The siphon screamed in rage and pain, staggering back a step to look down on the warder with a look of hatred. He winced as he turned and raised a hand to cast a sign, but his face suddenly went slack and he collapsed across Dech’s legs.
The warder raised the stool leg to strike again, but saw the bloodstained four-sided point of a quarrel from Tucker’s crossbow protruding from the side of the mage’s head.
Dech fell back to the floor as the heavy table was pushed aside by Section-Leader Tucker who closed with splintered shield and sword in hand.
“It’s over, Tuck,” Dech grunted. “A fine shot. See to the victims and then our brothers.”
“That I will,” the big redhead said in a ragged voice as he lifted the dead siphon from Dech. “You’ll live?”
“It seems so.”
Tucker dropped the body and his ruined shield near the table. “I told you, old friend, this was going to be one hairy dance with a boar and I was right. If you hadn’t managed to turn him, well, it might not have been pretty.”
Dech managed a smile. “You dance with a boar, you get the tusks. As I said, a fine shot.”
Nearby, George sat up, pulling his helm off and dropping it on the floor with a hollow clunk. Pressing on his bloodied nose he groaned and said, “You did it, Warder.”
“We did it,” Dech said.
“You did your part as well. It took us all, lad,” Tucker said slapping the young knight on the back as he walked past, his left arm dripping blood. “It often does.”
. . .
Dech leaned against a wagon brought in to take the battered contrition knights back to the order house. Draped over the side of the wagon were his padded gambeson, mail hauberk, and surcoat.
“Not a single bone broken, but your ribs and the rest of you will be sore for days,” Priest Ferid said to Dech as he finished prodding at the warder’s body. “Considering how many things your body struck, that’s nigh on a miracle. You’ll be red, yellow, black, and blue tomorrow and feel like you’ve been cast into one of the Infernal planes. Best thing for you will be some rest.”
Sir Tucker approached from the siphon’s dwelling with a grim expression, fingering the bandage wrapped around his wounded arm. “We’ve got the bill, Dech.”
“Bad?” Dech asked.
“Four of the six victims live. The other two were sucked dry by that siphon. We were too slow to save them all. If we’d moved faster… maybe—”
“It would have made no difference,” Aril said as he joined the group. “They were beyond recovery and you could not have saved them no matter how swift the action. The two who passed were his first victims. They were drawn upon for quite some time and have sores on the undersides of their bodies to prove it. The siphon used them to learn how to draw from people. We would have needed to do this days ago if they were to be saved. I suspect he realized he could draw little more from them and sought more sources. Speaking with the four surviving victims, I learned he’d taken all of them in the last two days. We could have done no better than we did.”
“Fair enough,” Tucker said in a subdued tone. “We need a better way to deal with such foes. One wee mage made a mess out of us. We got him, but it still feels like we took one in the teeth.”
Dech nodded in agreement. “How are the others?”
“The four survivors will be fine,” Aril said. “It will take some time, but they should recover.”
“The lads will mend,” Tucker said. “I took the least of it by cowering behind my shield. The others will need some time. The other two patrols won’t be happy when they return knowing they’ll have to take our share until we’re back in shape.”
“Vernon will point out the alternative.”
“And that would be?”
“They could have been the knights who had to go after the siphon.”
Tucker smiled. “Aye, there is that. They’re free to do it next time as far as I’m concerned.”
“The duke shall know of your service,” Aril said. “I’ll see to that personally.”
“Give the credit to those that work from the order house here in Shadow, but leave my name from your report, if you would,” Dech said.
“Why? If I might ask.”
“The duke does not harbor a favorable opinion of me.”
“This day might change that.”
“It would not. His enmity toward me was enough for him to seek my execution at one time. I will say no more.”
Aril scowled. “His Grace will expect full disclosure from me…” he said trailing off in thought. “Do you intend to depart soon?”
“In the morning.”
“Despite your injuries?” Ferid said. “I’d advise against it.”
“I am pursuing a mission for the king.”
“Knights,” the priest fumed as he looked skyward and shook his head. “Less sense than the Creator gave a turnip.”
“I will delay my report until tomorrow,” Aril said. “A brief missive reporting the incident and its conclusion will suffice for this evening. On my own behalf, I will forever be grateful for what the order did here this day.”
“We exist to serve,” Tucker said. “Call on us when needed, but perhaps we can limit the amount of siphons to once every thirty years or so.”
. . .
Chapter 19
“There,” Malig Tancar said with a plunging finger on the map spread over a table. “That is where your mercenaries are needed.”
The mercenary captain spared a brief look at the candlelit map before locking eyes with the exiled king. “Rough country you have us walking into. Not far from the Brosalean. That means dangers aplenty.”
“If it were not, I wouldn’t need mercenaries. Or is your free company not worthy of its reputation.”
The merc captain snarled. “We’ll do well enough for you… if the pay be worth the risk.”
Malig tossed a leather drawstring pouch onto the table, the soft jingling thud it made telling the mercenary it was gold coin. “The pay will be more than fair. All you need do is keep those dangers you mentioned from that site on the map and make sure nothing might compromise us.”
“What opposition do you expect us to find out there?”
