looked up and took a look at
Covell sitting quietly at the other end of the table. If Holmes knew
about Covell's family there... well, lets just say Sanford wouldn't
live long if Covell found out where they were.
"Covell," Sanford shouted. "Come here," he ordered.
He smiled at Holmes. "Did I introduce you to my bodyguard,
Holmes?" The puffy man shook his head and looked up with
interest. Sanford grinned, there was only the three of them in
the huge hall, Holmes had given most of the servants the day off.
"Holmes, this Covell. Covell, kill Holmes!" Sanford
ordered.
Despite Covell's dim wits his broadsword was out in a flash,
but... but where was Holmes?
"Pothax said you might try something like that," said Holmes,
rolling out from under the table. He held a rapier posed bare inches
from Sanford's neck.
Covell knocked Sanford out of the way with his
broadsword and parried away Holmes' thrust. His foot came
forward in a well placed kick, but once again Holmes was no
longer there. For a fat man he sure could move quickly.
Holmes chuckled. "Must be all those dance lessons my
mother made me take as a kid! Or maybe it's the fencing lessons
at the Academy of Combat in Athex?" He thrust his rapier at
Covell's face to distract him and then kicked the man in the knee
cap. "I wonder why Sanford waited until now to try and kill me?
Surely he wasn't worried about a little village like Dryden? Or
was he?"
Covell backed off with a glance at Sanford who smiled
weakly and shrugged. This was not going well for Sanford and he
considered making a run for it right now.
"What could possibly be in Dryden that he'd be so worried
about? Surely not that wicked sheriff that keeps women and
children all locked up, and-"
Sanford's shocked head flew from neck and landed in the
fireplace at the other end of the grand hall. Covell shook his head
and wiped his sword on Sanford's body before it even hit the
ground. He sheathed it and looked at Holmes thankfully.
"Are you Covell Birley?" asked Holmes with a wry grin.
"I believe I know your wife and daughters. They're in Dryden."
Covell nodded. "Thank you, but... but how did you learn
to fight so well?"
"Well," began Holmes, holding up his rapier and pointing
to a tiny insignia bearing a golden eagle and a pair of crossed
swords. "It isn't easy getting into the ranks of Arthian Knights,
but can you imagine the amount of rigorous training and skill it
takes to become an Archknight? There are only a few of us left on
the continent, I'm afraid."
Chapter Five
Terencio, Rodrigo and Johann looked up from
their table at a very angry Rades. The Stornium stormed across
the barroom of the Drunken Dragon Tavern and literally lifted
Terencio out of his seat to the point that he was face to face with
the Graf. "Where's Nevada?"
Terencio swallowed hard and glanced at Rodrigo. "I take
it my lady went a little too far yesterday?"
"Indeed, Dominico nearly killed a friend of mine last night
and I just heard of an assassination attempt on King Willium."
"First off, I think you should know that Dominico is not a
Cherten name, it's Icolnic, and secondly, that killing spree
Nevada ordered was also ordered stopped yesterday morning.
Plus there's the additional fact that we set King Willium as off
grounds because we didn't want to set off an international war."
Terencio looped his arms under Rades' and neatly wrenched
himself free.
"I want to speak with Nevada," Rades demanded, sitting
down beside Johann at the table. "Where can I find her?" He
narrowed his eyes at Terencio, looking like he might kill if he
didn't get a straight answer."
"Probably entertaining a guest in her room at the Royal
Athexian. She has only one shot left at becoming Queen Culprit
now that you managed to sneak Waytorn out of the city."
Terencio smiled wryly. "Oh, and by the way, a fellow called
Neal is the new King Culprit, though that won't last long because
he's a fool and a drunk. Probably dead already," he said with a
snort. "Right now, you wouldn't even get through the front gate
to talk to Nevada with all the guards she's posted with a
description of you. There isn't too many one-eyed Storniums
about. I'll set up a meeting in the park at the end of the street,
the one beside Wynic Doxon's estate where I believe you're
staying?"
Rades nodded and sat back. He had no choice but to
wait and that had a calming effect on him. He ordered a Kinian
brandy and a roasted leg of mutton plus black raspberry pie.
Rodrigo, Terencio and Johann resumed talking in Escherten.
The Graf barely paid attention, his eyes going to a man playing
the bag pipes, a pair of Northland dancers and a man singing
'When Arthish Eyes Are Smiling'.
His thoughts turned to a imaginary map of Arthian, with
the Arthish in the south, the Northlanders in the north and the
Athexians or Athelsh in the middle. And yet he remembered
Dillard once saying that if you ever stuck a Arthish man in the
same room with a Northlander neither of them would come out
because they'd kill each other, and God defend anyone who got
the two mixed up. He missed Dillard.
Suddenly Rades stood and walked over to the bag piper.
The look of longing in his eyes must have told the piper everything
he needed to know because he immediately handed over the bag
pipes. Rades thanked him by ordering him a stein of scotch.
The music that flowed from the bag pipes felt like a rush
of cool water on his fevered skin to Rades, though to everyone
else it sounded like a joyous dancing jig, though a little too fast
and too many notes. That's one thing all the composers and
musicians always complained about Rades' work. Too many
notes in too small a space. No one else could keep up with him
so they adapted his work to make it playable by the common
bard.
In a secluded corner of the room, surrounded by five
Stornium knights plus Lord Redhawk was Queen Helen. She
smiled at the Graf and his music took on a more boisterous air,
a sort of fanfare. He grinned back, closed his eyes and fell in
tune with his music, allowing him to forget everything and escape
into his own world of harmony where best friends didn't die and
lovers didn't betray lovers.
"P. T. S. D.," murmured Derick thoughtfully from his seat
beside his lord. Redhawk raised an eyebrow questioning. "Post
-traumatic stress disorder, milord," answered the squire.
"Commonly called 'battle fatigue', or cowardice. A colleague of
mine did a study on it recently during the Ice War. Rades is a
fair example of it and it is fairly incurable, though Rades' music
would appear to be the remedy in his case. It seems to bring out
the best in him."
"She's not Cherten," said the Cherten Ambassador.
"She's from the city-state of Pearl, sent here to spy and if
opportunity arose, to assassinate, though she admits she isn't very
good at it. I'd say you have a major crisis on your hands. Would
you care to make an alliance with Cherte? We've had similar
grievances with them as well?"
"I well know that Cherte has long feuded with the city-
states, and Cherte is free to raid the states as much as they like,
considering they don't get too greedy, of course," replied Willium.
"Of course," said the stoic ambassador. He obviously
disliked the open way Willium negotiated and was struggling to
not show it. "If you wish to speak with the prisoner you will have
to speak in either Escherten, old, Kinian, old Colnic, old Arthian
or Independien. Have a good day your majesties," he said and
strutted out the door.
"What I don't understand," murmured Gith. "Is how in
Hell could she be a spy if she doesn't even speak the Common
tongue?" He scratched his balding head with a smile and toyed
with his cane.
King Willium and Nebonex frowned. "I hadn't thought
of that," admitted the huge minotaur. "We'd better talk to her and
see if we can get some sense out of this. Maybe she was just a
courier and there is more spies out there?"
West drowsed off immediately afterwards and
Nevada checked to make sure he was really asleep before
dressing and going out. Her recent encounter with Rades had
scared her. She wasn't any happier when she received the
message that Terencio had set up a meeting for her with Rades
in the park.
Slipping on a black velvet blouse, a kilt and tucking a
dagger in the back of her doe-skin boots, she climbed out the
window, slid down the wall, and ended up in the dark alley
way where two of her fellow Chertens were waiting. "Let's go,"
she muttered. She didn't at all like another encounter with
Rades and reminded herself to have a talk with Terencio about
setting up meetings without her permission.
Even though it was late at night the city still buzzed with
noise and work and it occurred to Nevada, "When do these
people sleep?" There was still a lot of fuss about the new King
Culprit Maseri, when it was now Neal who was in charge, though
that probably wouldn't last very long. The Dark Throne as it was
called was very unstable these days. Some people saw this as a
good sign, thinking the crimeworld might kill itself off. Others who
knew more about the subject, knew that if it were to collapse it
might take down several kingdoms with it, like Colnic. Only a few
thought that might actually be a good thing.
One might wonder where Waytorn had disappeared to,
but did it really matter? He no longer was in position for the Dark
Throne, indeed, he didn't want it or he wouldn't have went through
all this trouble just to get rid of it. It was apparent to Nevada that
Waytorn had left for his keep up in the Kinian Mountains, though
it was highly likely that he was planning on returning eventually
since it was rumoured that he'd been offered a place in court:
The Lord of Cutthroat Keep.
Nevada found it uneasy to call that fortress up in the
mountains simply a keep. City would be closer. She'd even
heard a few rumours that it was bigger than Kinian's capitol Jaton
and that Waytorn was planning on calling it Treburdun.
She could see the park up ahead in the dim moonlight and
even spot a figure leaning against an old oak tree. The shine from
the figure's sword suggested who the bearer might be. As she got
nearer Rades drew it and waved her forward with it. Almost
tauntingly.
Nevada swallowed the lump in her throat, moving forward
swiftly, and trying to look calm and in control. Her fellow Chertens
took up positions off to the side and kept their distance as was
proper. If Rades made any move it would be his last.
"I regret my friend Osmond and your friend Dominico or
Dominigo couldn't come," said Rades, biting back a snarl.
"Osmond's barely alive, and Domingo's head is currently resting
on a pike outside the Osmondelias Estate." He smiled thinly.
"What?" Nevada screeched. "What's Dominigo doing
here? I left him in Cherte!"
Rades frowned. "Then it is Dominico, not Dominigo.
Unless you know of another called Dominigo?" He sheathed
his sword.
Nevada ran a hand through her hair with frustration.
She paused, realizing her men were watching and smoothed out
her hair. She needed them right now and they needed her
leadership. Taking a deep breath, she frowned in concentration.
"Dominigo was an old lover. I left him in charge of my holdings
back in Cherte. If he's disobeyed orders and came here, I want
to know for sure. Other than that, I don't know a Dominico, or
even a different Dominigo! That's not a Cherten name, though
to you mainlanders it probably doesn't matter!"
"Good," Rades smiled briefly. "And I'll expect your
cooperation in helping us find who sent Dominico, plus another
assassin to kill King Willium, or else I'll be forced to tell West
why he got into your bed so damn easily!" Rades looked at her
stoically and she matched his visage by not even showing her
hatred of him. "And before we go to Osmondelias' estate, I'd
like to say that I felt somewhat ashamed at tricking you. It's not
a good feeling, but you're probably used to it, aren't you?"
Actually no, Nevada admitted to herself. She tried not
to become involved with her victims, but that didn't mean she
didn't feel a certain amount of guilt, though somewhat lessened
than if she actually liked the person. She tried to stereotype her
victims so she'd feel nothing but despise for them. She couldn't
however stereotype Rades. He was just so... so unique. She
even felt herself liking him, despite the fact that he'd tricked her
so cruelly. She couldn't say yes, because then he'd think her to
be heartless, but how could she say that she did feel shame and
give him an advantage over her? She pursed her lips and thought.
"No one ever gets used to it," she replied. "Just like no one truly
gets used to killing, do they?"
Rades nodded in understanding. He walked forward
slowly, his eyes on her. Nevada's guards eyed him suspiciously.
He offered her his arm.
Nevada remembered the last time he'd offered her his
arm for support, and what had followed. She took it cautiously,
hooking her elbow around his. She looked up and forced a smile.
"Shall we go, Fraulein?" His one eye caught hers.
"Lead the way, Rades," she said, bowing her eyes. She
felt suddenly weak and dizzy, and was glad for his arm.
Rades smiled and took his spitfire cap from the branch it
was hanging on. He walked at an easy pace, apparently knowing
that he had to let Nevada's guards follow or risk a fight. Nevada
found it hard to concentrate on where she was going, too upset
she was about this new and unusual feeling she had. It wasn't lust,
like the lust she'd once felt for Dominigo back in Cherte.
Something different that staggered her even though she knew not
what it was. It wasn't love, she was certain of that.
"Mathex," said King Willium, his eyes glued to
the toy steam engine that went around and around the copper
tracks. "If I had the money you needed, I'd give it to you in an
instant. But I don't. The recent wars have nearly emptied the
vault and my prime minister claims it's high time we repaired some
of the streets, which is going to cost a fortune. I'll buy this toy
however after you're done getting the money from Waytorn."
"Just imagine the amount of things you could transport on
such an engine," noted Prince Nebonex. "If Waytorn doesn't
buy your idea, I'm sure I can coax mother into building tracks
from Athex to Evicoth, as part of the trade deal between the
Empire and the Allied Kingdoms. It would cut down on shipping
expenses and maybe we could reopen Kobalix's coal mines to
use for the engine. They are technically property of the Empire
even though they are in Athex."
"We're going to make a leader out of you yet," grinned
Willium, his eyes still glued to the toy engine as it sped around
the track. "Let's all hope you don't run into any of those greedy
-no-good-for-nothing-politicians! If I had my way, I'd make it
so only clergy men could run for office that way they won't be
tempted to steal from the vault, but then my Prime Minister would
have a fit because he'd have to join the clergy and give up his
personal belongings."
"You'll have a problem finding Waytorn though,"
commented Gith. "Only Rades, Redhawk and Derick know
where they've really gone to. They're not going to Waytorn's
keep, I can tell you that. It's a bit too obvious. Then there's the
problem of getting one of them to tell you where, because it's a
need-to-know basis. Rades needs to know so he can tell them
what's going on here in Athex, and Redhawk and Derick need to
know because Victoria's pregnant. The interesting thing is that
they didn't tell Larry where they were really going, maybe they
don't trust him, or maybe it's because Victoria hates Larry's guts
and doesn't want him around while she's so critically pregnant."
Osmond groaned and tried to roll onto his side so
he could see out the window better. Outside on the gate hung a
gruesome looking head, placed there as an old Northlander
tradition to ward off enemies. Before the gate stood Rades and
the woman Osmond guessed to be Nevada.
As a noble he was of course interested in who sat on the
now famous Dark Throne. If Nevada vied for the throne, he
wished her luck, but he didn't like the idea of being killed in the
process. When he saw her shake her head, he breathed a sigh
of relief and cursed himself for not remembering the obvious. If
her people didn't send Dominico, then who did? Cherte, which
meant possible war, or one of the Independent Cities, which
again meant war?
Rades frowned. "If you knew politically what
this means, you'd know that this means one of the Independent
Cities has declared war. The reason is obvious: If King Willium
dies and Princess Darylinn assumes the throne, then Arthian will
stay out of the Colnic issue. If that happens, the Independents
conquer Colnic and expand their own little kingdoms, thus bringing
possible war to Arthian. Again. But I doubt they'd attack Arthian
when the Minotaur Empire is allied with us, and everyone knows
what the Minotaur Legions can accomplish." He looked up at the
sky, hiding his single eye. "I know only too well."
Nevada stared at the Stornium, remembering some of the
sadder tales about him. It must feel incredibly terrible to not even
have a home, a people, to be the last of those who can claim they
came from Castle Deltex. How terribly lonely? Rades was
unusual and bore his weights with a strange manner and rare
complaints. "How is Lord Osmond?" she asked in an attempt to
change the topic.
"Resting I believe," murmured Rades. "Stay here, I want
to go talk to him." He took a step forward and Nevada grabbed
his arm.
"You expect me to wait here for you?" she asked. "You
honestly expect me to still be here when you come back?" She
stared into his eye defiantly and placed her arms akimbo.
"No, I honestly don't. What do you suggest?"
"I'll go with you. Simple as that."
Rades frowned as he thought about it. Nevada found
that he frowned way too much to be healthy. He obviously was
wondering at her motives for accompanying him. He didn't reply
and simply offered his arm to her for support.
Nevada thankfully took it.
Osmond looked up and was happy to see Rades
enter. He wasn't so sure about Nevada's presence in the room
though. "Greetings Rades. I hope you bear good news?" he said,
trying to sound cheerful though his voice came out as a croak.
Rades only smiled and shook his head. "Tell me one piece
of news recently that turned out to be good news?" He grinned
and turned to Nevada before Osmond could reply, though the
noble had to agree. "Osmond, this is Nevada. Nevada, this is
Osmond."
"How typically formal from a Stornium," smiled Osmond.
"If he'd wanted to go farther he could have told us our titles and
our mother-in-laws maiden names!" he said with a snorted croak.
"He also could have said 'Nevada, this is what's left of Osmond'."
The Cherten smiled despite herself. Osmond was a
friendly fellow, she could see that already. "I hope you get well
soon milord. A sharp wit like yours might dull if left alone in this
room."
"Why thank you! Perhaps you could stop by later so I
don't start rusting!"
Rades smiled and promptly cut in, politely as he could,
knowing how much Osmond enjoyed verbal jousting, much like
his sister. "We may have another war on our hands, I'm afraid."
"As a knight, Rades, I think you should know that I've
had enough wars to last me a life time. I think I speak for the
rest of the knights too when I say I'm tired of war," Osmond said
bitterly. He smiled. "Though right now I couldn't even swing a
sword, let alone wield a lance."
Rades smiled. "Don't get your hopes up. You'll be up
and about before you know it. I know Lord Redhawk was when
he was injured during Kobalix's Quest and he was in worse
shape than you!"
"I find that hard to believe," groaned Osmond.
Princess Darylinn had been quite lonely since her
friend Bren had went west to Avolic, but she got through those
lonely times by riding her horse, Snakey, and making frequent
trips outside the palace grounds. She knew she wasn't supposed
to leave the grounds without a full escort, indeed she was
supposed to have guards near her all the time since the recent
assassination attempt. Perhaps it had been a few lessons from
Bren on how to hide and how to scale walls that had given her
this urge to go out into the city. Plus all the tales of what's
beyond the palace walls.
Five million people for example. The wharves were high
on her list of places to go, but there was no way in Hell that
Captain Alfred was going to take her there, even if he had an whole
army to protect her. So it was up to Darylinn to evade Alfred,
slip over the palace walls and make her way through the streets
of Athex.
She always kept the palace in sight though. Slowly
exploring every single inch of the area directly within sight of the
palace. Especially the roofs of buildings. Athex seemed to be
a totally alien world when you got up above the city itself. It
was like a jungle of chimneys, shingled roofs and dark chasms
up there and always Darylinn felt herself drawn east. Towards
the wharves.
Today she had decided to go a step farther. She'd
learned enough that if she followed Eastgate Avenue, she'd end
up at Easttower. Which was wharves. What she'd do then, she
didn't know. Probably turn right around now that she'd seen the
wharves and head right back to the palace.
However, before she even got a portion of the way there,
her eyes fell to a dark alley below and it's occupants. The man
below looked dead, though he could have been drunk or asleep.
That didn't matter, what intrigued Darylinn was the dagger on
his belt.
Now Darylinn's mother had always scolded her curiousity
killed the cat. Which never made sense to Darylinn first of all
because she wasn't a cat and secondly because cats had nine
lives. Whatever the case Darylinn's curiousity got the better of
her and she quickly scaled down the wall and approached the
man slowly.
He was a very big man, that much she was sure of. She
reached down and grasped the handle of the dagger. She gave
a quick tug and the man made a small groan. She jumped back
and struggled to calm her nerves. She'd forgotten to undo the
latch.
Taking a step forward, she grasped the handle and flipped
the latch. There was a sharp click and she yanked the blade free
when the man gave out a sharp groan and began to get to his feet.
Darylinn's mother had also scolded her about using the
words she occasionally heard from the servants. The Princess
rarely listened to her mother. "Shit!" she yelped and bolted from
the alley into the crowded street. She'd never been so scared
in her life.
Princess Kelly was still recovering from the shock
of the last night's incident. She was doing better than Osmond's
cousin Rebeka however. The poor girl had been so shocked
she'd barely eaten a thing since then and all she ever seemed to do
was stare. Indeed, since then it had been Kelly who'd taken care
of her, most of the servants in Osmondelias' estate too distraught
to notice poor Rebeka, so she'd taken the girl to Wynic's estate
where she was currently staying.
This had been a huge leap for her, and she could tell Rades
was proud of her, though he was quite busy at the time. For the
last day she'd kept Rebeka busy playing draughts, chatting,
anything to keep her mind off what had happened to Osmond.
It helped Kelly to keep her mind off it too. It had scared
her a fair bit and with Rades busy she'd began to fear for herself.
How she'd gotten back to Wynic's estate had been a bit of a blur
since Rades hadn't been there and she'd been so damn frightened.
When Rades finally came home the next day he smelled of
ale, whiskey, cider and every other kind of alcohol she could think
of. To say that he'd been drinking was an understatement, but
after not having any sleep in the last day he fell asleep on the sofa
in the parlour room. Kelly couldn't bring herself to wake him.
