1524 lines
89 KiB
Plaintext
1524 lines
89 KiB
Plaintext
From WHITEJL@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU Tue May 12 09:07:05 1992
|
|
Received: from DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU by eff.org with SMTP id AA25413
|
|
(5.65c/IDA-1.4.4/pen-ident for <RITA@EFF.ORG>); Tue, 12 May 1992 09:06:57 -0400
|
|
Message-Id: <199205121306.AA25413@eff.org>
|
|
Received: from DUVM by DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU (IBM VM SMTP R1.2.2MX) with BSMTP id 3202; Tue, 12 May 92 09:03:39 EDT
|
|
Date: Tue, 12 May 92 09:03:32 EDT
|
|
From: "SilentElf" <WHITEJL@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU>
|
|
To: RITA@EFF.ORG
|
|
Status: OR
|
|
|
|
1 /
|
|
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
|
|
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
|
|
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 4
|
|
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
|
|
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 1
|
|
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
|
|
\\
|
|
\
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
-- DargonZine Volume 4, Issue 1 04/05/91 Cir 1127 --
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
-- Contents --
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
Slavers Max Khaytsus Nober 18-20, 1013
|
|
Sons of Gateway 4: Marcus Jon Evans N 4, '13-Ja 28, '14
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Slavers
|
|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
(b.c.k.a. <khaytsus@tramp.Colorado.EDU>)
|
|
|
|
Rien and Kera led their horses into the stalls at the back of The
|
|
Tipsy Dragon.
|
|
"Where do I put her?" Kera asked, looking around uncertainly.
|
|
"Towards the back," Rien said. "This town isn't safe for man or
|
|
beast."
|
|
"Then Sina should be just fine," Kera declared, laughing. "She's
|
|
neither."
|
|
After settling their horses for the night, Rien and Kera went
|
|
into the tavern. "I forgot to ask," Rien said. "How do you find
|
|
Sharks' Cove?"
|
|
"I don't like it. The people are so unfriendly...everyone in
|
|
Dargon was nice...even to me."
|
|
Rien smirked. "As a rule, the larger the city, the more
|
|
impersonal it is. There are quite a few that are better at it than
|
|
Dargon."
|
|
He paused at the bar, surveying the room. Brice was the only one
|
|
of the staff in the room that Kera recognized. He was behind the
|
|
counter, serving drinks and chatting with customers.
|
|
"Come on," Rien pulled on Kera's arm. They went down to the bar
|
|
and sat down at the far end, away from the rest of the patrons. A
|
|
moment later Brice came over.
|
|
"It's about time!" he exclaimed, gripping forearms with Rien.
|
|
"Did everything go well?"
|
|
"Quinn's dead," Rien said. "So's Arvel. Quinn killed him in a
|
|
joust before I got there."
|
|
"Better inform his family," Brice sighed. "I thought he was a
|
|
little young to be sent out there."
|
|
"I sent a message to his father and to Lord Tomich from Port
|
|
Sevlyn," Rien said. "I took Kera there to show her the store."
|
|
Brice nodded. "Glad to see you training someone. We need new
|
|
blood."
|
|
Kera threw a puzzled look at him, but said nothing.
|
|
"When is your rotation out of here?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Next month. Deber first."
|
|
"And Enneth?"
|
|
"As soon as your friend," Brice gestured at Kera with a grin,
|
|
"tries her plate on."
|
|
"Who was supposed to replace him?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Arvel, but he thought he might go to Phedra since he came here
|
|
early."
|
|
Rien dropped his head into his hands. "Send a message to..."
|
|
"Hey, barkeep!" someone yelled from the other side of the room.
|
|
"How long do I have to wait here?"
|
|
"Go on," Rien said. "I'll take care of it."
|
|
"You took me on as `new blood'?" Kera asked when Brice left.
|
|
"That's what you'll become if you decide to stay," warned Rien,
|
|
putting his arm around her shoulders. "It's not that bad a job if you
|
|
know what you're doing."
|
|
"Better benefits?"
|
|
"Pays better than Liriss."
|
|
"How would you know what he pays?"
|
|
"Educated guess."
|
|
"Well, I suppose..." Kera smiled, stretching the words on
|
|
purpose.
|
|
"You really want to try this?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Why not? It's just a job, right?"
|
|
"Good. I'm glad you think that way," Rien said with a smile.
|
|
"Let's go. I'll sign you up and make your hanging around legitimate."
|
|
They both got up and went to the back room. Rien rifled through
|
|
the desk and a cabinet and finally turned to Kera.
|
|
"I used to know where everything was," he complained.
|
|
She smiled ironically. "Could be they don't trust you..."
|
|
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rien asked. "I don't want to
|
|
give you the wrong idea. This really is dangerous work. People die,
|
|
sometimes horribly."
|
|
"Understand where I was before," Kera pointed out. "I could die
|
|
there just as easily -- a disgrunted traveller turning his sword on me
|
|
or another thief eliminating competition...or even the town guard
|
|
having an `accident'. At least here I would be taking these risks for
|
|
a good cause..."
|
|
"Are you sure?" Rien asked again, looking intently at her.
|
|
"Look, you can't even begin to imagine what went through my mind
|
|
when I was told you were killed. I had plenty of time to wonder about
|
|
this type of a lifestyle since then. I'm willing to take the risk."
|
|
"All right," Rien said, "but you will have to wait until someone
|
|
tells me where everything's been moved to."
|
|
Brice stuck his head through the door. "You two want to eat?"
|
|
"Yes," Rien answered. "We'll be right there," then turning to
|
|
Kera, added, "Let's drop our gear off downstairs first."
|
|
The rest of the evening passed quietly. Rien spent a lot of time
|
|
talking with people he had not seen in months -- comparing notes,
|
|
discussing events and making plans. From listening in, Kera understood
|
|
that he was of some authority here and perhaps that authority reached
|
|
well beyond this place.
|
|
Before going to bed she tried on the plate armor Enneth made for
|
|
her. To her surprise, not only did it fit perfectly, but it was also
|
|
comfortable.
|
|
"My father was a tailor," Enneth said, chuckling at her
|
|
confusion. "He always said no one had to come to him for a fitting
|
|
twice. His secret was not to use his arm to make measurements, but
|
|
something exact and solid."
|
|
Kera retired before midnight. Rien was still busy talking and the
|
|
group seemed very familiar with each other and Kera felt as if she was
|
|
intruding. She tossed and turned for a long time, unable to fall
|
|
asleep. The conversation she had with Rien shortly after their arrival
|
|
still fresh on her mind. In truth, she was not half as confident about
|
|
her choice as she made Rien believe she was, but it was her only
|
|
excuse for staying. Not that she believed he'd make her leave.
|
|
|
|
"So do you feel homesick yet?" Rien asked Kera the next morning
|
|
when he was showing her around the city.
|
|
"Sort of," she admitted. "I always thought Dargon was a dirty
|
|
town, but looking at this..."
|
|
Rien surveyed the dock in both directions. Trash lay about as
|
|
common as the wooden walk of the docks, which were in a bad state of
|
|
disrepair, with an occasional sleeping drunk mixed in here and there
|
|
-- a sight he saw many times. "If you think this is bad, wait until
|
|
you see Magnus..."
|
|
"We're going to Magnus?" Kera asked, her eyes sparkling.
|
|
"Not now, but I'm sure you'll get there sooner or later. We
|
|
travel to all the `exotic' places."
|
|
Kera smiled. "It's quite a change, being able to travel all of a
|
|
sudden. I never left Dargon before, you know...just a quick trip to
|
|
the woods or out to sea once in a while... That first night we spent
|
|
in the forest, I was scared stiff! Now it's starting to get
|
|
interesting. I just hope I don't get over it."
|
|
"You won't," Rien assured her. "Every place on Makdiar is
|
|
different."
|
|
"And have you been everywhere yet?"
|
|
Rien almost let a smile slip out, but successfully hid it behind
|
|
a smug expression. "No," he said. "The world is much bigger than you
|
|
think," and with those words, tapped Kera on her nose.
|
|
"So where have you been?"
|
|
"Well...I've been to Dargon," he grinned ear to ear.
|
|
"Help!" a female shriek pierced the usual low rumble of the
|
|
docks.
|
|
Rien turned in time to see a young woman jerk free from a burly
|
|
sailor and start running towards the buildings at the other side of
|
|
the dock. The sailor ran after her, followed by another man. Their
|
|
path would take all of them past Rien and Kera.
|
|
"Get her out of here," Rien ordered Kera, making a snap decision,
|
|
and stepped forward just after the girl ran by. The sailor, hot on her
|
|
heels, collided with him. Both fell to the ground and the second man
|
|
chasing the girl tripped over the pair and fell down as well.
|
|
Rien regained his feet at the same time as the sailor. The girl
|
|
being chased was gone and Rien got just a glimpse of Kera turning down
|
|
another pier. The sailor, barely recovered from the collision, was not
|
|
paying attention to Rien, scanning the docks up and down the boardwalk
|
|
for a sign of the girl who had escaped him.
|
|
"Watch where you're going!" Rien shouted and punched him in the
|
|
gut, to keep him occupied. The sailor turned a light shade of pink and
|
|
sank to his knees.
|
|
A small crowd was now gathering and Rien turned to the other man
|
|
getting up. "You!" he pointed, but the man took off through the crowd,
|
|
after his target. Rien decided to let him go. By the time he could get
|
|
through all the sight-seers, Kera would have plenty of time to make
|
|
her escape.
|
|
A new group of sailors was coming up from the pier and Rien
|
|
pulled up the man that he hit by the shirt front.
|
|
"Let go of him!" one of the sailors ordered, rolling up a loose
|
|
sleeve on his arm.
|
|
"What's going on here?" another voice sounded from behind Rien
|
|
and the crowd parted to let a pair of city guards through. Rien still
|
|
held the gasping sailor.
|
|
"If he can't walk on land, keep him in the water!" Rien told the
|
|
man's assembled companions contemptuously and gave the sailor a shove
|
|
in their general direction.
|
|
One of the guardsmen folded his arms and stared at Rien. "You
|
|
from around here, kid?"
|
|
Rien gritted his teeth. Kid indeed! "Yeah! What's it to you, old
|
|
timer?" Two could play the game.
|
|
"Get lost," the other guard told him and pushed through to the
|
|
grouped sailors. "You boys been docked here long?"
|
|
Rien smiled to himself. The guards did not normally pick on the
|
|
locals, just the visitors. It was one of the many things that gave
|
|
Sharks' Cove its reputation (and some say it's name).
|
|
"Well, boys?" the guard asked again as the sailors shuffled
|
|
before him. Antagonizing the local guard was not a good prospect at
|
|
any port, but particularly in Sharks' Cove.
|
|
The man who tripped over Rien pushed his way back through the
|
|
crowd and surveyed the scene. He was empty handed and angry.
|
|
"You, men, get back to work!" he barked and they obeyed. "What do
|
|
you want?" he asked the guards.
