by Giancarlo G.
***
A pair of thick double doors opened as Raynard walked up to them. The house in front of him looked like any other ordinary building, with blue tiled roof and stucco walls. Yet he knew that the innocent look of the house was a facade, after all, it was the home of a successful merchant, and merchants by their very nature are a paranoid lot. In all probability, the entire house was a well-dressed mini-fortress. It would not surprise him to find out that the complex extended into the adjacent buildings.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold, and was barely inside when the doors slammed shut. A cold spell crept up his spine. The servant that awaited him was a lanky fellow that resembled a withered stork. He was not old, but somehow looked old. Flanking the old stork two large men stood motionless, eyes on Raynard. Taking Raynard's coat the old stork smiled and nodded at the two men who proceeded to do a rough pat down on him. One of the men pulled out of Raynard's belt a big knife. Over fifteen inches long, the knife was intimidating as well as elegant. The handle was of a tan wood, with a shiny steel butt cap. The hand guard was made of steel, fluted and extending down the length of the handle to protect the knuckles. The blade was clip point, and sharpened to a razor sharp edge. A beautiful grain pattern, the result of the combination of different types of steel folded and welded many times before being dipped in acid, highlighted the skills of the knife maker.
The brute held the knife with an evil smile as his companion stepped forward, murder in his eyes, towards Raynard.
“Hold!” the old stork commanded and the bulky guard stopped “Hand me that knife”
The brute looked at the knife before handing it, reluctantly, to the stork. Raynard held his breath as the stork studied the knife, running a finger over the base of the blade. Etched at the base was a symbol composed of a lightning bolt divided by sinuous lines, the mark of a master knife maker.
“A Korl knife” the old stork said as the two brutes whistled in disbelief.
Raynard nodded.
“He is clear” the stork said to the brutes who stalked away grumbling, upset at missing a chance to bash Raynard's skull in.
“I apologize for the rough treatment; they are hired for the size of their muscles, not their brains. As for the knife, it will be up to the master to return it to you”
Raynard nodded “I understand”
“Follow me” the stork said and Raynard followed, silent.
The old stork led Raynard down a long and slightly narrow hallway lined with paintings along wood paneled walls. The majority of the paintings depicted pastoral scenes or mellow panoramas. Just as the two men reached the end of the hall, one painting caught Raynard's eye. The scene consisted of a man wielding a raised sword amidst a field of burnt trees, charred ruins, and corpses. The sword’s tip glowed bright, tongues of flame dancing up the blade’s shiny steel. Raynard recognized the scene and the man in it. Called Fanthor, the man was the first human to rebel against the Enduen and the Central Government. Fanthor’s adventures were many, and he fought the Enduen for years with great success. His downfall came after a betrayal by family and friends who revealed the location of his secret camp. The Enduen Army moved in, killing every man in his band, ending Fanthor’s insurrection, but not ending the man's life for he was away at the time. When Fanthor returned and discovered the gruesome scene, he promised his life and soul to any that would grant him the strength and power to avenge his pride.
One night as he slept under the stars, one of the Great Four Terrors appeared to him in a dream, promising vengeance and immortality. Fanthor quickly pledged his life and soul to the Terrors and thus became an agent of evil. The Terrors demanded proof of his loyalty and dedication, so Fanthor gathered to him all those of evil heart, and moved against his place of birth, a large town where his family and friends lived in peace. The town was destroyed, and all those that lived in it where put to the sword. Fanthor personally murdered his family and anyone that carried a drop of his blood. As reward, his body and spirit fused into one, depriving him of sleep and death. Fanthor became a specter of evil, a living nightmare, the first Farman.
Raynard swallowed hard, in part because he did not believe in such nonsense, but also because part of him still remembered the first time he heard this story as a child.
“Ah, the price of power and vengeance” a squeaky voice said next to his ear.
Raynard's heart leaped, and counting silently to ten he casually turned around to face the owner of the voice. A step behind him was an uninspiring man with large ears, a potbelly that protruded from a green and purple sash, a joke of a nose, and big wide watery eyes.
“A terrible price” Raynard said cautiously.