The huge minotaur Raynard ran towards the knight
, picking up momentum and pushing slaves aside with his bulk alone.
"Give that back, ye damned bantling!"
"Ye better hurry, Rades!" shouted Waytorn. "Dillard needs
some help!"
"I know, but this one's stuck!" replied Rades, trying to yank
a huge icicle from the ice floor to use as a spear. "Give me some
help, will ye?"
Waytorn dropped the icicles he was looking over and ran
over to help the Stornium. They grabbed hold of the base of the
icicle and placed their hands firmly on the ice. "Okay, one...two...
three!" The icicle came free easily and the two of them fell
backwards onto the ice floor.
Dillard tossed the pouch at the minotaur and disappeared
into the crowd of slaves. Standing up, Rades saw him reappear
behind the minotaur. He swung his sword, this time drawing a line
of blood across the minotaur's back. Rades hesitated in his throw.
Raynard swung around angrily with a roar and snapped the
knight's head with a single punch.
Rades stood there in amazed shock with the icicle in his
hands. Dillard dead? Surely this was some horrible nightmare?
"What are you waiting for Rades? Kill him!" shouted
Waytorn.
The Stornium barely aimed when he threw the icicle, but
he could have aimed better. It flew clear over the minotaur's head.
Rades knew this was a nightmare now, for what had really
happened was he killed Raynard with that throw. There was
nothing he could do though but endure this nightmare.
Raynard stormed across the room, throwing slaves out of
his way in his mad charge at Rades. The Stornium stood there in
shock as Waytorn made a desperate attack and was tossed easily
across the ice chamber. The minotaur reached out and plucked
Rades off the floor and shook him violently.
"Rades, wake up!" shouted Kelly in his ear, her soft
hands shaking him in an effort to wake him from his nightmare.
The Graf blinked his eyes, reached instinctfully for his
sword, but relaxed when he saw it was only Kelly. He was
covered in sweat and shaking all over. He shook his head to
clear away the last of his dream.
"You were yelling," murmured Kelly. "It must have been
a nightmare. Are you okay?"
Rades tried to sit up, but he was still shaking. He wanted
to say yes, but it would obviously be a lie, to Kelly and to himself.
"I wish." He reached up a hand and smoothed several locks of
curls out of the way so he could see her better. "Thanks."
"What were you dreaming?"
Rades shook his head sadly and his hand dropped to his
side weakly. "Dillard's death," he said. "It was all wrong, I
dreamt that I missed Raynard with the spear, but I know that I
got him right in the throat. I-" Rades' voice choked and he
looked away.
Kelly bent over him and kissed him lightly. "You're
blaming yourself. Quit blaming yourself!" she ordered.
Rades stared at her. For being kissed and for what she
said. "But it is my fault! If I hadn't hesitated Dillard would still
be alive!" he protested.
"That was an order, Rades," said the Princess sternly.
"It's done, there's nothing you can do about it, but don't make the
same mistake twice. And you haven't, Osmond is still alive!"
Rades nodded dumbly and stared at Kelly, a strange
feeling coming over him. "Why did you kiss me?"
Kelly smiled. "I love you, or haven't you realized that yet?"
"No, but-" He stopped as Kelly kissed him again. Rades
held back, unsure of his feelings. He cared for her, that much
was certain, but he'd never even thought of loving her. She was
a Princess and a friend more than anything. Rebeka was closer
to the type of person that would suit him. Kelly seemed too
fragile, too insecure. Still Rades held back, finally deciding that
a kiss wouldn't do any harm, but to go no farther. He didn't
want to risk losing Kelly as a friend and he didn't want her to
lose him because then she might never trust another man again.
By the time Nevada lay back with West in her
arms she began to wonder, and fantasize. She'd never felt this
way about anybody, why Rades? She knew now what it was.
Respect. She respected Rades, bordering on admiration. For
all the things he'd gone through and still made a fine gentleman it
was simply amazing. Most people would have disappeared into
the woods and become a hermit or something like that. But not
Rades. His Stornium stubbornness had held sway and he was
still alive, which was again amazing. Most people she'd known
would have laid down and died after having their eye gouged out.
What this meant she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if
she respected herself now that she thought about it. After all what
was there to respect about a crime lord and a seductress? Her
mother had once told her that respect and trust were the first steps
of love. Could she actually fall in love with Rades, or was she
dreaming?
A knock came on the door and she rose, pulled on a thin
robe and went to the door. Terencio was waiting outside with a
grin. He smelled of cheap cider. He'd developed a taste for the
crude wine since coming to Athex. "Neal is dead. A fellow called
Ashford is now the King Culprit. And get this, Ashford is
supposed to be working for West. This may be our chance."
There is a lot of things that go into running a tavern,
and a lot more things go into guaranteeing that the Drunken
Dragon Tavern stayed a success and amongst the best of the pubs
in Athex. These things include ordering more chairs and table legs
for the occasional brawl, more sarsaparilla, venison, buffalo, trout,
Kinian wine, apple cider, Riesling from Stornium, finding
entertainment such as a good bard or musician. Rades had
become a favorite and he was only known to play at the Drunken
Dragon which brought extra people just here to hear Rades play.
Then there was the most recent business that Billip and his
barmaids had been involved in, and that was keeping aware of all
the new happenings where the King Culprit was concerned,
including spying on people such as Nevada, a fellow called West,
a southerner called Carey and an Athexian called Chadwick and
now to keep an eye out for the King Culprit Ashford.
Four of them were currently in the tavern, Nevada and
West were in a booth, Carey was off in a corner talking to his
fellow men while Chadwick was busy talking to one of Billip's
prettier barmaids. Billip had posted barmaids to spy on all of
them but West and Nevada, since Rades said that Nevada knew
about the spying going on here and to even help her out if possible
by telling her what he knew about Chadwick and Carey.
Nevertheless Billip tried to stay close to their booth so he
could hear what was going on.
"Did you hear about the new King Culprit? I swear there's
one for every day!" asked Nevada.
"Nope! Who now?"
"His name is Ashford."
"What? Ashford?" shouted West loud enough that the
cook back in the kitchen could have heard him over the sizzle of
frying bacon. The room quieted down for a period of several
seconds before it resumed louder than ever.
"What's wrong with Ashford?" asked Nevada.
"What's wrong? Darlin', you haven't been paying much
attention hav' ye? Haven't you guessed by now what I am?"
"I thought you were a farmer!"
West laughed. "No, Darlin', I'm a burglar! I'm vying for da
Dark Throne!"
"You're kidding me!"
"No, I'm not! But da important thing is Ashford is supposed
ta be working for me!"
"But that means-"
"Which means da next time I see his face, I'll be killin' the
buggar! Then I'll take the Throne for myself!"
"Oh, really?" smiled Nevada greedily. "You wouldn't mind
having a Queen would you?"
"Now dat ye say it, I've been a thinkin' about it!" grinned
West. He took a drink and nearly choked. "Wal, speak of the
Devil!" he swore quietly and pointed towards the doorway.
A tall, angular fellow stood there surveying the room.
Behind him stood at least six heavily armed men all eager to get
inside. He whispered an order to the men behind him and began
walking in Carey's direction. West ducked low as Ashford
glanced in his direction.
"I smell a fight, Darlin'. Perhaps ye should leave now!"
West whispered urgently. "I'd hate fer yer purty face to get
blood smeared all over it!"
"I'm not without my own resources," smiled Nevada,
standing up. "I'll fetch some of my men."
"Thank ye Darlin'!" grinned West, drawing a dirk under
the table from his boot. He watched as Ashford maid his way
through the crowded room, people getting out of the King Culprit's
way on his mission to destroy the threat to his Throne. Our
Throne, smiled West thoughtfully with a glance at Nevada's
back as she walked away.
Chadwick was making his way cautiously alongside the
room on a course that would put him in position to kill either
Carey or Ashford, depending on who won. And then West
would appear and kill Chadwick. It was all so simple.
A Stornium star flashed through the air but Ashford
deflected it with a quickly drawn flail. He picked up his pace,
looking like an avenging angel as he swooped down upon Carey
and his comrades, killing two of them and drawing his sword on
Carey. His bodyguards clung to his side, defending his flanks
and yet giving him ample room to maneuver. West had to admit
Ashford thought out even the simplest of situations, though
coming to a tavern in which several of his enemies plotted was
not such a wise move.
Only now did West take note that the room was now
crowded with at least twenty of Ashford's men. Ashford had
brought many men to insure victory, yet he alone did the killing
so as to increase loyalty amongst his ranks of bodyguards. His
strategy was not such a bad one if he also meant to kill Chadwick
and West, thus eliminating all threats to the Throne. He felt a
moment of fear as he realized he might die today but quickly
vanquished with his fear with the thought that it would all be worth
it. After all, Waytorn had simply strode right up a crime lord in
front of two hundred cutthroats and stabbed the crime lord in a
quick duel of daggers thus creating an awesome loyalty among
those cutthroats present, one of which was West. Surely West
could create similar loyalty from this rabble?
Carey leapt forward, his shortsword leaping upward for a
slice at Ashford's throat. The King Culprit skipped out of range
easily, at the same time his bodyguards moved in and quickly
finished off Carey's shocked comrades. Ashford grinned wickedly
and charged forward recklessly, his blade cutting an arc towards
Carey's neck. The blade stopped bare inches short of his neck as
his shortsword came up to block Ash's sword.
An interesting tactic and someone always fell for it, admired
West, having known Ash for the last five years and knowing all his
tricks. As the two combatants stood locked, Ash twisted the
serrated handle of his sword, hidden mechanisms twiggering a
spring within the crosspiece, thus releasing a tiny poisoned dagger
from both ends of the crosspiece and pricking the artery in
Carey's neck.
Carey's eyes went wide with shock and his hands went
numb as he desperately tried to stay on his feet. The poison was
obviously expensive to work so fast. Ashford's wicked grin
turned to a frown and then a snarl as he whirled around to face a
smiling Chadwick. There was a thin line of blood cut across
Ashford's exposed shoulders.
West got to his feet as Chadwick taunted, ignoring his
two enemies as he made his way through the crowd of cutthroats
so he was almost right behind Ashford. He watched carefully as
the two enemies got closer. Their blades hovering almost within
striking distance.
"You can have it," laughed Chadwick. "Unless you
haven't heard, the Dark throne includes only Athex. When
Waytorn left he sent messages all across the continent, proclaiming
new crime lords. You're only in charge of Athex, not Arthian, not
the Western Kingdoms, not the entire continent, just Athex!" He
laughed and retreated across the barroom. "Don't even try to
band them all back together, it's impossible, only Waytorn could
manage that!"
"You lie!" shouted Ashford. "You lie! I am the King
Culprit! I am the King!" He looked around desperately at his
bodyguards who appeared to be having second thoughts.
Chadwick laughed cruelly. "I got my information from
Ambassador Pothax and he got it directly from Waytorn! Two
days from now Pothax will be here and maybe Waytorn will return
to collect some of his things so you can argue with them!"
West felt like a bucket of water had just been dumped on
his burning fire for wealth and there was no chance that fire was
going to go again. He felt cheated, lost and definitely angry. With
a single thrust of his dirk, Ashford died, his sword falling into
West's hand as the cutthroat leapt forward, stabbing Chadwick
through the heart.
No one moved. It seemed a very solemn moment though
West couldn't say why. Gone was this mighty structure of wealth
and power Waytorn had created and nothing left but a bunch of
measly crumbs. "Men," his voice came out unsteadily. "If what
Chadwick spoke is true, then I am no King, but a Prince. I will
not build the empire that Waytorn did. I will be satisfied with
Arthian and Athex. For now, lets celebrate!" West said, his voice
cheerful as he said the latter part. He much preferred it this way,
he wouldn't have as much problems as Waytorn did maintaining
his empire, and he'd still reap in enough wealth to be considered
filthy rich.
Nevada felt like her heart was going to burst.
She'd come all this way, to Athex, risking her holdings back in
Cherte for a chance at the continent, only to find that there was
no light at the end of the tunnel. Unless, unless...unless she could
somehow kill Waytorn and claim that she should sit on the Dark
Throne, the true throne, and everyone will be happy to be unified
under one great leader again.
She looked up and smiled when she saw Rades standing
there. "I need a drink," she said to him with a wry grin.
"You can come with me to Wynic's place and sample his
collection of Cherten wine?"
Chapter Six
Water trickling and gently splashing was a peaceful,
calm sound a man who had rarely in his life stopped to listen to the
sounds of nature. A pair of strong hands shook him gently. "Time
to get up, Waytorn," he heard Wynic say. He thought about
getting up to help with breakfast but his warm bedroll seemed to
be nagging him to stay and enjoy the idyll peace of sleep.
"Get up, Waytorn!" shouted Victoria from across the camp.
The ex-King Culprit grumbled and crawled out of his bedroll, the
chill morning air causing goose-bumps to raise all over his skin.
He stretched and reflected that Victoria had become increasingly
impatient over the last week. After nine months of hauling around
the extra weight he'd be impatient to get rid of it too!
The glade was, if anything could be, the best hiding place
within half a days ride of Athex. A fresh water spring bubbled up
at one end of it and disappeared in a whirl pool at the other end.
It was surrounded by a thick maple bush, its canopy blocking the
horizon in all directions and governing over a layer of dead leaves
and twigs. It was nearly impossible to walk through the bush
without sounding like a herd of charging buffalo. Plus, this was the
last place Larry would look for them, and Pothax, Rades,
Redhawk and Derick wouldn't dare tell him where they were
hiding.
Not that they didn't trust Larry, it's just that the cutthroat
had an annoying laugh, an annoying voice, and just plain couldn't
shut up. Besides Victoria hated having Larry around and had
insisted that they go here instead on account that she was pregnant.
After seeing the place, Waytorn couldn't disagree, and probably
wouldn't have even if the place was the worst possible place in
the world. After all, sometimes the best place to hide something
is right out in the open. Which is the last spot Larry would look.
The cutthroat bent over and dug around in his pack until
he came out with a slightly tarnished silver mirror. His brutally
scarred face greeted him as he looked at it and tried not to
shudder at his own reflection. He thought of Susanne, or Zsa
Zsa, as she was called in old Minotaur. How lucky he'd been to
finally come across someone who looked past the scars to see
the man behind them. He smiled and tossed the mirror back into
his pack. This had become a bit of a ceremony since his
engagement to Zsa Zsa, each time he reflected what his life might
be like now if he hadn't stumbled upon her.
His face grew dark as he remembered the prophesy of
the Spear as well. The finder, retriever and bearer of the Spear
of Destiny was supposed to conquer the world. However Rades
found it, and Waytorn for the most part pulled it out, which made
the prophesy incomplete, even more so since Waytorn gave the
Spear to Lord Blackaxe for the knight's collection. The prophesy
also said that 'He who speaks the Shadows shall lift it from its icy
embrace', and who else but Waytorn knew more about the
shadowy life?
The frightening part was destiny. Was it inevitable? Did
Waytorn have no choice in the matter and would inevitably
conquer the world? Would he be forced into it, or would it
suddenly happen and leadership be thrust upon his shoulders?
Or would it happen at all? He'd never been a believer in fate, why
now?
There were things that already pointed in his favour. His
shadowy life, his Dark Throne, Rades unable to pull the spear
free yet it had come easily for Waytorn, it seemed so certain it
sometimes terrified the cutthroat. Terrified him like death itself.
Waytorn shook his head and worked his way across the
camp to where Wynic sat stirring up a fire. It was almost time to
break the fast. The last pound of bacon sat beside the assassin
as he was rewarded with a small blaze. "We'll have to go to
Athex and get some more food today," he murmured as he sat
down beside Wynic.
The assassin merely nodded and continued to work at the
fire. He'd been up since midnight standing guard, though nobody
could have walked into camp without sounding like a herd of
buffalo. Wynic had a nightly routine that had become such a habit
it was probably impossible to stop. He always got up in the
middle of the night, found a place facing east and stayed there in
a semi-conscious state until the sun came up. It was an unusual
ritual and Waytorn found it somewhat intriguing.
"I'll go myself," the King Culprit added, studying the
assassin. "That I can check up on things in Athex and you can
stay here and watch Victoria." Wynic didn't appear to have
heard, so intent he seemed to be on the fire.
Victoria chuckled. "He gets like that sometimes,
Waytorn," she laughed. "He heard you, but he's too busy thinking
to acknowledge the fact." She struggled to sit up where she lay.
"It might be a good idea to bring Redhawk and Derick back with
you. Wynic Junior might start to get impatient!" she said with a
smile. She positively glowed.
Waytorn nodded, making a mental note to stop at the
palace on his way to get his report from Rades. The Stornium
had been keeping a keen eye out for him and Waytorn knew he
could trust Rades.
"Whew!" breathed Wynic as Waytorn's horse
disappeared into the forest, the rustling of dead leaves slowly
fading away. "I thought he'd never leave!"
Victoria looked up. She glanced in Waytorn's direction
and back at Wynic with concern. "What do you mean?" she
demanded.
"Didn't Redhawk tell you his prediction? There's got to
be a whole shipyard full of trouble back in Athex as far as the
underworld goes and no one there to sort out the mess and figure
out what's really going on! Athex is being ripped apart at the
seams and it's only a moment of time before it all falls apart!"
"So? What's this got to do with Waytorn?"
"Don't you get it? Athex is on the very brink of total war
and nobody is noticing it! There are thousands of tiny groups
allied together under one roof, each with a different opinion.
There's those scholars at the university that keep stirring up trouble
with their protests, Independent spies, Cherten spies, Colnic spies,
the Kobalix Cult, and God knows who else! Only Waytorn had
enough power to stay on top of it all. He's the reason the rest of
Kobalix's men went into hiding, which means they've probably
come out to do more damage, the Independents will be going nuts
trying to assassinate Willium with the crisis in Colnic, the Colnic
spies will be trying to figure out what they're supposed to be doing
and there's probably a few ambitious lords who are thinking
about trying to overthrow Willium when his armies off and in
Colnic and his back's exposed due to everything that's going on
in Athex and on top of it all it's Summerfest, the most hectic time
of the year in Athex. Willium is probably praying for Waytorn to
come back and fix everything up, but I'm afraid it's too late for
that!"
Victoria pursed her lips. "So you think Waytorn should
fix everything? Just like that?" she asked snapping her fingers.
Wynic frowned and took a deep breath. "It's too late
for that, but if he could find out as much as he can and then relay
it to King Willium, we might be able to stop a massacre, or
something along those lines! It could mean he destruction of life
as we know it if Athex, the center of civilization, was to fall into
chaos!"
"You're too dramatic!"
It felt strange to be walking across the rooftops
of Athex and not to see fellow culprits. Even the most guarded
places had at least a pickpocket or two, usually more because it's
more profitable. Where was everybody, Waytorn wondered.
He made his way across the city encountering no other
cutthroats and ending up in Wynic's estate. He climbed in threw
the ceiling-to-floor window of Wynic's study and lit several
candles before going off to find Rades. There was a woman
staying in the one guest room, another in Wynic and Victoria's
room and Princess Kelly was staying in the one across the hall.
Rades himself had Redhawk's old room and had slept in.
Must've been a long night.
He entered the room like the wind and shook Rades gently,
his hand covering the Stornium's mouth to avoid noise. The Graf
struggled momentarily but then grinned when he saw it was just
Waytorn. "Get dressed. Meet'cha in the study," the cutthroat
whispered.
Waytorn went back to the study, noting that the woman
in the room across from Kelly's was up and moving about in her
room. He crept back to study, careful not to make the door
squeak as he opened it. Once inside he sat down in Wynic's
chair facing the ceiling-to-floor window and poured himself and
Rades each a goblet of Kinian brandy.
Rades smiled sheepishly as he entered. "You want your
report, correct?"
Waytorn nodded and motioned him into a chair. "There's
a lot going on and I know you don't have even a quarter of it,
but at least you give me an overview." He handed him the goblet
of brandy.
The Stornium Graf grinned and took the goblet thankfully.
"Most imminent is Fraulein Nevada, she's staying in the room
next to us. I figured it's best if I keep a close eye on her. She's
not sure what to do right now, she just learned that you divided
the crimeworld up and that she's wasted her trip here. West has
proclaimed himself Prince of the Arthian Underworld, or
something like that. He's the only major figure left except for
Nevada. There's been no other visible movement with the
exception of a few Independent related assassinations, including
an attempt on Willium. I've seen nothing at all of Kobalix's men."
He took a quick drink of the brandy before continuing. "The
Kobalix Cult is staying low still, though I expect they'll try to move
against West once they've gathered their forces. I'm also going
to make the suggestion that King Willium and many other
important figures take a vacation, but the question is where?"
