Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2)

by N. A. Oberheide

  The man took a few short steps towards them. Now it was obvious he cradled a heavily sawed-off shotgun in his hands; the twin barrels had no glint in the shaft of sunlight with their heavy patina.

  “So…who’s the lil’ welp you almost just got killed?”

  “Did you not get my message?” She said with some frustration.

  “What message?” He grunted.

  Morra rubbed her forehead and sighed deeply.

  “Well this is Naurus.” She put an arm around his shoulder. “He’s on a mission with me. I suppose there’s no better time than now to tell you all about it.”

  The man was noticeably taller than her, who was already a head taller than her unlikely companion. The thickly bearded man took a long step towards Naurus and extended his large, calloused hand.

  “The name’s Dezlyn.” His introduction was accompanied by a wary gaze with his copper eyes and a metacarpal crunching grip with the ensuing handshake.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Naurus tried his hardest not to grimace from pain, but the loud popping from his hand couldn’t be hidden.

  Dezlyn smiled under his dense beard.

  “Well, seems we’ve some catching up to do. You walked here, huh?”

  “Yes…yes we did. And we ran out of rations earlier today. And also—"

  “How sad,” Dezlyn butted in, “You still can’t plan worth a shit, even now. Some things never change.”

  “And you’re still a cranky asshole. What’s new?” Morra shot back.

  “Hah! Still such a sassy little shit. Well you made me smile at least. Come, let’s have a seat where there is some light.”

  They followed him into another room. The loosely spaced rock walls let in a fair amount of natural light. In here they took a seat on what seemed to hand carved log chairs. Dezlyn adjusted his leather tunic and set his lupara down on a crudely fashioned log table.

  “So,” He started, “Tell me about this mission and what in the hell I have to do with it.”

  Morra stole a quick wink at Naurus, then turned to answer.

  “Before we get into all that, we’re rather hungry from the trek over. Care to share in your abundant hospitality?” She smiled with derision.

  “Well if that means getting your ass out of here faster then yeah sure I’ve got some scraps for you. Sit tight, I’ll see what the animals left for you.”

  Dezlyn stood up and walked back into the main room. Morra looked at Naurus with a stupid grin.

  “So…what do you think?” She asked bluntly.

  “He’s uh...nice I guess.” Naurus coughed out.

  Morra snickered. “That he is. Don’t worry, he’s always been an asshole. You’d be dead if he didn’t like you by now.”

  “That’s great to know. How the hell do you know a guy who lives out here like a hermit?”

  “We go back a long, long ways. In fact, he used to be a fleet commander back in the war.”

  “And he wound up out here?” Naurus scratched his head.

  “Yes, by choice. We are cut from the same cloth, if you hadn’t noticed. But he lost his taste for war and abandoned his post to live a life of peace out here as far as I remember.”

  “So what…he just abandoned his duties and oath to our King and bailed out just like that?”

  “Many people did back then. That’s yet another thing you would never know had I not just told you. The war was unwinnable. We Transcendents considered it a brother war. A war that shed the blood of everyone that made us who we are. The pogrom was unforgiveable, but a war waged over it was just too much to handle for many of us.”

  “And not you?” Naurus looked right at her.”

  “No, not for me. Maybe I’ll explain later. It’s a touchy subject, so don’t you dare bring it up around him. He’s coming.”

  Within a few seconds Dezlyn emerged back into the room holding a set of clay plates and couple of glass carboys in the other hand. He set the plates down in front of his two guests.

  “Got ya drinks and food. No more bellyachin’ now. I’ll be damned if this isn’t the first time I’ve fed some burglars who barged on in!”

  “Oh thanks, friend. I’m glad you put so much effort into cooking this gourmet spread. What’s your secret?” Morra grinned at their host, who wasn’t amused.

  “You are so full of shit, blow it out your ass. It sounds like you still want me to use your fat ass for target practice.” Dezlyn growled back.