The ugly man seemed to blink in surprise as his sickly red eyes studied Raynard. The eyes spent a good minute scanning Raynard's clothing before turning back towards the picture.
“Indeed it is terrible, but a price that seems to fit the man that sought it out. In fact that is the name of this work: Price of Power and Vengeance; by Dalus”
Dalus was one of the world's greatest, meaning that this work was not a mere copy but an original. An original masterpiece that in the open market was worth the price of a small village, maybe two in the black market, and it was from the black market where this work came from. Law mandates all great artwork to be in public museums, forbidding private ownership. The ugly man, possibly sensing Raynard's thoughts, chuckled.
“I went through great pains and risks to acquire this piece, but it is worth it, at least as a reminder of how far a man can fall if he is not careful of what dangers lay before him”
Raynard nodded, then added “Or below him”
The ugly man chuckled again and extended his hand “I am Sulfil Palvat, please follow me to my office”
Raynard shook hands with Sulfil and followed him to a small office heavy with cherry wood paneling. A desk made from the same wood stood close to the door and right behind the desk was the ugliest chair he had ever seen. The thing looked like a stuffed cow with wood legs. As Sulfil took a seat, the snapping noise of leather against wood sounded as if some sort of hideous beast was about to spring from inside. Sulfil seemed not to notice from the fresh and relaxed face he had.
“You may leave us Gerdid” Sulfil commanded at the servant who was still standing outside the door.
“His knife, sir” Gerdid said, ignoring the order and stepping forward to hand Sulfil the knife.
“Ah yes, thank you Gerdid, now leave us”
Gerdid bowed and closed the door and as it did Raynard noticed an evil look on the servant’s face. Raynard lightly wondered if there were any issues between master and servant.
With the door shut, Sulfil handed the knife back to Raynard “The help these days, so unreliable”
Raynard thought he noticed a faint trace of a smile flash across Sulfil's face.
“I would not know much about that Master Palvat; my life has been a humble one if not poor”
Sulfil's thin eyebrow twitched “With a Korl knife on the belt? Hardly the brand of a poor man”
Raynard looked at his knife and smiled, hiding the fact he had noticed the eyebrow twitch.
“A knife maker’s apprentice makes little, even one who is learning from one of the best. My fee is knowledge and experience”
“Knowledge and experience” Sulfil said and as he did so, he licked his lips “Two priceless commodities”
Raynard nodded absently as a feeling of impeding trouble took him. He had very few innate gifts, of those few, reading a face was his best. Sulfil's eyes betrayed him, for they had the nervous look of a man with something terrible hiding behind his back. Swallowing Raynard decided to move cautiously, revealing as little as he could, at least until he made sure Sulfil Palvat was still on the honest side of the coin. The problem was that if the man had mischief on his mind then Raynard had just walked into the monster's lair willingly.
Suddenly Sulfil took a sheet of paper from his desk and his face became stone.
&nbs
p; “I received this letter three days ago, from a fellow competitor in Dagakar, it says your name is Jilil Monesta and you are in need of my services”
Raynard took a deep breath before speaking.
“That is correct Master Palvat”
“Curious” Sulfil said rubbing his chin “What sort of service could a mere knife maker apprentice require from a Gora merchant?”
“I do not need the services of a merchant” Raynard said, allowing a brief pause before continuing, “I need the services of a fellow Keeper of the Balance”
Sulfil kept his face as stone but Raynard was able to detect the surprise hidden under that layer of stone. The man was good at hiding his emotions, but not that good.
“A Keeper of the Balance” Sulfil whispered “Mighty dangerous words, especially here where there is a reward for the whereabouts of any member of the Order”
Raynard felt a cold shill creep up his spine. The Keepers of the Balance, a religious sect that believed in the Universal Balance between Good and Evil, was a subject avoided by many, especially those that claimed membership in the Order. A few years ago, the Central government placed a ban on many religious groups thinking they were the breeding grounds for dissident movements. The Keepers like many other groups went underground in order to preserve their beliefs. As a result, a large reward exists for any information that leads to the arrest of a member of the Order.