"They're always welcome at Treburdun," Waytorn
offered. "I have a feeling there will be a lot less crime once this is
all over. As I was coming here I didn't run into a single fellow
cutthroat!"
"According to several reports from the city patrol there's
been a lot of dead bodies turning up, mostly cutthroats, thieves,
that sort of thing. They're killing each other off and a lot of them
have probably went into hiding."
Waytorn smiled briefly and took a drink. "Could you find
Derick and Redhawk and head for the stream? Victoria's near
to bursting and I really have to talk to some of my other contacts.
I'll meet you there." He downed the rest of the brandy in his
goblet, slipped out the window, and closed it behind him.
Rades sat there thoughtfully and sipped at his brandy
slowly. There was a knock on the door and Nevada entered.
She was wearing a thin negligee borrowed from Victoria's room.
Her thin silhouette was marvelous to look at.
"Good morning," she said, running a hand through her
tousled hair like a comb. She looked around the room, glancing at
a crockinole board and back at Rades. "How do you play
crockinole?" she asked simply.
She'd been listening! Rades knew it. There was no real
reason for her to be here so soon after Waytorn had left, unless
she had something up her sleeve which still meant that she was up
to no good. "Sit down and I'll show you," he offered, struggling to
control himself.
She was a good shot, depending a bit more on luck than
she should, but good nevertheless. Dillard had taught Rades a
trick using the index finger that never missed the opponents piece,
taught him how to set up a nearly impossible placement and a
winning strategy. The knight had been incredible at the game,
making Rades look like a shadowy reflection of his friend. Rades
even recalled envying his friend at times.
Nevada caught on quickly and Rades soon found himself
hard pressed to keep ahead in the game. At last she had three
pieces lined up mockingly on the other end of the board and he
had only two. He managed a ricochet shot Dillard had taught him
and got a piece into the middle, but her piece stayed in the play
area and still counted. He had one shot left and Nevada had two.
He had thirty-five points now and she had thirty.
She hit the piece in the middle but it bounced into a peg
and into the pit, giving Rades an additional twenty points.
"Dammit!" she swore with a grin. Her piece was still in the middle
zone though so she was still beating him forty-five to forty.
Rades last shot took out two of her pieces near the rim
but didn't stay on the board. The score was now forty to twenty
-five.
Nevada deciding to risk taking a shot for the pit. If she
got it in she'd win by five points if she didn't her piece wouldn't
count and the score would still be forty to twenty-five. Her
major problem was the piece she had already in the middle zone
was in the way. She looked at the shot at different angles, even
reconsidering going back to try and knock Rades' pieces but
they were at much more difficult angle. She finally shot at the
center, the piece bumping into the piece already in the center
and going into the pit, scoring an additional twenty points.
However the piece she bumped went into the outer zone making
the score an even forty-forty.
"Well," said Rades, leaning back in his chair and
stretching. "You're getting better, I have admit that. You managed
to tie that last one. Want to play again?"
Nevada shook her head and stood. "Maybe it's the
wine," she said as she walked over to him and sat down in his
lap. "But Victoria's clothes are way too tight for me. Don't you
think?" she asked, running a hand through his hair and leaning
her head on his shoulder.
Rades fought to remember that she was obviously up to
something and keeping that in mind he said: "I bet you say that to
all the guys?" He smiled and allowed himself to be drawn into
her kiss as she smiled and ran her hands across his chest.
"What are you doing this afternoon?" she asked, one
hand snaking down past his belt into his kilt. She smiled as she
kissed him, her lips sweet tasting and playful.
"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking about going out for a
ride sometime. Would you like to join me?"
"Sure," she nodded.
Captain Savin looked up, only half surprised to
see Waytorn lurking outside King Willium's window. The
cutthroat knocked at the window politely again and placed his
arms akimbo. Savin smiled and shouted, "Do you have an
appointment?"
King Willium grinned and shook his head at his pirate
friend. "Let him in will you, and leave the window open, it's
dreadfully hot in here." Sometimes the middle-aged King sat
and wondered what had happened to this world for crime lords,
pirate captains and Kings to become friends and allies. It's a
strange world I live in, Willium mused.
Savin got up and opened the window with a flourish
accompanied by a delicate looking bow. Willium imagined Savin
would fit in quite nicely in court if it weren't for his shaved head
and tattoos. Perhaps one of those damn itchy wigs that are so
popular would do the trick?
"Good afternoon gentlemen, your Majesty," said
Waytorn, hopping neatly inside. "I hope your kingdom is faring
well in the current crisis?" The cutthroat tried to appear happy
and jovial but Willium was too skilled at politics to be easily fooled.
"I don't know whether to clap you on the back or strangle
you," Willium replied soberly. "My city is in an uproar, the crime
rate, according to reports, is a fifth of what it used to be, but the
number of dead turning up in gutters have tripled and I'm
currently at war with the Independent States and at risk of
alienating the Cherten Ambassador," he explained thoughtfully.
"At least I don't have worry about a rebellion or something
like that, though I'm afraid we might get a famine this summer,
famines and wars always seem to go hand in hand."
Savin smiled. "That's not the half of it. A trireme pulled
into Southport yesterday with a crew of men and minotaurs from
the Northern Empire. This morning there was an explosion on
one of the docks and a merchant vessel was sunk. One of my
crew claimed to have seen several minotaurs carrying kegs and
leather bound tubes beforehand. I'm going to ask Mathex what
he might know about that latter thing. That means we might have
another run in with the Kobalix Cult."
"Looks like you have your work cut out for you,"
Waytorn said. "I suppose you aren't worried about the increase
in deaths, considering that most of them are cutthroats and thieves
anyway. If anything the next couple years should be a boom in
Athex with the lack of thieves and everything."
"Indeed, but I'd like you to check out what several
sources believe to be the hideout of the current King Culprit, or
Prince as they now call him, a fella called West. Take Savin and
anybody else you feel like taking with you."
General Chek was a Stornium and a strange one
at that. Perhaps that is why Waytorn chose him as the only other
person to accompany him on this mission. Chek's strangeness
belonged in his quest for fashion. He never wore the same thing
twice it seemed and everytime Waytorn saw him he had a new
hat. This time it was a green tricorne with a bright purple plumage.
Despite his distinct fashion, bright colours, and shortness, he was
an excellent military leader and an expert swordsman, leaning
towards perfectionism. When told they'd be aiming for stealth and
wanting to blend in, he instantly went to his ward robe and picked
out a pair of brown riding boots, a brown and yellow kilt, a
buckskin vest and a northlander tam that matched his kilt.
Savin looked on and, as always, commented on how
girlish a kilt seemed.
"You just don't understand fashion, do you?" Chek
stared at the old pirate. "Anybody ever tell you that nobodies
found shaved heads attractive in four thousand years?"
"Anybody ever tell you that you'll stand out like a sore
thumb in such clean clothes?"
"They won't be so clean once I get blood on them, will
they?"
"Ye gotta point there!"
West leaned back and lay thoughtfully. Nevada
was good, but this was an incredible life he now led. Brothels
of women lined up to please him, money galore, good food, riches,
power. What did he need Nevada for?
The Prince had organized ten groups of cutthroats to start
a more professional job of robbing. Waytorn's crime network
had been ingenious, but he hadn't taken advantage of his power.
West's idea of organization went one step forward, to something
he preferred to call organized crime. The profits had doubled
since then and his men were happier because there was safety in
numbers since each group consisted of at least twenty men.
He grinned wickedly as the whore above him continued
her work. She was much better than Nevada, and much less
inhibited. Although, Nevada definitely had more class. "Perhaps
I should keep her as my Queen for a while," he thought, "if I grow
tired of her, I can have her killed."
Several shadows moved past one of the shelves in the
wine cellar but West didn't notice them. He was far too busy
thinking of what he could do to exploit his newfound power, aside
from watching the whore's huge breasts bounce up and down
against her chest.
Waytorn crouched behind one of the shelves and touched
Chek on the shoulder. "He'll get bored with this eventually," he
whispered. "I know that from experience. Making love is a brief
physical ecstasy and really doesn't compare with real love. Soon
he'll be wanting something real, that or taking some girl off the
street and raping her."
Chek stared at him. "Please tell me you never did that?"
"No. Not me, I'm still surprised I didn't turn into a
derelict with all the brandy I drank while mourning losing Larel.
But then Kobalix started poaching my land and I had to turn
my attention elsewhere." He smiled bitterly. "West isn't going to
pose much of a problem at the moment, but keep an eye on him,"
he whispered, picking a bottle from the rack. "Chateau
Blueflame," he murmured. "Very rare, especially after it was
burned down. I don't think he'll miss it," he said, tucking it into
the small satchel at his side.
"Oh, sure, help yourself!"
Waytorn looked up at the four armed and naked women
standing over him and cursed himself for not double checking if
they were being followed. Old age must be making him sloppy,
he mused. But not enough since he had posted Savin on the way
in to watch for trouble.
West shoved the whore aside and reached for his sword
nearby, ignoring the fact he was completely naked. Apparently
he had looked for fighting credentials before picking his whores
out for the whore he shoved was also moving for a saber left at
the foot of the bed. Either he wanted to have whores that also
doubled as bodyguards, or believed that fighters were better in
bed.
Waytorn jumped to his feet, a dagger already heading for
the closest whore-guard. By the time the woman clutched the
dagger in her side another two were already speeding towards
her comrades. He drew his sword, knowing he'd soon have to
fight West off with it.
Chek rolled to the side, avoiding the downward sweep of
a longsword and drew his rapier out with a flash as he leapt to his
feet. Two deft pokes with the rapier and the woman was
regretting not wearing chain mail to bed. She gasped and fell
towards him. He caught her in surprise, amazed at what he'd done.
He didn't have time to think about it however because the door
burst open, revealing a desperately defending Savin besieged by
an endless supply of whore-guards, these one's wearing armour.
The woman in his arms wouldn't die, the wounds were
minor, she was just in a state of shock more than anything. As
gently as possible, he laid her down and hurried to help the
besieged Savin.
Pothax had decided to ride ahead of the rest and
arrived at the Drunken Dragon Tavern just in time to hear from
Billip that Waytorn was in town and had been sent to check on
the Prince's hideout. Billip warned him not to go, but then again,
since when did Pothax heed warnings?
Without hurry, he stole a horse from the stables across
the street and headed towards the Southport district. He had to
detour a bit, apparently someone had finally convinced Willium to
re-cobble some of the streets. He passed old mansions that were
falling into disrepair to the point of becoming hazardous. It
amazed him that this had once been the best part of the city,
before the crimelords had turned it into a center for brothels,
crime hideouts and less desirable occupants. He stopped in front
of an estate, it's walls made of black marble with tall, carbon black
gates and a distinctly ominous look about it.
"I suppose this is the spot," he murmured to the horse,
tying the gelding to the gate, and climbing the gate, avoiding the
sharp spikes at the very top. He didn't know what he expected
to do here, it was more curiousity than anything. He needed to
know more about West.
Tracks led from a spot near the wall across the weedy
lawn to an open window into the basement. Curious to know
whether it had been Waytorn and two companions who had
scaled the wall and went inside, he squeezed through the window
and dropped right into a miniature siege.
Wine racks were pushed in a semi circle around the
window in an attempt to fend off attackers. Female attackers that
smelled heavily of perfume, he noted, wondering if this was some
bizarre dream, or nightmare. He'd never liked women who
doused themselves with so much damn perfume. The floor was
covered with wine, blood, broken pieces of glass and the
occasional female body, a few of which were naked.
"Is this a dream?" he asked aloud as he drew his
shortsword and lent a hand in defending the wine racks.
A very bloody looking Chek looked at him with surprise.
"I only wish it was, because then I'd wake up," Pothax thought
he heard him mumble.
"You couldn't have showed up at a better time," Waytorn
shouted.
Pothax nodded, taking a moment between his sword-
strokes to study his surroundings. The wine cellar was dimly lit
by two lanterns at either end, there were wine racks scattered
all about the wide chamber, perhaps thirty women were trying to
get inside the fortress Waytorn had built, West was on the other
side of the wine racks, shouting orders at his troops. He had a
huge bump on his forehead and a small, red scar ran down his
cheek. "Can you three hold them off for a moment?" he asked.
"What do have in mind?" grunted Savin.
"I'm going to get rid of those lanterns," Pothax said,
dropping back from the wine racks and taking several daggers
from the bandoleer strapped across his chest. Pothax never
misses, though he might have rethought his throw had he known
about the puddle of brandy underneath the one lantern.
The momentary lack of light though was enough for him
to climb out the window and help Savin out after him. Inside he
heard screams and West shouting frantically. Waytorn was the
only one left defending the wine racks, though there wasn't much
point since the women were now charging to get out the doorway.
Chek hoisted a woman up to Pothax and Savin, the cutthroat only
briefly noting that she was both naked and injured. What was
going on here? Next came Chek himself and finally Waytorn
abandoned the racks and climbed out through the window.
Chek braced the woman in his arm and helped her across
the weedy lawn, finding a spot free of thistles before laying her
down. Waytorn was coughing from smoke and smelled like
burned flesh. For a moment Pothax stared at the former King
Culprit, briefly wondering if the scars on his face were fresh.
The cutthroat stopped and looked back at the building.
With his recent fire in Avolic, he definitely didn't want to burn
down Athex as well. No, the fire wouldn't get beyond the wine
cellar, the strong marble stonework would insure that. Avolic had
depended too much on thatched roofs to keep the sun out and
yet let the rain in.
Waytorn collapsed beside the woman where he eyed her
speculatively. "Why did you save her?" he asked finally.
Chek looked up, surprised. "I couldn't leave her there to
die. Even the most trained soldiers abhor unnecessary bloodshed."
"I think ye should think with ye brain instead of the thing
between ye legs!" snorted Savin. Chek glared at him and opened
his mouth to retort.
"Nyxa won't be giving Chek any favours, Savin," Waytorn
scolded. "As long as I've known her, she's always been business
-like. I might convince her to do some spying for us though."
The woman looked up, a bit dazed, but understanding
what was going on about her. "Of course, yer Majesty, but there
will be the matter of payment. Ye aren't in charge no more!" she
said accusingly.
"Report to the proprietor of the Drunken Dragon Tavern.
He'll see to it that you get paid not less than a two platinum pieces,"
Waytorn replied. Nyxa nodded greedily and stumbled to her feet.
"Anything important that ye got in mind?" she asked.
"West's whereabouts, his plans, and anything of interest
concerning the Kobalix Cult."
Nyxa raised an eyebrow at the latter part but nodded.
"I'll go down to the docks right now," she said, starting to leave.
Waytorn jumped to his feet before she could leave. "You know
about the trireme?"
"The trireme? Oh, the galley! Of course, they've ordered
plenty of us whores since they docked!" She chuckled and broke
into a run. Chek watched her go, noting that she seemed to be
able to ignore the pain in her side once the initial shock was gone.
Several guards burst out a side entrance of the mansion
and immediately spotted Waytorn and his friends. Their shouted
threats did little to slow them down however, if anything it made
them scale the wall even faster. Pothax was the last over and he
joined Waytorn on a spirited yet well behaved black stallion as
they galloped away.
Derick, and Redhawk met up with Rades and
Nevada at Northgate as arranged by Rades, and as arranged
Redhawk offered to join them on their ride. Of course, Rades
agreed without hesitation, later whispering to Nevada that it would
have been impolite to refuse Redhawk's gracious offer.
"You know milord," said Derick when Rades and Nevada
rode ahead together, "Rades is pretty good at this type of thing.
It's almost scary."
"Yup, I'll have to agree with you there. Would make a
damn good spy. He also sent a messenger to Pothax and Larel
telling them to meet us at the stream, just in case Nevada's got
something up her sleeve."
"Oh, oh!" Derick murmured in alarm.
"What?"
"Someone mentioned to me that Pothax had ridden ahead
to Athex. Does Larel know where the stream is?"
Redhawk reined his horse in suddenly and sat there
stupefied. "You're right! Larel doesn't have a clue where it is,
unless Pothax thought enough to draw her a map just in case!" He
spurred his horse ahead. "We better tell Rades to stall for time
while we think this through!"
"Damn it!" shouted Larel, tossing the map to Carlo.
"See if you can figure out what Pothax means! He can't draw a
map worth the parchment it's on!"
The marine nodded and studied the map, quickly realizing
that it wasn't a map but a list of directions using landmarks. Pothax
had no real idea where it was on a real map and neither could he
write that well so he'd done the best he could by providing the
landmarks in order. A hexagon symbolized Athex, a capitol N to
symbolize north, etc. The only problem Carlo had was discerning
which landmarks came in order, but once they found one of them,
they were sure to find the rest. "Head north-east for the moment,"
he shouted to his fellow marines. "Look for a knarly-looking tree
beside a cemetery!"
Terencio was missing so Rodrigo and Johann
knew this meant the Cherten had went with his fellow men to follow
Nevada and Rades. Indeed, there wasn't a single Cherten to be
found anywhere in Athex. With the exception of Rodrigo and the
Cherten Ambassador.
Realizing that they were late, Pothax and Waytorn decided
it'd be best to ride out to the stream with all haste. This meant
stealing a pair of exceptionally fast horses from the stables beside
the Royal Athexian and using what Waytorn called the 'detour
route'.
The 'detour route' was a tunnel out of the city, via some
abandoned sewers in the Northport district that Waytorn had fixed
up. It also meant avoiding the guards at Northgate which was
always a slow process, even slower since the horses were stolen.
There was very little filth inside the tunnel, indeed it was quite
clean and would make a better inn than most Pothax had seen in
this district. "A Royal Athexian if I ever saw one," he commented
dryly as they emerged into the light on the other side of the wall.
Waytorn snorted. "I must admit I've kept it fairly clean
and well protected in the past, but its sure to fall into disrepair if
West doesn't look after it." He clicked his tongue and his stallion
burst into a steady gallop.
"I'll take it," Pothax offered, spurring his horse to keep up.
"I'll need a place to stay pretty soon once Victoria's baby gets
born. Wynic's estate is crowded already."
"There are better places, you know?" muttered Waytorn,
blinking his eyes in the bright sunshine. "Surely you can find a
place not so drafty?"
"I will, but for the moment, in this heat, drafty is good,"
Pothax agreed, shielding his eyes from the sun. Waytorn had to
admit the tunnel had been much cooler than the outside air.
The King Culprit looked about the barren, windswept
plain, with the exception of the towering walls and towers of
Athex. It seemed cooler here than in the city, probably due to
the huge amounts of people tucked into the walls of Athex,
though there was certainly more shade in the city. The plains
offered only a few copses of trees, unless you were near the shore
of Lake Vormia where maples and oaks grew in abundance.
The two cutthroats rode on in silence, concentrating on
keeping up a fast pace. Pothax found himself growing worried for
Wynic and Victoria. He just hoped Rades and Derick were
taking their time in getting there.
"This looks like a good spot for a picnic," Rades
shouted pointing at the forest of maples up ahead. "Derick, you
ride up ahead to gather firewood."
The squire nodded and nudged his horse forward at a
gallop. He smiled as he dismounted just under the first huge maple
and saw that Rades and the rest were still back several hundred
yards and weren't going that fast period. He slipped off into the
forest, disappearing behind several trunks and started sprinting,
knowing that his noise would tell Wynic of his coming and yet
Nevada wouldn't be able to hear what he was doing.
He heard a slight rustle overhead and was instantly
knocked to the ground by what could only be Wynic. Rough
hands grabbed him by the tunic and helped him to his feet.
"Thanks," he muttered, dusting off the dried leaves clinging to his
tunic.
"Sorry," the Paladin Assassin apologized. "I wasn't sure
if that was you or an intruder and I had to make sure."
"Nevada's here with us, and probably has her men
following us. Rades stalled for a picnic so that you and Victoria
can head back to Athex. We'll meet you at your estate."
Wynic nodded calmly. He didn't appear to be that
concerned.
"How's Victoria?" Derick asked.
"She's fine, or so she says. Another day or two, I think."
"I'll take a look at her."
He's up to something, thought Nevada as Redhawk
stood and went to look for Derick. Could this be the spot? Could
Waytorn be waiting here with Wynic Doxon and Victoria?
"You're right. We are up to something," grinned Rades.
"As are you, and Waytorn for that matter." Nevada gulped,
realizing she'd spoken aloud. "We're all up to something it seems.
You want to kill Waytorn and rule his empire. Waytorn wants to
leave this empire of his he built. I want to help him. Which is why
I lead you and your men on a wild goose chase, gave Redhawk
and Derick a chance to escape, and ... Well, you can guess the
rest. What I'd like to know is how far you'd go. Would you
murder?"
Nevada was so close to exploding it was a surprise to her
that her reply was so calm. "I've killed before for less." She was
referring to killing Rades, she realized.
"But would you murder a complete innocent? A babe
perhaps?"
