RED
VALOR
BOOK TWO
of the Tooth and Blade series
SHAD CALLISTER
Copyright © 2019 Shad Callister
All rights reserved.
This is the second book in the Tooth and Blade series. Book One, Tooth and Blade, followed the formation and early campaigns of the mercenary company known as the Tooth and Blade, and is available in ebook and paperback formats at Amazon.com.
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DEDICATION
~ For Arwen and Tamzin ~
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
These thirty-three supporters helped immeasurably in bringing this book to life, and are therefore duly accorded places of highest honor.
Adam Dillon
Alecia McNamar
Brendan
Brian D Lambert
Curtis Allan Brown
Curtis Deem
Doug Eckhoff
Dylan Korn
Eddie Taylor-Wallace
Fenric Cayne
Fostro Poposon, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities
Gerald P McDaniel
Holly Bowers
Jeff Shabel
Jennifer L. Pierce
Johnathon VandenHeuvel
John O'Hare
Jon Newlands
Joshua "Pokemancer" Kanapkey
Kenny Canter
Kim Korshavn Kjeldsen
Loretta Gase
LynnMarie Panzarino
Maarten Van Ginhoven
Matt Barron
Matt Sharpe
Michael Cook
Mikael "Mistshaper" Monnier
Revek
Robinson Fulcher
Rupert Fuller
Sven
Wardog of Montana
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1: A PACK OF RUNNING SHADOWS
CHAPTER 2: DANGER FOR HIRE
CHAPTER 3: REINFORCING THE RANKS
CHAPTER 4: SPIDER AND FLY
CHAPTER 5: AUSPICES OF THE GODS
CHAPTER 6: WELL OILED DEALINGS
CHAPTER 7: AT THE EDGE OF THE MAP
CHAPTER 8: THE WILDS AGAIN
CHAPTER 9: DEEP FOREST
CHAPTER 10: AGAINST THE SILVERPATH
CHAPTER 11: TO THE LUMBER CAMP
CHAPTER 12: PERIL IN THE TREES
CHAPTER 13: IN THE FORT
CHAPTER 14: PUZZLING DISCOVERIES
CHAPTER 15: HEART OF OSTORA
CHAPTER 16: AN ATTACK OUT OF THE NIGHT
CHAPTER 17: A DISTURBING FIND
CHAPTER 18: INTO THE PIT
CHAPTER 19: TO THE GREAT CLIFF
CHAPTER 20: ONWARD INTO THE TREES
CHAPTER 21: ON THE BACK OF THE BEAST
CHAPTER 22: A WAYWARD SMITH
CHAPTER 23: IN THE CITY OF THE QUEEN
CHAPTER 24: PREPARING FOR ANNIHILATION
CHAPTER 25: IN COMPANY OF THE QUEEN
CHAPTER 26: A TERRIFYING ALLY
CHAPTER 27: A QUEEN’S OFFER
CHAPTER 28: SUMMONER
CHAPTER 29: SILVERPATH UNLEASHED
CHAPTER 30: DEEPEST REACHES
CHAPTER 31: A TERRIBLE PRICE
CHAPTER 32: TO THE VALLEY
CHAPTER 33: BATTLE CRESCENDO
CHAPTER 34: RED TUSK
CHAPTER 35: BLOODY SCYTHE
CHAPTER 36: A DEAL STRUCK
CHAPTER 37: A GRIM ACCORD
CHAPTER 38: TAKING LEAVE
CHAPTER 39: ANOTHER SUN SETS
Appendix
Map by Jessica Khoury
(refer to the appendix in the back of this book for helpful references such as a list of characters and troop roster, pantheon of gods mentioned, and calendars of Kerathi and Ostoran months)
CHAPTER 1: A PACK OF RUNNING SHADOWS
For many days the Wolfsbane shaman and his remaining acolytes traversed the sheltering woodlands of Ostora. They left the open seashore far behind, with its infestation of Kerathi soldiers, and passed inland to the very foot of the great mountains.