“I have heard of such a reward”
Sulfil chuckled “My dear Master Monesta, fear not, I am as you say a fellow Keeper of the Balance and can provide such services. Rest assured your secret, or shall I say our secret, is safe”
Raynard sighed, “For a moment there I thought otherwise”
“I had to make sure you are not an agent of Enforcement. Your attitude and the way you turned pale convinced me” Sulfil said.
Both men laughed, the tension evaporating away from the room.
“So” Sulfil said as he wiped tears away from his perennially watery eyes “tell me more, the letter provides no details”
“I am looking for two of our members that have disappeared”
“Two you say?”
“Yes, they were last reported to be here under your protection” Raynard answered.
“As a facilitator for the Order, Master Monesta I do provide shelter and protection for those who come seeking it. I am sorry to say that at this time there are no fellow Keepers under my protection” Sulfil said innocently.
Raynard looked at Sulfil's watery eyes, feeling the burden of his quest weighing down on his shoulders, a quest to find his mother and brother. Like Sulfil, Raynard’s mother was a Keeper of the Balance. Her role within the Order was a mystery of sorts, and all Raynard knew is that it had to do with ancient knowledge and legends. One day, a stranger arrived at their doorstep. What this stranger and his mother spoke about, he does not know, but before the day was over, she announced she had to leave on an important errand. She never returned. Raynard’s brother, Dainard, set out to look for her, also disappearing in the process. That left Raynard the impossible task of tracking his family down. At first things were difficult, for he was not a member of the Order. Luckily, his mother had cultivated great friendships amongst the Order’s leading members and this fact, coupled with his persistence, opened the doors of help. Everywhere he went members of the Order reached and helped, providing assistance, shelter, and money. After a long year he finally met a contact that not only confirmed that his mother and brother’s trail ended with Sulfil but also warned Raynard about the growing suspicion that Sulfil might be working against the Order.
“Can you at least confirm their stay here?” Raynard asked, his mind unable to come up with a devious way to catch Sulfil in a lie without the man noticing.
“There have been so many people in the last few months, tell me more about them” Sulfil answered, a twitch on his lower lip marring the otherwise perfectly sincere smile.
Raynard nodded “One of them is a short woman with golden hair touched with wild streaks of white. Her name is Lera”
Sulfil stroked his chin.
“And the man?” he asked.
Raynard swallowed again, but this time in surprise. How could Sulfil know the other person was a man when Raynard never mentioned it? Sulfil’s face darkened for a second, realizing the slip.
“His name is Pilo” Raynard said casually, masking the fact he had noticed Sulfil’s slip while making up a false name for his brother.
“Hmm yes, Pilo and Lera, I remember them. They stayed here for a month before they departed” Sulfil said.
“Any idea where they were headed?” Raynard asked, a fresh surge of excitement clouding his cautiousness.
“No. Where they dear to you?” Sulfil asked in a cold tone.
Before Raynard could answer a series of knocks on the door, three quick taps followed by two, prompted Sulfil to raise a hand. Standing up Sulfil walked towards the door and knocked on it twice. Three taps followed by three more answered back and Sulfil walked back towards the desk. He remained standing, eyes pointed at Raynard.
“Where they dear?” Sulfil asked again, his voice hard as steel.
Raynard wondered what those knocks meant before answering “Oh no, not dear, but they are fellow Keepers and as such we must help whenever we can”
“Of course” Sulfil said a faint smile on his lips.
“I heard about them on a meeting, so I volunteered to help in the search”
“How noble” Sulfil said, the smile growing larger.
“Oh, not noble, it is just my duty”
“I see. Well Master Monesta this is one interesting conversation but I must put an end to it. You visit my home, sit before my desk, and lie; something a businessperson of my stature sees, and perhaps needs, on a daily basis. As interesting and highly creative as this tale is, it is still a lie and I am afraid your time is up.” he said calmly pushing the head of a repulsive miniature bust on the desk.
Uh oh! Raynard thought.
The tiny bust’s head popped up and Sulfil removed it to reveal a small bell, a malevolent smile on his lips.
“I have no clue what you are talking about. My name is Jilil Monesta and I am...”
Sulfil raised a hand, his face pure anger “Your name is Raynard. Do you think I am stupid enough to allow any man close to me without checking their background? I know everything about you, including the details about your quest for you dear mother and brother”
“Then if you know so much, tell me where they are!”