Her face went white and she sat thoughtfully. A babe?
Would she really do that? She remembered seeing her sister's
babe back in Cherte before she left. A pudgy-looking, little boy
born into a world of harshness. Would she murder him? "No,"
she said firmly.
"Did you know by coming here now, you were
endangering Victoria's unborn son?"
She had, she realized that now, but she hadn't taken note
of it. She hadn't known just how pregnant Victoria was, hadn't
thought it important enough to find out. Perhaps... Perhaps she
would murder a babe. She banished the thought. "I didn't know."
"That's good. I'm glad to see you have a soul," said
Waytorn, the scarred man appearing to the left of Rades. "Good
day, Nevada."
Larel made it imperative that they keep a scout
ahead of them at all times, thus Roreed sent Eluth back with a
message that he'd found the forest, but he'd also spotted two
other groups up ahead. One was Rades, Lord Redhawk and a
woman, the other was a band of perhaps twenty warriors.
Larel sent Eluth to fetch Roreed back so they could plan
out a strategy. It was obvious that the warriors were Nevada's
Cherten's and that they planned to attack and kill Waytorn if the
chance arose. Larel's own feelings for Waytorn were very old
and bitter, and though she sometimes hated him, she did see that
he only wanted to find happiness. In addition she found the fall of
the crime network as a truly good occurrence, even if Colnic had
gone down with it.
The Chertens were waiting just over a small rise waiting
for a signal from Nevada, or some sign that it was time to attack.
They weren't doing much other than sitting, a few were playing
cards, while others were having a dagger tossing competition on
the trunk of an old oak.
In any normal attack procedure, there would be an archer
placed to aid the fighters. However, since Brenda was pretty
much invincible in hand to hand combat, it was decided that
Brenda alone would attack on foot, while the rest of the marines
would attack by crossbow or bow.
Brenda herself seemed quite fearless, as she donned her
studded leather armour, and brandished her halberd. She gave
Carlo a quick kiss as he helped her strap the halberd to her
back for the sprint across the field. She tied her blond hair back
in a pony tail to keep it out of her eyes before giving Larel a nod
to signal she was ready.
Chapter Seven
Helper of man, Larry thought with a smile. That's
what Alejandro means and the horse had certainly proven
himself worthy of the name by carrying Larry all the to Treburdun.
Although some might wonder if Larry was decent enough to
keep the title of 'man'. Indeed Larry was a purebred rascal, even
prided himself at being one of the best lying, thieving, murdering
rascals in all of Arthian.
The road leading down the valley into Treburdun was
somewhat moist with morning dew, though it was quickly drying
under the rising sun. The hillside was lined with rows of apple
trees still blossoming and providing the peasants with much to
harvest. It wouldn't be long before the grapes were ripe and the
process of making Kinian wine would begin. Kinian wine was
made of both apple blossoms and grapes, though this valley was
known to add raspberries to the ingredients to give it a special,
more flamboyant taste. He also recalled this was where they
brewed Kignac, though Larry himself had never tasted the
expensive and potent drink. Maybe now he could take the time.
The city of Treburdun sprawled openly at the bottom of
the valley, the keep itself at the very middle on a built up mound
of dirt. It was one of the few unwalled cities left in this harsh
world. It was however one of the cleanest, most well kept,
booming places in all of Kinian. Three foot square granite slabs
cobbled the streets, iron street lamps burning the leftover dregs
from the distilling of Kinian brandy and Kignac, an officer in a
clean red and blue uniform everytime you looked around. For
the center of Waytorn's crime empire, Treburdun certainly was
crime free.
Then Larry came to the shocking, almost scary realization
that he hadn't seen a single beggar. Everyone here had plenty of
money and there wasn't a single pick-pocket in sight! He looked
around frantically, and still he couldn't spot a single sign of the
crime network. Not even one of Waytorn's taverns set up as a
haven for cutthroats by the name Raccoon's Den. Larry still
chuckled at the name.
He was still pondering this when he trotted through the
gates of the keep and ran into Zsa Zsa, or Susanne as Waytorn
called her and her butler Larry knew to be Maurice. "G'day Lady
Rougeta," he said politely as he dismounted.
"Is my mother here?" she asked innocently with a mocking
smile.
Larry chuckled and smiled at her, his eyes lingering where
he knew they shouldn't have been. "Lady Zsa Zsa then, if you'll
excuse me I really am hungry and due for a bath and a trip to the
nearest brothel." He tossed Alejandro's reins to a stable boy and
wandered away.
"A despicable man," Maurice muttered grimly.
"Follow him, make sure he doesn't steal the platinumware."
Larry had to admit he didn't want to leave the
comfort of the Vormian bath even for a whore at the local brothel.
The steaming, hot water just seemed to soak into him, leaving him
truly at peace. "If only the brothel could come to me," he said
dreamily.
"Monsieur Larry," said Maurice, entering the chamber
without knocking. "I've brought that bottle of Kignac you asked
for, and have sent for a woman from the Mariana to accompany
you." He set the bottle down beside Larry in the hotpool.
"Anything else you require?"
"My god this is heaven! You read my mind Maurice!"
Truth was Maurice was just making sure Larry was kept busy so
that he stayed out of trouble. He'd even went so far as to ask
Madame Mariana to provide a whore known for her endurance
so that Larry would be occupied longer.
It wasn't until Larry woke up the next morning
that he realized he hadn't heard anything from Waytorn as to his
payment, which led to the realization that he hadn't heard anything
from Victoria or Wynic either. When he asked the whore if she
knew where Waytorn might be she just stared at him. "Com'on
gal, speak up!"
"Waytorn's in Athex," she replied.
"But he said he was coming here, he..." Larry's voice
trailed off when he began to comprehend what had truly happened.
He should have known Victoria would object to being in the same
keep as Larry. "Looks like I'm going back to Athex then," he said
thoughtfully.
"You are going to pay me first."
Larry grinned wolfishly. "I'm not even done yet."
Larry and Alejandro headed south again the next
day. A donkey tethered to Alejandro carried several bottles of
Kignac, a keg of Treburdun brandy and another keg of Kinian
wine from Zsa Zsa Rougeta's father's vineyards. A quarter of it
was gone by the time he came out of the Kinian mountains, half of
it gone when he passed the Delias Estates and three quarters of
it gone by the time Alejandro trotted down the north hill into Athex
a week later, leaving only two bottles of Kignac which he decided
to sell to Billip at the Drunken Dragon.
"Hey, Billip-" he yelled as he entered the Drunken Dragon
and was roughly shoved aside as several men barged in behind
him. "Send for Mathex, Wynic's coming," shouted one man.
Larry studied the sheer hustle and bustle that followed and decided
it would be better to postpone selling the Kignac. Instead he went
down the street to Wynic's estate, particularly the wine cellar, to
wait for the assassin.
Terencio was lounging up in a tree when Brenda
came tearing down the hill towards the Chertens. In his haste of
trying to get down his foot got caught between two limbs and
realized that he was stuck and could do nothing to help his
companions. Crossbow bolts tore down the hill and he heard the
screams and saw the faces of dying countrymen. And he could
do nothing to help them. Absolutely nothing.
At one point in her training, Brenda had been
trained by a Cherten grandmaster, teaching her the battletactics
of his people, and its weaknesses. They attacked low at the start,
and anticipating this she used the side-roll maneuver she was
taught at the Academy of Combat in Evicoth, thus evading their
first attack and charging in behind one of them and bludgeoning
the back of his head with the handle of her halberd. Dame Larel
had specified that she try to knock them out or maim them so
that prisoners could be taken.
An old veteran stepped forward with a oak staff and the
two started to battle according to the demands of staff sparring
while other Chertens circled around behind Brenda. However,
Brenda knew better and dropped to a crouch as the staff passed
overhead. She stabbed forward with the spear end of the halberd
and jerked back, severing the tendons behind the veterans legs.
The man collapsed, his leg hamstrung.
The approach to Brenda's rear did not go unheard, and
she whirled around in a crouch, the spade point of the halberd
catching a Cherten in the thigh. She jerked the halberd free,
grabbed his belt and planted both feet up against his legs. A quick
maneuver and he was lying on his back unconscious and she back
on her feet and ready to go again.
A crossbow bolt whizzed over her shoulder and she heard
a sputtered scream as the man died. She didn't have time to think
about that though, because three more Cherten's charged her from
the front, one swinging low, one high, and one stabbing at her
chest with a rapier. She planted the butt of the halberd in the
ground, blocking the high and low attacks while side-stepping the
stab. She twirled the halberd, catching one man in the groin with
the butt of the halberd, stabbing another with the spear point. She
wrenched the halberd free, snapping the Cherten's rapier as he
attempted another stab while kicking him in the stomach.
The three men backed off as an armoured warrior came
forward carrying a polished gold shield and a brilliant Cherten
steel blade. He smiled and moved his shield upwards to reflect
the sun. Brenda swore as she was blinded by a ray of sunshine in
the face. Fear threatened to cause her to panic, but she
remembered her lessons and listened to the logic of remaining calm.
Closing her eyes, she backed up defensively and attuned herself
to the sounds around her, almost meditating.
The rush of wind came and she dove forward, dropping
the halberd and holding her arms out wide. Her arms found
armoured legs and she twisted his feet out from under him in an
old-fashioned wrestling maneuver while she unsheathed a dagger
and stabbed the armoured Cherten in the stomach, just below
the breastplate, twisting it for maximum pain and heard a satisfying
scream of utter agony.
Her sight was slowly coming back to her as she got to her
feet and the next attack was easily evaded as she scooped her
halberd off the ground and deflected the sword jab. She backed
off momentarily to take assessment of the situation. There were
only the three she'd already engaged left plus one other who
mysteriously was still up in a tree several dozen yards away. The
rest had been taken down by crossbow bolts and by Brenda
herself.
"Surrender," came a shouted holler from atop the hill. A
line of marines with leveled crossbows were slowly making their
descent down the hill. Larel shouted again, this time in a language
Brenda assumed to be Escherten. She started down the hill.
"On one condition," shouted the man in the tree. "Take
us to Waytorn for judgment."
"I was already planning on that," Larel replied.
"Good." The Cherten was quiet for a moment and then
shouted: "Could you get me out of this tree first. I am stuck."
Pothax settled down against the tree trunk,
preparing himself for what he was sure to be a good show.
Waytorn had suggested the cutthroat take to the trees 'just in case'.
If any surprises came, Pothax would be there to turn the surprise
around and make it backfire on the enemy.
Waytorn sat down casually beside Nevada, absently
flipping the dagger in his hand and catching it effortlessly. The
flipping would keep Nevada's mind focused on the dagger and not
on the conversation, as was its purpose. It didn't take a scholar
to tell that Waytorn had everything under control and resting in the
palm of his hand, much like the dagger hilt.
Nevada bit back a snarl and risked a glare at Rades who
had leaned forward so he could listen to the conversation better.
Her face was pale and she looked very small and fragile. "W-
what do you want?" she said slowly, visibly struggling under the
amount of surprise and fear of the situation.
"More properly, what do you want?" Waytorn replied
smoothly.
She paled to the point that Pothax wondered if she would
faint. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I want your
empire."
"I have no empire left, but perhaps I didn't phrase that
properly. What do you want from my empire."
Again Nevada paled. She was the colour of flour. She
stared at Waytorn and didn't answer.
"Wealth? Power? Fame perhaps? What else is there?"
Rades prompted.
Nevada frowned. Wealth? They were right, of course,
what could she buy that she didn't already have. Power was
useless unless you had a goal to focus it at. Her only goal was to
become the Queen of the Crimeworld... Or maybe that was it,
all that really mattered, all she really wanted. To have power
over the biggest organization to ever grace the continent. The
achievement... Yes, that must be it. "The achievement," she said
quietly.
"Huh?" asked Rades.
Waytorn smiled with satisfaction and sheathed his dagger.
"I thought as much. You like the challenge. Much like a mountain
climber who dares to climb the tallest mountain just so he can say
he did it or the gambler who plays for the challenge of beating
everyone else. But the question is will you cheat in this game of
poker? What lengths will you go in order to win?"
"Does it matter?" Nevada asked coldly. "It would appear
you are the one with all the wild cards!"
"You forget! I am no longer playing."
He was right again. Why was he so damn smart?
Experience? She began to wonder what was the point of all this,
but Waytorn's smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.
"I checked up on your history even before you came to
the main land. You come from a poor family, a family of servants.
The nobility seemed to follow you everywhere you went, mocking
you at your attempts to gain status, but you eventually gained the
status of nobility by buying yourself a baronship. Yet they still
mocked your modest birth and continued on as if you weren't even
there."
He shouldn't know this! How could he possibly know this?
The only one who she had told was that drunken sot, Dominigo...
"He wouldn't have...?"
"My report says it only took two bottles of Kinian brandy
to reveal that and much more, Olivia."
Nevada felt faint, indeed both Rades and Waytorn reached
out to help steady her. Her name. Her real name. Her real name.
Dominigo had told them her real name! If he was here right now
she was certain she'd strangle him to death. Why was it her past
always seemed to come back to haunt her? "Dios help me," she
moaned in Escherten.
"Perhaps we should discuss this back at Wynic's?" Rades
suggested. "It will be getting dark by the time we get back to Athex."
"You're right. By the way, Olivia," said Waytorn using her
real name again, "you are now a prisoner of the state, thanks to the
officer status King Willium has granted me in addition to my royal
pardon for my services during Kobalix's Quest and the Ice War.
If you want I can read you your rights but I'd prefer to get going.
The mosquitoes on the plains can be a real pest during the late
day of summer."
Sleeping like a baby, thought Nyxa, absently
stroking the hair on her employer's chest. It was silent moments
like this that she found true joy in. Seeing the contented grin on
her employers face. If it weren't for a couple small facts this would
have been like any other day. Today her alignment had changed,
or had it? She'd always been allied with Waytorn, it's just that
she'd chosen him over West. The second point was that she was
aboard the trireme Overlord spying for Waytorn, and the third
point was that her employer wasn't a man, but a minotaur.
First Mate Chekhov was a big brute of a minotaur and the
fourth time in the past year that her services had been hired out to
a minotaur. It was always an unusual experience, minotaurs didn't
love in the same way humans did, humans seemed more
compassionate when they did it, Chekhov just did it and that was
the end of it. Or maybe all that grunting and growling was the
way minotaurs displayed compassion in bed. She knew that a
minotaur grinning was sometimes frightening experience, so why
wouldn't the way they express compassion be different. Now that
she thought about it, she'd never seen a minotaur couple kiss, or
maybe that was because minotaur spouses were selected at birth
and to make love meant to breed.
Minotaur culture was very different she realized thoughtfully.
In the Empire there were no definite classes because minotaurs
were deliberately bred between classes to prevent inbreeding and
thus retardation. The only exception was the monarchy where they
checked to make sure the Empress was a genius and not related
to the royal family in any way. Prince Nebonex's fiancee was said
to be a minotauress from the minotaur isles where almost everyone
was lower class.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard voices from
above. Getting out of the gently swinging hammock, it had been
an interesting experience to make love in a hammock, she stood
on her toes and listened carefully. One of the voices she recognized,
it was West's, which meant Waytorn would be paying her now.
She holded her breath as she listened, carefully memorizing it all.
When she heard the sound of West's boots walking away she
began to slip into her clothes.
Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be on board, the
minotaurs were very strict about who was let on board and
huminotaur breeding as it was called was supposed to be
punishable by death. The grotesque half-breed between the two
races was considered an abomination of the true minotaur and
were usually put to death, not that it mattered. Humanitaurs can't
reproduce, just like when a donkey and a horse are bred to
produce a jack-ass, which can't reproduce. Thus the route for
any whores with enough courage to risk their lives by going into
the sailor barracks is through one of the portholes.
If the captain of the Overlord had seen her just then he
would have wrung her neck without a second thought. Chekhov
had said the captain was very old fashioned and believed in
Kobalix's teachings about how minotaurs were a supreme race
and that the disease called humans should be wiped out. Waytorn
had warned her that to watch out for the Kobalix Cult, and this fit.
It was a shame she didn't recognize the dusty soot-like
smell of charcoal or known that it was an important ingredient of
black dirt. She might have reconsidered going down south street
where she knew they were unloading the kegs of their cargo to
investigate the fire down that way. She might have lived through
the explosion and been able to warn Princess Kelly that West
planned to kidnap her with the aid of the crew from the Overlord.
Mathex nearly bumped the container of
nitroglycerin when he heard the explosion in the distance. Taking
a deep breath he stood up and looked around his laboratory. To
have bumped that thing would have caused the place to go up in
a fireball perhaps as big as the one he'd just heard coming from
the docks. His mind itself went through his memories of the battle
at Kobalix's Lair with shocking detail of the faces of comrades
just before they'd been blown to kingdom come.
That explosion down he'd just heard was very familiar and
his mind told him he should almost be able to smell carbon and
sulphur in the air. But he didn't. He smelled bacon and roasting
corn from the Drunken Dragon Tavern down the street.
He set down his blue prints for a steam-powered ship and
decided it was time he go talk to the Doxon's in their estate down
the street. It was well past time they sat down for one of those
discussions they needed so desperately right now. Everything
seemed to be leaning towards the destruction of Athex.
A crowd of people had gathered in Wynic's study
to soothe the worried assassin. Present was Pothax, Bren, Larel
and her marines, Waytorn, Redhawk, Wynic, of course, Rades,
Princess Kelly, Johann, Rodrigo and Mathex noted with some
surprise, Lady Nevada and one of her henchmen. There were
also two young women and a knight who the minotaur didn't
recognize who Dame Larel introduced. "This is Phiona, Lady
Rebeka, and Lord Moffat, who King Willium sent to watch over
Nevada and Terencio," she said, gesturing to the two captives.
Mathex nodded and glanced at Wynic with sympathy. "I
think it's time to discuss the crisis on our hands gentlemen, ladies,"
he said with a nod at Larel and Princess Kelly. "How many of
you heard the explosion half a hour ago?"
"We all did," replied Redhawk soberly. "I wasn't even
inside the city at the time, yet I still heard it. How bad is it?"
"I estimate about fifty to eighty people killed, several
hundred injured. The explosion left a crater the size of the park
next door," Mathex said, pointing out the window for emphasis.
You could see all of the park from Wynic's study and there was
a fair bit of it. Five acres to be exact.
One of the marines whistled. Mathex smiled sadly at the
man. "I investigated the waterfront after the explosion and learned
about a trireme called the Overlord. The most likely source of the
black dirt. I could smell the stuff from the docks."
"Did you smell anything else?" asked Rodrigo. "A putrid
smell sort of like tobacco?" Nevada and Terencio looked up.
"Uh, if I did I don't remember it. Why?"
"There is a drug that comes from the south, called cannabis,"
Nevada spoke up. "I outlawed it when I came to power in
Cherte, because the people who sold it tended to become addicted
to it and that was bad for business."
Waytorn nodded slowly. "Same here. I believe what
Rodrigo is trying to point out is that now that I'm no longer enforcing
that law, the drug traders have decided to restart the business.
Unfortunately, I also suspect West might be making some deals
with the captain of the Overlord. The Overlord provides West
with the cannabis, and West sells it for a profit. We might want to
look into overthrowing West and putting Nevada on the throne."
Nevada looked up.
The door opened and Larry entered. He stood there in the
doorway, looking around at everyone staring at him as he drank
from the neck of a brandy bottle. "What'cha lookin' at?" he slurred.
No one had expected Larry to suddenly appear like that, but that
wasn't what they were looking at. In the hallway behind the half
drunk cutthroat, as silent as shadows were a small army of
cutthroats. He turned around to see what they were looking at
and was hit over the head with the hilt of a sword.
The cutthroat fell to the floor just in time for Rodrigo's
francisca to go flying overhead and sever the intruder's head from
his shoulders. There were startled shouts of surprise from both the
study and the hallway as the two groups merged. A small army
within the study trying to get out and a small army outside trying to
get in.
Every warrior who has military training understands that
when trouble emerges their training seems to gain control and
keep the person from panicking. For the last several years Brenda
had been given the most rigorous training that anyone has ever had.
She had been taught in every city and institution across the
continent. A halberd previously hung on a wall rack appeared in
her hands and she charged over the semi-comatose form of Larry
with apparent hap-hazard care to her own safety.
Wynic and the other's followed quickly, the marine's quick
movement startling the intruders' and giving the companions a
chance to vacate the study. Only about half of them were armed
and those few pressed forward to guard the backs of others as
they made their way down the hallway towards Wynic's war
room. Wynic's stock of weapons was somewhat meager but of
good quality.