  Morra shot back in a completely alien tongue, and her friend as it were returned the favor. Naurus had no idea what they were saying, but he quickly realized they were jawing back and forth in the Ascended Tongue. There was no point in trying to decipher their wild gesticulations either, so he decided to dig in. The sumptuous feast consisted of dark bread, cheese, and some chopped raw onions. Certainly beats tinned biscuits though… he thought as he dug in. He suddenly realized how thirsty he was and reached for the nearest carboy. He glanced around for some sort of cup but couldn’t see any. Manners dictated drinking straight from the bottle was never acceptable.

  “Uh…Morra, I just need—”

  “Drink it straight! Nobody cares about cups here!” She shot back before blasting Dezlyn with another tirade of angry sounding words from their tongue.

  He figured there was no point in trying to argue about it, so he took a swig straight from the bottle. He was immediately caught off guard by the burn of alcohol and a strong, piney flavor that carried a hint of oak and salt. He hardly managed to choke the gulp down before he started hacking up as if the wind was knocked out of him.

  “What’s wrong wit’chu, boy? Can’t handle a lil’ muscadine? What kind of sissy ass spy are you?”

  Naurus looked up at Dezlyn and realized everyone was silent.

  “It’s fine…ack! I must have gotten a seed in my throat!”

  Morra shook her head and rolled her eyes before going back to whatever she and Dezlyn were mouthing off about in their tongue. Naurus caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see some sort of large cat stroll into the room. It was much larger than a typical housecat and was extensively marked with solid black markings on a tawny coat. The spots, stripes, bars, and smudges of black were unlike anything he had ever seen before on a cat. The large cat gingerly paraded around the room, before locking its brown eyes on Naurus. It winked at him, then proceeded to sit down right next to his feet.

  Naurus ignored it for now, not sure of what exactly it even was or if it was friendly. He quickly finished his plate and gulped down more muscadine, which went down much smoother each subsequent time given the contradictory yet complimentary flavors.

  “Well, looks like you have a new friend, hm?” Morra suddenly looked over at him and smiled.

  “Yeah, I guess so. That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen.”

  “Well, he sure isn’t just a cat.” Dezlyn looked over. “That’s my ocelot, I call him Revolver.”

  “Revolver the Ocelot, huh?” Naurus asked to no one in particular.

  He now dared to reach down and give a quick scratch, to which Revolver responded by turning around, winking, and rubbing up against his legs. The scratches continued, and Naurus was caught off guard by a rumbling growl and quickly stopped the petting. Revolver looked at him in a rather peeved manner.

  “He didn’t say you could stop.” Dezlyn seemed to be speaking for the animal.

  Naurus continued with the petting and scratching, slowly realizing that the rumbling growl was basically how it purred.

  “Well aren’t you just a natural with the local wildlife?” Morra giggled.

  He didn’t answer, but instead yawned deeply, which Revolver also reciprocated. The sun had set, and moonlight was trickling into the room.

  “Well, I’m beat. I’ll go set up my roll on the floor somewhere I suppose.” He said to no one in particular, grabbing his pack as he got up.

  The pack decided that would be an opportune time to rip open from the small, jagged tears that peppered the bott
om. His extra boots, clothes, and canteen spilled out. Morra cracked up.

  “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, it’s not like your loadout is in any better shape.” Dezlyn said, leaning over and lighting an oil lamp.

  In the light, everyone could see he was right. Morra’s pack was similarly peppered with jagged rips and holes.

  “Yeah well,” Morra started, “That’s what happens when shit goes south. I wish you had gotten my message. Maybe you would have told me they patrol the shores and rivers with armored monitors now…and gee, it seems they’ve been really practicing their indirect fire lately!”

  “How the fuck would I know? I don’t go fartin’ around on sneaky missions with morons like you two. By the way, you got something in your hair.”

  Naurus could also see something glinting in the rat’s nest on her head that used to be a high and tight bun. She plucked it out, examining the long, thin piece of metal.