Then they turned south, moving by night across the land inhabited by tribesmen and fierce creatures that were equally hostile to the little band. But these ragged outcasts had lived their entire lives in that domain, and they knew the paths that would carry them onward without bringing them into contact with dangers they were not yet prepared to face.
Loku would not allow death to bar their way, not before they had succeeded in bringing about their dark work. The Kerathi stain had to be erased from his land. And if the clans he hated most were destroyed in the process, it would only please him—and his dark gods—all the more.
Still, the shaven-headed shaman could not resist opportunities to sow the seeds of chaos along the way. A maiden’s throat slit here, a forest shrine defaced there, always with sign left pointing toward the rivals of whichever clan it was. Sooner than he hoped he saw the warfires’ smoke rising above the tree tops, and rubbed his hands in glee. The Silverpath, he knew, hardly needed provocation against the White River people, and the Demon Hill clan was always spoiling for a fight as the seasons turned again.
He knew it wouldn’t be enough to achieve his ends, though. For the apocalyptic bloodshed and madness he envisioned, the overwhelming darkness his demonic gods had shown him, he needed something far worse than simmering feuds and belligerent squabbles.
He needed the blood of a god.
And not just any river spirit or tree-bound numen. He was after the blood of the Red Mammoth, the one whose death would anger all who lived this side of the shifting frontier with Ostora’s invaders. The one who commanded allegiance from even the most feral of the forest’s denizens.
And so he moved southward, eating whatever he and his men could catch or steal, sleeping among the trees and relying on foul enchantments to keep predators at bay. He had learned many such things in the far north over the past years, things no ordinary shaman would dare to attempt. It took a toll, but it was necessary. Fell deeds could not be accomplished without paying painful costs, and Loku had never shied away from pain; he knew how it could fuel a man as effectively as love or power-lust over the short term.
With angry cries and screams ringing in his ears, he left the clans behind and pressed onward to the southern edge of the region, nearly to the mountainous spur known as the Welderons. And there, amid giant stone cliffs and powerful waterways, he found what he had been seeking. The realm of the beast-riders and their queen.
Loku knew somewhat of their origin and the schism that had forced them into the wilderness. He knew also that they lived in proximity to the great red god which both enabled their hold over the creatures they rode, and limited it. He knew that they would listen to what he had to offer.
But first he had to gain an audience with their queen, and that would not be easy.
Leisha, if she were still alive and in power, was unlikely to harbor any more love for the native people of Ostora than her Kerathi forebears were. And she was mad—unpredictable and nearly as eager for blood as Loku himself.
If he could find a way to use that black lust in her, they could be allies for a time. She would be far more effective an accomplice than the ill-fated bandit king he had sought to enlist, or the fool barons on the coast with their fruitless coastal battles.
So he entered the valley where the smoky fires of her rogue city-state signaled those who knew what to look for, and he came to the very gates of the mad queen’s forest citadel alone. His painted acolytes remained in the trees. There
were few enough of them left that he bid them stay and watch, ready to flee in case the people of Leitra sallied forth to attack without parley.
Loku faced wooden walls as high as any Kerathi fort he had seen, with armed men watching him carefully from ramparts above. The gate stood open, but it had cleared of foot traffic as he approached. His wild dress and the dark tattoos that swirled over his bare scalp and face made it plain to all onlookers that he was no citizen of this place.
A brown-haired man flanked by two burly warriors confronted him before he set foot past the threshold. The lead guardian flexed bare arms around a brace of curved swords he carried ready, and though none were mounted, one of the guardsmen held the lead of an enormous hound-like creature with fangs jutting from its mouth and a horn the length of a dagger protruding from its forehead.
“We have never yet suffered one of your kind to enter this city,” the guardian growled. Beside him, the beast controller yanked on his dagger-horn’s halter to keep it from straying closer to the shaman. “What errand have you here that would change our custom?”
“I am one man alone,” Loku hissed back in his best attempt at the Kerathi tongue. “I hold no danger to you.”
