Warrior's Call (Dreamtide Book 2)

by Azalea Moone

  Fithel shot him a glare. “There’s no time for pleasantries. If we find him, we should seek out the emperor right away to make sure he is well. Remember our primary mission from the queen. Then it’s straight back to Anscien.”

  “Suppose you’re right,” Kohaku huffed.

  They rode through the city, Kohaku taking in all the wonderful sights—of windmills and busy taverns. Pirates, or so he thought, wandered from business to business, buying wares for their next travels.

  Further into the city, the houses sprawled out for what seemed miles. The roads not as well-kept, and the city folk, not so well-dressed. It didn’t matter; he figured the city of Jinchun was large enough to house several kinds of folk.

  He glanced around again, noting how crammed together the houses were. Wet, stained clothes dripped on the ground as they hung from lines. The streets dirty; the people forlorn. Had they found themselves in a destitute side of the village? “Do you think the emperor knows anything about the suir?”

  Fithel narrowed his brow, concentrating on something up ahead when he answered, “I don’t believe so.” He reined his horse to a stop. “It’s strangely quiet all of a sudden, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Much more than when we first arrived.” Kohaku had noticed it, too. “Perhaps this is the poor side of the village. But haven’t you been here before?”

  “Long ago. I can hardly remember a thing. However, I’ve visited many port towns in the past and none are this tranquil, so deep in the city. There should be drunkards, whores, merchants, taverns aplenty. What the hell is going on?”

  Kohaku could only imagine how a town like this should be. He’d dreamed of coming here for years, and now that he finally had a chance, it wasn’t anything like he could imagine—though he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  What may have been a busy part of town at one time was now deserted. Doors and windows were boarded up. Signs written in an unfamiliar language and taped to the wood fluttered in the breeze.

  “Could it be...” He sniffed into the air, overwhelmed by the moist salty sea air, but there was something else, too. “The suir?”

  Fithel’s jaw clenched. “We should retrace our steps back to the road. Ask someone if they’re familiar with the man in the painted mask.”

  “That’s not a very good ide—” Just then, Fithel left his side, trotting up to a structure with a sign over the door. When Kohaku approached, he read simply, “Tavern”.

  Fithel hopped off his horse and disappeared inside.

  “This is no time for a drink!” Kohaku followed his lead.

  But inside the tavern was quiet and strangely peaceful. Two workers tended bar, absentmindedly scrubbing at the spotless countertop repeatedly.

  “Excuse me,” Fithel asked one of them.

  The man wearily lifted his head, eyes foggy as if he were blind. If there was once color in the man’s cheeks, it was all but gone now. He continued to scrub the bartop, his arm sweeping back and forth as he stared at them. Like a listless creature...

  Kohaku froze near the door—he didn’t recognize the symptoms from their investigations at Raifut. But could it be that this man had been infected by the suir for much longer than the people in Anscien? “Fithel,” he whispered. “I don’t think—”

  “Shh.” Fithel tipped his head in acknowledgment, then returned his attention to the bartender. “Where is it? Where is he, the one you get your suir from?”

  The man stopped his cleaning to narrow his brows a moment, then lowered his head and continued his scrubbing.

  “Answer me.” Fithel pressed his palms onto the counter. “Show me where it is.”

  The man lifted his head once more, pointing a sinewy finger out the door. The dry cloth waving in the breeze. “You’ll find... him near the... road.”

  Fithel leaned in. “Near the road, you say?”

  The man nodded.

  “Which road?”

  A croak in the man’s throat followed. “He’ll wait for you. Brothel.”

  “In the brothel?” Fithel repeated with an ire of disbelief in his voice.

  The man nodded again.

  After a silent moment, Fithel turned back to Kohaku and raised his arms. “Well, they’re all under the suir’s spell, that’s for sure. Strange how the mage order hasn’t found out about this yet, but so be it. We’ll go to the brothel.”

  “Qeoca is under the protection of the mages, shouldn’t this be their priority?” Kohaku asked as they walked back outside into the bright sun.