  “Well, that’s mine now!” She proclaimed, using the piece of shrapnel to pin her hair back in place once she fixed it up.

  “Its been a good talk, but I must be going. Pitch up your bedrolls wherever you like.” Dezlyn said abruptly, before getting up and sauntering off.

  Within a few seconds, the sound of the door shutting behind him was the last thing they heard.

  “What was all that about?” Naurus asked, confused at the sudden departure.

  “I almost forgot about that.” Morra started. “You see he’s a werepyr, but long story short it’s a curse that makes him transform into something beastly at night if the moon is just right. Seems to be much more likely to happen when the moon is nice and bright as it is tonight.”

  “So…what does that mean for us?”

  “Nothing really. He’s just going to run around the woods, turning the local woodland critters inside out and getting his blood fix. You might hear some weird noises, but don’t worry that’s just him running around out there!” She said nonchalantly, grabbing her pack and heading back into the main room.

  He followed, and soon they had their beds set up and managed to find a nice pile of straw for an extra luxurious touch to the accommodations. He was just settled in, when he heard a terrible growling and howling seeming to echo throughout the woods. It was unlike any other animals he had ever heard before.

  “Morra?”

  “Yes that’s him, don’t worry about it just get some sleep.”

  “Oh…but wait a minute. Why did he call me a spy earlier?”

  Morra rolled over and looked at him.

  “What do you think we were talking about in there?”

  “Uh, well…how would I know? I don’t speak your language.”

  She laughed. “Of course you don’t! We were talking about our mission. A little espionage here, a little sabotage there, perhaps starting a fifth column…I mean what else would you call us?”

  Naurus mulled it over. “Yeah I guess. I just never considered myself much of a rogue or a spy.”

  “It’s better that you don’t. Remember, we’re just here doing a little sight seeing and visiting friends officially. If you let you tongue slip and get caught out, our existence will be officially denied.”

  “I know. My eyes are so heavy. Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  He could hear a smile in her voice. He could also hear the terrible noises of a woods under siege by a horrible sounding creature. He was just too tired to care anymore.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  He quietly cursed to himself, realized the fog that was rolling in was going to make finding his old friend that much more difficult. He walked in circles, scanning faces as best he could but coming up short every time. The realization was dawning on him that maybe, just maybe his friend wasn’t as reliable as he used to be. As he walked by a bench for what felt like the fifth time, a man seated there grabbed his wrist. Reflexively, the pulled his trusty toothpick out with his other hand and stuck the tip under the man’s chin. A familiar face looked up at him, dimly lit by the firepit nearby.

  “Is that how you greet yer ol’ friends now?” Gully smiled faintly.

  “Well, I should ask you the same thing for grabbing me like some mugger. When did you get here?” Trevin asked, sheathing his blade.

  “Not long ago. I was ‘fraid you’d got cold feet, but only you would pace around so nervously in a place like this.”

  Trevin sat down on the bench and looked around. Indeed, the Fisherman’s Wharf was not a place most people looked nervous in. Various people stood around, fishing in the dusk with some getting far luckier than others. Trawlers and catboats were pulling in for the night, most looking much more empty handed than usual.

  “So,” Gully broke the silence, “What’s the meanin’ of all this anyway? Surely ya wouldn’t waste money on some magick trick just to invite me to catch up. We all know yer too much of a cheap bastard fer that.”

  Trevin chuckled. “Right you are, but I wish now was a time for more jesting than that. You see, my son is over in Ostragan right now. And guess who he’s with?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Morra.”

  Gully choked on his beer as he swigged away.

  “What, are they datin’ now? That’s just cute…”

  “Yeah right.” Trevin scoffed. “That would be quite the unholy union. No it’s even better than that. Between Recht and our wonderfully good for nothing ruler, he was supposedly volunteered for a mission over there. My son was lax to share any details, but I have my ways. Lucky for me, he left a rough sketch of his planned route there lying about one day. Looks like they were planning to shoot up the Kominzee on some sort of intelligence gathering effort.”