“One can spy for many. Tell us your intent, or begone.”
“I would speak with your queen.”
At that the guardian raised his eyebrows. “The queen? She is the last person here who would deign to treat with you, barbarian.”
Loku smiled, letting his filed canines show.
“I think she will when she learns what I have come to offer her.”
CHAPTER 2: DANGER FOR HIRE
“Sure, there’s word,” Brannon Caithrie said. “Just heard of a call for hired spears in the southwest.” The grizzled innkeeper put down his mug and eyed Damicos. “For men that can handle it.”
They were sitting around a table in the Tooth and Blade’s common room, four of them. Captains Pelekarr and Damicos sipped conservatively at new ale, while the Tooth and Blade Inn’s proprietor and Sergeant Hundos quaffed more generously. It was early evening. The windows were open and late sun beams came through the windows to set the far wall aglow. Smells of dinner were coming from the kitchen and the serving girls were getting ready for the evening rush.
Hundos, a swarthy fellow with piercing eyes and a chin like a brick, had been designated as the company finder, coordinating contracts and finding new work. It was a job that required him to talk to people, mingle, follow up rumors—and sit around tables drinking and gossiping. Hundos was good at it.
He now eyed Caithrie keenly over the rim of his beaten-copper mug. “I, too, have word of a job. It would seem that our triumph against the behemoths has gotten some attention.”
Caithrie nodded. “You lads are on the right track already. By my steering, as you’ll recall.”
“We owe you much, sir.” Damicos set down his mug with a satisfied thump. “Now let’s have it. Too much rest would have us grow fat and limp, to say nothing of broke.” He smiled wryly. “Not that I’d have any problem doing just that, were I granted unfettered access to your kitchen and tap, Master Caithrie.”
The owner of the Tooth and Blade grinned and patted his own stomach, which wasn’t fat but had certainly lost the hardness a soldier’s life once gave it. “It’s Haila’s cooking that would do it to you, Captain. The ale I give you spearmen is so watered down, you’ll lose fat by drinking it.”
Sergeant Hundos scowled into his mug as Damicos slammed a fist on the table in mock outrage. “Bring me some of your best at once, or I’ll set this place afire! You of all men should know better than to deceive a man of the spear!”
“I knew it,” Pelekarr murmured sadly. “I knew it all along. Foam never tasted right. By all the gods! Is there no honor… no integrity?”
The chuckles died down and Damicos nodded at Hundos. “Sergeant, you first. What work awaits the misbegotten crow-bait of the Tooth and Blade?”
Sergeant Hundos spread his hands on the table. “Right. There’s a request out of Bax Town. Seems the baron Bax, or his brother… or the two of them, I don’t know—anyway they own a lumber camp up the coast. It lies in a remote area inland and it hasn’t been heard from in three weeks. They sent somebody out there who never came back. Now they’re fearing the worst and want it looked into.”
Damicos let out a sigh. “I don’t care to imagine just now what ‘the worst’ might turn out to be. Not after what I’ve seen and fought against in the last week. If it’s as bad as the worms that devoured Baron Vocke’s town, or the thrice-accursed behemoths that laid the cavalry low…”
Brannon chuckled. “It’s sure to be something wondrous strange, and deadlier than a nightmare. That’s Ostora for you, bless her blood-drenched soul. But you don’t know until you go and see. And if a body of strong men with spears doesn’t go, who will? Besides,” the innkeeper added slyly, “old Bax is quite rich, they say.”
“That’s what I hear, too,” Hundos said. “And there’s more than one village along that stretch of the tree line that will be grateful enough for security once we square with Bax. Might pick up some extra coin on our way home.” The sergeant nodded toward Pelekarr. “Sounds like an excellent job for the horsemen, if you ask me, Captain. The country’s more open there, for once. Ride over quick-like, get to the bottom of it, charge down anything that bares its fangs at our men. I should mention, though, there are also rumors of the pale apes massing in the mountains.”