Sulfil laughed, “Your brother was a hothead that could not keep a straight face when he sat on that chair. You on the other hand gave an excellent performance. Such talent and how unfortunate it must go to waste”
Sulfil tapped the bell and replaced the head back on the figurine. “There are those who would pay great amounts for one Keeper of the Balance, and with you I have three under my name. My masters will be extremely happy and generous”
Raynard opened his mouth just as the door crashed in. Gerdid stumbled in, tripping over the remnants of the broken door, followed by a man. Tall and built like a rock, the man was wearing a gray shirt with black trousers and brown boots. On his right hand, he held a thick, hollow, metal tube with a wooden handle bolted to it. His index finger rested on a metal lever attached to the handle. The object was a Launcher, a weapon so uncommon that Raynard regarded them to be a fantastic fabrication made up by travelers and merchants. Suddenly Raynard's eyes jumped from the Launcher to the man's face, a dry nondescript face, emotionless, and so common anyone could forget in a few seconds.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sulfil demanded.
The man looked at Sulfil and pointed the launcher at him. Gerdid stood motionless, hands clasped together in fists as if praying. In contrast, his eyes were cold and calculating, the eyes of a predator ready to attack.
“Whatever they are paying, I will triple it. I am a man of my word. Here look I have one of them” Sulfil said pointin
g a trembling finger at Raynard “He is ready for you! Take him along with any sums you want, please!” Sulfil said, falling on his chair, hands and lips trembling.
“You cannot serve two masters faithfully”
Sulfil closed his eyes as the man squeezed the lever on the handle. A loud blast followed by smoke issued from the open end of the tube. Sulfil jerked as his chest jumped violently. Blood poured out of a smoking wound, and Sulfil had enough time to look at the wound, the man, and lastly at Raynard before slumping on the chair, dead.
“It is done” the killer said lowering the Launcher.
Suddenly Gerdid buried his elbow on the killer’s chest making him loose the grip on the Launcher. Without wasting a second, Gerdid darted out of the door and disappeared down the hall. The killer laughed before picking up the Launcher.
“His time will come” he said before turning to face Raynard “Not running away?”
Raynard stood frozen.
“No? Then allow me to give you some good advice, stay away from me. Do not follow, do not be a hero. If you do” the man stroked the Launcher's barrel, lovingly “Get the message?”
Raynard nodded nervously.
“Good, count to ten before you leave. That fool will surely sound the alarm and you do not want to be here when the guards arrive. Do you?”
Raynard shook his head.
The killer laughed and left the room, leaving Raynard alone with a dead man. Suddenly a loud bell rang and voices could be heard from somewhere inside the house. Gerdid had wasted no time in raising the alarm. Time was running out on Raynard.
Sulfil's office was small but not cramped. Narrow shelves lined the wall opposite the desk and contained a collection of plaques and awards, all of which bore the same year in their dedications. The glass window behind the desk was thick, the type designed to absorb impacts from heavy weapons. The only way out was the door. Taking a deep breath, he started towards the door and as he looked out the window, his blood froze. Three squads of heavily armed men ran towards the office. There was no way he could make it out the long hallway in time to avoid them. Suddenly one of the squads broke away from the group and stopped in front of the window. Raynard quickly took cover under the desk hitting a blue switch placed next to a drawer as he did so. A panel opened and inside was a gold plated crank. Taking the crank Raynard looked around, thanking his luck as he did so, and saw a conspicuous hole on one of the cherry wall panels. Moving quickly he inserted the stubby end of the crank into the hole and turned it clockwise, just as someone shouted outside. After a couple of turns, the wall panel opened, swinging out like a door with no handle, to reveal a cramped tunnel, dimly illuminated by filtered light from above.
Raynard heard the guards moving up the corridor, alerted by the ones outside the window, and in a few seconds, they would be on top of him. Wasting no time, he entered the secret corridor pulling the door shut behind him. As the door closed it locked in place, and a heartbeat later, he heard the sounds of footsteps and shouts from Sulfil’s security personnel. Tossing the crank Raynard followed the tunnel, hoping that it was the way out.