“Animals, bandits, perhaps the odd treasure seeker. Little more. You need not kill unless they persist. There will be a mage there to oversee the work. He will have control there.”
The mercenary angled the page detailing the job and the requirements his company needed to meet into the candles’ illumination and looked it over. Done, he let his eyes scan the map once more. Hefting the bag in his hand, he smiled. “Consider it accomplished.”
Malig offered his hand and after shaking, the mercenary captain left the tent and swung aboard his horse. Nodding at Malig, he rode off.
“Sire, he didn’t ask what goes on at the site?” one of Malig’s knights said as the horseman faded into the night.
“No,” Malig said. “There’s a reason for that. If he pryed, I’d suspect him of spying for his other employer.”
“He’s playing two sides? That’s a thin ledge to walk, Sire.”
“Indeed. Two irons in separate fires and he makes money from both. If known it would be bad for the man’s reputation, but he seeks gold and little else.”
“And what of his mercenaries, Sire? Will they be so… professional?”
“They take their pay as their sort do. Should they learn what transpires, they’ll be far from anyone to tell. By the time the job is finished with them, it won’t matter. Events will begin moving rapidly now.”
. . .
Dech was up early and dearly regretted his plan to leave. As Ferid had predicted, Dech’s body bore more bruising than unmarred flesh. Regardless of the discomfort, he donned the accoutrements of his profession and packed his belongings. Finding only two knights had arisen yet, those being Order-Captain Vernon and Sir Clark, he ate with them before preparing his horses for travel.
The effort Dech expended on Ridan and O
tto was a highly unpleasant one, but by the time he finished, he was less stiff than before.
Sir Clark brought a message before Dech left, one the warder considered ignoring. The message was from a dwarvan man named Rasimus, an information broker much like Leophric and Ives who operated from a bookstore in Shadow. Every bit as difficult as the pair in Drumming, Dech also preferred to deal with him only when necessary, but given the events he was investigating, he felt a visit was needed.
The warder rode to the city center and into the merchant quarter, stopping at a long two level storefront that occupied an entire block. Dismounting, he went into one of the many establishments that operated in the building, one with the hanging placard above the door reading, ELUCIDATING BOOKS - ARCANE TO MUNDANE.
Dech looked over the room and saw no one. He walked toward the staircase at the back of the shop, but stopped at a deep voice from upstairs shouting, “I’ll be there in a moment.” Because of previous visits, Dech knew it was a living area.
Moments later, a broad dwarf descended the stairs with heavy footfalls. Carrying a wooden crate teeming with books stacked high enough to block his vision, he said, “Feel free to browse unless you already know what you seek.” Placing the crate near the bottom of the stairs against the back wall, he continued. “Few shop for books so early in the day. What can I do for—Sir Dech,” he said once he saw the contrition knight. “You received my message I assume. Not here to help a weary shopkeeper stay in business?”
Dech said nothing.
Rasimus rolled his eyes and threw the long, banded tail of dark hair that flowed from his head over a shoulder. Pointing at the counter that ran along the left side of the store, he rounded the end of it and met the warder at the middle of its length. Looking more like a blacksmith than a peddler of books or information broker, his appearance was much the same as the first time they had met over a decade before.
“Sir Dech. Quite the feat dispatching the siphon mage yesterday. You do look a bit worse for wear.”
The warder glared at the man. “I’m touched by your concern.”
“Ah, I’d forgotten what a pleasant man you are. Oh how absence clouds the memory. It has been some time since you’ve graced my humble business with your dour presence. Misters L and I, yes. Your new acquaintance Merchant Brock also known as Mister Ludd, yes. Even a low rat like Brewster, yes. But your old friend Rasimus? I’ll attribute it to proximity. Our Grace Duke Frederick would still like to see you at the gallows… swinging beneath one to be precise.”
“I am fully aware of that. I see you still have a finger on the pulse of occurrences, but I didn’t know you harbored jealousy.”
“It pains me to think you’d favor others over me for assistance. You have always had a sense of efficiency, fairness, and quality, yet with my abundance of those traits, you visit lesser sources before me. Tell me it was simply a case of the road you must follow that prevented you from coming here first.”
“You know the route I took to get here. If that makes you think I saved the best for last….”
Rasimus sighed and twisted his face in a sour look. “Positively cheery, you are. I’ll attribute it to your obvious discomfort. I have some information for you. Derkunblod, Malig, Mirkness, and Philip, yes?”
Dech glared again. “Like I said, finger on the pulse. Nothing about the Cataclysm?”
The dwarf raised his heavy eyebrows. “So there is genuine concern about this? Interesting. I thought it might be deception placed within the storm of rumor we navigate. Yes, I have heard a few things, but it’s nothing but inquiries. I suspect you are the source. Frankly, no one thinks it a serious matter. Someone in Marador is whispering questions about derkunblod. Ludd, yes?”
“You’re the expert.”
“Yes, I am. Expert enough to know such inquiries on the subject are bound to reach Malig’s ears. Or is it Mirkness that might have greater interest?”
“You seem to have more questions than information.”