Brannon rubbed at his eyepatch. “They’re always massing somewhere. Aye, and the razorcrocs are migrating, the raff are restive, and it’s been a hellish year for the barley crop. These things happen every few summers. Doesn’t mean you need to hide for six months out of the year. You’ve got spears, go in there and show ‘em what good bronze can do!”
“Well, it sounds promising. Good work, Sergeant,” Damicos said. “And now, Master Caithrie, what of this job down south?”
Brannon studied his mug speculatively. “This one, well, it’s more complicated. But the payoff could be beyond anything you expect.”
“You interest me,” Pelekarr said. “Do go on.”
“I’ll tell you what I know, sirs, then you make up your own minds. There’s word of an expedition being put together to go into the interior—far into the interior, farther than anyone’s gone in many years. And they need fighting men to sign on, or the whole thing has got to be called off. So far none of the other companies want to go. It’s simply too long and risky of an endeavor, and they’d rather stick to the coast where all enemies wear boots and sandals.”
Damicos smiled. “I am more curious now than I was when, as a boy, I first saw Kathlusian dancers in Port Olan. Pray tell, sir, what is the object of this expedition that is so worth pursuing and yet so daunting?”
Brannon leaned forward. “Leisha.”
Damicos and Pelekarr stared. “Leisha? What is it?”
“It is a tale of old Ostora, of the time between the coming of the first settlers on these shores and the influx of Kerathi troops a decade ago, when our beloved sovereign decided he wanted more of everything and started sucking the colonies dry. In those days, settlements rose and fell with frightening rapidity, swallowed by the forest, torn in pieces and buried by the dangers of this land.
“Leisha was a minor noblewoman from Ylanta province, so they say. One of the first to see in the colonies a way to attain more than she ever could in Kerath. So she took ship, and arrived to find raw frontier down to the sand on the beaches. Just a few towns pushing back the forest then, and those few raided every season by the raff clans.
“They were unrelenting, those old coastal tribes. The Seasnake clan, and the Seahawk. The Turtle Bay people. The Booming Cliff, the Blackbone, the Saltwolf clans. There were nearly a hundred at one time. If they’d ever united you wouldn’t find a single port here, but you know the raff. They hate each other as much as they hate us, and it was their downfall. The early barons, the ones who lived, soon learned how to set one clan against
another, fool them into strategic missteps. Now they’re all just an old story, and the surviving clans moved deeper into the trees.”
The innkeeper’s words trailed off, and Damicos noted a deep sadness in the man’s eyes as he gazed down at the scarred wood of the tabletop in front of him. It occurred to the captain that Brannon Caithrie’s sympathies were not entirely Kerathi, despite the savagery of the barbarian wars he’d participated in during the aftermath of the early colonial period. Damicos wondered what other tales the man had been told by his Ostoran wife about the history of this land they each grappled with.
Hundos cleared his throat. “But the barbarians left a charred, bloody swath behind them. Many, many settlers died at their hands, the way I was told it.”
Brannon nodded. “They did. Anyhow, Leisha came here and went to work. She was different than most. Willing to take risks and make sacrifices the others weren’t. The gods were with her. She rose swiftly, inspired people, amassed power. She had title from the king to a set amount of land, but with her ambition and wit she soon had double what was granted, with more people flocking to her banner every year.
“After a time she had what amounted to a small queendom, perpetuated by a private army she paid with the lumber and ore wrested from the forests. Fought some of the raff to a standstill, made treaty with others. Poisoned a few enemies here and there. She was beautiful, she was cunning, and she was swiftly becoming the strongest power in Ostora. And then, she disappeared.”
Pelekarr twisted his mug back and forth on the table. “You tell a good tale, Master Caithrie. And I think you’re enjoying this one.”
“There’s a good tale in it,” the innkeeper replied. “Leisha reached too high, it seems. Made some enemies among the other nobles—they hated and feared her as she succeeded where they failed. She kept strange pets, fearsome creatures from the woods, inside the walls of her estate. And some said she was learning dark things from a raff shaman.”
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