by Brian Murray
Conn drained his tankard. “I will have another, hopefully it will refresh me.” (he had to have a meeting).
Rayth pumped another tankard. “How is that one, constable?”
“Better.”
“As that is more to your liking, it’ll be on the house.” Rayth slammed his hand on the table. (meeting in the tavern one hour after closing).
Conn drained half the tankard and left the tavern. (thanks, message understood).
***
Rayth spent the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about the meeting. It was the first time Zorain had asked for a meeting, and this worried the former soldier. He arranged for a note to reach Emyra, advising her of the meeting and that he would see her at dawn the following day. He closed up his tavern promptly and sent his daughter upstairs to read, saying that he would clean the place himself. An hour after closing, there was a discreet knock on the kitchen door. Rayth went to the door.
“Who is it?” he hissed.
“It’s me, Conn, and our guest.”
Rayth opened the door and let the two men in. He peered into the darkness and saw nothing, so he closed the door and escorted the men through the kitchen into his bar.
***
A man dressed in black had followed the two men, staying in the shadows outside the tavern. He would report back to the temple as soon as the two men left the tavern and he followed them back.
Crack! The stalker received a blow to the back of his head and slumped to the ground. Dank, a basher for his friend Rayth, smiled as he looked at the fallen body. Now he would have to arrange for the man to be arrested. After receiving his instructions, he had waited by the tavern to see if the City Watchmen were followed. Silently, he hauled the man up and carried him over his shoulder. His smile broadened as he thought of a way of getting the man arrested. He swiftly put his plan into action.
***
“Can I offer you gentlemen a drink?” asked Rayth, as the men entered the common room.
“That would be very kind,” answered Zorain.
Rayth poured two goblets of liquor for them and a hot tisane for himself. The men sipped their drinks in uncomfortable silence.
“Yes?” asked Rayth.
“Rayth, I come to you with a warning, and a request for information.”
“Why would you be warning a mere innkeeper? And where would I be getting information from?”
“Rayth, let’s stop playing games here,” said Zorain, leaning forward on the table. “It’s late. I’m tired and I have not seen my family yet today. My head is throbbing and my patience is wearing thin.”
Rayth’s features hardened. “Go on.”
“The City Watch intend to raid the docks tomorrow night.”
“And what concern is that of mine?”
“Rayth!” snapped Zorain. The captain took a deep, calming breath. “I’m in no mood to dance around, please can we have a serious conversation. I know you are involved with the Mistress and her Nightband; in fact, you are her right-hand man.”
Rayth smiled, “Go on, Zorain.”
“Two of my constables were killed a few nights ago.”
“If I were involved with the Mistress, I am sure she would have nothing to do with that business.”
“I know, Rayth, that is not her style. Crack some heads perhaps, even those of my constables, but she has never condoned killing.”
“At least that point is cleared up.”
“Good, now I don’t want any of your people in the docks tomorrow night. I want to ensure I catch the people involved with the crime.”
“As I understand it, no one can enter the docks safely.”
“Well, someone can if they can kill my constables.”
“Good point,” replied Rayth, sipping his tisane.
“Is there any information you can give me?”
Rayth looked at Conn and frowned. “Captain Zorain, I’m not a rat.” The innkeeper paused. “However, I have been told the Mistress is having problems in the docks. She cannot get shipments in or out safely. I have been told she doesn’t know who it is but someone powerful is going out of their way to stop people going to the docks at night. Initially, she thought it was you, but with the deaths of some of your informants and your own men, she ruled that out. I’ve seen a lot of new faces in and around the docks recently that are not from Teldor, and they look like professionals. I have been a soldier and I know what a soldier looks like; they have a certain look in their eyes. I’m sure hired soldiers have been stationed around our docks.”
Zorain thought for a while. “Are you sure they’re soldiers?”
“I would bet my tavern on it.”
“That puts a whole different slant on things.”
“Aye, I thought it would.”
“Thank you Rayth, I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Zorain rose and instinctively stuck out his hand.
Rayth stared at it and after a brief moment, they shook. After the two men left he sat in the kitchen for some time, thinking over the conversation, and decided he needed to speak to the Mistress.
***
The two officers returned to their office. “Any problems?” Zorain asked the duty constable.
“Not really, only a drunk. Can you believe it? He was actually singing outside our office, at the top of his voice, before he passed out.”
“Where is he?”
“In cell one.”
Zorain went to the first cell and looked in through the spy-hole. He saw a man, dressed in black, lying face down on the grubby cot. Looking at the man’s head, he noticed a lump on his skull and smiled; this was a gift he believed Rayth had delivered.
***
There was a knock on the backdoor of the Flying Vessel and Rayth opened it, knowing who his visitor would be.
“They were followed, but I took care of it,” said Dank, beaming proudly.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“Any time, I quite enjoyed it. For the first time in an age I felt like a basher again.”
“Well, you get yourself home safely and pass the word. No one is to be in the docks tomorrow night. No one,” repeated Rayth.