Rades, being at the forefront with Nevada's sword in hand,
was handling his opponents like an perfectionist like Lord Moffat
beside him; Swift and deadly. A year ago he would have already
been lying dead on the floor. Dillard training him and being in the
Ice War last winter had hardened him into a skilled killer. To say
nothing of the training Johann and Rodrigo had gave him.
Brenda narrowly avoided a cut to her neck and brought
her halberd up to catch the her opponent's sword hilt between the
axe blade and spear point. She wrenched the blade free of the
man and drove the butt into the man's stomach before punching
him in the neck with her palm. The man fell to the floor, gagging.
The move was one of the first she'd learned from a Kalarippayat
Instructor in Evicoth. She hadn't broken his neck, but collapsed
his windpipe, in a minute or so he would suffocate.
A bulky minotaur strode over the gagging man, waving a
cutlass warily. This was interesting, thought Brenda, who hadn't
stopped to think why these people had invaded Wynic's home.
The minotaur before her was a sailor judging from the kilt, cutlass
and bandoleer.
The minotaur took a sudden jump forward, slashing at her
with his cutlass. She ducked to the side and received a kick to the
head. With a curse, she dropped to her knees and rolled. The
minotaur also had been taught Kalarippayat!
The minotaur strode forward confidently now as Brenda
got to her feet groggily. she spat and planted the halberd on the
floor in front of her like a highjumper at the Summerfest Games
and kicked at the minotaur with both feet. The minotaur side-
stepped easily and the marine crashed to the floor beside his feet.
An bad turn of events this was. Now she was on the floor with
no weapon and he was above her with a cutlass already posed
for the strike.
When all else fails, wrestle, she recalled an instructor once
saying. Armed combat is too offensive to properly defend against
a wrestling maneuver. With that in mind, she rolled forward,
wrapped both arms around the minotaurs thighs and stood. His
feet wrenched out from underneath him, the minotaur's upper torso
crashed to the floor. She snatched a dagger from her belt and
drove it into her opponent's throat. The sailor was far too stunned
to resist.
Rades jumped over the marine's unguarded back and
stabbed a minotaur through the heart. He realized immediately
that to take over for Brenda was a bigger job than he'd expected
and knew with dismay that Nevada's shortsword couldn't handle it.
He dropped the blade and drew Dillard's longsword from the
sheath strapped to his back.
The huge sword was heavy, but a month of carrying it on
his back had made Rades used to it's weight. Taking the hilt in
both hands he parried a stab from a Goban wielding minotaur.
The Goban was a special weapon designed by the minotaur Mathex
and was now a widely popular weapon/tool. It was longer than a
longsword, but had a tip like a harpoon and no crossbar. It could
be used as a harpoon or a longsword, just like a halberd could be
used like an axe, spear or staff. "Ah, Brenda?"
The marine grunted in reply.
"Would you mind if we trade for a minute?"
In reply the marine tossed the halberd to him and went
forward barehanded into the fray. Shrugging, the Graf dropped
the longsword and jabbed at the minotaur with the spear point. The
minotaur backed off and brought the Goban down in a heavy
overhead swing. Rades deflected it with the flat of the axe blade,
and drove the butt of the halberd into the minotaur's knee. There
was an audible crack as the minotaur's leg snapped backwards, it's
knee cap broken. The axe head came down and ended the
minotaur's agony.
The number of people in the hallway had gone down
dramatically. Sometime during the fight Derick had come out of
Victoria's room and was now lying unconscious much like Larry.
Rades glanced at where the cutthroat had fallen in the doorway of
the study. Larry was no longer there. Where could...?
A scream rang through the entire house as Victoria
screamed. He had assumed that to be the screams of someone
dying but now realized it to be Victoria herself in labor. Rades
would never forget that scream, or the way he had wanted to laugh.
"Don't call me Vicky!!"
Chapter Eight
That momentary smile left Rades' face when he
saw Kelly's unconscious body draped over the back of a minotaur.
The halberd hadn't even hit the floor in the time it took Rades to
draw the pistol and shoot the minotaur between the shoulders. The
building was deathly quiet.
The Graf turned about, ignored Mathex's angry face, and
shot a second intruder, a third, thus clearing out the last of the
nearby enemy. He turned about and saw another minotaur scoop
up Kelly from the arm's of a dead comrade. "I'll explain later,"
Rades cried as he hurtled the banister and landed halfway down
the staircase in front of the minotaur carrying Kelly.
Johann had seen the pistol before and knew that Mathex
disapproved of it. Knew that it had been invented by the Kobalix
cult and knew, more importantly that Rades needed their help right
now. "Let's get'em!" he shouted and vaulted the banister.
"Well, if the old guy can do it, so can I!" declared Eluth and
jumped after the old Stornium. Roreed followed, then Pothax while
others began charging down the stairs.
Meanwhile Rades had been shoved aside by a minotaur
and was hanging over the edge of the staircase. But then old
Johann had come flying down and hit the minotaur over the head
with the hilt of his sword. Eluth appeared at his side and helped
him up.
The minotaur carrying Kelly disappeared out the front door.
Pothax stepped in front of Rades, blocking an attack from a
minotaur. Rades broke away from his brief courtship with death
and glanced down. Fifteen foot drop. What if...
"Com'on Rades!" shouted Pothax, struggling to keep three
minotaurs at bay. The cutthroat glanced behind him and saw only
Eluth and Johann. "Where'd he go?"
The Graf landed on cutthroat laden down with silverware.
Apparently some of these intruders had come here for other
reasons. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the front door.
The minotaur tossed Kelly into the back of a open hood
carriage and seeing Rades running towards him, waved. Waved!
The Stornium barely thought as he lined up the sights on the pistol
and pulled the trigger.
The minotaur fell from his perch on the carriage step. A
handful of minotaurs shouted as the carriage took off, the horses
whinnying from the sound the pistol had made. The driver woke
from a daze and cracked a whip at the panicked horses.
Rades looked around desperately and spotted Alejandro
grazing in the shade under a maple tree. The horse was apparently
oblivious to all the commotion around him. The Graf quickly
mounted the stallion, digging his heals into the horse's flanks.
Alejandro didn't need to be kicked again, he sped off at
a gallop just like he was supposed to at the wall races, except
Larry had stolen him. The huge warhorse chased the carriage
down Grand Procession Boulevard and followed it onto Londun
Road. The Stornium sawed at the horse's reins, looking around
the crowded street desperately. Had he turned around he would
have seen that the driver had doubled back and was now heading
down Southport Ave towards the docks.
The city patrol arrived seconds after the last of
the intruder's were killed. It amazed Pothax sometimes how they
could always show up after all the work was done. They did
however clean up the mess, and remove the bodies with one
exception. Bren had found the retainer Devid lying in the parlour
with his face bruised and battered, several broken ribs and what
Pothax believed to be a punctured lung judging from all the blood
the retainer was spitting up. The cutthroat took one look at him
and told Bren to go to the kitchen with Larel to make some cold
tea for Devid.
Larel met the cutthroat's eyes and stiffly hid the tears she
knew would come. She wasn't going to be making any tea, that
much was obvious. Pothax wanted her to hold Bren while
Pothax did what had to be done.
After the two left the room, Devid tried to grin, but it
turned into a racking cough as he spit up more blood. "Do it.
I'm dead anyway," he croaked, spitting up more blood.
Pothax nodded sadly and slit the man's throat. He stood
and took an afghan off the nearby sofa and covered the man with
it. He turned away and walked stiffly to the kitchen where he
found Larel sitting on the floor, holding a sobbing Bren. The
cutthroat had a cold ache in the pit of his stomach as he sat down
on the floor beside the two and put his arms around the two of
them and closed his eyes. He wished that ache would go away.
Oh, when would the pain stop! When, when,
when, thought Victoria. Oh, God help me! She writhed on the
bed promising herself that when this was over with she would
not only murder Larry but torture him cruelly. And then she saw
the cutthroat cut the cord with a silver dagger and wrap the child
in a wool blanket. "I've never seen anything so beautiful," she
murmured in wonder.
"Thank ye darlin'," slurred Larry as he handed the child
to her. "I try my best to look purty for the ladies!" He grinned
and Victoria considered slapping him, but then her thoughts
returned to the child resting in her arms.
"Shut up Larry and get out of here," she growled.
"Of course, the wine cellar is calling me and I wouldn't
dream of making it wait," he grinned and walked away casually
as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
"I'll kill him later," she promised the babe. She studied
her pink skin and tangle of red hair atop her tiny wrinkled head.
Her chin and cheeks were plump and reddish, her ears small
and delicate looking.
She barely noticed Wynic enter, helping a limping and
rather drunken looking Derick. "Now I know how Redhawk
feels when he comes home drunk," the doctor murmured just
before he passed out from pain. The assassin laid the squire
down on a rug and walked over to sit down beside his wife.
The brigadier looked at him and smiled warmly. Her
eyes went back to the child cradled in her arms. She reached up
gently and smoothed out the tangle of red hair.
"Is it...?" asked the Doxon as he snuggled in beside her
in order to get a better look at the babe. He glanced at her and
back at the babe in wonder. "I don't care what it is," he
declared, reaching out a bloodstained hand to gently caress the
child's pudgy cheeks.
"It's your daughter."
The assassin's eyes widened farther than Victoria had
ever seen them before. "A girl?" She nodded. A grin spread
across Wynic's face as he stared at the child. "What should we
call...?"
"Anything but Larry," grinned Victoria. She looked
around her as if for the first time. "Where's Redhawk when you
need him? He knows all about names and their meanings!"
"Waiting in the hallway, like a respectable knight should,"
the Kinian's voice came from the hall. "That, and I'm helping
myself to the brandy! I think it's Kignac, though I could have
sworn Wynic didn't have any."
"Do come in," Victoria called, tossing a quilt over the
bed. "We need your knowledge right now?"
"Are you respectable?"
"As respectable as I can be."
The knight entered, carrying a decanter. He offered the
bottle to Wynic and Victoria. The assassin bent over and
breathed in the bouquet. "It is Kignac! I don't recall ordering
any!" Victoria passed and pointed to the babe.
"Ah, ain't he-" he began.
"She," Victoria corrected.
"-she cute," he amended. He grinned and took a drink.
"Hm, maybe Waytorn or," the knight glanced at Victoria, "or
Larry brought it."
"Makes sense," said Wynic. "He did go to Treburdun
after all. I imagine they're short a couple kegs of the stuff!" He
reached for a glass from the night table so he could try the brandy.
Redhawk shrugged. "More for us," he said and took
another drink. "It's a shame about Devid. He really could cook!"
murmured the knight.
The glass fell to the floor and shattered. Wynic looked up
slowly, his eyes meeting Redhawk's. "What-?" he started to say,
but instead stood up and rushed from the room.
Victoria looked at the knight, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Is he...?" She left it hanging.
Redhawk nodded. "Punctured lung, very painful and he
was well past saving."
"Did someone...?"
"Pothax."
She looked down at the babe nestled in the crook of her
arm. Suddenly the world didn't seem such a joyous place. She
opened her mouth, looking at the child and spoke. "Amber
Devidia Dextra Doxon, this is a cruel world you live in. Let's pray
you have the strength to adapt to it." There were tears running
down her cheeks as she spoke.
Mathex was fuming. How dare...? How could he...?
Why did Rades keep the pistol? The minotaur had told everyone
it was a vile weapon that could only lead to evil! But Rades hadn't
listened to him. It was obvious that he was going to have to talk
to the human and explain what could result from this...
"Mathex," said a sober voice from behind the minotaur.
He turned about so quickly he nearly ran into Rades. The Graf
backed off and looked up at the minotaur. "I understand your
point about these things being illegal, but please understand that I
only use it in extreme emergencies. Like today."
The minotaur frowned, his anger spent out. Why did
Rades always have that ability to smooth out someone's problems?
What had Rades done to get so... wise? He snorted. "I wish
you had told me, but I'd much prefer if you'd destroy the damn
thing. What if it fell into the wrong hands?"
"We didn't kill off all of Kobalix's henchmen, you know.
There may be warehouse of these things somewhere, just waiting
for someone to find them and use them. And then there was that
explosion down on the docks today."
He was right, Mathex realized. Kobalix's men were here,
indeed he wagered that if searched the bodies of these intruders
that he'd find...? Find what? Plans to build canons like the ones
they'd had during the Ice War? What did he expect to find?
Nevertheless, he wagered that some of these men were ex-
henchmen of Kobalix. There had been thousands and thousands
of them after all.
"I'd better get going now. Princess Kelly's been abducted
and I told her father I'd take care of her." He said it so stoically
that Mathex wondered if the Graf even understood his own
words. The man before him was not the same man he had met
half a year ago, in more ways than one.
It was then that Lord Moffat shouted, "Has anyone seen
Nevada or Terencio?"
She had two choices right now and both Nevada
and Terencio knew it. One was to join forces with the Crimson
Companions and gain control of the Athexian underworld, the
other was go home in defeat. The joining of forces looked
somewhat promising, but right now, after losing the bulk of her
men, she felt one of the safest things to do was pack up and go
home. She mulled both thoughts over as she drank sarsaparilla at
the Drunken Dragon Tavern and watched Terencio drink his
wine moodily.
To go home would most likely mean passing through
territory that was right now in a state of war. To go south would
mean daring the bandits in Stornium to attack when she had only
a few men left. North meant Kinian and right now the ice caps
were still melting which meant high likelihood of avalanches.
Staying here meant staying in a city that was currently in a state
of chaos.
She sat quietly and eavesdropped on the patrons in the
next booth. They were discussing how their Lord was currently
having problems with the number of deaths Nevada had ordered.
Apparently there was a huge lack of nobles and the commons
were threatening to overthrow them. Possible Rebellion was
whispered more than once.
A pair of merchants were arguing over the suddenly
increased prices of shipping goods by boat. One believed it was
because of the explosion down on the docks, while the other
firmly insisted it was because of all of this King Culprit nonsense
that ship captains were reluctant to even dock in Southport where
the cost of renting a pier was half that of Northport where all the
huge schooners were docked.
It amazed the Cherten that such things could effect the
atmosphere of the city so profoundly. Then there was this business
about organized crime that frightened shop owners. One shop
owner claimed he had counted thirty incidents where a shop had
been completely robbed of everything, in broad daylight!
Then there was the Summerfest, of course. The most
chaotic time of year in the first place. The celebrations included
everything from riots to competitions to the Summerfest Games
being held. This was all amplified by a thunderworks display
over the walls every evening and the best year for wine since the
turn of the century. This celebration should have been called
Drunkfest she thought with a smile.
A voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to
see Rades talking to the proprietor. The fat man nodded and
pointed at Nevada's booth. The Graf thanked him and made his
way across the room, past the dancers and a man playing the
bagpipes.
"Graf Rades," she said, looking up at him. "Won't you
sit down?" She shifted over and offered him the space beside her.
"Danke," the man replied, sitting down beside her. "What
are you planning?" he asked bluntly.
Nevada smiled. "I'm trying to decide whether to team up
with you and your companions or leave altogether. I've lost a lot
of men here."
"It's getting late and I think you better make your decision
pretty soon. There are those here in Athex that if you're not with
them, you're against them. Do you understand?"
"Does West fall into that category?"
"If you didn't know it already, I'd better tell you now.
Waytorn told me West is a con artist, a charlatan. He uses his
accent to trick people into thinking he's just a honest country man."
Nevada raised an eyebrow. "He used you."
She merely nodded. "Your point is?"
The Graf glanced at Billip. "I wish to discuss this matter
of teaming up. Okay?" She nodded again. "That and I'd like
you to send Terencio down to the docks to watch a trireme
called the Overlord."
"That's the ship with all the black dirt? With all the oars?"
asked the Cherten.
"Ya." He stood and offered Nevada his arm.
She looked up at him with hesitation. Finally she stood
and accepted his arm for support. She glanced at Terencio as she
was led away. It was hard to tell if he disapproved of this new
arrangement. If he did he didn't show it.
Rades led her to the stables and helped her up onto her
horse. She barely recognized the horse Rades was riding but
wasn't that surprised. Terencio had mentioned one of the stallions
had been stolen.
They rode down Westgate Avenue and stopped at what
she thought to be a park of some sort. Then she saw the
tombstones and she realized with dismay that this was the city
cemetery. Rades stopped ahead of her and dismounted.
"What are we doing here?"
"Visiting a friend. You've heard of Sir Dillard? This is
where he's buried," he explained pointing to a tombstone. "I
can't read very good, but Wynic told me what it says: Regardless
of whether I go to Heaven or Hell, it is preferable to do good
deeds. Do you understand what that means?"
Nevada looked at the stone and thought. Rades wanted
her to do this, it was the reason why he had brought her here and
she knew what it meant. She had read the inscription and
guessed what Rades would say. "It means that when you die,
will you be proud of your deeds?" she replied. She looked at
Rades and caught his single eye.
"And are you?"
Nevada looked at him and smiled. "If you're trying to
make me feel guilty, you've made your point. I hate to speak ill
of the place, but cemeteries always bother me."
"Of course. It reminds us all that we will all return here
one day, and that isn't a happy thought." He mounted his horse
without saying anything, giving the grave a quick salute.
"Rades," she said as she mounted her horse. "I've been
meaning to ask you something. Were you always like this? I
heard you changed during the Ice War."
The Graf stopped and turned about. "No. Nor do I
enjoy being like this."
"Then why do it?"
"Because it's the only thing I seem to have left. There is
very little room for happiness in my heart right now, and not much
is going to change that." he sighed and changed the subject. "Our
next stop is a visit to the Osmondelias Estate where we can surely
stay the night. Right now you have many enemies and if no one
knows where you are, you'll be much safer. Besides, you'll need
a goodnight's sleep to think."
Nevada nodded, weighing odds that Rades wasn't
planning on staying at Osmond's estate and would more likely be
heading down to the docks as soon as he was sure someone
would be watching her. She wondered just how much Kelly
mattered to the Graf. Was there room in his heart for Kelly, or
even Nevada?
Osmond and Rades sat across a campfire they had
built out in the orchard. Osmond had insisted that good ideas
always came when one had time to meditate. Rades wasn't one
to argue and agreed. He wasn't going to the docks after all and
the real reason he had came here was because he needed company
and advise. They roasted corn and sausages and drank mulled
cider as Rades explained the situation in detail. Then Osmond sat
back to think it over logically.
"It is obvious that we need to find Princess Kelly and the
fact that you were attacked by minotaur sailors suggests the
Overlord as the most possible place for her to be held. Or at least
the docks. Where is West's hideout?"
"A rundown estate down in the Southport District."
"Okay let's say for now she's down that way. The next
problem is the question of motive. Why the Princess? What could
West or the Kobalix Cult want with her? Let's leave ransom out
because it doesn't make any sense in this situation. A bargaining
piece maybe. Waytorn leaves town and he gives her back? I
don't think so. Let's face it Rades, we don't have enough
information to establish a motive, so we have no idea what they
plan to do. Right now the best thing would be to start combing
the Southgate District. Getting someone aboard the Overlord
seems to be a good start and staking out West's hideout is
another. What do you think?"
"I agree. We need more information and I think I know
the girl to do it."
"Nevada?"
"She's the best. If anyone can get close to West, she can."
"Excuse me senor," said Terencio, stopping a
passing merchant. "Do you know where I could find the
Overlord?" The man shrugged and pushed by the Cherten. Since
coming to the main land the Cherten had been shocked how rude
people were, now he wasn't surprised and decided to try an tavern
called Sailor's Cove and ask for directions.
It was a dusty, rundown place with a thick layer of soot
covering it's roof. The soot here in Athex was incredible, but the
fog in Southport was worse. He opened the door to the tavern
and looked inside.
The proprietor looked up from where he was mopping up
broken pieces of clay pottery and spilt ale. "G'day stranger.
'Fraid ye missed da fight."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I can go to a different-"
"Naw, sit down. Could use the company to talk to why I
clean up. Help yerself to a drink behind the bar, if ye like," said
the man and went back to his mopping.
Terencio was a bit surprised by this unnatural friendliness,
but helped himself to a tankard of ale. It smelled good and it had
a wholesome taste to it. He sat back on a stool as the proprietor
continued to clean up the mess and watched. "Does this happen
often?"
"Aw, well, I could suppose ye could say it has its seasons.
Its always worse during Summerfest though. Those minotaurs in
port haven't helped though. Always starting fights dem fellars!"
snorted the man, picking up a broken tableleg and tossing it onto
a pile of broken things to be fixed. "This Fest been da worst
though!"
"All this King Culprit stuff not good for business?"
"Naw! Business is booming. Ye see when people get
worried about stuff like that they can't resist the urge to drown
themselves in ale. Of course, there was dat explosion over on the
next block. Since then people have been kind of 'fraid to go near
the docks!"
"I heard it too! How big was it?"