  “It should, yes. But no one is here investigating, so I assume someone is hard at work trying to hide this calamity from the mages. Plus, it seems that business is running as usual near the port.”

  “Then we should visit the docks.”

  “No,” Fithel began walking his horse away from the sea. “I’d rather not elude the mages to Anscien’s troubles. We’ll find this brothel the bartender spoke of and see what’s there.”

  “What if it is a trap?” Kohaku asked with a quiver. “Whoever is behind this knows we were coming—”

  “Exactly!” Fithel smiled. “Now you’re thinking like a true soldier. Always expect the unexpected.”

  Rounding the corner back toward the highway, they scanned across the dwellings and hutch-roofed residences until they reached a particular area they hadn’t seen when entering the city. It was awfully quiet here, too, the only passersby two women with totes full of fresh fruits.

  Horses were tied at a fence connecting a large three-story complex facing the major road. How could they have missed this most obvious place?

  Kohaku eyed one horse—the common dark-haired mare was a prized horse in Anscien... Sawyer made sure to employ the best caretakers for her. “He’s here.”

  Fithel must have noticed it, too, as he stopped to look over the edifice. “You’re right.”

  A small staircase led up to the veranda surrounded in a meticulously wooden-carved rail. The entire outside had seemed well kept and repainted some days ago. Strange how this side of Jinchun wasn’t so taken care of; this place could indeed be the emperor’s palace if it didn’t have the familiar scent of booze hanging in the surrounding air. And of something else: memorable, earthy, and deadly.

  “This must be the brothel.” Fithel approached.

  “Then, we should hurry!” Kohaku hopped off his horse right away. He gripped the talisman around his neck, readying himself to call upon Malrith then and there.

  “Stop.” Fithel held out his palm before Kohaku could stomp up the stairs. “We should investigate before starting an all-out war. Besides, it’s best to wait until the rest of the troops arrive.”

  “Nonsense. He’s in there, Fithel, and I will save him.” Kohaku couldn’t help the rage from boiling up through his face. How could Fithel act so calm and cool now when they were on the right track?

  Kohaku planned it all out in his head—while he was inside rescuing Sawyer, he’d find the man who stole him and make sure it’d never happen again. “I’ll cut the bastard down...” he whispered a promise to himself.

  Fithel remained all too composed. “Very well. You go inside but do as they say. You’re only to scope out the place, nothing more.”

  “And let Sawyer suffer—”

  “We don’t know if it’s true. Perhaps he’s no longer the Sawyer we know!” Fithel’s voice rose with anger. “Investigate his whereabouts and return outside with a report. Do I make myself clear, summoner?”

  Kohaku fisted his hands beside him. “Yes. Sir.” The last syllable coming with a certain doubt. Why should he follow Fithel’s orders? He wasn’t his commander. No, he’d rather obey Sawyer’s every wish, but in such dire situations, he hadn’t time nor energy to refuse Fithel’s commands.

  He handed Fithel the reins to his horse, then stomped toward the staircase. That earthen scent—the strong, overwhelming suir hanging on in the air—would almost choke him here. Gripping the talisman, Kohaku called upon Malrith not for his armored protection but for his strength to
get him through.

  It became all too quiet once Kohaku disappeared through the door of the brothel. Fithel remained poised on his horse, all ready for the summoner to return with his report. He noted the brewing of storm clouds coming in from the south, hoping it was only a squall of storms from the sea and not a late autumn typhoon. At least the air was still calm here; his hair and chain mail still dry.

  Still, he’d a sinking within his stomach—he shouldn’t have let Kohaku go alone. But the summoner was too eager to retrieve his lover. Best to let him do it himself, although they’d no clue who or what could be waiting for them.

  He let out a fretful breath.

  Though he’d only been to Jinchun once as a youngster, he never imagined such a port city so tranquil. There was definitely something at hand here. And inside the brothel. What kind of trouble did he just send Kohaku into?