|
|
"I want to know how long your boys are going to be starting
|
|
fights on my streets!" one of the guards snapped at him.
|
|
"We'll be gone by morning," the man said and walked past the
|
|
guard.
|
|
"Now you just wait there!" the guardsman ordered and followed
|
|
him.
|
|
The man turned around, visibly agitated. "This is a private pier.
|
|
Get off it or I'll have the men shoot you where you stand!"
|
|
Rien smiled to himself and slid out through the crowd. It would
|
|
be too long a confrontation to observe and he chose to disappear
|
|
before anyone recalled his part in the initial incident. When he
|
|
returned to The Tipsy Dragon, he found Kera, Adrea and the girl from
|
|
the pier talking in the back room. As he entered, they all stopped and
|
|
looked at him.
|
|
"Everything go well?" he asked Kera.
|
|
"No one saw us," she said, assured.
|
|
Rien took a seat at the table. "Don't let me interrupt."
|
|
"You're not," Adrea said. "We just sat down."
|
|
"Good," Rien said.
|
|
"First of all," Adrea started, looking at the girl across the
|
|
table, "my name is Adrea. This is Rien," she pointed in one direction,
|
|
"and Kera," she pointed in the other.
|
|
"I am called Deneen," the young woman answered her. She looked
|
|
slightly older than Kera, blond hair, brown eyes. Her tunic was torn
|
|
on the shoulder from where the sailor had grabbed her and a purple
|
|
bruise highlighted her left cheekbone. "I wish I could repay you for
|
|
what you did..."
|
|
"Can you tell us what happened?" Adrea asked. She could not help
|
|
but be concerned over what she saw.
|
|
Deneen's face paled a bit. "Nothing. I just ran into a little
|
|
trouble."
|
|
"Why were they chasing you?" Adrea insisted.
|
|
"Sailors," she said too quickly. "I guess they've been out at sea
|
|
for too long."
|
|
"Is that why your clothing is torn?"
|
|
The girl looked down at her tunic. "Yeah...I guess."
|
|
"And the bruise?" Adrea asked, indicating her swollen cheek.
|
|
"I was hit."
|
|
"You couldn't have gotten it today. It's all ready turned
|
|
purple."
|
|
"I was hit at home," Deneen corrected herself.
|
|
"Are you from around here?" Rien asked.
|
|
The girl nodded after a moment. "A village up north."
|
|
"We would prefer you tell us the truth," Rien stated. "There are
|
|
no villages to the north or is it in the marsh?"
|
|
"We didn't save you so we could hurt you," Adrea interjected. "We
|
|
want to help. Please, tell us what happened."
|
|
Deneen wiped a tear from her cheek. "I was with them for a while.
|
|
I..." Her voice cracked. "I can't..."
|
|
"We want to help," Adrea repeated, laying a gentle hand on her
|
|
arm. "What happened? Were you kidnapped?"
|
|
Deneen nodded, but still did not look at Adrea.
|
|
"Were they holding you for ransom?"
|
|
The girl shrugged. "My family isn't rich...and there were many
|
|
others."
|
|
Adrea shot a questioning look at Rien. `Slavers?' She did not
|
|
need to say it aloud. Her expression said it all. She'd dealt with
|
|
them before.
|
|
Rien's features darkened and he got up. They took care of a
|
|
runner the year before. "They said it's a private pier..." was all he
|
|
said.
|
|
"Get Deneen something to eat," Adrea asked Kera as Rien hurried
|
|
downstairs.
|
|
"I'm not hungry..."
|
|
"Then bring some refreshments. No alcohol." When Kera left, Adrea
|
|
turned back to the girl. "Where are you from?"
|
|
"Port Sevlyn."
|
|
"Do you know where you were going?"
|
|
"No..."
|
|
"How long were you on that ship?"
|
|
"A week, I guess. I don't know."
|
|
Adrea thought for a moment. "How many others were there?"
|
|
"About fifty, I think."
|
|
"Do you know the size of the crew?" Rien asked from the stairs.
|
|
He returned to the table holding a ledger and sat down.
|
|
"No," Deneen answered.
|
|
"They told the town guard that they would leave by morning," Rien
|
|
told Adrea. "I'll try to make sure that they don't. According to this,
|
|
that whole block was sold a year ago to Gerald Roderick, Baron
|
|
Morgan's brother...and the previous owner was Gaius Caligula himself."
|
|
Adrea sighed. "So much for it being simple coincidence."
|
|
"Was anyone removed from the ship?" Rien asked, looking over at
|
|
Deneen.
|
|
"No. We just got here this morning."
|
|
"Were there any plans to?"
|
|
"I don't know."
|
|
"How did you get away then," Adrea asked.
|
|
"Not everyone was chained," Deneen answered. "I guess they will
|
|
be by now."
|
|
Kera returned from the bar room carrying a tray with drinks and
|
|
placing it on the table, sat down.
|
|
"Thank you," Adrea smiled to her.
|
|
"Did any of the names I mentioned sound familiar?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Just Baron Morgan, but I guess everyone in Quinnat knows him,"
|
|
the girl said.
|
|
"What about `Abyssment' or `Quirin'?"
|
|
"Sorry."
|
|
Rien got up and paced a bit. "Kera, I want you to get some rest.
|
|
I'll have a job for you this evening."
|
|
"I want to go to the Abyssment tonight," Adrea said.
|
|
"You have an eight month old daughter to worry about," Rien
|
|
answered. "I will go with Brice. You can watch the store."
|
|
"Rien! She's old enough for me to get back to work! You don't
|
|
expect me to spend the rest of my life here, do you?"
|
|
"When I need you to risk your life, I will ask you," Rien
|
|
answered bluntly. "Until then I want you to follow my lead." He closed
|
|
the book, looking at Adrea. The statement came across very harsh. "I
|
|
know you've been here a while and I know you want to get back to work,
|
|
but if something happens to you out there, I'll be the one
|
|
responsible. Just a few more months, please?"
|
|
|
|
"If you see anyone, go in the water," Rien instructed Kera.
|
|
"In that?" she peered into the murky Laraka. "I might be more
|
|
willing to commit murder."
|
|
"Watch yourself," Rien said one last time and dove into the cold
|
|
water.
|
|
Kera watched him swim noiselessly down stream to the pier with
|
|
the slaver ship, then turned to watch the shore. She wondered how
|
|
crazy a man had to be to jump into an ice filled river in the middle
|
|
of winter. Some people just have this thing for pain. She scanned the
|
|
street, trying to forget what Rien was doing. The thought alone sent
|
|
shivers up her spine. Just like the docks in Dargon at night, there
|
|
was no sign of life here.
|
|
|
|
Rien let the current carry him down to the ship a half block
|
|
away. There were some lights up on the deck, but no evidence of
|
|
people, only two guards at the tip of the pier, intensely watching the
|
|
area of the docks.
|
|
He caught himself on the hull of the ship and carefully
|
|
maneuvered underneath the pier. The oars of the ship were out of the
|
|
water, folded against the hull, like some giant wooden bird. Releasing
|
|
his grip on the supports, Rien swam back to the ship and around to the
|
|
front, fighting the current on the way back. Keeping close to the ship
|
|
made it a little easier. The oars on the opposite side were folded up
|
|
as well, but one of the two steering oars at the aft of the ship was
|
|
not retracted and hung over the rushing water.
|
|
Rien positioned himself under it and hoping it was secured up on
|
|
deck, did his best to jump up to grab it. It took him two tries, but
|
|
he finally managed to force himself out of the water far enough to
|
|
grab hold of the oar. The cold wind almost made him let go and drop
|
|
back into the water, but clenching his teeth, he pulled himself up and
|
|
moved, hand over hand, to the rear of the ship. He looked at the deck
|
|
of the vessel and not seeing anyone, swung over the railing.
|
|
After a few moments of waiting, Rien drew his dagger -- the only
|
|
weapon he had on him -- and made his way to the mizzen mast. All of
|
|
the mizzen sails were down and the ties were secured to a set of
|
|
marked hooks on the mast. He found the one that held the main rope
|
|
support and put the dagger through it, twisting it around once. With
|
|
any luck this would weaken the rope enough to snap under the full
|
|
weight of the sail.
|
|
A noise on deck made Rien turn around quickly. A sailor obviously
|
|
far gone with drink, made his way up the gang plank and spotting Rien,
|
|
headed fo him.
|
|
"Gooth rum," the sailor said, his speech slurred and a wave of
|
|
alcohol made its way past Rien.
|
|
"Appears so," Rien took a step back in disgust.
|
|
"Wan' zome?" the sailor held up an empty bottle.
|
|
Rien shook his head.
|
|
"Suit yourswelf," the sailor coughed and started walking away.
|
|
"Hey, wait," Rien stopped him. He couldn't afford witnesses.
|
|
The sailor turned back with a dejected look on his face.
|
|
"Let me see that," Rien pointed to the bottle.
|
|
The sailor put it behind his back. "No. Is mine."
|
|
"Great," Rien muttered under his breath. "Please?"
|
|
The sailor took a step back and Rien instantly realized something
|
|
was wrong.
|
|
"I don't know you," the man declared and Rien smiled innocently.
|
|
"RUNAWAY!" the sailor bellowed at the top of his lungs and Rien
|
|
heard hurried movement on the pier. He charged at the sailor, using
|
|
his body weight to knock the man against the starboard railing and,
|
|
breaking through, they both fell into the rushing water of the Laraka.
|
|
|
|
Kera stretched out on the empty pier, looking up into the dark
|
|
winter sky. The bright constellation of Perantu, the falcon, hung
|
|
almost directly above her, the talons reaching towards the ocean. The
|
|
pier was dry and small ledges on the sides prevented wind from blowing
|
|
across it. She was not concerned about being surprised by anybody. Her
|
|
senses improved vastly during the time she had lycanthropy and she
|
|
felt she could rely on them as much as most animals relied on theirs.
|
|
When Rien told her to get some rest so she would be ready to do
|
|
some work at night, she did not even think he meant for her to spend
|
|
her time guarding an empty pier. Even Liriss was better at finding
|
|
interesting things for her to do. At least it would be worth it to see
|
|
Rien all wet in this weather.
|
|
Sounds of splintering wood and a splash in the water made Kera
|
|
look over to the ship. She saw a few shapes appear on deck, rushing
|
|
about, looking into the water, but not much more. It was almost
|
|
obvious that Rien had been seen, but got away. Kera glanced back to
|
|
the roadway at the foot of the pier and, not seeing anyone, made
|
|
herself comfortable with her head propped up on her arms, to watch the
|
|
commotion on the neighboring dock. The people there gathered in a
|
|
group, one in the middle, standing on something that made him two feet
|
|
taller. He swung his arms out to the river, then pointed to shore.
|
|
People started splintering away from the group. Kera sighed and
|
|
continued watching. Whatever Rien had done must have gotten them very
|
|
upset.