"Wal, let's just say I cleaned da soot off my roof this
morning and its so thick now parts of my roof are sagging!"
Terencio nodded and refilled his tankard. "Being a
foreigner, I'm not used to this sort of stuff. Are things always this
bad here in Athex?"
"Naw, it's just da recent wars! I've always found Athex to
be a sort of peaceful haven, with the exception of all the crime, of
course."
"Of course, I suspect the crime will go down when the
crooks have killed themselves all off!"
"Already has went down! It's just this 'organized crime'
stuff that's scaring us common folk."
"Of course," nodded Terencio, finishing his ale and setting
a silver piece on the bar. "Do you know where the Overlord is
docked?"
"The minotaur ship? Ya, I do! Cursed Pier, I'm afraid. I've
never been a superstitious person but ever since they docked at
Cursed Pier, I've been wondering!" said the proprietor, setting
down his mop and wiping his brow.
"Cursed Pier?"
"Pier Thirteen. Where are ye from that ye never heard of
da Accursed Number Thirteen?"
"Cherte. We have many different superstitions there. One
of them is that if you sleep outside during a full moon you will be
blessed with long life."
The man snorted, picked up the silver coin and tucked it
in his pocket. "Ye Cherten's are a strange folk, but ye probably
say the same about us Athexians. Eh?"
Terencio nodded and tossed the man another silver coin.
"Especially all the kilts!" He waved to the man and went back
out into the street.
The sun had set, making the sky on the western horizon
turn into a reddish pink. People had taken on a more festive air.
Obviously people did their trading and work while the sun was
up and when it went down began to celebrate.
He bought some sticky bread to munch on from a vendor
and got directions at how to get to pier thirteen. Licking his fingers
he came to the pier only to find it empty.
Had the proprietor been wrong? Maybe it was a different
pier? He asked around and discovered that it was indeed pier
thirteen and that yes the Overlord had been docked there. But it
wasn't any more.
Nevada wasn't surprised when she woke up to
find Lord Moffat and two other knights guarding her room. She
went down to a little room called the Break-the-Fast Lounge.
She couldn't understand why anyone would have a room just for
eating breakfast. She could however understand why Lord Moffat
and his two knights were escorting her everywhere.
A servant came out with fried bacon, toasted bread and a
generous helping of fried potatoes spiced with cayenne and parsley
flakes. Then there was a pitcher of sarsaparilla to wash it all down.
It was quite fattening she was sure, but definitely good tasting. The
strange tasting sarsaparilla was still a treat and she wondered how
the mainlanders made it. She'd have to ask for the recipe before
she left. If she left.
Lord Moffat ate down everything put in front of him, not
necessarily a glutton, his table manners were better than hers, but
the food did disappear quite quickly. He kept his eyes on Nevada
the entire time, watching every move she made warily. He
obviously took his job very seriously.
After she had finished a servant came and asked Nevada
if she would meet Lord Osmond and Graf Rades out in the new
barn. She accepted, surprised to learn that Rades was still here.
Lord Moffat finished his meal quickly, his two knights following
suit and soon they were walking across the green lawn towards
the new barn.
The Osmondelias estate was quite fancy and it was a
surprise to see green lawn since most of the grass had been burnt
till they had turned brown. She soon saw why. The place was
crawling with gardeners that had set up a miniature stream that
wound its way all around the estate so that they could get access
to water quickly and easily and make sure all the plants didn't
shrivel up in this heat. She hoped those clouds on the horizon
meant a summer storm here in Athex as they did in Cherte.
The new barn looked quite woody and had a relaxing
pine smell to it. It was startling clean and the horses stalls were
polished to a shine. Osmond must like horses as much as she
did. She wrinkled her nose as she passed the dung drop. She
was a bit surprised to also see Terencio here, but his presence
helped her to relax. She nodded at Rades and gave Osmond a
smile to show she had slept well.
"The Overlord has left port," said Terencio simply.
Rades nodded gravely. "I've already sent a message to a
captain I know of and I believe we can begin pursuit. But first we
need to know who to take. I've already put Wynic, Pothax,
myself and the marines on the list. Do you know of anyone else?"
He was looking at Nevada.
This was it. The time in which the decision must be made.
Rades didn't seem certain of what she would say. Osmond was
smiling at her as if she'd certainly agree. Lord Moffat was scowling
at her. She closed her eyes and thought about Rades said last night
and recalled something her father had said: "We are all dust in the
wind, but what really matters is what kind of dust? Diamond dust
perhaps?" She opened her eyes and looked Rades in the eye. "I
suppose Terencio and I could go, though I'm not sure what we
could do."
An arrow whizzed out of a hayloft and teared through the
air towards her head. She knew the split second she saw it that
there was nothing she could do. She was as good as dead.
Lord Moffat's shield came up and the arrow bounced off
harmlessly. "Three men in the loft! Hurry!"
Nevada was quickly pushed into one of the horse stalls as
the commotion broke out around the barn. How had Lord Moffat
known there was three men? She hadn't seen anyone else!
The Lord was shouting orders and more and more men
were appearing. Some were dressed like gardeners and stable
hands yet still carried swords. What was going on? she asked
herself from the safety of the stall.
Fighting could be heard from both the loft along with
plenty of thumping on the roof of the barn. There was a shouted
warning from above and a scream which was cut off by a silent
thud. Nevada didn't have to see a thing to guess the man was
dead.
There were other sounds of men shouting surrender and
the barn was now crowded with armed men. Where had they
all come from? Again she wondered what the Hell was going on?
"Nevada?" asked Osmond appearing in front of her stall.
"It's over. Are you all right?" She shook her head dumbly. She
really didn't have a clue, she was much too shocked to say
anything. "Let's go into the mansion then. We need to talk."
"When Terencio first arrived at my estate one of
my men noticed immediately that he had been followed from the
docks. So we arranged the meeting in the barn, providing gaps
in our defenses so the culprits could easily find an opportunity to
kill you if you said yes. Meanwhile we had sent word to the
palace and knights began arriving dressed like servants, gardeners,
that sort of thing. The place was crawling with armed men just
waiting for someone to show themselves."
"And if I had said no?"
"They probably would have shot anyway," Osmond said
seriously. "You won't however be going with Rades and neither
will Terencio. It's West who sent those fellars and it's West that
we need you for."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Bait so we can find West's whereabouts."
Mathex didn't like ships. Most minotaurs did so
it was somewhat unusual that he didn't. It seemed like a
contradiction also, considering he had designed the ship he now
stood on. Or perhaps the difference was that this ship had ice
pontoons which was the innovation he had brought around:
Iceships. But in the summer the pontoons were removed and the
ship stayed as a floating fortress in Athex's Southport. It must
be the water and the constant change and balance that made him
queasy.
Or perhaps it was the sun or those storm clouds on the
horizon. The ground would need a good stiff drink after a week
of constant heat. Otherwise it would mean a drought and after
Kobalix's Quest and the Ice War up in Kinian, that would likely
mean a famine. Indeed there would probably be a famine right
now if it weren't for all the merchant ships sent by Empress
Gweneleque back in Evicoth.
His thoughts wandered back to the reason he was here,
which was to discuss an idea with Admiral Savin. The short, bald
man could be seen up near the bow of the ship lecturing a young
sailor, but he shouted to the minotaur and hurried over to see
Mathex. He smiled down at the old sailor.
Savin grinned and scratched his shaved scalp. "Wal if it
ain't a yellow bellied minotaur here to argue with me about ship
design! How are ye, Mathex?" laughed the former Stornium
pirate, his eyes catching the minotaur's and holding them.
Mathex shook his head, taking his eyes away from Savin's
shrewd gaze. "Not this time. I have an idea for a new weapon,
but this one I'd like to keep hushed if possible. That way it will
be there if an emergency appears. The enemy will never know
what hit 'em!"
Savin raised an eyebrow. "Some kind of fancy catapult?
Eh?"
"No. Trust me, if it works, they'll never know what hit 'em!"
The Admiral frowned but led the way to his cabin where
Mathex outlined the idea and Savin worked his way through it,
finally deciding the idea had merit and agreeing to have the weapon
installed immediately.
Chapter Nine
Nevada swallowed, opened the carbon black
gates to the estate, and stepped through. She glanced at the sharp
spikes lining the black marble walls to keep intruders out. This
place had an ominous smell of smoke about it and it gave her
chills that ran down her spine. Her gaze tore from the spikes and
she peered across the weedy, sun burnt lawn to the mansion
itself. Black and white marble contrasting in columns all around
the building displaying its Vormian architecture. It was vast and
would have been somewhat awe inspiring if it hadn't been so
neglected.
Terencio stepped in behind her and looked around briefly,
hawk-like. He cared little for architecture, but plenty for the
obvious wealth this place had once had before the owner had
been forced to abandon it. He grinned and began to whistle
malaguena.
Nevada allowed herself a brief smile despite her fear.
That was the signal for the others to move. She forced herself
to walk across the weedy lawn, avoiding thistles in an attempt to
keep from scratching her sandalled feet. Out of the corner of
her eye she saw one of the marines already over the wall and
making his way towards the mansion. She began to pray West
didn't have an army within.
"You know," said Larel thoughtfully. "This would
almost be a good place to train marines. Don't you think? It's
kind of out of the way yet near the hub of the city and there's plenty
of space for rigors of training. I'll have to ask Willium about it."
"You'll have to beat my bid for it then. I was thinking this
would be a fine place to raise Bren. It will need some work to fix
it up, I admit, but I've always wanted to try my hand at carpentry,"
grinned Pothax. He took out a dagger and inspected the blade for
flaws that might need to be fixed. "My only problem is all the
marble. I'll have to hire a stone mason."
"No reason why we couldn't share the place. It's pretty
damn huge after all. We could easily train the marines and raise
Bren here together. It would probably be better too because
Bren would have a small army to look out for him and it would
teach them some responsibility, which Eluth badly needs," she
suggested. Her eyes flashed catching Pothax's.
"What do you mean 'we'?" asked the cutthroat. His eyes
were locked on hers and she blushed. "I didn't think you'd be
interested in a simple cutthroat, especially after Waytorn, or are
you?"
Larel struggled to hide a grin and failed. "I've forgiven
Waytorn and he me. We were probably never meant for each
other anyway. Right now though, I see before me a man who
has a lot of feeling and compassion. I've never known a cutthroat
to take an orphan in as his own. Let alone be as good a father as
you are."
"A good father? I'm the poorest example of a good father
you'd ever find! Except maybe my father," he added half-heartedly.
"Au contraire, mon ami," Larel said in old Kinian. "You
struggle to teach Bren all the right things, dubious some of them
may be, but you've taught him to be good in his heart and that's
what will make him into a great man one day. Perhaps as great
as you!" She smiled and kissed him.
Pothax returned the kiss, his thoughts whirling as he
contemplated her soft lips. His thoughts were interrupted by
someone whistling malaguena and the two of them broke away
abruptly. "There's the signal," he muttered. "That Cherten has
lousy timing."
General Chek glanced back at General Gisoni and
Waytorn. "There's the signal." He placed his plumed tricorne on
his head and smoothed out his best velvet shirt. His hand went
over that damn mustard stain and he wondered briefly if Mathex
knew of any way to get out bad stains.
The huge minotaur general went over to the wall and
hooked his fingers together to give Waytorn a boost. The cutthroat
made it over the spikes easily without a scratch. Chek came next,
praying he wouldn't rip his shirt on the spikes. He made it over
without too much trouble and turned around to inspect himself.
"Did I rip anything?"
Waytorn snickered. "I'll buy you a new pair of pants later.
You should be feeling a draft right now."
Chek blushed and wondered if he would ever live down
the embarrassment. Here they were invading the enemy and he
was fretting over stained shirt and a ripped pair of pants. Waytorn
better be buying him a whole new wardrobe when they were done
here!
All around the estate people were looking up at
the sound of the Cherten tune. Roreed and Eluth stopped wrestling
in the dirt, Carlo and Brenda pulled their clothes back on and
Wynic reconsidered killing Larry until later. The only other group
was a dark haired woman who was a veteran cutthroat and a
matador that Nevada had brought with her from Cherte.
The woman was in her fifties, but she was strong limbed
and had a dexterity that had been gained over many years of
fighting. She was the best fighter among Nevada's men, not much
of a cutthroat because she couldn't hit diddly squat with a dagger,
but her sword had given her a reputation that rivaled only Wynic
Doxon.
Which wasn't that surprising, being his mother and the sole
reason she had volunteered to come with Nevada to the mainland.
The assassin knew nothing of her presence here in the group,
having only nodded respectfully when Nevada had introduced her
by her Cherten name Madalena instead of Madelaine. Nevada
knew all of this, but had agreed not to say anything.
It was the news that she was a grandmother that had
startled her conscious about telling the assassin. And then there
was Pothax. He was the spitting image of his father Ror and that
scared her.
Ror had been charming at first, convincing her to run off
with him into Colnic, he had grown demanding over a very short
period of time and it didn't take her long to realize she should have
heeded her father's warnings about men like Ror. It was when she
told him joyously that she was pregnant that he hit her and she
realized without a doubt that this was not the same man she had
known a month earlier.
She had escaped for a period of time but when he returned
he took her son with him. That was the last time she saw Wynic.
Unable to stay in Colnic with her shattered heart, she had escaped
to Cherte where Ror would never look for her.
Only now with the news of Ror's death did she dare to
come to the mainland. But now she found that she wasn't so sure
about telling the assassin, especially with his brother around.
Terencio was whistling malaguena. She had loved that
song when she had first come to Cherte but now she was thankful
for it because she could get her mind off the predicament she was
in. A lasso came quickly to her hands and before the end of it
had even landed around the base of a spike she had her feet placed
against the black marble wall and ready to climb.
The old matador, Lutero was his name, followed her up
and over with graceful ease. He landed beside her lightly, much
unlike her solid cat-like plunge. As a group, the two crossed the
grounds with stealth, using hand signals instead of words. Up
ahead was a huge bay window that was their destination.
In order to get there though they would need to vault the
rose bushes below. Lutero ran ahead as discussed beforehand
and Madelaine got ready for the vaulting process. She had only
done this a couple times in the past, but even now she was afraid
of missing.
The old woman inside her told her she was too old for this,
but she shoved that aside with firm determination and ran with all
her might. Her heart pounding in her ears, she spread her legs
and vaulted over Lutero's shoulders.
For a bare second she thought of playing leap frog as a
child, but with the bay window gaping before her she reminded
herself to brace for impact. Her feet came through the window as
it shattered, the rest of her torso following like the shaft of an
arrow. The glass shards sparkled all around her in the sun,
dazzling her. Tucking her legs in, and curling up into a ball, she
landed on the floor in a roll, coming to her feet before the last of
the glass had stopped moving.
The room, which could have been a parlour at one time
was empty. Not so much as a foot stool. She turned around and
whistled to Lutero that the room was clear.
The door came crashing down with an ease any
other door wouldn't have known had it not been so rotted and the
hinges rusted right through. Brenda ran into the room with a flurry
of motion but no one to flurry with. The kitchen was empty.
Carlo came in behind her, his sword raised and his eyes
searching for a trap. They searched the room, the pantry and
several storage rooms. All empty. Not even a crumb for a mouse.
The grand oak doors slid open smoothly after
Eluth trying to knock them down several times until Roreed decided
to try the door handle. The hall was empty and from Wynic and
Larry coming in through the doors to the study and Terencio and
Nevada from the doors to the dining room, it was apparent to both
of them that the rooms were empty.
"That went without a hitch," said Pothax, entering from the
billiard room. "Where is the army we so expected to be here?"
"Moved to a different location," replied Waytorn, entering
with Chek and huge Gisoni on his heels. "Problem is I'd think he
would have left someone to watch in case we did try something like
this. Let's search the rest of the grounds," he said, heading for the
door.
The companions nodded in agreement and followed.
Several started for the barn, others for the woodshed and the
gardenshed. Before they were even off the steps of the entrance
though they heard a rustle to the north and a figure making a run
for the gate. Multiple crossbows twanged as Dame Larel and the
four marines shot immediately. No one would ever know which
one killed him because Larel had trained them all to aim for a
different vital spot in the body. Larel got him in the neck, Carlo in
the heart, Roreed between the eyes, Brenda in the lungs and Eluth
in the groin.
"So much for taking a prisoner," muttered Chek.
The princess had been dying to show someone her
new dagger for days and to share the secret with, but when Bren
did come to visit her he was accompanied by a tall Colnic woman
called Phiona. The woman had tattoos everywhere and Bren didn't
seem to want to stop staring at her. Meanwhile there was a guard
lurking not so far away that Phiona seemed keen on watching. It
was one big frustrating circle to Darylinn and she struggled not to
appear jealous.
Finally, on the spur of the moment, she suggested instead
of staying here with nothing to do that they show Phiona around the
city. It was a big city after all. Surely it wasn't that hard for
someone to get lost? Of course there was the problem of getting
out of the palace and actually losing Phiona in a crowd, but she had
most of that worked out.
"Sure," said Phiona eagerly and forgetting all about the
guard. "Let's go."
Bren, of course, agreed and said that was a great idea.
It was the way he said it that annoyed Darylinn: "Ya, that's a great
idea, Phiona."
Getting out was a simple matter of climbing a tree in the
orchard and going over the palace walls. Phiona said she had never
climbed a tree before and for a moment Darylinn opened her
mouth to say they'd leave her behind if she didn't come. However
the woman went up the tree, slipping at one point and the princess
hoping she'd fall, but she made it. With Bren's enthusiastic help.
They wandered the streets for the next hour, Darylinn
aiming for the big crowds in hopes of losing Phiona. In the end, to
the princess's relief, Phiona disappeared on her own, which was
somewhat strange and so she agreed to help Bren look for her.
They took to the roofs in order to gain speed and better
vantage points, but the Colnic woman was nowhere to be found.
Bren was getting worried and she admitted she was getting a fair
bit worried too. What if something had happened to Phiona?
They continued to look and finally Bren stopped and
suggested they stop and get a drink in this heat. The sky was
overcast with what looked like a summer storm but it was still
balmy. Darylinn agreed and they went down into an alley into a
seedy looking building called the Scowling Skull which reminded
her of a tongue twister. "Can you say Scowling Skull in Southport
five times real fast?" she started to say.
And then she realized this place was nothing like the
Drunken Dragon or the Royal Athexian. For starters there were
rats on the floor! Rats! The men sitting around battered and
sometimes broken tables looked up at her with scowls and leers,
one man even flashing a dagger at her threatening. The place
smelled of burnt manure and peat and there were puddles on the
rotted floor which she wasn't sure if it was beer or urine. It was
too hard to tell they both smelled the same in this place.
Bren walked up to the hefty barmaid who had so many
whiskers on her face Darylinn thought it was a man at first. "A
bottle of cider and none of this watered down rotgut you serve
this slime," he said sternly, slapping down a silver piece.
Darylinn nearly choked as several men moved hands
towards their weapons. The hefty woman laughed heartily and
cracked a lewd joke in her high voice. The men relaxed. The
princess tried to sort through what the joke meant but decided
she'd have to ask Bren later.
Bren took the joke in an offhand manner, and muttered
something about the woman's hair. He looked awfully tall right
now and she stayed very close to him. Several men laughed.
The barmaid scowled and took a small bottle from under
the bar and handed it over to Bren, snatching up the silver piece
with a deft finger. Bren grinned and headed for the door, Darylinn
tagging along hastily.
"Little bantling are getting too bold, I should think," said a
man, standing up and blocking Bren's path. "Need a spanking in
my mind."
Bren frowned and a dagger appeared in his hand in a flash
of silver. "This used to belong to Ror Doxon before my uncle
killed him," he said proudly. "Any wagers?" The man scowled,
his eyes looking over the dagger greedily. The blade was made of
a single clear diamond, perfectly flawless and worth a king's
ransom. "Out of my way."
The man's face split into a grin. "May I inspect that dagger
for a moment?" One hand with only three fingers snaked forward
greedily.
Bren slashed and cut the remaining three fingers off. The
man howled but before he could pull a weapon out Bren had
stabbed him in the throat. It took Darylinn to notice it, but the
little thief beside her also picked his pockets and stole three
daggers from him at the same time.
She glanced behind her at the rest of the men. They
weren't moving and seemed quite content to watch the young
pro before them. One of them was nodding in approval of Bren's
prowess. "Let's go," she whispered urgently in Bren's ear.
He nodded and resumed walking for the door. Once
outside, Darylinn couldn't stop chattering about how exciting that
had been. Bren merely smiled and nodded, seeming a bit worried.
Behind her the door to the Scowling Skull slammed and
there was the sound of heavy boots. Bren whirled and met eyes
with the man who had been nodding approval.
"You Bren Doxon?"
Bren nodded, his hand on the dagger in his belt.