  “With Morra? Oh gods…talk about driving a square peg through a round hole.” Gully shook his head.

  “You can say that again. I can only hope he made it there in one piece. But I can’t stand the thought of him being stuck over there with that clueless loose cannon of a bitch. Therefore, I propose we ride again, one last time for old times’ sake. Just me and you.”

  “Fer what? To go kick her ass an’ force your son to commit insubordination, sedition, and what the fuck else?”

  “Not quite. I think I can convince him this was a mistake. He was so excited and wouldn’t shut up about all the propaganda and promotion potential and other bullshit they were shoving down his throat. I know my son, and I’m willing to bet how far he realizes he’s in for it now.” Trevin said.

  Gully chewed it over, looking out onto the waters pensively.

  “Well…I gotta hand it to you. You are still full o’ piss and vinegar after all these years. Problem is, yer an old fart now. How th’ hell are you plannin’ to pull all this off? Gonna grow yer hair back, Rooster?”

  Trevin laughed as nobody had called him that in a very long while. His wild, fiery red hair that adorned his head in a time long ago earned him that apt nickname.

  “Well you’re still an asshole all the same. I can’t reverse balding, but what I can try to reverse is the suicide mission my son is on. So what say you, Gull?”

  A long silence punctuated the night. They didn’t so much as look at each other. Trevin waited patiently, but his patience ran out. Without a word, he stood up and turned to walk away.

  “We need a boat.”

  Trevin turned around with a massive grin on his face.

  “You’re right. Where’s yours?”

  “Yeah lemme pull that right out of my ass.” Gully sneered. “But I’d say we can probably convince one of these losers out here to…rent us their vessel.”

  They shared a laugh, then scanned the wharf in unison. Like a switch flipping, they worked in a near unison for a target of opportunity. They both found it and looked at each other with a smile. At the end of the wharf moored in a dark corner was a ketch-rigged smack. They walked briskly over and saw that the boat was empty. They undid the moorings and hopped on, trying to make off as quickly as possible. In the middle of their preparations, they heard the door to the bert
h creak open. Out walked a man, who had no chance of making so much as a peep before Gully wrapped up his arms and had a hand around his mouth. Trevin sprung onto the man with his trusty toothpick in hand, looking deeply into his bewildered eyes.

  “Listen here, buddy. There hopefully won’t be a misunderstanding. Now my friend is going to let go of you, but if you try to scream or make any sudden movements, this blade is going straight down your throat before I pull it out your ass! Clear as mud?”

  The man nodded as best he could, and Trevin signaled to let him go. The man took some deep breaths and collected himself.

  “You…You gents almost gave me a heart attack! I’m too old to fight off you youngins. Please don’t hurt me…please just take whatever you want. I only have a little coin but take it all.” The man said with a shaky and elderly voice.

  “Now see, there already is a misunderstanding. We don’t want your coin. We don’t want to hurt you. We just need your boat. We need to get to Ostragan.”

  “You can’t just take my boat! This is my livelihood. Please…anything but my boat. I have some gold in the bank and—”

  “Stop! I already told you old timer, we don’t need your money. We need to get there. We can’t take your boat? Fine, how about you simply drop us off there? I need to see my son, he is stuck over there and I’m afraid for him. I hope you understand.” Trevin said reassuringly.

  “Uh, well…I er…guess so.” The elderly man stammered. “But I’m too old to sail this driftwood by myself. My crew isn’t here to help me and—”

  “Well don’t worry, we can handle ourselves.”

  “I see. Hmm…were you trying to go now?”

  “Yes!” The two youngins said in unison.

  “I’m too old and tired to be doing this all day and night. Do what you will, I’m going back to bed. If you wreck this boat…well I pray my specter haunts you for the rest of your years!” The old man went back down to the berth and slammed the door behind him.

  They looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and got back to making ready. Soon enough they had set sail and were making their way through the foggy bay, only the lamps on their boat lit any way around them as they ponderously made their way out.