|
|
The man in the middle of the group jumped down and disappeared on
|
|
the far side of the ship, as did the men remaining with him.
|
|
Some splashing noises diverted Kera's attention again and a
|
|
moment later two hands grabbed the the edge of the pier not far from
|
|
her. Rien pulled himself up.
|
|
"What did you do?" Kera asked.
|
|
"I was surprised," Rien said.
|
|
"You?"
|
|
"The man was drunk. I didn't think he would be a problem. Come,
|
|
we best leave before the guards decide to search here."
|
|
"Dry yourself off, first," Kera instructed. "You won't get any
|
|
sympathy from me if you catch a cold."
|
|
Rien grabbed her arm and yanked her after himself. "I won't ask
|
|
for any."
|
|
A few blocks away from the pier they stopped in an alley and Rien
|
|
accepted the towel from Kera. "They won't be able to set their sails.
|
|
When that man showed up I was hoping he was too drunk to recognize me
|
|
for a stranger, but he wasn't as far gone as I had hoped," Rien said,
|
|
drying his hair. He then took the bag of dry clothes Kera held out to
|
|
him and started changing. "Hopefully the crew will realize he was
|
|
drunk and no slaves are missing and leave it at that. He thought I was
|
|
a slave..."
|
|
Kera sighed. "What if he figures out you're not a slave? He won't
|
|
stay drunk forever. He'll tell them you were an intruder committing
|
|
sabotage."
|
|
"He won't realize it. He's dead."
|
|
"You killed him?"
|
|
"We fell in the water. When I surfaced, he wasn't there. I
|
|
suspect he was too drunk to swim."
|
|
"So what now?"
|
|
"You go back. I need to know what's happening. I am going to the
|
|
Abyssment. Brice should be there by now."
|
|
Kera nodded, unsure of her task and Rien dumped the wet clothes
|
|
in a pile of trash. He then turned to her and took her by her
|
|
shoulders. "Be careful. I don't want to be pulling you out of the
|
|
river, understand?"
|
|
"I've trailed people before. I know how it's done."
|
|
"Be careful," Rien said again, embracing her. He disappeared down
|
|
the street.
|
|
Kera looked up and down the alley after he left, then took the
|
|
long way around to get back to the docks. Her greatest concern was
|
|
dodging the crew of the ship that was searching the streets and
|
|
hopefully to stay out of the way of the town guard, which as yet did
|
|
not know her and with any luck, would have no reason to make the
|
|
acquaintance.
|
|
|
|
Rien paused at the entrance to the Abyssment. The bar was busy
|
|
with customers; much busier than The Tipsy Dragon on the best of
|
|
nights. He made his way past a group of people arguing in the doorway
|
|
and located the table where Brice sat.
|
|
"Roderick's at the bar," Rien said, sitting down.
|
|
"I know. He's been here a while," Brice said.
|
|
"The man next to him," Rien went on, "is the one from the ship.
|
|
He was the one chasing Deneen."
|
|
"He just got here a few minutes before you came in. Roderick
|
|
appears to have been waiting for him. He turned away a wench when that
|
|
man came in."
|
|
"I damaged his ship," Rien said. "He'll be sorry he left it. It
|
|
will have to stay in port through tomorrow."
|
|
"We may need more than a day."
|
|
"Can I get ya some'ing?" a bar girl came up to the table.
|
|
"Milk?" Rien grinned. She gave him a blank look and Rien said;
|
|
"Akvavit." Still puzzled, the woman left to get his drink.
|
|
"Look," Brice nudged Rien, "they're going up."
|
|
Rien looked towards the bar. Roderick and his companion were now
|
|
at the foot of the stairs, giving some instructions to one of the
|
|
workers. After a few short exchanges they went upstairs.
|
|
"I'll check it out," Rien said, but Brice stopped him.
|
|
"Let me do it. I get paid to do this. You're paid to cause
|
|
trouble."
|
|
Rien smiled and sat back down. "I'll make sure the bar maid
|
|
doesn't take anything."
|
|
"Thanks. That drink cost me a fortune." Brice slid out and
|
|
disappeared up the stairs after the two men.
|
|
Rien accepted his drink from the bar girl and settled back to
|
|
watch the room. The beverage was too strong for his liking and
|
|
although he could not complain about his alcohol tolerance, he
|
|
preferred drinks that did not distort their flavor with the amount of
|
|
alcohol they contained.
|
|
The Abyssment, owned by Gaius Caligula, the resident crime boss
|
|
of the city, was the largest tavern in Sharks' Cove and was very
|
|
popular with the local youth and shady population. If something was
|
|
happening somewhere in Sharks' Cove or one of the neighboring areas,
|
|
it was a good bet that the information, if not the people responsible
|
|
for the act, would be available in the Abyssment that same night. Most
|
|
of the events were directly supervised by Caligula himself.
|
|
Lord Gerald Roderick, the brother of Baron Morgan Roderick, was
|
|
rumored to have many dealings with Gaius Caligula, but because of the
|
|
political sensitivity of the issue, it was hardly ever discussed in
|
|
public and often "over-looked" by authorities.
|
|
All these threads linked the ship at the northern docks to the
|
|
underworld of Sharks' Cove, so gathering information at the Abyssment
|
|
was a sure bet and as it usually does, it seemed to have been the
|
|
right guess.
|
|
"You look pretty bored," a female voice said near Rien and he
|
|
snapped out of his trance-like train of thought. A tall, dark haired
|
|
woman stood almost directly in front of him. "Mind some company?"
|
|
Rien gestured for her to sit down.
|
|
"You alone?" she asked.
|
|
"Not any more," Rien smiled. "You?"
|
|
"I was. The idiot who brought me here dumped me for some tramp."
|
|
"Better find out about those types early in the relationship,"
|
|
Rien said, not unsympathetically.
|
|
The woman nodded, sipping her drink. "You come here often?"
|
|
|
|
Having observed Roderick and his companion enter a room, Brice
|
|
climbed out the window at the end of the hall and made his way from
|
|
window ledge to balcony to window ledge, until he found the balcony of
|
|
the room where the private meeting was taking place. Making himself
|
|
comfortable under the window, conveniently cracked, to let air (and
|
|
voices) circulate, he proceeded to listen in on the conversation.
|
|
"...flat fee!" Brice caught the conclusion of Roderick's angry
|
|
statement.
|
|
"We had an agreement," another, more controlled voice replied.
|
|
"You will pay me what they are worth, not what you pay for the
|
|
substandard merchandise you deal in," Roderick spoke again.
|
|
"My lord," the other man insisted, "you are selling me harlots.
|
|
Experienced, but used merchandise."
|
|
"Pleasure slaves, Isom, are better if they are experienced."
|
|
"And willing!"
|
|
Brice shifted a little to be more comfortable, still listening to
|
|
the two hagglers inside.
|
|
"When have you heard of a willing slave?!" Roderick lost his
|
|
cool. "It costs me a lot of money to kidnap people off the streets. I
|
|
can't afford a loss."
|
|
"You old fart, who do you think you're dealing with?"
|
|
A loud slam made Brice sit upright. It came from inside, but he
|
|
looked down into the alley just to be sure it was quiet there. No one
|
|
was to be seen.
|
|
"You do that again and I'll personally make sure your head is cut
|
|
off and tossed into the bay!" Roderick said again.
|
|
"Thirty marks for the six," the other man said. "Not a bronze
|
|
more."
|
|
"You're going to go out there and sell them for over fifty and
|
|
you expect me to take thirty? Forty marks!"
|
|
"Thirty-five."
|
|
"Thirty-eight...No. Don't go. Thirty-three."
|
|
"Bring them to the warehouse tonight."
|
|
Brice heard footsteps, followed by the door slamming, then a deep
|
|
sigh and someone pacing the room. The meeting was over.
|
|
|
|
"So you just travel around," the woman said to Rien. Her name, he
|
|
learned from their lengthy conversation, was Jenye. "Sounds exiting."
|
|
"Actually it's boring as hell," he answered. "And the pay is bad.
|
|
You'd think mercenaries get paid well, but that's an old wives tale."
|
|
Jenye laughed. "You know, you don't look much like a mercenary."
|
|
"Do any of us look like our chosen paths in life?" Rien chuckled.
|
|
"My last doctor was rolling over sixty, acting under thirty and had a
|
|
beard that would look better on a goat and now you're telling me
|
|
you're a physician too."
|
|
Jenye burst out laughing. "You know, that sounds just like
|
|
somebody I know in Magnus."
|
|
Rien cracked a smile. "So what do I look like?"
|
|
Jenye placed her chin in her hand and studied Rien intensely. Out
|
|
of the corner of his eye he noticed Brice at the bar looking at him as
|
|
well. Brice pointed to the exit and Rien responded with a signal, not
|
|
removing his attention from his companion, who did not appear to
|
|
notice the exchange. Brice left the room.
|
|
"You look..." Jenye began slowly, carefully studying Rien,
|
|
"...like an artisan...an artist, maybe...or an entertainer..."
|
|
"I suppose that's better than the last evaluation I received. The
|
|
town guard mistook me for a bounty hunter...of course the body I
|
|
carried in with me could have led them down the garden path." Rien
|
|
glanced around the bar. There were plenty of people present, although
|
|
it was well into the night. "I'd best be going," he stood up. "It will
|
|
be a long day tomorrow."
|
|
"So soon?" Jenye asked. "You haven't even touched your drink."
|
|
Rien glanced down at the Akvavit. "It's far too strong for me. I
|
|
prefer to keep on my toes, not my back."
|
|
"It all depends on what you're doing," Jenye said seductively and
|
|
Rien's eyebrows shot up.
|
|
"It does indeed, doesn't it?"
|
|
"Why don't you look me up sometime soon?" Jenye offered Rien her
|
|
hand. "I visit here at times."
|
|
"I just might," Rien said and left after a quick good night.
|
|
Jenye watched him go, then finished her drink. One of the
|
|
Abyssment's bouncers appeared at her side.
|
|
"Get up," he pulled her to her feet. "Let's go." His strong arm
|
|
shoved her forward.
|
|
"Hey! I can walk!"
|
|
"Then walk."
|
|
"What's going on?"
|
|
"Lord Roderick wants to see you."
|
|
|
|
"You know her?" Brice asked when Rien came out of the Abyssment.
|
|
"No. She came up and asked for company not long after you left.
|
|
Made me look less conspicuous sitting there. Why?"
|
|
"I saw her talking to the man Roderick and Isom were talking to,"
|
|
Brice answered.
|
|
"Isom?"
|
|
"The other man. The one you said was with the ship. That's what
|
|
Roderick called him."
|
|
Rien frowned. "She could have been there for reasons she
|
|
neglected to mention...perhaps I should take her up on her offer."
|
|
"Her offer?"
|
|
"I was under the impression she wanted to see me again. Doesn't
|
|
matter now. What did you find out?"