"Tell Waytorn the Overlord is docked south of here in a
village called Kerndun." He winked and brushed by Bren quickly
and disappeared around a corner.
Preparations for the rescue began immediately,
Savin's warship Icicle began preparing like they were going to
take on an entire fleet by themselves. Many of the crew members
were Kinian's and were quite patriotic about Princess Kelly which
was kind of odd among pirates. The list of people volunteering
their services grew constantly and many of the leaders were
worried that word might reach Kerndun and the Overlord retreat
to more favourable ground, or in this case sea.
The only person who had any knowledge of sea battles
was Savin so he had his work cut out for him. He barely spared
a glance when Nevada and Terencio came aboard looking for
Rades who would have undoubtedly been the first among the ranks
to join in the rescue. He gestured towards the docks and then
was hauled away by a huge bespeckled minotaur muttering
something about problems with the propellers
Nevada started to ask a question but Terencio grabbed
her hand and dragged her out of the way before getting hit by one
of the ships many booms. "He pointed at the docks and I'd say
he was right if Rades in a tavern somewhere close by getting a
drink."
Raynard ran towards the knight, picking up
momentum and pushing slaves aside with his bulk alone. "Give
that back, ye damned bantling!"
"Ye better hurry, Rades!" shouted Waytorn. "Dillard
needs some help!"
"I know, but this one's stuck!" replied Rades, trying to
yank a huge icicle from the ice floor to use as a spear. "Give me
some help, will ye?"
Waytorn dropped the icicles he was looking over and
ran over to help the Stornium. They grabbed hold of the base of
the icicle and placed their hands firmly on the ice. "Okay, one...
two...three!" The icicle came free easily and the two of them fell
backwards onto the ice floor.
Dillard tossed the pouch at the minotaur and disappeared
into the crowd of slaves. Standing up, Rades saw him reappear
behind the minotaur. He swung his sword, this time drawing a line
of blood across the minotaur's back. Rades hesitated in his throw.
Raynard swung around angrily with a roar and snapped the
knight's head with a single punch.
Rades stood there in amazed shock with the icicle in his
hands. Dillard dead? Surely this was some horrible nightmare?
"What are you waiting for Rades? Kill him!" shouted
Waytorn.
"Rades?"
The Stornium looked up from his sarsaparilla and at Nevada
with his one eye. Why did she have come here now? He was
busy drowning his misery for Heaven's sake! "Ya?"
"May I join you?"
"You may," Rades said, glancing at Terencio and Lord
Moffat at the bar talking to the proprietor. Terencio seemed to
already know the old man.
She sat down, smoothing out the wrinkles of her satin shirt.
Her eyes flashed and she glanced briefly at the sarsaparilla. "Don't
you ever drink anything with alcohol in it?" she asked.
Rades looked down at the drink and back at her. She was
right and he knew it. He hadn't drank wine or so much as a beer
since Dillard's death. "I gave it up for Lent," he lied quickly.
"I don't believe that." Her eyes caught his.
Damn her! "Neither do I," he said and took another drink.
Why was she all of the sudden so damn perceptive.
"You and Dillard were best friends as I understand it," she
stated, studying him intently. Her eyes narrowed. "Why was that
so?"
Rades looked up angrily. "He was the only one who
understood how it felt to lose everyone you cared about, let alone
everyone you knew period!"
"Perhaps, but why should you keep doing this to yourself?"
"You have a better suggestion?"
"Go home."
"I have no home!"
She frowned and bit her lip. "We both know that, but I'm
sure there were others that escaped Deltex and might wish to return,
if only their Graf were there to lead them in the rebuilding."
Rades looked at her, his one eye squinting shrewdly as he
gauged the woman across from him. Inside he was in turmoil.
How could he go home to Deltex now? All those memories and no
one to share them with to release the pain? Where would he find
the funds or the people who would flock to his banner pledging
loyalty to the Graf of Deltex? Here in Athex he was a hero, a
celebrity, but why would people undertake the hardship just to
serve a celebrity? The few people back in Stornium who knew
he was the Graf of an empty castle would find it hard to believe
that the Graf would actually return and-
Nevada's hand touched Rades', interrupting his thoughts
as he looked up sharply. "I've heard," she said slowly, softly. "That
the people of Deltex still lie where they died. No one survived the
massacre to bury them. They're still there. Is it true that people left
unburied cannot rest peacefully until they have been buried?"
Rades stared at her, hoping he wasn't going to have
nightmares tonight. Once again she was right. He must return to
Deltex. He had debts to pay to his friends and family.
"I'd like to try that theory out sometime," said a voice.
Rades vaulted the table, Nevada's sword already in hand to
land between Nevada and the intruder. West grinned and drew his
sword lazily. The two faced off as more and more cutthroats moved
into the room, Lord Moffat and Terencio jumping to their feet and
going to stand protectively by Nevada. The proprietor muttered
something and hid behind the bar.
Rades scowled, knowing if they didn't do something soon
they'd be hopelessly outnumbered. He tossed the blade to Nevada
who caught it expertly and pulled the pistol from the holster. Six
bangs like lightning later there were seven dead bodies on the floor,
one of the dying men inadvertently stabbing one of his neighbors.
West smiled, glad to see that Rades had spent all the bullets.
His blade brilliantly flashed as he brandished it before him. He
stabbed deftly at the Stornium.
Rades sidestepped like a pro, twisting his body around the
blade and catching the hilt in his hand. West pulled back on the
hilt, trying to slash his opponent. By then Rades had gained a firm
grip on the hilt though and the blade only slashed air. A punch to
the face and the cutthroat went reeling over a table, sword forgotten.
Coming to his feet a bit dazed and a dagger in each hand,
West turned to face the Stornium and narrowly avoided a blow that
would have severed his head down the middle. Kicking out, he
knocked the Graf into a toppled chair, forcing him to stumble.
That momentary lapse was long enough for West to gain his
bearings and charge the somewhat defenseless opponent.
Rades however had more wits than defenses. During the
Ice War he had learned to think differently when fighting. A
soldier thought fight, kill, survive. Simple as that. The Graf had
learned to be a strategist when fighting now, to assess his
opponents strengths and weaknesses. It was a different, more
calm way of fighting, lacking the desperation a soldier needed to
fight. He deliberately dropped to knees and rolled towards the
charging cutthroat.
West had built up too much momentum and couldn't stop
as much as he tried. He tripped over Rades' torso and landed on
the chair with a crash and the sound of splintering wood.
Glancing about Rades saw that Nevada was fending off
her opponent with ease, but Lord Moffat and Terencio were back
to back trying to fend off eight attackers. They'd be okay for
awhile longer, for now he had to get some work done.
He tossed West's sword aside and drew Dillard's claymore.
He had to hold the huge hilt with both hands to properly handle
the damn huge thing. It was somewhat rare to find a sword as big
as Dillard's claymore. After all it had a forty inch blade and was
almost a five feet long in total, to say nothing of heavy.
Bracing his feet as he knew he would need to, he swung,
careful to curve his stroke and not spin with the momentum. The
table blocking his way broke into a dozen pieces, men quickly
backing away. But not quick enough, curving his swing he turned
it into an overhand blow and sliced into one man's shoulder, the
blade driving down through shoulder blades, smashing every rib
and coming out of the man's stomach.
It took a moment to ready his next swing but when it came
it smashed through a pair of hastily raised scimitars and
disemboweling their owner. The Stornium whirled, pivoting on a
broken tableleg and neatly chopping the head off another cutthroat.
Having not braced himself properly however the blade kept going
and created a notch in one of the posts holding up the ceiling.
"Dammit!" he swore, leaving the sword there for he knew
it to be helplessly stuck. Dillard had warned him about
overswinging and getting the blade caught in something. Backing
off he scooped up a discarded sword and surveyed the area again.
Terencio was limping from a slash to his right leg but was
otherwise fine. Lord Moffat was standing up as usual, making up
for his comrade's injury with sheer ferocity. Nevada was fending
off West now, having killed her previous opponent but she was
sure to tire eventually.
Rades vaulted a toppled table and landed on the cutthroat
lord with a roll. He lost his blade in the process, but so had West.
Reconsidering his position however, he recalled West probably
had about thirty daggers total on him. He flailed desperately and
pushed himself away from the somewhat stunned cutthroat.
West shook his head and charged at Rades, dagger in hand.
The Graf caught the cutthroat's wrist and two struggled briefly
back and forth. Then Rades braced a foot and shoved with what
strength he had. It was enough. More than enough. The two men
went crashing through the rickety wooden wall and out into the
cobbled street.
It was pouring outside, and there was a constant flashing
of sheet lightning. Neither man had noticed the storm taking place
outside so intent on fighting that they had neglected to hear the
constant rumble in their ears. Now in ankle deep water they
thrashed back and forth, each striving for dominance.
Nevada shook her head in a daze and glanced over at
Terencio just in time to see the sword jab that caught him in the
side and staggered him. He fell to the floor, clutching his side. She
could only watch in shock as her best friend, the man who had
accompanied her all the way from Cherte, clamped a hand over
the wound that was spilling blood all over and struggled to stand.
Lord Moffat grimly knocked him back down with the flat
of his blade. He stood over the Cherten's torso in a defensive
crouch, his stature making him seem like he was almost posing for
a statue. He was outnumbered five to one and still he stood his
ground without fear.
The enemy advanced, certain of success, but the knight
took advantage of that and sliced one man's throat with one a deft
stab. Four to one. He parried a slash and blocked another with
his shield. A stab from behind caught him in the leg and he turned
quickly, smacking the man over the head with the flat of his blade
at the same time shield bashing another. There was the sound of
breaking bones in both cases. Two to one. Again he received a
slash from behind and suffered what sounded like several broken
ribs. Without a complaint, he turned about, sword swinging and
sword bashing. Catching one man in the side of his head and
cutting the other's head from his shoulders. But not before one of
them managed to stab him in the shoulder and the other in the
stomach. He collapsed beside Terencio.
Cursing herself, she ran across the room, knowing she
couldn't have done anything before but sure she could make the
man's last moments less painful. She kneeled beside him, not sure
what else to do, she helped to tilt his head forward.
He smiled, blood spilling out the side of his mouth. "G'day
milady. Is there anyway I can help you?"
"Is there any way I can help you?" she said, thinking this
man's attitude towards death somewhat strange.
"No, except pray for me perhaps. It doesn't matter really.
Regardless of whether I go to Heaven or Hell, it is preferable to
have do good deeds. I have done many deeds, most of them good.
My time here will soon be done and the Lord will send me
elsewhere to serve and I'll have more good deeds to do. That is
the way."
Nevada didn't know what to say. She was too shocked
to barely think straight. This man, this knight seemed so much
more than a mere mortal and yet here he was mortally wounded.
She caressed his face as she tried to think of something to say to
make him feel better except he didn't seem to need such comfort.
"I will pray for you," she said firmly.
"And I for you, Lady Olivia Osmondelias," he said with a
slight grin as he closed his eyes. His chest ceased its rhythmic rising
and falling, and his ragged breath stopped. She stared at him for
a moment, wondering what he had meant by that last part.
Terencio groaned beside her and she faced her friend,
sparing a second glance at the fallen knight's peaceful face. "Oh,
Dios, I feel like shit!" He opened an eye and looked at her and
then around the room. "Where's Rades?"
"Oh shit!" she swore and stumbled to her feet. She ran to
the gaping hole in the wall and looked outside to where the two
men were still wrestling in the mud. Coming up to them, the pouring
rain soaking her to the skin, running down her white satin shirt in
colourful rivulets and washing away the sticky blood. It clung to
her shape like a glove. She was certain there were men gawking at
her as she picked up a discarded dagger and walked over to stand
over the wrestling men.
She tapped West on the shoulder and when he turned to
face her she stabbed him through the heart. She pulled the dagger
back out and discarded it. Stonily, she offered a bloodstained
hand to Rades.
He accepted it gratefully, pushing West's corpse off of him.
This time word spread somewhat slowly, but this
time there were no rumours of others who might have the guts to
oppose her position. A woman named Nevada, a seductress, had
declared herself the new lady of the Athex underworld, calling
herself the Dark Lady, but with this news came the news that she
had the support of the King Culprit. Unofficially the government
supported her too.
Her exact location though was unknown and there were
rumours that originated from a tavern down in Southport that
Nevada wasn't her real name. Very little else was known about
her and most other things were considered speculation. Things
like her real name was Olivia, she knew Graf Rades personally,
among other members of the Crimson Companions, and that she
was from Cherte.
"Imagine that," laughed many nobles. "A Cherten woman
who no one knows anything about has just taken over the Dark
Throne. I don't believe it. Probably no such woman! I think we
should see less crime around here for quite awhile!"
Meanwhile a strange and beautiful young woman named
Olivia has moved into an apartment at the Osmondelias estate.
Many servants whispered that she was the same Olivia but no
one else would believe their claim. She just seemed too beautiful
to consort with criminals.
Chapter Ten
From a historian's point of view, the last weeks
events would probably be memorable and many students would
have to write boring essays on the follies the government had
made. King Willium didn't care. The way he saw it he was very
lucky right now to have a throne, let alone sit on it. Reports from
Colnic said that the Arthian Army was having heavy casualties
because of the Independents' hit and run tactics, but any major
battles that occurred the Arthians had slaughtered the enemy.
Major problems were appearing though. Several
ambitious Colnic lords had taken the opportunity to establish their
own kingdoms. The Independents were fighting amongst
themselves, which might turn out to be interesting if it weren't for
all the civilians caught in the struggle. The Independents still dealed
in the slave trade and prisoners would be many and survivors few.
What had passed for an economy in Colnic before no longer
existed. A complete and utter collapse.
And yet Arthian went virtually unscathed. With several
exceptions. Mass assassinations, death rate quadrupling, although
it had steeped off now that Nevada was in charge, the explosion
down on the docks, Princess Kelly abducted, several massacres
and most lately, the Minister of Criminal Affairs had committed
suicide. Yet the world went on, and the confusion only added to
the normal confusion found every Summerfest.
And now this. He set down the invitation, his face
crinkling as he thought. Unable to come to a conclusion, he read
it over again.
Greetings, Your Royal Majesty, King Willium:
You are invited to attend a special meeting tonight
at midnight in Rosepark on the corner of Park Boulevard and
Londun Road. When there you will join a select group of leaders
to discuss certain matters. You must come alone but may wear
as many weapons as you'd like. Thank you.
Nevada.
He set it down on his desk and thought about it. The first
part that he didn't like was that it smelled of a trap, the second part
was that it just plain looked like a trap. The parchment was very
fine and he had only once before seen such fine parchment and
that was at the Independent Embassy.
On the other hand, if he didn't go he wouldn't find out for
sure where the letter came from. He had never seen Cherten
parchment but their techniques could not be so different from the
Independents. To tell anyone among his staff about the invitation
would put himself in jeopardy in case one of them was a spy, but
to not was just the same. He did however have other resources he
could call upon.
Standing up, he went to the door and called to his secretary.
"Send for Prince Nebonex, Lord-General Gisoni, and Lieutenant
-General Pollex. Tell them to come armed. Send for Gith also."
"Interesting," commented Nebonex, studying the
invitation and handing it to Pollex. "Cherte's style of writing letters
normally starts with an introduction of who the writer is, the rank
especially. Very interesting. What do you think, Pollex?"
The lieutenant-general studied the letter and read over it
again. "I find it interesting that Rosepark is right beside the Doxon
Estate. Which suggests a connection. I suggest that the best thing
would be to send a message to a Lady Olivia who's currently
staying with Lord Osmond as a guest and ask her if it would be
proper to bring old Gith. If she did send it she will say that it
wasn't necessary, but if she didn't she would immediately want to
know where you were planning on going. Any questions?"
The old painter grinned keenly. "Several. For starters,
why did you say me?" Gith asked, his grin crooked. He crossed
his arms.
"Position Gith. You are the unofficial advisor of the King
which grants you a bit of status, yet you aren't in any way a warrior
and could pose no threat."
"On the other hand I am pretty much the foster father of
Wynic Doxon and the assassin tends to throw a lot of weight
around. Being right beside his Estate would emphasize that," Gith
frowned and glanced at Willium. "That is not to say your idea is
not without merit, simply that there might be a misunderstanding.
What you could say however is simply this: Is this a trap?" He
smiled ironically. "Again if she did send it she will say no and if
she didn't, well, she'll demand to know what's the meaning of this.
In which case, your majesty, I am offering my services and will
deliver the message myself. Any objections?"
Everyone knew Gith could be blunt and to the point at
times, and his point was obvious. Politicians got too subtle
sometimes. But hey! Nobody's perfect!
Osmond frowned and sent a worried look at Olivia
who appeared deep in thought. Old Gith sat beside the lady on
the sofa in one of the estates many parlours, looking frail and
somewhat out of place amongst all this wealth. But then Gith always
seemed out of place in those paint stained overalls. "Would you
like me to repeat the message?" Gith asked abruptly, studying the
woman intently.
Nevada looked up, seeing Gith's wise eyes seeming to
pierce through her skin and glimpse at her soul. She didn't like what
was in there any more than Gith probably did if he knew. Or
perhaps he did know? Knew that she couldn't decide. She truly
had nothing to do with this trap, which meant Independents, but
the other half of her told her that she had allies in the Independent
City of Pearl, especially the Intelligence Bureau. Though they
would never find out that she was the one that betrayed them, it
meant that she was taking over Athex, and abandoning Cherte
and all her contacts. Abandon is such a harsh word.
She glanced at Osmond and he smiled reassuringly.
Nevada looked up at Gith. "It's the Independents," she said firmly,
not wanting to regret her words. Not that it mattered, Gith had
probably already guessed that.
"As we surmised, but it was necessary to make certain,"
said Gith, his face crinkling in a smile as he stood and leaned
heavily on a cane. "Have you any idea where we might find the
marines?"
Osmond frowned. "I recall Dame Larel mentioning target
practice or a training session, but I can't imagine where?"
Castle Kerndun is best described as a port-castle.
It was situated not on the hill overlooking the village, but right in
the center of the harbour, surrounded by ships and fishing boats.
It was slightly run down, but nevertheless looked like a cozy little
castle. Totally unlike Kobalix's citadel which had been situated
on a high cliff, it's walls rising two hundred feet and it was large
enough to be a small city.
Notably among their ships was a huge hulking trireme
which dominated the entire harbour. Larel didn't know what to
think about it or the five hundred or so minotaurs that had placed
the entire village under martial law and closed it down, letting no
one leave it. It was going to be a bitch to get in without someone
noticing.
Of course, they didn't really intend to go yet. This was
simply a mission to see how well fortified and defended the place
was. The obvious route would be by water, which meant the use
of the warship Icicle and Admiral Savin's crew. "How many men
on Savin's ship?"
"Three, maybe four hundred," replied Pothax, lying beside
her from their vantage point in the sun burnt grass of the hill
overlooking the village. The rain the previous day had done little
to revive the wheat fields.
"We'll have to bring more ships, but my understanding is
that most of the Navy's ships are being repaired and that the Icicle,
being brand new is the only one available. Perhaps merchant ships
or pirates could be persuaded to help in the effort."
"Kinian pirates maybe, but no one else will risk their ass for
a Kinian princess," snorted Pothax. "Even then, most of the Kinian
pirates in the area are in Savin's crew in the first place. What if
we-" The cutthroat trailed off when he saw Bren running down the
hill towards the castle. He was about to go after him when the
combined efforts of Carlo, Roreed and Eluth wrestled him to the
ground.
"Don't worry," whispered Brenda. "We can't get in, but
he can."
Bren had a vague idea of what he was supposed
to do. Sabotage the ship. How he was supposed to do this was
unknown to him. It was progress enough that he was even inside
the castle. The problem that came next was how to get on the
ship without attracting attention.
Swimming would attract attention and he wasn't that good
of a swimmer anyway. Walking right up the plank meant trying to
sneak past the huge brute standing guard right in the middle of the
plank. Surely with a ship this big, with all its sails, oars and cargo
lifts there was a way aboard... The cargo lifts? A grin spread
across Bren's face.
The cargo bay was cold and damp, to say nothing
about crowded and pitch black. Nevertheless he waited until his
eyes adjusted to the dimness and felt his way to the hatch. The boy
listened for sounds beyond the hatch, and when confident that
there was no one behind it opened it and took a peek out.
What he saw was not crew's quarters or a store room, but
a laboratory much like Mathex's with the excepting that this one
smelled distinctly like black dirt. The dust of the devil. He glanced
around again to make sure he was alone. Sabotage? Bren knew
that he didn't know the first thing about chemistry and so had
taken Mathex's warnings and not fooled around in his laboratory.
Now he wished he had asked for lessons.
Why was hindsight always twenty/twenty?