  He restlessly tightened his grip on the reins, deciding on the situation. Although he didn’t care much for the man, if Kohaku didn’t come back soon, he’d have to go inside after him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Perfect Warrior

  Kohaku froze as the door shut behind him. The stench in the air stronger than he imagined, burning at the back of his throat. He squinted through the haze, trying to take in the dreary view of the brothel ahead of him. There was also something else burning, like sweet incense, producing a strange tingle that swept through his legs. Though he was strong against the effects of the suir while in his armor, without the dragon’s scales, he wasn’t sure if he could handle this visit.

  The brothel’s walls were bare, the redwood walls darkened the place even more. Just as he debated whether to step back outside for a breath of fresh air, he heard a rustling to his right.

  “Oh, hello,” a youthful woman called from a short pedestal. “Sir.”

  She wore a typical blue kimono to hide her short, petite form. Her long blonde hair messily dangled to one side, proving she wasn’t native to Jinchun. But she was more conscious than most everyone he’d seen in the city.

  “H-hello.”

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I’m looking for someone, ma’am.” He bowed to her. “Perhaps you’ve seen him.”

  “Oh,” she perked up suddenly. “I believe I have.” She stepped away from the podium, her face void of emotion, and waved him toward a chest of drawers set near the far wall. “Please, if you don’t mind, no outsider’s clothes are allowed inside our rooms.” She pulled open a drawer, revealing a nicely folded set of cloth. “If you change, I’ll take you to him.”

  “But I haven’t even told you his nam—”

  “It’s no trouble, sir.” She tugged the cloth from the bottom of the drawer. “Please, wear this. Our master prefers all visitors dressed in customary Qeoca wear.”

  Kohaku took in the gorgeously decorated kimono. It’d been months since he’d worn one, not that he never wanted to but that he’d decided to don a commoners clothing of Anscien, instead. Still, he missed the silky-soft fabric and how it hung so loosely and comfortably on his body; not as tight as these ridiculous hides and leathers he’d been wearing for days on this investigation.

  Then he realized. “Your master?”

  “Yes, sir. The master is fussy when it comes to his properties.” She handed him the kimono, then led him inside a curtained room made for dressing. “Your armor will be safe in here during your visit.”

  He held the kimono up to his body, noting the length and size—a bit too big. She’d stepped out, giving him privacy to debate this entire thing through. To be without his leathers for a moment would certainly be different, yet he’d need that extra protection if this investigation turned into a brawl. He’d keep the talisman so he’d at least have Malrith to protect him.

  Slowly, he undressed, taking time to lay out his items upon the bench provided. Then, he slipped the soft cloth around himself and tied it properly with the obi around his waist. It’d been too long since the cool air nipped at his ankles like this. Too long since the supple drape of silk around his body had comforted him.

  But then his heart wouldn’t stop hammering when he thought of what was to come. To investigate a brothel wearing this? He couldn’t ease his heavy breath, nor relax his tense shoulders. And the nervousness in his stomach warned him not to get too comfortable. If only he’d possessed a couple of daggers like Sawyer had hidden in his boots. Would this master be offended if he took his sword?

  He opened the door and bowed to the woman. “I am ready, ma’am.”

  “Yes, very lovely on you. Come.” She flashed a smile before turning toward another closed door.

  Once she opened it, the entire brothel came into view, unlike any he’d known in Anscien. Too quiet. For all the taverns and whorehouses or any other place of obscenity he’d at least walked by, they were always loud with the din of call girls or drunkards or brawls between men. This one was absolutely too serene to be even thought of as a brothel in its own right, and he bet that had to do with the proprietor she called master.

  She was silent as she walked him up the stairs onto the second floor. The crude scent of suir now heavier in the air than of the booze. Kohaku’s eyes watered and he rubbed them, trying not to let it affect him as greatly as he’d feared it could. He choked in a breath, wishing it was fresh instead of stuffy.

  Once on the second floor, she stopped at the first door near the staircase. “Please be calm when you go inside, sir. The master likes his peace.”

  Kohaku nodded, and she creaked open the door to peek inside. “I have a visitor for you, dear master. Shall I let him in?”