|
|
"Isom is a slave trader. Roderick sold him half a dozen slaves
|
|
for thirty-three marks."
|
|
"Thirty-three? Sounds like he got taken. Were the slaves up
|
|
there?"
|
|
"No. Roderick is supposed to deliver them tonight. I don't know
|
|
where they are held, but they are to be sold at some warehouse. I
|
|
guess somewhere along the docks."
|
|
"That doesn't give us much time," Rien said. "I don't want them
|
|
on that ship and I don't want the ship leaving town."
|
|
"They could be in any of a countless number of places," Brice
|
|
said.
|
|
"Or," Rien turned to face him, "if they need to be near by and
|
|
secure..?"
|
|
"Roderick's townhouse," Brice picked up, "or Quirin."
|
|
Rien turned to look at the silver tipped spire, visible over the
|
|
roofs of the buildings, pointing up to the sky, somewhere in the
|
|
middle of the Laraka delta. "Morgan is involved?"
|
|
"I wouldn't be surprised if the Baron was involved, but he is out
|
|
of town and Gerald always has access to the keep."
|
|
"Why don't I take the keep and you check on the townhouse?" Rien
|
|
offered.
|
|
"You must love that river."
|
|
Rien grinned. "Remind me to tell you what happened before I got
|
|
here."
|
|
|
|
Quirin Keep, built by Duke Vezakis over three hundred years ago
|
|
was the original fortification for entrance to the Laraka. Since that
|
|
time it was sieged, modified, abandoned and rebuilt a number of times.
|
|
Currently it was nothing more than the residence of the local baron,
|
|
Morgan Roderick, who liked nothing more than a large moat between him
|
|
and his subjects. Most of the responsibility for Laraka's defense now
|
|
fell to Gateway Keep, set a few hundred leagues upstream where
|
|
Vodyanoy joined the Laraka.
|
|
None-the-less, Quirin was still a fortified castle, with guards
|
|
and defenses and trying to swim there in the middle of a cold winter
|
|
night was far from an easy task. Rien patiently watched the small
|
|
island a half league, or half fathom, as any sailor worth his weight
|
|
in ale would say, away for any sign of motion, but it did not appear
|
|
as if any guards were braver than the weather. Rien undressed and
|
|
after hiding his clothes under the pier, went into the water. For a
|
|
second time this day he wondered about his masochistic tendencies in
|
|
this weather. Taking a deep breath, he dove into the cold water and
|
|
swam towards the island visible up ahead.
|
|
It took Rien a while to reach his destination, fighting against
|
|
the current that threatened to drag him out into the ocean. Sharks'
|
|
Cove was after all named for the hungry fish that visited the
|
|
Shandayma Bay as much as for the people who lived there. He made it to
|
|
the shore of Quirin and dropped on the sand, letting it absorb some of
|
|
the water, so the cold wind coming in from the ocean would not be as
|
|
noticeable.
|
|
After a few long moments Rien pulled himself to his feet and
|
|
moved up the slope to the road he knew existed above. In one direction
|
|
the road led to a pier where Rien previously spotted a ship. In the
|
|
other direction was the castle itself. Rien stood indecisively at the
|
|
edge of the road, wondering if it would be better for him to check the
|
|
ship, which could leave any minute, if it indeed was to ferry the
|
|
prisoners to the mainland tonight or the castle, where better
|
|
information could be obtained.
|
|
Finally he decided to check the ship first. If there were
|
|
prisoners on the island, his best chances lay in making sure the boat
|
|
did not leave with them aboard. Keeping to the trees at the side of
|
|
the road, Rien started out east, to the island's small port.
|
|
A single ship stood docked, with a small compliment of guards and
|
|
sailors sitting around a comfortable campfire on shore. Rien patiently
|
|
watched them from the trees.
|
|
The forest around the pier was cleared out and Rien could not get
|
|
close enough to hear the conversation, although it was obvious they
|
|
were not guarding anyone. After some time Rien saw one of the guards
|
|
get up, pick up his equipment and after a few more words to his
|
|
companions, start towards the road to the castle. A hundred feet into
|
|
the woods, Rien confronted the man and with a single hit from behind,
|
|
knocked him to the ground.
|
|
Dragging the stunned man down the incline to the river, Rien
|
|
splashed some cold water on him, to bring him around, and asked about
|
|
the slaves.
|
|
Still a little dazed, the guard eyed Rien. "Aren't you cold like
|
|
that?"
|
|
Rien backhanded him. "Where are the slaves being kept?"
|
|
"I don't know what you're talking..."
|
|
Rien submerged the man's head in the water. He had no evidence
|
|
that the man knew, but a strong suspicion existed. A little persuasion
|
|
could go a long way. "Know what I'm talking about now?" Rien pulled
|
|
the man back up and immediately shoved him back under. People who had
|
|
the chance to think things over usually made better long term
|
|
decisions.
|
|
Rien pulled the man up again. "Well? Know the ones I mean?"
|
|
The guard started coughing and Rien pushed him down for a split
|
|
second and brought him back up.
|
|
"Once more and you stay under for good."
|
|
"The castle..." the guard continued coughing and Rien punched him
|
|
in the face, knocking him out again.
|
|
If the kidnapped people were in the castle, which was becoming
|
|
more and more probable, Rien did not have the means to get them off
|
|
the island. For that matter, he had no idea what to do himself.
|
|
Deciding to accept challenges as they came along -- hopefully one at a
|
|
time -- he changed into the guard's clothes and took the road in the
|
|
direction of Quirin Keep.
|
|
|
|
Brice held still on top of the broad stone wall of Gerald
|
|
Roderick's villa as a guard walked down the street. `Paranoid,' Brice
|
|
thought and slid down the other side into the garden. The house was
|
|
set some distance into the garden and some of the lights were still
|
|
lit. Brice stealthily slipped over to the building and knelt by the
|
|
wall. It was not the first time he'd been sneaking around Lord
|
|
Roderick's property. The Baron's brother was suspected of a number of
|
|
criminal doings in the past and Brice had kept track of him on a
|
|
number of occasions.
|
|
Making sure that no guards were in sight, Brice climbed up a tree
|
|
by the house, moved hand over hand towards the roof and jumped down
|
|
onto it. A couple of sudden voices made him get down while people
|
|
passed by the side of the house. The men were discussing horses in the
|
|
stables. He peered over the edge, watched them go by, then moved in
|
|
the opposite direction.
|
|
The lights in the small two story house behind Roderick's
|
|
residence that was used to house staff were still on. In particular,
|
|
the barred window on the second floor, which was reserved for people
|
|
Roderick did not want to leave, was what Brice was after. He got up to
|
|
look into it from where he was. Inside he spotted at least two women.
|
|
Brice sat back down with a sigh of relief. He had found them. Now
|
|
he could either stay and see what happened or sneak out and find Rien.
|
|
He decided to stay. That way he would be present at the sale and
|
|
perhaps be able to interfear.
|
|
|
|
Dressed in the armor of the guard he knocked out, Rien freely
|
|
entered Quirin Keep. Everything was quiet, as would be expected in the
|
|
middle of the night. He made his way past a sentry beginning to fall
|
|
asleep in the entrance hall. A bright fire burned in the giant chamber
|
|
which the hall opened into. At the far end Rien observed a twin
|
|
staircase, starting at a common point and splitting right and left as
|
|
it spiraled to a second story balcony. He traced the outline of the
|
|
second floor with his eyes, making sure no guards were present.
|
|
Everything was clear and starting with the first door on the right,
|
|
Rien proceeded with his investigation.
|
|
He found the back stairs in a small corridor a few rooms deeper
|
|
into the castle. Once again, there were no guards or people present
|
|
and he quickly made his way down to the lower level. This level was
|
|
dark and cold and smelled of stagnant water, probably because it stood
|
|
not much higher than the water level around the island. None the less,
|
|
the floor was dry and clean and after a good hour of looking around,
|
|
Rien was satisfied that there were no prisoners here.
|
|
Rien made his way back up by a different stairway. It led to the
|
|
kitchen, where for the second time this night Rien encountered a
|
|
drunk.
|
|
"Have some," the bearded man slammed the bottle on the table.
|
|
Rien recognized him as the dozing sentry he passed on his way into the
|
|
castle. Accepting the man's offer, Rien sat down at the table. It
|
|
would certainly be tougher to throw this one into the water to cover
|
|
an escape.
|
|
"Lonely work, sentry duty," Rien said.
|
|
The guard nodded. "You new around here?"
|
|
"I was hired over from the town guard a few days back."
|
|
"Were you now...which part?"
|
|
"Northern strip."
|
|
"Ah. I was working the docks a few years back."
|
|
Rien smiled. It was a safe topic. "Messy area. I'm afraid we
|
|
always kept as far from there as our patrols could take us."
|
|
"Not my problem any more," the guard shrugged. "Roderick hired me
|
|
a few years back. Cleaner, safer, better pay."
|
|
"The Baron?"
|
|
"Oh, no. His brother. You?"
|
|
Rien shrugged. "Some big fellow with a scar." There was one in
|
|
every outfit.
|
|
"The one with the front teeth missing?" the guard asked. "Yeah,
|
|
he thinks he's the next best thing to the king."
|
|
"How'd you get here?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Regular staff shuffling, they say."
|
|
"So that slave bit is only a rumor?" The guard looked drunk
|
|
enough for a change of topic.
|
|
The guard eyed Rien suspiciously. "What slaves?"
|
|
Rien leaned back comfortably, self assured. "You know...there are
|
|
rumors in the streets."
|
|
"What sorts of rumors?" the guard's eyes narrowed.
|
|
"That the Baron's brother is keeping slaves in Quirin."
|
|
Rien's companion roared with laughter. "He's too chicken to
|
|
endanger Morgan. Morgan keeps the sling away from Gerald's ass."
|
|
"At the townhouse then?" Rien asked.
|
|
"Right!" the guard slammed his mug down on the table and
|
|
continued laughing.
|
|
Rien waited patiently. "You're serious?"
|
|
"Yeah," the guard went on. "Why do you think I was put here? He
|
|
doesn't want me to know!" And with that he broke into more laughter.
|
|
"Mustn't be your day," Rien said and slammed the almost empty
|
|
bottle against his head. The guard slumped down across the table and
|
|
Rien quickly got up to leave. He had lost a lot of time following a
|
|
false lead and now he had to make it up. With any luck Brice would be
|
|
on top of it. Rien briskly walked out of the kitchen, down the hall
|
|
and to the exit.
|
|
"Halt!" a guard rushed into his path.
|
|
Rien almost drew the sword.
|
|
"Where are you going?"
|
|
"I'm returning to the dock."
|
|
"I didn't see you come in," the guard said belligerently.
|
|
"I came in over an hour ago," retorted Rien, determined to bluff
|
|
the situation out -- one trace of his passing in the kitchen was
|
|
enough.