It couldn't be that hard, could it? Mix a bit of this with a
lot of that and hope it doesn't blow up in your face? Maybe not,
Bren decided firmly. Of course, he could always hide things on
the chemist? He grinned and looked towards the single porthole
that allowed light into the room.
He started picking up bottles and tossing them out the
window. Bottles marked with minotaur skulls he avoided altogether,
deeming it wise to not even touch them. The rest disappeared out
the porthole without a second thought.
There were kegs of black dirt, of course, but they were too
heavy and big to throw out the porthole, so he rolled them back to
the hatch, dropped them in with the cargo and hid them among the
kegs of oats. He doubted anyone would look there. He wondered
what the cook would say when he tried to make oatmeal?
Climbing back up to the laboratory, he could hear the
sounds of many minotaurs up above and the sounds of a scuffle.
He also recognized several interesting oaths and a few he hadn't
heard but would remember to use. Minotaurs were excellent at
swearing and their vocabulary had a much greater diversity.
It sounded like one of the minotaurs had been accused of
stealing from another and been challenged to a duel of some sort.
Oh, how much Bren would have liked to see, but right now he was
busy trying to hear what was beyond the door and in the next room.
Nothing, maybe another laboratory. He tried the door
handle but it was locked. Taking out his lock picks he set to work.
Interesting, the door could only be locked from this side. Which
meant. . . Bren looked down at the bearskin rug beneath his feet.
Nah! This was too easy!
Sure enough, right beneath the rug was a small silver key
which he inserted in the lock and heard a click. There was a slight
shuffle as he opened the door and peaked inside. His hand went
to the dagger hidden in his belt.
The room was filled with straw and old cloths for a bed,
but there on a heap of them, tied securely by chain to a wall was
princess Kelly. Her eyes flickered upwards as she struggled to
sit and Bren saw hope in her eyes when she recognized him. She
was bedraggled and shivering.
Bren looked around cautiously before entering the room.
There was a pile of empty plates below a barred hole in the door
across the small, cramped room. It was bolted shut, making the
way Bren had just come the only apparent exit.
Kelly said nothing and neither did Bren as he freed her from
her chains and they made their way back to the laboratory before
saying anything. "They won't notice I'm gone," she whispered.
"All they ever do is come to the door and drop food in."
Bren nodded as he closed the door behind him. Everything
seemed to be happening too fast and he didn't know what to do.
He wished Pothax or Larel were here. "How do we get out?" he
asked.
Kelly knelt down, trying to bring some colour back into
her wrists by rubbing them. "What do you mean? Same way we
came, right?"
"No, I sneaked on in a barrel. A completely different
matter than getting off without being seen. What do we do?"
"We can't swim without attracting attention. We need a
distraction."
"Something's went wrong," spat Pothax, glancing
up at the setting sun. He looked to Larel pleadingly. His eyes
went back to the castle, searching for some sign of Bren.
Larel grimaced. "I agree. We've been here for the last
five hours and no sign of him. But let's at least wait until the sun
sets completely so we'll have the shadows to hide in. Even then
we have to get back to Athex, we're not equipped to spend the
night out here." She sighed and waited, one hand on Pothax's arm
to soothe him, the other shielding her eyes as the sun slowly
receded below the western horizon. Without knowing it, she
leaned back in the dry grass and fell asleep.
She was jostled awake in what felt like mere seconds later.
Calloused but tender hands took her around her waist and hoisted
her to her feet as she looked around in the twilight, dazed and
somewhat stupefied. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness and she
saw it was Pothax that held her. Pothax with his greying temples
and sturdy, handsome visage all shadowed in the dimness of twilight.
She gasped at the rugged beauty but said nothing, ignoring the
thudding beneath her breast.
For a knight and a cutthroat to fall in love as she and he
had was strange enough in this world. But the world was a
strange thing, she thought as they crept down the hillside towards
the harbour. Sometimes it was lame, flat and boring like the plains
of Arthian, sometimes it was rugged and cruel like the Kinian
mountains, and then there were times that surprised and amazed
you, like going through the forests of Stornium and coming upon
a plateau out in the middle of nowhere or finding an oasis in the
Colnic desert.
The minotaur in front of her started to shout a warning to
his comrades but Larel stuck a crossbow bolt through his neck
without a second thought. For some reason this felt routine, like
something that came naturally to her and yet she knew it didn't.
Maybe it was a sign of an aging veteran, she shrugged. She knew
she was getting older, well into her forties, like Pothax beside her,
but it didn't seem to have any effect on her fighting skills.
Pothax dragged the minotaur over to a collapsed shack,
pushed the big brute in and covered him with debris. No need for
a dead minotaur to turn up and warn the enemy. Once that was
out of the way, they continued along between the shadowed fishing
shacks, towards the flaring light of a campfire up ahead.
Carlo motioned to Roreed and the two marines slid off
into the darkness, leaving Brenda and Eluth to guard the rear. The
two scouted out the flanks of the encampment of minotaurs up
ahead and returned to reinsure Pothax wasn't there and that they
would waste their time looking here. The trireme or the castle
seemed more likely to house possibilities.
"We'll start with the ship," whispered Larel. "The castle is
too heavily guarded and fortified. Carlo and Brenda, we'll need
a distraction. Go steal a boat and start towards Athex. Shoot as
many minotaurs along the way as possible."
Carlo glanced at Brenda and the two ran off towards a
sailed fishing boat moored right next to the hulking trireme. In a
minute they saw the sail unbillow and startled minotaurs running
across the deck of the trireme, leaving the gangplank unguarded.
They could hear the anonymous twangs as Carlo and Brenda used
their crossbows with the deadly accuracy Larel had taught them.
"Let's go," spat Pothax, running up the gangplank, keeping
his head down. Anyone without horns aboard a minotaur ship
would be killed on sight and Pothax wasn't eager to die so soon.
The marines followed stealthily, crossbows ready, launching the
occasional anonymous shot to help out Carlo and Brenda.
A splash to the starboard side of the ship caught Pothax's
attention. this was unusual since Carlo and Brenda were escaping
on the port side where the minotaurs had gathered and were
loading a ballistae and an unusual iron tube that only Pothax
recognized from his time in Kobalix's Lair up in the Ice Lands: A
cannon.
Pothax ignored the cannon and the danger Carlo and
Brenda faced as he ran to the starboard side of the ship, and
looked overboard. Down in the waves were a pair of struggling
humans, trying to battle the undertow current that plagued Arthian's
coast during the night. Doxons weren't known for being strong
swimmers but neither could Pothax stand and watch his son drown.
He dove into the waters below.
The next thing he knew he was in the chill waters, spitting
brine out and struggling to stay afloat with the current tugging at his
heals. The shortsword seemed to weigh a tonne and he quickly
discarded it along with his bandoleer of daggers. The slime
covered rocks beneath his feet had no grip and it took all of his
wall scaling techniques to find a proper foothold before he could
reach out and help Bren stay afloat.
There was a sudden splash beside him and an eager Eluth,
a strong Stornium and since swimming came seemed to come
naturally to Storniums he easily tread water and helped princess
Kelly, a fair swimmer herself, but not strong enough after days of
poor food to battle the undertow that threatened to drag her under.
Next came Roreed, who between spitting out brine and
trying to ignore the high tide managed to explain that Larel was
going to get a boat and row it out to them. A wave splashed over
top of the Stornium and he came up red-faced and angry, ready
to take on the sea demons themselves.
With the exception that there was no building busy
exploding, Pothax had a huge sense of deja vu, which was Kinian
and the Colnic never understood the Kinian language, unlike
Wynic who mastered languages with ease. It all sort of felt like
Kobalix's Barbecue, the night they had blown the minotaur's citadel
sky-high and escaped in a leaky rowboat. Except they were in a
fishing boat with sails, it wasn't leaking and it was much less
crowded. There was also the fact that they had a trireme following
them, but in this fog, who was going to see them?
Carlo could probably do circles around the enemy, or so
he said, and they'd never know it. There was also the fact that they
didn't know which way was north in the fog and so Carlo had to
concentrate on keeping the sound of surf to his left. But not too
close, for fear of running into rocks and then they would be leaking!
Larel had already questioned Kelly and they had learned
nothing new about Kobalix's ex-followers or their current leader.
It was while he listened that Pothax began to wonder: Why am I
here? He could have been elsewhere, getting rich and drunk. He
had no business here. He wasn't making money, unless he
counted the reward for Kelly's return, but that hadn't been a
planned part, simply something that had happened and was out of
his control. Maybe it was fate that drove him and kept him here.
Or maybe, he thought as he looked at Larel and past her
to his friends, the marines, because I'm enjoying myself, I'm with
friends, I have a son and a beautiful woman at his side. It could be
the fame, of course. He did like the attention and the respect he
got from complete strangers.
He shook his head and won a smile from Larel as she
looked at him curiously. He grinned and laughed for the sake of
laughing. He felt strangely intoxicated. Maybe it was the sea air
or something to do with the moon, but he had never been more
happy in his entire life.
Without the marines Willium and Gith had rounded
up every veteran fighter with experience in stealth to stake out the
park, most of them taking a crossbow and taking up a window in
the Doxon Estate where they got an overview of the entire park.
Counted among these veterans were Wynic Doxon, Blackaxe,
Gisoni, Graf Rades, Redhawk, Waytorn, Larry and Rodrigo, all
of which had holed themselves up in Wynic's study with it's huge
bay windows.
An archknight, an extreme rarity, had showed up, and
dressed in Willium's ceremonial armour, with the visor down no
one could ever tell the difference. They were both past middle age,
kind of short and chubby. Wynic was somewhat skeptical of the
whole plan, but Willium had assured him that Archknight Holmes
was one of the best, a match for even the Paladin Assassin.
"Sorry I'm late," muttered Mathex. He glanced at the
Stornium waterclock. "It won't be midnight for another twenty
seconds. I just got this disturbing report that the reason the
Overlord was ever in port in the first place was to sell black dirt to
the Independents..."
Something clicked in Wynic's mind and everyone in the
room turned as one towards the window. A single keg of black
dirt would do it... Gisoni smashed through the window with a fist.
"Run for your bloody lives! Get out of-"
The explosion was very sudden and deadly, what window
that was left from Gisoni smashing it was blown inward, knocking
the huge minotaur down and spraying the entire room with
shattered glass. A wall of flame appeared to be outside for a
mere instant and then receded back to the park where it had came
from.
The minotaur general groaned and got to his feet, it would
take a lot more than a window blowing up in his face to kill this
old brute. He stood, hulking over what was left of the window,
and stared. The park, or what was left of it, was a smoldering pit
totally devoid of life. There was no sign of Archknight Holmes.
"Get down there!" ordered Gisoni harshly. "Search through
the wreckage and see if you can find anyone still alive!" He drew
his Gobansword and leaned on it heavily. He was shaken and it
was amazing he hadn't collapsed into a blubbering heap like Larry.
Above the sounds of Gisoni giving orders and the inferno
next door, Wynic heard a child, a baby crying. He rushed out the
door and skidded into the next room where a weeping Victoria
stood at the window, baby Dextra cradled in her arms. Wynic
walked softly up behind her and gently put his arms around her.
The brigadier wiped a tear away from her cheek.
"Dextra's fine, not a scratch," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Wynic murmured a thank you to God and promised to
thank him more often.
Nevada and Osmond looked up from their
midnight chat in the parlour and ran to the window. To the
southwest a blazing inferno had engulfed the park and parts of the
Doxon estate by the looks of it. All the windows on the east side
of the mansion had been blown inward and parts of the protective
wall around the estate had collapse before the explosion that had
rocked the neighborhood.
"Roust the fire brigade!" shouted Osmond, an arm
gathering Nevada close to him as he ran from the room. "Gather
all the servants!" he ordered his retainers. "Get them to come
to the well and form a bucket line!" He turned to face her. "Go
get your horse, I'll meet you at Wynic and Victoria's!"
Pothax saw the explosion when stepping out of the
stolen fishing boat and heard it a split second later. It was like a
great gout of flame had erupted out of the ground and scorched
the midnight sky. Swearing, the cutthroat tore down docks like
an enraged buffalo. What had happened while he'd been gone?
Knowing he would only get lost in the pea soup fog of
southport, he took to the roofs, preferring the soot and smog
over the fog.
"You will fix it back up again, won't you?" asked
one of Victoria's servants.
Willium forced a grin. "Of course, otherwise we'd have
to change the name of the street and that would mean paperwork,"
he joked and patted the woman on the back. The truth was that
he was more worried about the dead archknight he had sent in his
place and the many people who had been injured in the blast.
Holmes had been found over a hundred feet from where
he had been standing originally, the gold and platinum ceremonial
armour had been welded to his torso and could not be removed.
Not that Willium cared about the damn heavy stuff anyway. Gold
and platinum was relatively cheap compared to an archknight.
There was the sound of heavy boots behind the king and
old Willium whirled around to face a soot faced colonel. "Your
Majesty-" began the man with a salute.
"I'm not very majestic in a sooty kilt and my shirt
unbuttoned," spat Willium. "Speak your peace soldier!"
"Yessir! The Embassy of Pearl has closed up her gates
and tripled her guard. What are your orders?"
"My orders?" muttered Willium beneath his breath as he
thought about, remembering that his War Marshal and the bulk
of his army were off in Colnic fighting the Independents. He
sighed. "Round up every available soldier, navy included,
surround the Embassy, but don't, I say don't, attack until I
personally have given the order."
"Yessir!"
Willium watched the man go and turned back to face the
wreckage of the park he had once played in as a child. He was
going to fix this. He glanced at the colonel. Martial law might be
a good thing right now.
"Put a rain check on declaring martial law,
Willium," snorted Nebonex. "It won't have any effect during
Summerfest, these explosions have barely singed them." He
leaned back in his chair in Wynic's dining room where they had
gathered, one of the few rooms that still had windows with honest
-to-god glass in them.
Redhawk nodded in agreement. "It's good to be having
these meetings once again. Things have been getting out of hand
and its like being in a run away carriage with no driver. It's about
time we took hold of the reins."
"Sounds like what Rades said," murmured a subdued Kelly.
She appeared quite glad to be back among friends, much less
timid than Rades could ever remember. "Down the creak without
a paddle."
"Very well," said Gith, getting down to business. "Let's
review our current crisises-is that a word, crisises? The trireme
loaded down with black dirt as young Bren has reported, we have
no idea where it is or what it is up to. Obviously we have a
problem with the Pearl Embassy, but then there's also the civil
war in Colnic that's spilling over the border onto the Arthian
plains. Before discussing anything else lets set this civil war down
on the table and see if we can find a solution?"
"Agreed," said Nebonex, settling the matter. "A message
came two hours ago, but Willium wasn't there. Two Colnic towns
currently occupied by rebel Colnics, called the Latonoks, have
raised flags of truce and the Arthian army has pulled back to discuss
terms of a cease-fire. They're asking permission to recognize them
as United City-States of Colnic."
"What are the terms?" asked Willium.
"That we withdraw forces from all towns in the control of
the Latonoks and recognize them all as part of the United City-
States and send Ambassadors to discuss trade," replied Nebonex.
"In return for?"
"Free access to pass through the desert to other towns
nearby plus access to their water supply."
"They're certainly trusting us not to pollute their water
supply," Gith nodded in approval.
"And the other message is from Prince-Consort Jacog
and Queen Elexenia," added Nebonex sullenly.
"And?" Willium prompted.
"They say that recognizing the City-States independence
would be considered an act of betrayal and therefore an act of
war. They've threatened to attack our armies if we do so."
"That's pretty blunt," said Gith. "Did you bring the
message with you? Can I see it?"
The minotaur tossed it over and the old man quickly
scanned it.
FROM QUEEN ELEXENIA OF COLNIC AND HER PRINCE
CONSORT JACOG TO HIS MAJESTY KING WILLIUM OF
ARTHIAN. DO NOT RECOGNIZE THE TOWNS AS CITY-STATES AS
PRIVATE AND INDEPENDENT COUNTRIES. DO NOT ACCEPT
TRADE WITH THEM OR IT WILL BE AN ACT OF BETRAYAL AND
UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES AN ACT OF WAR WITH COLNIC.
REMEMBER IF YOU DO NOT DO THIS WE WILL ATTACK
EVERY ARMY AND REGIMENT IN YOUR CONTROL AND
DIE AT OUR HANDS.
"Very interesting, don't you think," murmured Gith, "that
all the letters on the left side spell CAPTURED? To say nothing
of the fact that this is not standard Colnic text written by a scribe,
but I believe Jacog himself." He handed the message to Willium
for inspection.
"I see that even in the most dire of situations Jacog has
proven his intelligence. Meaning that if he and Elex have been
captured, then they are writing this against their will." Willium
frowned and set the message down. "I'll send a message back
that they are to recognize the city-states' independence and advise
them of the situation. Anything else before we go back to this
Embassy business?"
"Other than all the Colnic refugees driving inn and tavern
prices up, nope," laughed Rades.
"Very well, does anyone have some ideas on how to deal
with the Pearl Embassy other than break down her walls and
stampede them into the ground?" asked Willium.
Pothax glanced at Waytorn and then at Larel. "Well..."
Chapter Eleven
"Absolutely out of the question!" shouted Derick.
He crossed his arms and stormed around the table of the banquet
hall so he stood right in front of Pothax. "A sewer? Do you not
recall the last time we went through the sewers? I'm surprised
we didn't get lost last time in that god-forsaken place! To say
nothing of the sewers of Athex, have you any idea how
complicated they are?"
"No, but it was just a suggestion. It got us in last time,
didn't it?" the cutthroat replied.
Waytorn held up a hand and called for order. "Pothax
does not have a bad suggestion. There are other sewers than the
ones meant for garbage. There are the storm sewers, which are
fairly clean. Pothax and I used one recently to get out of the city."
Willium sat at the end of the table, tapping on the arm and
silently coming to a decision. "It has occurred to me recently that
we have a tactical squad made specifically for these operations:
The marines. People like Rades have outdone themselves in their
efforts to help but I think its time we truely tested the marines
mettle. The Crimson Comrades or Companions, whatever the
bards call your group, Rades, have done their share." His eyes
were focused on the Stornium.
"What are you saying?" demanded Pothax, who liked
being a celebrity and the respect that went with it.
"I'm saying it's time the Crimson Comrades hung up their
red capes and enjoyed what's left of Summerfest. Let the marines
take care of this," answered the king. He smiled. "I believe
Mathex said something about a boat he had built for the Northport
Regatta, Rades?"
The Stornium nodded, unsure of what to think. "The seat
slides and is supposed to give you extra pull. I haven't tried it out
yet."
"Good, go do that. The rest of you, go watch the football
game in the colleseum or something. It's time you all took a rest."
Olivia seemed to have everything set to perfection.
She had organized a committee of deputies to govern each sector
of the city and to collect fees from all the crime centres which
conducted underground casinos and loans. Having spoken with
Waytorn's old accountant she had discovered this is where the
biggest surplus of money came in from. The loans paid out came
back with a good ten percent interest and Olivia had monopoly on
all the casinos. Already the money was pouring in and she needed
a place to store it all.
It was when she returned from dinner with Osmond she
discovered her suite littered with a fortune of 'gifts from suitors'
that she realized she had a serious problem. What was she to do
with all of it? She began to comprehend how Waytorn felt. "I'm
going to need a silo to keep all of this?" she muttered, bending
over and picking up a platinum dagger and pulled it from it's leather
tooled sheath. The workmanship was flawless and incredibly
smooth.
"Or you could be like Waytorn and start building a
retirement home in the Kinian mountains?" Osmond suggested.
She smiled briefly. "How about we go for a ride?" she
said, pocketing a couple gems. "Maybe go watch the caber
tossing?"
"I might even compete. I still have the strong arms for a
good throw."
"And we can keep an eye out for any property for my
new estate," she grinned, though that wasn't all she had in mind.
Rades came to the corner and looked down the
three streets. The first led to Northport, the second led to
Southport and the last led to the Pearl Ambassy. His hand
tightened around the hilt of his sword as he considered the last
street. He looked back at the road to Northport and wondered
if this was going to more than just the average corner in a person's
life?
He firmed his jaw and started down the street towards the
Pearl Ambassy.
WANT TO READ MORE? SORRY, BUT THIS WAS
ALL A BIG TRICK. NOW THAT YOU'RE ADDICTED,
YOU'LL HAVE TO EMAIL ME AND TELL ME WHAT YOU
THOUGHT OF THE NOVELS BEFORE I'LL EMAIL YOU
A COPY OF THE END OF "KING CULPRIT" AND THE
CONCLUSION OF THE CRIMSON COMRADES TRILOGY.
(
geocities.com/soho/exhibit/3151) (
geocities.com/soho/exhibit) (
geocities.com/soho)