  There was a croak of a voice, too low for Kohaku to understand, but she turned away and gestured for him to enter. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The room was drab except for a single pale candle flickering in the center. Shadows of furniture and a single human figure danced on the walls through the hazy suir smoke.

  It was difficult to see much in the cloudy room, even more so when the haze and smoke burned the back of his nose making him cry. “E-excuse me, sir. I mean not to intrude.”

  “But you do,” the man’s voice was muffled, though Kohaku couldn’t tell why. “Come closer.”

  Though the smoke so heavy he’d rather leave and search the rest of the brothel, he took another step inside.

  “Yes, I have waited for you.” The man remained still near the candle. “Such beauty indeed.”

  Kohaku stopped. “I-I don’t think—”

  “A summoner’s strength outnumbers any worthy knight I’ve ever seen, yes?” The man shifted. “Please, step forward to the wall.”

  A shiver coursed through Kohaku’s body. He wasn’t sure why he was obeying this man’s every wish, but he did as instructed. Closer into the light, he could finally make out some of the man’s features: wrinkled face spoke his age and a head of dusty brown hair with silver streaks.

  A wisp of earthy smoke wafted past his nostrils; the drug in the air immediately making him woozy. He stopped once he reached the wall in front of the man. “I’ve come to...” Kohaku froze, a momentary pause in consciousness as the suir played with his thoughts.

  “I know why you’ve come.” The man stood. “A gorgeous creature such as yourself made to draw blood at a moment’s notice. No. Such a life is not your wish.” He stepped forward, curls of smoke rising out from the pipe in his mouth.“ The beautiful things in this world, a well-kept garden, and fed animals. Water aplenty and happiness all around. War brings out the worst in men, does it not?”

  “S-sir?” Kohaku couldn’t quell the quiver in his knees.

  The man stopped just an arm’s length away. “My suir, oh how it feeds the malicious minds. Shall you wonder how it happens?”

  “Y-your drug causes rage—”

  “It does for those who haven’t grown accustomed to its effects. There are no battles upon the streets of Jinchun, no hostilities between inebriated men. Give it time and those further north shall profit, too.”

/>   Kohaku fisted his hands at his sides. Damn it, he’d never been so affected by the drug before, so why was he growing so dizzy, now? “Y-you’re creating a—”

  “A world where war will be a distant memory.”

  “Your own pawns!”

  The man tipped his head. “Summoner, you and your queen have a very creative imagination. Shall you listen to my words, you shall understand my true intentions.”

  Listen to his words? Kohaku didn’t have to listen to know what this man’s plans really were. To trap this many people within the effects of this strange drug meant he could control an entire country to his desires.

  A haze of smoke wafted past him again—he shook away the faintness.

  “You have quite the knowledge, but do you know the true effects of suir?”

  Kohaku glanced up at him. The man’s figure still hadn’t moved, yet now there were many of them stretched out along a line to the distant wall. A figure of his imagination—he blinked to ward it away.

  “Yes, there could be rage among men. Yes, there is a wooziness. But something else which only involves a few. I believe you are one of those.” The man took a step closer, and Kohaku leaned against the wall, unable to quell this sudden desire emerging through his body.

  “G-get away!” He thought he’d yelled it but didn’t hear the words reverberate across his own ears. Instead, he turned on heel, meeting the wall. Unable to hold his eyes open any longer, he set his cheek on the cool wood.

  Hands grasped along his side; the man eased ever so closer. “Have you figured it out, yet? The cause of your pain, summoner. The reason for the heat surging through your loins.” Kohaku swallowed—son of a bitch! He couldn’t move as the man stood flesh to flesh with him now, heavy and hot breath wafting past his hair. “My suir does wonderful things to one’s body.”

  Fithel fidgeted with the reins in his hands, wondering just how long it’d been since he let Kohaku go inside to investigate. It was getting just about time to retrieve him—he shivered to the cool breeze of the autumn storm against the exposed skin on his hands and neck. These armors only kept out so much; rain wouldn’t penetrate, but freezing winds could.