|
|
The guard stepped aside with a muttered curse and Rien hurried
|
|
out. He quickly made it to the beach, disrobed and entered the cold
|
|
water. A half hour later he was at the north shore of the Laraka,
|
|
getting dressed again.
|
|
|
|
Brice watched carefully from the roof as six guards removed as
|
|
many people from the servants' building and led them to an enclosed
|
|
wagon. Each of the four women and two men were gagged and their legs
|
|
bound (their arms were all ready tied behind them) before they were
|
|
deposited in the wagon. Then two guards got inside, one took control
|
|
of the horses and the wagon was rolled around to the front of the main
|
|
building. Brice watched the procedure carefully, memorizing each face,
|
|
each movement. He did not feel himself capable of challenging six
|
|
armed guards, not to mention all who would be within ear shot of a
|
|
struggle, but instead, when the wagon rolled past his position on the
|
|
roof, he rolled over the edge and onto the canvas cover over the
|
|
wagon, the top of which was almost level with the sloped roof of the
|
|
building. He held still for a few moments, waiting to see if a sword
|
|
was going to surface near him or a crossbow bolt tear through the
|
|
heavy fabric, but none did. He successfully made it on board for the
|
|
ride. It did not take long.
|
|
As the wagon stopped, heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden walk
|
|
at the side of the building, followed by Gerald Roderick's voice.
|
|
"Is everything ready?"
|
|
"Yes, sir," the driver answered. "We're ready to go as soon as
|
|
you are."
|
|
Brice raised his head to look around. He could just see the top
|
|
of the teamster's head sticking out mere inches above the top of the
|
|
wagon. Somewhere to the side people walked by. Someone got into the
|
|
wagon and someone got out. Brice put his head back down, releasing a
|
|
deep breath. He should have checked how high the teamster was sitting
|
|
before he got on for a ride. It could have been a costly mistake.
|
|
"Bring me my horse," Roderick called to someone. "You, meet me at
|
|
the warehouse. You two, go with him."
|
|
Brice pressed himself closer to the wagon as it moved on. By the
|
|
time it reached the gate to the street, two mounted guards joined the
|
|
wagon. Once it was outside, Roderick and a third guard joined the
|
|
growing caravan. One man took point, with Roderick a little behind him
|
|
and the other two men rode behind the wagon. All Brice could do now
|
|
was hold on for the ride and pray that the rear guard did not notice
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
Kera watched the tall thin man, who had chased Deneen when she
|
|
first encountered him, pass her on the boardwalk of the pier. Out of
|
|
the corner of her eye she noticed him turn and look after her. She
|
|
focused her attention behind her as the man fell out of her line of
|
|
vision. She feared he would follow her, do something, but all her
|
|
instincts and training told her not to make any sudden moves and not
|
|
to act as if she feared him. She continued walking ahead, not changing
|
|
her pace, not turning to look, but all her attention was concentrated
|
|
behind her, trying to detect unnatural movement or sounds.
|
|
The man did nothing to alert Kera and she did not turn back to
|
|
avoid seeming suspicious or concerned. By the time she made it to the
|
|
corner and looked back, the man had turned down the pier where his
|
|
ship was docked. She turned down the pier she was at and making it to
|
|
the end, climbed up on a crate and made herself comfortable to watch.
|
|
The slaver ship appeared in the distance, a dark shadow a block away.
|
|
After a minute a group of people appeared on the deck and after some
|
|
shuffling around, left the ship. They turned north when they got off
|
|
the pier and started walking away from her. Hopping off the crates
|
|
noiselessly, Kera followed the small squad.
|
|
After a few blocks the group turned down a side street and by the
|
|
time she got there, they were gone. Kera cautiously walked down the
|
|
alley, looking right and left, examining the road for any trails.
|
|
Behind her she heard horses and a wagon and throwing a single glance
|
|
back, hurried on ahead. She collided head on with a man dressed in
|
|
light armor who appeared from nowhere. She was grabbed and forced up
|
|
against a wall by a doorway as two mounted men, followed by a wagon,
|
|
rode up behind them.
|
|
"Lord Isom!" the man holding Kera called through the doorway.
|
|
The tall thin man stepped out. "Good," he muttered, looking at
|
|
the wagon, then turned to Kera. "This is the third time we meet today.
|
|
I consider it twice too many for a coincidence. Who are you?"
|
|
"I..." Kera paused as a well dressed man dismounted his horse and
|
|
came over.
|
|
"Well?" Isom asked again.
|
|
"I...I was just walking," Kera said.
|
|
"Really now? Walking every place I go?"
|
|
"Who is she?" th other man demanded.
|
|
"Don't worry about her, Roderick. She will be leaving with me at
|
|
sunrise. She obviously wanted to see the ship."
|
|
Kera tried struggling, but the guards held her tight. She kicked
|
|
him and for a moment he lost his grip on her, but another took his
|
|
place.
|
|
"Take her inside," Isom ordered and went in.
|
|
"Bring the ones in the back of the wagon, too," Roderick ordered.
|
|
From his position on top of the wagon, Brice was able to observe
|
|
the six prisoners brought into the building, leaving behind the
|
|
teamster and a guard. The two men exchanged a few words about the work
|
|
and the late hour, then the guard announced that in the course of the
|
|
trip, the mead he drank before had travelled its course and he needed
|
|
to have it pass on. [Original text censored for a mature audience.] He
|
|
wandered down the alley and the driver leaned back against the wagon.
|
|
Taking his cue, Brice crawled up the top of the wagon to the
|
|
front, then dropped a loose loop of rope, hanging off a hook next to
|
|
the driver, around the man's neck and gave him a shove. The length of
|
|
the rope broke the driver's fall and he was able to regain his feet on
|
|
the ground, but Brice quickly pulled it back up, choking the man. A
|
|
minute later he let the body dangle to the ground and took his seat.
|
|
Releasing the reins leading to the two horses and picking up the
|
|
whip that was left on the bench, Brice jumped to the ground. By now
|
|
the guard was returning and Brice snapped the whip behind the horses
|
|
as hard as he could. The animals instinctively pulled forward, away
|
|
from the sound, wanting to avoid getting hit. In their charge they
|
|
knocked over the guard and the wagon rolled over him with a soft
|
|
squish, dragging the teamster behind. Readying the whip again, Brice
|
|
stepped through the door. He was not sure how he would deal with the
|
|
half dozen men he knew were inside, but he knew Kera would help and
|
|
hoped that the prisoners would do the same.
|
|
|
|
Rien observed the action taking place beneath him. Both Gerald
|
|
Roderick and Isom were in the room, along with ten guards, six
|
|
prisoners and Kera. He had the gut feeling that she would get into
|
|
trouble when leaving her to watch the docks, but at least nothing
|
|
serious had happened yet. With any luck, nothing would.
|
|
"Very good, very good..." Isom walked around the bound people,
|
|
looking them over. He would stop at one or the other, poke at them,
|
|
study their faces, their builds. Each time he would smile a satisfied,
|
|
self pleased grin and go on. "Perhaps we can do business again, soon."
|
|
He turned to Gerald. "Pay him."
|
|
Out of the corner of his eye Rien noticed the door crack open and
|
|
Brice slip in. He smiled to himself. The odds had just improved.
|
|
"If you don't mind, I'd like to count this," the nobleman said,
|
|
accepting a pouch from one of Isom's guards.
|
|
"By all means."
|
|
Gerald Roderick poured the gold coins into his hand and started
|
|
counting off the thirty-three Marks due him. Isom used the time to
|
|
walk over to Kera and to examine her. He took hold of her head under
|
|
her chin and turned her to face him. "I will go a lot easier with you
|
|
if you tell me who you are and why you were following me. Who do you
|
|
work for?"
|
|
Kera pulled free from his grasp and turned away. She could not
|
|
move more than that because of the two guards holding her.
|
|
"One less. Doesn't matter. Tie her," Isom told the two guards.
|
|
"They're all here," Roderick said, finally done counting. "The
|
|
slaves are yours."
|
|
"There is one more matter," Isom said. "The runaway."
|
|
"I am doing everything in my power," Roderick stated. "If she is
|
|
to be found, my men will find her."
|
|
"They'd better," Isom growled. He produced five more gold coins
|
|
and gave them to Roderick. "Thirty-eight Marks for your cooperation."
|
|
Roderick pocketed the money. "No trouble."
|
|
"Take them out," Isom instructed the guards.
|
|
Rien moved swiftly along the ceiling beam and jumped down on the
|
|
two guards attempting to tie Kera's hands. He landed with both feet on
|
|
one man's shoulders, forcing him to the ground. Jumping off the fallen
|
|
body, Rien swung his sword at the other man, cutting deep into his
|
|
chest. The element of surprise was now lost. With a roar four guards
|
|
charged for him.
|
|
Rien backed over the first man he attacked, to stand next to Kera
|
|
and readied for the assault. He noticed that Kera had picked up the
|
|
fallen guard's sword, a loose rope still tangled around her left
|
|
wrist.
|
|
Brice stepped out of the shadows behind the guards. One man was
|
|
staring up at the ceiling, expecting someone else to drop down. Not
|
|
wanting to disappoint the soldier, nor spoil the surprise, Brice
|
|
struck with the whip, silently looping it around the guard's neck. The
|
|
man screamed a silent scream, grabbing at the end of the whip caught
|
|
around his neck. Brice yanked him back and stabbed him with his
|
|
dagger. As the man was falling, Brice had re-wrapped the whip around
|
|
the legs of a guard by Isom and pulled him over. One of the other
|
|
guards responded, but tripped over the struggling man.
|
|
On the other side of the room, Rien knocked over two men with a
|
|
low swing of his sword. Kera met the charge of the other two, barely
|
|
remaining on her feet, and a second later Rien came up on the other
|
|
side of the two and struck one down. The other, disoriented by attacks
|
|
from the front and behind, stepped directly into Kera's swing.
|
|
The remaining four men on the ground surrendered, but both
|
|
Roderick and Isom were gone.
|
|
"I've got them," Brice went for the door, but one of the men
|
|
immediately clambered to his feet and challenged him. Brice threw the
|
|
whip, tangling it around the guard's legs. As the man fell back to the
|
|
floor, Brice made it into the alley, but it was empty. He came back
|
|
inside to see Rien cutting the ropes binding one of the prisoner's
|
|
hands.
|
|
"They got away."
|
|
Rien looked back, annoyed, but said nothing. Angry words would
|
|
not change the situation. He looked down at the men they had fought,
|
|
sitting on the floor. Seven of the ten were alive, but two were
|
|
unconscious from their wounds. "Leave your weapons and go," he ordered
|
|
and five men quickly got up and left.
|
|
Rien picked up a dagger from one of the guards and handed it to
|
|
the woman he'd cut loose. "Free the others. The man who was selling
|
|
you is Lord Gerald Roderick. The man who was purchasing you is Lord
|
|
Isom. Report them to the town guard." He turned to Brice and Kera.
|
|
"Let's go."
|
|
"Wait! Who are you?" one of the people called out.