“No problem,” replied Dank. Without further question, he disappeared into the darkness. Rayth closed the heavy wooden door and quietly walked upstairs to bed. He would be up early in the morning to visit the Mistress.
***
The following morning at dawn, Rayth knocked on the back door of Emyra’s home. He was silently ushered in and led into a library. He sat down and waited for Emyra to arrive, absently studying the bound books and scrolls in the ceiling-high shelving.
“Can you not arrange meetings at a more civilised time of day, my friend?”
Startled, Rayth stood up, almost falling over his chair. “Emyra, you should not be creeping up on an old man like that.”
Emyra walked into the room, only a house-robe covering her nakedness.
“I’m sorry for the early hour, but I needed to speak to you.”
“Well, make it quick. I need to get some more beauty sleep.”
A maid walked in carrying a tray with two cups, honey, and a pot of coffee. She put the tray on the table and left the room, closing the door as she went.
“Coffee?”
Emyra poured two cups of coffee and sweetened them both with honey. Passing one over to Rayth she asked, “How was your meeting?”
“Very interesting. There will be a raid on the docks tonight and Zorain, no less, has warned us to keep our people away. He also confirmed that we are not suspects for the murder of his two constables.”
“That’s decent of the man,” said Emyra sarcastically.
“Aye, I thought so. However, he doesn’t have any idea who is behind the problems in the docks.”
Emyra sipped her coffee in thought. “At least he doesn’t think it is us,” she muttered. “We can only wait and see what happens tonight, but I have a bad feeling about this. This problem is just the beginning of som
ething, something much bigger . . . sinister.”
“I have the same feeling.”
“Shall we meet tomorrow?”
“If I have news, I will send word.”
“Thank you.” Emyra rose and as she did so, her robe opened, exposing one of her bare breasts. Rayth smiled. “For a lady you should dress with a bit more care.”
Emyra looked down and smiled. Rayth stood up and stepped forward. He reached out and cupped Emyra’s full breast in his hand.
Her voice became low and husky. “It has been a long time, my friend.”
“Aye, too long,” said Rayth, thumbing the woman’s nipple. He sighed, pulled his hand away, and closed Emyra’s robe.
“Another time my lady, my daughter sleeps alone in my tavern and I fret for her safety in these troubled times.”
Emyra smiled. “Yes, another time.”
Rayth promptly left Emyra and returned to his tavern, cursing under his breath all the way.
***
The day passed slowly for Zorain and Conn as they prepared their men for the night’s raid.
That evening, every able and available constable swarmed into the docks. They found only a few drunks; no one of any importance. By lantern-light, the constables checked every shop and storeroom. After going through the entire area and finding nothing, Zorain gave up the search.
Returning to his offices, he sat down wearily in his chair and sighed, gently rubbing the slowly healing lump on the side of his head.
Conn entered the room and sat down heavily in the chair opposite.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” said Zorain.
“Someone must have tipped them off,” commented Conn.
Zorain leaned forward in his chair. “Do you think it was Rayth?”
Conn’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, Rayth would have kept his own people out, and he cares nothing for the others. It wasn’t him.”
“So who warned them?”
“I would think it was internal.”
“Someone among our own men?” replied Zorain surprised.
“Yes Zor, one of ours.”
Zorain sat for a while, pondering the thought. “Whose storeroom was I outside last the other night?”
“I believe it was the Temple of the Path.”
“Now that place seems to be coming up in conversation a bit too often for my liking.”
“Aye.”
“Did I tell you I recognised the man in the main hall putting out the candles?”
“No, who was he?” asked Conn taking a sip of drink.
“Krondo, the baker.”
“What?!” asked Conn, spitting out his drink in surprise.
“Aye, the man was Krondo, the baker. Good men have been brainwashed into joining that temple.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Conn, wiping up the mess on his tunic.
“I don’t know.”
A knock on Zorain’s door annoyed the captain.
“Come in!” he barked.
To Zorain’s surprise, a Royal Lancer entered the room. The man saluted, “Captain Zorain?”
“Yes.”
“You’re wanted at the palace at once.”
“Can it not wait until the morning?” Zorain asked wearily.
“Sir, I was told if you were not here to wake you at home. The queen herself has asked for you.”
Zorain rose from his chair and reached for his coat. “We’d better be off then. Conn, I’ll be back shortly.”
“Aye.”
Zorain stepped out of his office and saw that the Lancer had brought a spare horse for him. He mounted and the two men rode off to the palace. On arrival, the Lancer marched Zorain straight to the king’s chambers. The soldier knocked and waited for a response. When he heard the command, he opened the door and stepped to one side, allowing Zorain to enter.
In the room with the queen were the Captain of the Royal Lancers, Baron Chelmsnor, and a man wearing a Royal Lancer uniform.
“Captain Zorain, it is good to see you,” said the queen with a tight smile.
“The pleasure is mine, your Highness,” replied Zorain, bowing towards the Queen. She was sitting at her husband’s desk, wearing a long, deep blue dress and a simple circlet on her head.
“I wish it was under better circumstances. To introduce you all – this is Captain Russ of the Royal Lancers, and this is Baron Chelmsnor of the Duchy of Evlon. Gentlemen, this is Captain Zorain of the City Watch.” The three men shook hands.