“And you are truly in a mood this fine day. Speaking of Mirkness, I am inclined to believe this mage you seek is indeed him, but some reports make him out to be… different now.”
“Different? In what way?”
“Having not seen him I cannot say, but different than he was when last here. Not entirely human might be the most apt description. Keep that in mind if you intend to deal with him personally. I’d suggest you let mages burn him down. It took more than a half dozen order knights to deal with a siphon. A nasty creature to be sure, but who is to say how many it will require to take down a legend like Mirkness.”
“Do you know where Mirkness is now?”
“Not with Malig, that much I know. Our former mad majesty seems to be putting together quite the credible force. Years of work and making promises all coming to fruition.” The dwarf reached under the counter and retrieved a large sealed envelope. “This may help you. I promise there is information within neither Ludd nor Leophric and Ives have gleaned. Let them build upon it if they can. Use it well.”
“What do you expect in return for all of this?” Dech said holding up the packet.
“Nothing… for now. You look as if you are ready to drop as it is. Save us all from Malig and Mirkness,” he paused to smile, “or even the Lord of the Vile if he makes an appearance, then we can discuss compensation.”
“If it comes to that, you won’t owe me anything. It’s my duty.”
Rasimus glowered at the warder. “Now you have put me in a mood.”
. . .
Dech headed for Drumming to see what Leophric and Ives had dug up and to tell them what he had learned. The trip was a slow one with Dech’s bruised body the limiting factor. The discomfort of riding at much more than a walk and the need to dismount often to prevent stiffening up with stints of walking resulted in an added day of travel.
Much of the information Rasimus provided was not new, but even so, it confirmed a few things as much of it came from different sources than the other information brokers. The items that were new surprised the warder.
. . .
“Sir Dech, we expected you yesterday,” Ives said as the warder walked into their office. “You look uncomfortable. Would you like a seat?”
“I would not,” Dech said with a hard look.
“Then suffer standing. The religious orders look favorably upon such things, yes?”
“You are lacking in your knowledge.”
“No need for insults,” Leophric said. “But considering how Brewster acted in Ke’Ammar, I can see why you might be testy.”
“You said he was untrustworthy and he was. He gave me the information I needed.”
Both men laughed.
“Yes, once he had a blade held to his throat,” Ives said.
“Word of your actions in Byrmont reached us the day before Brewster’s letter declaring his independence did,” Leophric added. “He had words he wished relayed to you.”
“Should I read them?” Ives asked.
“It’s not necessary,” Dech said with a shake of his head. “What do you intend to do, have him killed?”
Leophric smiled. “Killed? Not likely. He owes us a debt and the dead rarely pay. If aiding us by supplying information doesn’t suit him….”
“Perhaps acting as a living example of what happens when one reneges on an agreement with us might,” Ives finished. “Those we associate with are expected to hold to a certain level of discretion, loyalty, and competence. Innkeeper Mattias for example.”
Dech nodded. “He was most helpful and gracious.”
“He, like you, understands the give and take of such relationships. You met Roland Ludd in Marador?” Leophric asked.
“I did. We spoke briefly. He uses the Brock identity in Marador it seems. Has a manse in Parfin and operates his merchant interests from Lond.”
“That’s all you know of him?” Ives said.
“No, but in exchange for some information I agreed to keep certain things to myself. Not unlike our agre
ement.”
“Quite,” Leophric said. “And you are a man of your word.”
Ives nodded in accord. “Is the information you acquired part of this agreement?”
“Not all of it.”
“So you will share.”
Dech nodded.
“Surely the dwarf in Shadow provided you with some paltry bits of information,” Leophric said.
“Surely,” Dech replied.
“And did he provide you with anything of use?” Ives asked with visible irritation.
“He did. Quite useful. He thought you might build upon it.”
Both men snarled with offense.
“That fat troll actually said that?” Ives spat.
Dech looked at the ceiling with irritation of his own before responding. “Do you wish to see the information Ludd and Rasimus provided or not?”
“We do,” Leophric said.
“I’ll need these returned,” Dech said as he placed a leather satchel on Leophric’s desk.
“The king’s people, of course,” Ives said.
“How long will you need?” Dech asked.
Leophric quickly scanned some of Ludd’s information before handing it to Ives. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
Dech started for the door. “Ludd mentioned he was going to send you some additional information.”
“On what subject?” Ives asked.
“Derkunblod I believe. He seemed to think it would save you some time.” Dech didn’t look to see their reactions.
Climbing aboard Ridan, Dech left the pair of information brokers to their work and returned to the order house with the intent of doing little more than resting.
. . .
Dech returned the following afternoon and found Leophric and Ives awaiting him with a neat stack of documentation on the latter’s desktop.
“After compiling the information you brought with that we have gathered, you now have quite a problem to present to King Harold,” Ives said.
Dech nodded. “I thought that would be the case. Prepared with your usual precision and detail. Care to summarize?”
“We will,” Leophric said with a tilt of his head acknowledging the rare compliment from the warder. “As you already know, Duke Philip is on a treacherous and treasonous course seeking power for himself. Malig, with the aid of Olk Mirkness, readies an invasion from Nevar, not Byrmont as Philip believes is occurring.”
The Warder Page 27