|
|
Brice looked at the woman with a sheepish grin. "We're the ones
|
|
who rescued you."
|
|
Outside the warehouse Rien paused, looking at the dead guard
|
|
lying in the street, wheel marks forming an impression in his chest
|
|
and torso. "What happened here?"
|
|
"The driver must have lost control of the horses," Brice grinned.
|
|
"Good thing it worked to our advantage."
|
|
Rien looked over at Kera. "I assume you're all right. If you want
|
|
to get some rest, go on to the inn. I want to check on the ship."
|
|
"Rest? After all this? You're kidding! I couldn't sleep if I
|
|
wanted to!"
|
|
"Let's go then. It's getting light."
|
|
The three started west, towards the docks along the bay.
|
|
"I see you finally learned the whip," Rien said to Brice.
|
|
"I finally convinced Deven to teach me...but I don't think he's
|
|
seen the light of day since then. How was the castle?"
|
|
"I doubt Morgan is involved in his brother's doings. Gerald even
|
|
rotated some staff he didn't want involved with his activities to
|
|
Quirin."
|
|
"How did you get here then?"
|
|
"I went back to the Abyssment to have a word with Jenye, the
|
|
woman you thought was spying on me," Rien said. "She was. She sent me
|
|
here."
|
|
"She just up and told you?"
|
|
"Not quite. I had to get tough."
|
|
"You beat up a woman?" Kera asked.
|
|
"Not in the Abyssment," Brice laughed.
|
|
"Not that anyone would notice," Rien retorted. "I simply put a
|
|
little fear of me into her. She was reasonably cooperative when she
|
|
thought I could do more harm than the people she worked for."
|
|
"I wasn't expecting you to show up," Brice said. "Nice to see
|
|
you're still resourceful."
|
|
"Was there anyone else that Roderick was holding?"
|
|
"Not that I could tell. From his yapping on the ride over, this
|
|
appears to be a market he hasn't had a chance to exploit yet. I hope
|
|
this helps him make up his mind our way."
|
|
Rien nodded. "Hope we can stop that ship."
|
|
"How do you expect to stop it?" Kera asked.
|
|
"When I snuck on board, I damaged some equipment. If they don't
|
|
notice it when they put up the sails, one may tear when the rope
|
|
snaps."
|
|
"But what if they don't come back to repair it? Can't they do
|
|
that out at sea?"
|
|
"They could, but they shouldn't. I'm more concerned that they've
|
|
all ready found the torn rope and replaced it. All we can do right now
|
|
is hope it works out."
|
|
"With any luck," Brice added, "those people will report their
|
|
ordeal to the town guard soon. If not, we'll have to find some other
|
|
way to get those guards on board."
|
|
By this time they were walking along the docks, towards the pier
|
|
where the ship was docked.
|
|
"Where are you going after your rotation is up?" Rien asked
|
|
Brice.
|
|
He shrugged. "If nothing comes up, I thought I'd go by Magnus and
|
|
then down south. It's getting too cold for my taste out here. And that
|
|
reminds me, how was your swim?"
|
|
A smile appeared on Rien's face. "I'm not paid nearly enough to
|
|
do this three times in one night."
|
|
As they walked on, he told of his adventures on the slaver ship
|
|
and on the isle of Quirin. It was not long before they reached their
|
|
destination. The ship was pushing off from the pier when it came into
|
|
their sight and Kera suggested they watch from an empty pier near by.
|
|
Watching from piers was something she did a lot of lately, she added
|
|
souly.
|
|
The ship maneuvered out to sea on oars alone.
|
|
"Why aren't they raising sail?" Rien wondered aloud. "The tide is
|
|
going out and the winds look favorable."
|
|
"I think we lost this one," Brice said. "Best find out their
|
|
destination and see if they can be stopped there."
|
|
Rien nodded grimly. The ship was a good half league out, when a
|
|
couple of sails on the fore mast were put up and then the ones in the
|
|
rear. Rien held his breath in anticipation, wanting to see his plan
|
|
work. A long minute later a few of the sails were snapped up by the
|
|
wind and fell, dangling aimlessly in the breeze. Other sails started
|
|
to be lowered one by one, when a cross beam on the mizzen mast tilted,
|
|
fell to the deck and slipped off into the water, taking a few of the
|
|
oars with it. A sheet of canvas remained dangling loosely over the
|
|
starboard side.
|
|
"I guess they're coming back now," Rien said, tension gone from
|
|
his voice.
|
|
"Just how much damage did you do?" Brice asked.
|
|
Rien shrugged his shoulders. "I just weakened the rope. I don't
|
|
know what they tangled it in."
|
|
|
|
The following day Rien and Kera saw Deneen off. They got her
|
|
passage on a barge going up to Port Sevlyn. The rest of the people
|
|
captured by the slavers were taken off the ship by the town guard who
|
|
appeared on the pier en masse soon after the crippled ship docked. The
|
|
sailors surrendered peacefully after a few heated words with the troop
|
|
lieutenant and were all taken into custody. Surprisingly, Isom was not
|
|
on the ship and Rien never got close enough to the group to find out
|
|
why. On the whole it did not matter. The slaver had lost his ship, his
|
|
crew and his cargo. It would take him a long time to recover the loss,
|
|
if he ever could, but somehow Rien felt that Lord Isom was not one to
|
|
give up easily, if at all.
|
|
"What do you think happened to him?" Kera asked Rien after Deneen
|
|
waved for the last time.
|
|
"Isom? I'd imagine he had a different way of getting to his
|
|
destination or perhaps didn't need to go...I doubt we scared him out
|
|
of business."
|
|
"So what now?"
|
|
Rien scanned the dock area. Everything appeared as it had the
|
|
morning before. People rushed about on errands, ships were being
|
|
unloaded on the piers and the customary drunks littered the sides of
|
|
the walks along the buildings. "Looks like nothing here has changed,"
|
|
he sighed. "Not that it ever does. Is there anything you want to do?"
|
|
"We were sight-seeing yesterday," Kera offered.
|
|
They mounted their horses and started up river. "I suppose I can
|
|
show you the Abyssment. It's given me countless hours of pleasure
|
|
watching the drunks and the winos."
|
|
"Really?"
|
|
"No place like Sharks' Cove," Rien smiled. His expression
|
|
suddenly became serious as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. A
|
|
young girl with auburn hair and amber eyes, that stood out at a
|
|
distance, rode towards him on the horse he took to Dargon almost a
|
|
year ago.
|
|
Something inside him said `Eelail', but instead he raised his arm
|
|
and shouted at the girl: "You! You stole my horse!"
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
1 Sons of Gateway
|
|
---- -- ------
|
|
Part 4: Marcus
|
|
|
|
by Jon "Grimjack" Evans
|
|
<b.c.k.a. acssjon@ubvms>
|
|
|
|
"This place is colder than death," Ne'on muttered, as he and
|
|
Captain Bartholemew Clay walked the parapets above Gateway Keep. The
|
|
moisture from their breath hung lightly in the air in front of them,
|
|
before dissipating like small clouds on a hot summer day. Captain Clay
|
|
clasped his black cloak tightly around his chest and looked at his
|
|
lord in wonder. Ne'on refused to wear any- thing more than his white
|
|
robes and golden belt, to which was strapped a fine silver dagger - of
|
|
Galician origin, Clay guessed. Ne'on's entire left arm contrasted the
|
|
rest of his clothes by its black dye, and the midnight black glove he
|
|
wore on his hand. Ne'on's Black Arm, Bartholemew mused, and frowned
|
|
for not having noticed it before.
|
|
"Aren't you used to the weather by now, my lord?" Ne'on responded
|
|
to the question with a confused gaze, and Clay reinforced his thought.
|
|
"You have lived here all your life, have you not?" Captain Clay often
|
|
wondered why his employer did not wear more protective clothing; for
|
|
warmth alone, if for no other reason.
|
|
"I'm more concerned with Marcus' knowledge, than my clothes,
|
|
Captain. And my robes provide ample warmth to sustain life in my body,
|
|
for now." Clay didn't remember having asked the question, but its
|
|
being answered didn't surprise him. Ne'on had a habit of answering
|
|
some questions before they were asked.
|
|
Ne'on stopped by a fortification in the wall, and looked out over
|
|
the partially frozen Laraka. His father had built Gateway like any
|
|
other keep of the day; but, without enough funds, he made things
|
|
considerably smaller. He thought his father had been a small man.
|
|
"What does Marcus know about this 'High Mage', or whatever his title?
|
|
What is there to know about him? Is he just a dealer in the arts? No;"
|
|
he answered his own question, "otherwise, how would he have known of
|
|
Qord?"
|
|
"My lord, if I may," Clay began, and Ne'on turned to him with
|
|
such a cold gaze he reached to gather more of his cloak about him. The
|
|
cold air is increasingly bitter, he thought.
|
|
"Please, my lord," Ne'on mocked, "what is it you wish to tell
|
|
me?" Bartholemew felt no anger at his lord for this remark; he held no
|
|
respect for titles of other men unless they were deserved. This
|
|
thought warmed him, and gave him the strength to return Ne'on's stare.
|
|
"As I was about to say, I spoke with Marcus concerning this
|
|
'Marcellon' yesterday." Upon hearing this, Ne'on's gaze became more
|
|
attentive, his jaw a little less hard. Clay noticed the signs, and
|
|
continued. "Not only is he an accomplished wizard, but his mind has
|
|
powers no ordinary man can lay claim to. There's a word for it..."
|
|
Bart's eyes scanned the sky, as if searching for his answer in the
|
|
clouds above.
|
|
"Psychic," Ne'on stated. "That could be a problem." Once again,
|
|
his gaze fell onto the crystallizing river, the snow hanging over the
|
|
banks as if grasping hold for life, the occasional rabbit darting out
|
|
from a snow covered bush nearby. "Unless I blind him." Ne'on's spirits
|
|
rose, and Bartholemew was almost afraid to ask what he meant.
|
|
|
|
It is nothing new, he thought, merely a substitution for other,
|
|
simpler, forms of sacrifice. Ne'on repeated this thought to himself
|
|
continuously as he removed the rabbit from the small cage he had set
|
|
in his private study. Rather than waste additional spell components
|
|
which he could not spare - he was already using his only piece of
|
|
crysthalum, which was hard to find, and harder still to polish
|
|
correctly - he had to substitute the life energy of the small animal.
|
|
The light of the bronze chandelier was all that lit the room his
|
|
father had once filled with bows, swords, and trophies of the hunt. At
|
|
least his use of the animal was for more than the sheer joy of
|
|
killing.