The Queen continued, “We have been informed that there is a large force moving down the western coast towards Teldor.”
“Large force, ma’am?” asked Zorain, frowning.
“An army,” interjected the Royal Lancer Captain.
“An army! And they are coming here?”
“We believe so.”
Zorain sat down, his mind reeling. Then, aware that he had not been asked to sit, he started to rise, looking at the queen apologetically.
She gave a discreet nod for him to remain seated.
“What are your commands?” asked Russ.
“That is why you are here, Captain. The baron and I agree we must close the outer gates and order a curfew. Additionally, we must call up our army reserves in the city. We must defend the city until my husband returns with our army.”
“When does the king return?” asked Zorain.
The queen stared at the City Watch captain for a long moment, but she did not have to answer. Her silence was enough.
“Do we know if it is the Kharnacks?” asked Zorain.
“From our reports it does not appear so. It seems to be mercenaries marching under a black banner, calling themselves the Horde.”
***
General Carash had received his instructions from Malice on the day the Darklord marched towards Evlon.
“You are to wait here for another month, at which time you will receive orders to march.”
“Where do I march to, Lord Malice?”
“You are to march to Teldor.”
“The Rhaurien capital? You want me to sack the capital?”
“No. Once there, you will wait outside the city gates and block the city, letting no one enter, nor leave.”
“As you command,” said the general, bowing, and smiling broadly.
***
General Carash received a psychic order to march exactly one month after receiving his instructions from Malice. The Horde marched west along the Great Mountains, remaining out of scouting range of the Kingdom outposts. Once on the western coast, the general decided stealth was no longer required. Carash had not been given any orders to follow on the way to Teldor, and so the general’s Horde created mayhem, cutting a swathe of slaughter as they went, and pillaging the western coast of the Kingdom. Each town and village they rode through was sacked, women raped, men killed, and children gathered to be shipped to the northern slave markets. In a bloody frenzy they sacked Westport, the second largest port in the Kingdom. There Carash loaded merchant ships captured in dock with his booty, instructing his men to sail north to Rafftonia and await his return. He had decided he might as well be a rich man at the end of the conflict, regardless of the outcome.
Now after a long bloody march, his men were camped two miles away from the Kingdom’s capital, less than an hour’s ride from the walls of Teldor.
***
Zorain sat in the king’s chambers, astonished by the news he had just received. The queen asked Russ, Captain of the Royal Lancers, to pour the Captain of the City Watch a drink. Zorain accepted the drink and downed the fiery liquid in one gulp. Regaining his composure, Zorain spoke.
“Yes, we should close the city gates immediately and rally the army reserves.”
“How many men do you think there are in the reserves?” asked the baron.
“I’m not too sure, but every able man should flock to the defence of our city.”
“I have only one hundred Royal Lancers and that’s not enough men by a long shot,” a
dded Captain Russ.
“Aye, I will start to gather more men when I leave the palace.”
“Zorain,” started the queen, “we must hold the city until my husband returns.”
Zorain looked the queen in the eyes. “Your Highness, I’m not sure we can hold the outer walls with the men at hand. We will be relying on reserves and most of these men are retired soldiers. Aye, most are seasoned warriors, but . . . but many have not held a weapon of war in years,” he finished softly.
“I know that, Captain, but the defence of our city is now in their hands.”
***
As the queen, Baron Chelmsnor, Captain Russ, and Zorain discussed the position of the city in the king’s chambers, two ships sailed silently into Teldor docks. The Grey Sunset and the Floating Lancer docked in the harbour and men in black cloaks tied the ships to the moorings. Five hundred men silently disembarked from the Floating Lancer, leading their horses, and lined up on the cobbled streets. From the Grey Sunset three warriors disembarked, together with an old man who shuffled down the gangplank. Behind the three warriors walked their shield men, whose silvering hair caught the slight sea breeze.
When all were on land, Malice issued his orders. One hundred Dark Brethren would march to the outer wall and secure the gates, then let in the Horde. The rest of the Dark Brethren would march with the three warriors and the Darklord to the palace. Once there the Royal Lancers would be taken care of, and the queen held for the Darklord.
After the orders were issued, Malice allowed himself a wry smile inside his helm. Their plan had worked out perfectly. They had left Fury behind at Kal-Pharina to assassinate the Rhaurien King, while the Dark Brethren escorted the Darklord to the port of Calcaloin. At Calcaloin, the Dark Brethren had taken control of the relatively unguarded Floating Lancer and Grey Sunset. Once his task was completed, Fury killed two horses through exhaustion dashing south to reach the Grey Sunset before it set sail. Loading the Floating Lancer with five hundred Dark Brethren, they set sail for Teldor. The remaining Dark Brethren marched along the southern coast, to arrive at Teldor in about three weeks.
***
It was all getting too much for the queen . . . She rose from the desk, and crossed the room to the window to gaze over the sea, watching the silvery moonlight shimmer off the water. Looking down at the docks, she called Captain Russ over.