|
|
The small, pink nose twitched nervously, the ears flicked back
|
|
and forth, as if the creature sensed its impending death. It struggled
|
|
for freedom as Ne'on unsheathed his silver dagger and lay it down
|
|
within the pentagram he had drawn on the floor. He felt himself cut
|
|
off from the rest of the world as he sat within its bounds, as if his
|
|
breath were being restrained, but he disregarded that as fancy,
|
|
imagination. Taking from his pocket the small blue stone, he
|
|
remembered how it had come from a larger slab he had found outside
|
|
Qord's hut in the Nar-Enthruen. He had had to cut that stone many
|
|
times, making sure the piece was shaped correctly, the edges not too
|
|
sharp, before he finally came up with this piece. Strong enough to
|
|
pass the magic, he thought, without shattering before the spell was
|
|
completed.
|
|
Opening the leather-bound tome he had acquired from the remainder
|
|
of Qord's possessions, he turned to the appropriate page and began
|
|
reciting a chant far older than the walls of Gateway; or any other
|
|
castle in Baranur, for that matter. The stone glowed with a thick
|
|
luminescence which expanded to form a small hemisphere, encircling the
|
|
outer points of the pentagram. The spell was cast. All that remained
|
|
was to expand it to the proper dimensions.
|
|
Retrieving his dagger, he held the rabbit directly above the
|
|
trans- mitter and slit its small throat, delicately and quickly. The
|
|
blood poured freely over the gem-stone, and over the floor below,
|
|
caking and drying almost instantly as the magic absorbed its energy.
|
|
The blue hemisphere expanded rapidly, fading in proportion to its
|
|
size, until it had completely surrounded the entire keep with a
|
|
near-invisible aura.
|
|
The Garthian Blind has been cast, and no spell or psychic probe
|
|
will pass through, he thought. Unfortunately, this includes my own
|
|
magic. Also unfortunate, he continued, looking down at the
|
|
chrysthalum, is the loss of the component. I shall have to acquire
|
|
another piece before I open the gate.
|
|
A stone above the door to the room glowed faintly for a moment,
|
|
until Ne'on acknowledged its signal. Stepping out of the pentagram, he
|
|
took a deep breath and opened the door to greet whoever was outside
|
|
the room. It was, he should have known, Captain Clay.
|
|
"What is it?" Ne'on asked of his Captain as he turned from the
|
|
door and walked backed to the table. He had some cleaning up to do,
|
|
and there was little, he thought, that required his complete
|
|
attention. He frowned lightly again when he saw the empty cage, and
|
|
avoided it in his cleaning.
|
|
"More men have arrived for service in the Black Arm, Lord
|
|
Keeper." Clay cast his gaze lightly about the room, settling on the
|
|
bloody rabbit. "Taking up fine cuisine?"
|
|
"Don't be glib, Clay; it doesn't become you." Returning his tome
|
|
to the table, he flipped through the pages as if searching for a
|
|
spell. "Do you have anything of worth to tell me, or do you just like
|
|
to play in my laboratory?"
|
|
"You mentioned something of a desire to have a ceremony held for
|
|
the new recruits..." Bartholemew looked at Ne'on, but received no
|
|
confirmation. "I have planned the occasion, and wish to confirm its
|
|
date."
|
|
"Where did they come from?" Ne'on closed the tome and reached for
|
|
the small decanter on the edge of the table. Lederian red wine is best
|
|
at room temperature. "How do you know they are trust worthy? Would you
|
|
like a glass," he offered, indicating the bottle.
|
|
"No, thank you." Bartholemew never drank wine, the head it left
|
|
him with was too slow to keep up with his normally fast paced line of
|
|
work. "And," he continued, "we don't know we can trust them. Not all
|
|
of them, in any case. I commissioned some acquaintances - five of them
|
|
- to find me eight men each. We have fifty new recruits."
|
|
Ne'on almost betrayed a sign of surprise, when he heard that.
|
|
"From whence, then, came the other ten?"
|
|
"It seems," Clay explained, "that the word is out. Your Black Arm
|
|
is the elite guard, in Gateway. We have ten men from the populace, the
|
|
oldest around forty five, and the youngest, seventeen. Our captains of
|
|
the guard are beginning to worry about their status."
|
|
"Tell them not to worry." Ne'on stroked his thin chin lightly
|
|
with his left hand, as his gaze seemed to settle on the mountains to
|
|
the east. "Let these be the last of the Black Arm. Let it further be
|
|
known that if someone wishes to be a member of the Arm, he must
|
|
challenge one of the existing members for their position." Ne'on
|
|
smiled, having always believed in the survival of the fittest. His
|
|
mental fitness, he thought, would allow him to survive for many
|
|
hundreds of years. "And make sure the present members of the Arm
|
|
receive the best training available. I want you to take a personal
|
|
interest in it."
|
|
"I hardly think that will be necessary," replied the captain.
|
|
"The guards here are all specialists with the bow. I don't think they
|
|
would know what to do with a good sword fighter, in close quarters."
|
|
"Unfortunately for you," Ne'on riposted, "I don't pay you to
|
|
think. Do as I say, and remember who put you where you are."
|
|
Bartholemew remembered. He remembered well. "Yes, my lord."
|
|
|
|
Flames burning, crisping, dying, red skull
|
|
rising, dripping, bloodied, blackened,
|
|
burned, hardened, hot, dark, blackness
|
|
engulfing... he's coming...
|
|
|
|
The crystal sphere glowed faintly, clouded, and revealed nothing.
|
|
Marcellon stared at the ball, dissapointed. Could he have drained
|
|
himself so completely, in this last week, his own powers were failing
|
|
him? He had been taxed to some extent, he knew, when the head of Count
|
|
Connall had arrived at court without the rest of his body; however, he
|
|
should still be able to use the ball uninhibited.
|
|
When the messenger had arrived from Gateway, two hours ago, he
|
|
was relieved to be informed of Ne'on's capture. As he was reading it,
|
|
however, the parchment seemed to burn in his hands, and he dropped it
|
|
to the floor, to the confusion of the messenger. When Marcellon had
|
|
looked at it again, it was whole. He dismissed it as stress, a fancy
|
|
of his over-worked mind. Finally, when the messenger had left, he
|
|
closed the door and saw the image of a white haired youth, rising out
|
|
of a pit of flaming lava, fire dripping down off a red colored skull.
|
|
He knew something was amiss in Gateway.
|
|
He tried once more, concentrating on the dry parchment to give
|
|
him a connection to the keep. Once more, the ball revealed nothing.
|
|
Then he noticed it: the ball was glowing, he was making the
|
|
connection. Fool! He was tired! Something was blocking his probe,
|
|
making him believe he couldn't establish contact. The illusion works
|
|
best that is not all illusion. Some type of blanking spell was cast on
|
|
Gateway - probably a Blind. He tried harder, concentrating, this time,
|
|
on the white haired head of the Winston child. The images came cloudy,
|
|
but they were there: Ne'on Winston sat on the seat of Gateway Keep.
|
|
But where was Goren? Ah, this image was sharper. Goren Winston lay in
|
|
a huddle, barely conscious, in a dungeon cell. The purple-black color
|
|
around his eyes and the swollen lips betrayed how the guards had
|
|
treated him. Obviously, this situation demanded outside help.
|
|
He let the images cloud, and fade. He frowned; with the war
|
|
coming, he couldn't go to Gateway on his own. Jordan had died in the
|
|
same camp as Qord, some months ago. His father was a mage of some
|
|
worth, if he remembered correctly. What was his name... Marek? Marek
|
|
would be hearing from the High Mage.
|
|
|
|
...reaching, opening, grasping, red liquid,
|
|
sweet, glass, round, smooth, cold, biting,
|
|
dropping, staring, pain, pang, hurt, hand
|
|
on chest, he stares, accusing, despairing,
|
|
questioning, shocked, alone...
|
|
|
|
Marcus looked over the grey mermilons to the Vodyanoy river below
|
|
the battlements. Where its brother, the Laraka, joined in its eastward
|
|
flow, was an outcropping of rock, a ledge which overlooked the joining
|
|
of the waters. On a rare day in Nober, one could see ice worms eating
|
|
through the frozen waters to feast on the dead moss against the rock.
|
|
The ice worms had plenty to feed on this year, he thought.
|
|
Watching the giant water bucket lower from the top of the
|
|
northern parapet to the cold waters, he looked about the outer
|
|
perimeter of the keep, worried about a possible fire. Fires are the
|
|
only reason they used the bucket, in times of peace, except to
|
|
practice the drill. He was relieved when he saw no clouds of black
|
|
smoke rising into the air. At least the Arm hadn't burned another cart
|
|
in the market place.
|
|
Since the Black Arm had been officially named the personal guard
|
|
of the Keeper, several months ago, their reputation had not improved.
|
|
In Nober, they had stopped paying for their drinks at the Riverside
|
|
Tavern, the more prestigious of the two taverns in Gateway. When
|
|
Marcus had brought this fact to light in Ne'on's presence, Ne'on
|
|
decided that his men needed some fringe benefits, and decreed that the
|
|
Arm would not have to pay for its drinks at the Tavern. This annoyed
|
|
Marcus to no end; there was already a feeling of apathy between the
|
|
regular guard and the Black Arm, and the tavern keeper was no lover of
|
|
Winston blood, that day.
|
|
One day, Marcus had all but seen one of its members burn down the
|
|
cart of one of Gateway's merchants. The merchant tried to press
|
|
charges, and Marcus was willing to give him his full support; but,
|
|
Ne'on said no proof meant no sentence, and the merchant was forced to
|
|
swallow his losses. That was one less merchant Gateway would see in
|
|
the winter months, when supplies were low enough already.
|
|
At last, Marcus seemed to find some respite. At the end of Deber,
|
|
the first month of the new year, Ne'on had sent some fifty of his men
|
|
to parts unknown. Ne'on claimed they were looking for a rock of some
|
|
sort, a spell component for some all important plan he had. Marcus
|
|
hoped Ne'on knew what he was doing. There was war in the air, Bichu or
|
|
no Bichu, and he knew those slanty eyed foreigners would sail right
|
|
down the Laraka, taking Magnus in one bloody day. With only nine
|
|
members of the Black Arm left in Gateway, aside from that shifty eyed
|
|
captain, Marcus thought he had little left to worry about, for the
|
|
time being. When the others return, he thought, Rise'er's feast will
|
|
begin anew.
|
|
Marcus' silent thoughts were slowly interrupted as he heard the
|
|
soft footfall of leather on stone. Looking up to his left, he spied a
|
|
small man dressed in chain mail which was too large for his size, and
|
|
a helmet which had to be pushed back so that the eyes behind it could
|
|
see. The sword at the man's side dragged lightly against the ground,
|
|
its length only slightly longer than the man's legs. Marcus wondered
|
|
why the man didn't carry a short sword, instead, when he heard the
|
|
cherubic voice of his son cry out from under the helmet, which had
|
|
fallen back over the boys eyes.
|
|
"Castellan Ridgewater, sir!" Thomas had been training for only
|
|
three months now, and already he had begun to wear the armor of
|
|
Gateway. Thomas stood as much at attention as he could, given the over
|
|
sized armor he was wearing, and the weight of the blade at his side.
|
|
He had originally been meant to start his training with a smaller
|
|
blade; however, he knew his father used a broad sword, and he was
|
|
determined to be his father's equal, as circumstances allowed.
|
|
"Report, soldier," the Castellan replied, resulting in a bright
|
|
smile from Thomas.
|
|
"Request permission to speak freely, sir!"
|
|
Marcus looked questioningly at his son. He thought he knew what
|
|
was coming next: the other boys training in the guard were planning to
|
|
spend a night in the forest to the south-west of Gateway, where they
|
|
hoped to do some winter trapping. "Permission granted, Thomas."
|
|
"I just came to tell you I'm dropping out of the regular training
|
|
stuff." Marcus looked with great astonishment at his son, standing in
|
|
front of him with his oversized attire. Then he noticed the Black Band
|
|
on Thomas' left arm. "I just spoke with Lord Keeper Winston, and he
|
|
says he needs to train young minds like myself for future pla...
|
|
placements in the Black Arm!" The boy's enthusiasm scared Marcus; he
|
|
had no idea what he was getting into.
|
|
|
|
The steel reinforced doors burst open on the main hall, as Marcus
|
|
strode through them with anger in his eyes. "Ne'on," he yelled at the
|
|
top of his voice, his face red and his eyes bulging. Keeper or no
|
|
Keeper, he had some explaining to do. No son of his was going to train
|
|
for the Black Arm, he would make sure of that. "Ne'on," he cried,
|
|
again.
|
|
"What is it, Castellan Ridgewater?" Ne'on's smooth, carrying
|
|
voice lilted through the room from behind a parchment he was reading.
|
|
Not removing his gaze from the letter, he continued, "And, please, for
|
|
the sake of formality, remember to address me in the proper tone, when
|
|
we are in the reception hall."
|
|
"To Rise'er with 'proper tone', Ne'on. What are you doing with my
|
|
son?" Marcus stormed up the room, stopping directly in front of the
|
|
Keeper. His fists were clenched in rage, and his sword ached to be
|
|
wielded.
|
|
"My lord Castellan," Ne'on began with a lackadaisical air, "you
|
|
seem very upset. As far as Thomas is concerned, he is being personally
|
|
trained by Captain Clay for private duty. I'm sure that, in a few
|
|
months, he will be a fine addition to the Arm. I thought I might start
|
|
up a youth program for keeping the urchins in line, what with the
|
|
upcoming war. I offered to put him in charge, as their sargent, once
|
|
he was properly trained."
|
|
"My son," Marcus trembled, "is no pup to be trained under that
|
|
dog, Clay. I do not want him in your children's group, and I will not
|
|
have him joining any part of your Black Arm."
|
|
Ne'on lowered the parchment he had been reading, and looked
|
|
directly at the man in front of him. "He will be very sad to hear you
|
|
are against his rising in the ranks, Castellan. However, I think you
|
|
will find him working with me, in any case. He seemed quite
|
|
exhilarated when I told him my plan." Marcus quickly grabbed the hilt
|
|
of his sword, and took a step towards his lord.
|
|
"Keep your distance, Castellan." The voice came from behind the
|
|
door Marcus had bashed open when he entered the room. Marcus turned
|
|
around, slowly, to see four men in silver chain and black tunics, all
|
|
wielding short swords and pointing them at him.
|
|
"Come now, gentlemen," Ne'on interposed. He rose from his seat
|
|
and walked towards the men, a half smile of pleasure on his face.
|
|
"There's no need for aggression. Marcus, my old friend," Ne'on placed
|
|
his left arm over the Castellan's shoulders, "perhaps you need a rest.
|
|
You've been through a lot, these past months, what with my father's
|
|
untimely demise at my brother's hands. You haven't had a vacation in
|
|
years, since your wife's unfortunate death during childbirth. Why
|
|
don't you travel? Go on a hunting trip? Take some time off to get
|
|
yourself together?" Ne'on started walking the man towards the door as
|
|
he spoke to him, and now they were at the entrance to the hall. "How
|
|
does that sound to you?"
|
|
Ne'on's voice was smooth, and soft, and penetrated Marcus' anger
|
|
easily. Marcus felt acquiescent as he listened to Ne'on's words.
|
|
"Perhaps you're right, Lord Keeper." A confused look came over him. "I
|
|
am tired. Very tired. Maybe I should take a small vacation." Ne'on
|
|
began to smile, and Marcus continued. "I'll think about it. I'm
|
|
terribly sorry for the mess I made..."
|
|
"Do not worry, Marcus, old friend. I shall take care of
|
|
everything." Ne'on gave a small pat on the Castellan's back, and
|
|
Ridgewater exited the room considerably quieter than he entered. After
|
|
Ne'on closed the door, he looked at his guards. "Starting tomorrow,
|
|
Castellan Ridgewater is to be followed where ever he goes. I want a
|
|
complete and detailed account of what he does, who he talks to, and
|
|
how he handles each and every situation. He is an old man; it would be
|
|
a terrible shame if he were to have an accident," he added to himself.
|
|
|
|
...hand grasping tight, taught, red, mad,
|
|
tunic tearing, digging, flesh torn by
|
|
fingers, dirty, brown, skin peeling, blood
|
|
slowly dripping, reaching, lifting, pain,
|
|
blood, death...
|
|
|
|
The stone hallway echoed the sound of hard leather boots scraping
|
|
against the floor. Marcus turned the corner and descended the spiral
|
|
stone staircase, dug from the rock on which Gateway was founded, and
|
|
muttered again that it was too small for a boy to climb through. Once
|
|
Marcus had seen to his present problems, he would make sure the
|
|
underground works of Gateway were properly renovated.
|
|
At the bottom of the stair was a strong wooden door, a foot
|
|
thick, which had no key holes, just large bars on either side, and a
|
|
small window to speak through. Marcus rapped loudly on the door, and a
|
|
dark face looked out from the other side. "Let me in, Kraig," he
|
|
growled, and lifted the bar on his side. He heard the grunt of the
|
|
small man behind the door, and pushed it open.
|
|
"Good evenin', Castell'n, what brings ya round this time o'
|
|
night?" Kraig's unshaven face, dark skin, and bleary eyes made him an
|
|
unpleasant sight in the flickering orange torch light, and his own
|
|
smell was almost comparable to the fetid aroma that filled the
|
|
chamber. Marcus decided not to stay here any longer than necessary.
|
|
"Ne'on's been changing every squirmin' thing else in Gateway, has
|
|
he changed anything down here?" Marcus knew there was no change, but
|
|
he wanted to make sure the other guards were still down here, as well.
|
|
"Aye, the Lord Keeper's been busy, of late. But, there's still
|
|
just the three o' us. Jess and Dalia are back in th' other room,
|
|
sleepin'."
|
|
"Wake them," Marcus commanded him, "and bring them here,
|
|
quickly." When Kraig had left the room, Marcus unlocked the door which
|
|
led to the pens, rows of cages only four feet high and four feet deep.
|
|
The scum of the river were held there, as far as Marcus was concerned.
|
|
Thieves, small-time pirates, murderers; they all found their way to
|
|
this area of the dungeon, if the Castellan was able to catch them. He
|
|
could think of a few men he'd like to see there, right now.
|
|
Dalia, a tall, red-haired woman with brown eyes, and Jess, a
|
|
dark- skinned man like his brother, Kraig, entered the room with the
|
|
guard. "Here they are, Castell'n. What d'ya need o' us?"
|
|
The three tired, run down, out of luck guards were at the bottom
|
|
of the river, as far as their ability was concerned, which is why
|
|
Ridgewater had assigned them this shift. Almost nothing could go wrong
|
|
down here, where light of day and fresh air were as uncommon as good
|
|
men. Marcus wasn't sure how he should handle his situation. The first
|
|
half of his mission had been easy. He always took a ride around the
|
|
perimeter of the keep before sunset, and dropping a packed bundle on
|
|
the ice under the dock by the northern ford was as easy as catching
|
|
rats in the kitchens. Now, however, he had to depend on the
|
|
reliability and discretion of guards who had no reason to love him,
|
|
and little reason not to betray him.
|
|
|
|
The snow crunched softly under his boots, the wind bit lightly on
|
|
his unshaven face. The cloak he had was warm, but when the sun had set
|
|
completely in the west, he knew he had better have shelter and a warm
|
|
fire. His body was in pain, his teeth bared, and his head on fire.
|
|
Sliding down the gentle slope of snow and ice, he dug into the snow
|
|
under the dock for the package Marcus had told him would be there. His
|
|
lips accuse you, his eyes betray you, his soul is burning in
|
|
Gil-Pazulirken.
|
|
His bare hands digging into the soft snow, the cold creeping up
|
|
his sleeves, he felt the harsh skin of a dead aelo wrapped with cord
|
|
made from a horses tail. The cold dampness on his knees felt warmer as
|
|
his skin numbed; he knew it was getting late. If he didn't find
|
|
shelter soon, something away from Gateway and his treacherous brother,
|
|
they wouldn't be finding him until the Mertz thaw. That's it, die; let
|
|
go. Join your father in the feast of Rise'er. He'll be glad to eat the
|
|
flesh from your bones, to revenge himself upon you, murderer.
|
|
Opening the bundle, he gazed at what the castellan had left for
|
|
him: a tinder box, a piece of curved glass, a chunk of salted meat,
|
|
some dried fruit, six arrows, and his father's bow. He picked up this
|
|
last item and tried to string it. How dare you? Kill your father and
|
|
take his own possessions? Better to destroy them, than keep them for
|
|
one such as you.
|
|
Try as he might, he was too weak to bend the bow; he needed food
|
|
and water, and rest. But where would he go? He knew the wind would
|
|
bite deep and harsh, as soon as he stepped out from beneath the dock.
|
|
How would he even manage a fire, and with what wood? Better you freeze
|
|
here, beneath the dock your father built with his own hands, like the
|
|
wolves on the other side of the river.
|
|
At that thought, he looked across the water, about seventy feet
|
|
at this spot, and saw the small pack of wolves huddling together where
|
|
the dock rested against the embankment. Marcus hadn't chosen this spot
|
|
randomly, he knew how the winds blew in Janis. Gathering the bundle
|
|
together, he pushed up to the top of the slope, still under the dock,
|
|
and dug away the snow, which was less deep, there. Removing the bow
|
|
and arrows from the skin, he snapped the arrows in half, and piled
|
|
them with some rotting wood from the underside of the dock. He would
|
|
have to wait until the fire was started before he could burn the bow.
|
|
Removing the tinderbox, he made the best use of the wood he possibly
|
|
could, until the light of dawn should wake him.
|
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
(C) Copyright April 1991, DargonZine, Editor Dafydd
|
|
<White@DUVM.BitNet>. All rights revert to the authors. These stories may
|
|
not be reproduced or redistributed (save in the case of reproducing the
|
|
whole 'zine for further distribution) without the express permission of
|
|
the author involved.
|
|
|