by Rye Sobo
“Did you know the army came here?” He looked up from his paperwork with wide eyes. “They said they had warrants for the arrest of Gustavo Blanco, an alias for Ferrin Alsa—oh shit. No. No, no, no.” The clerk had connected the dots, identifying the strange gnome standing next to one of his captains.
“It’s pronounced Alsahar,” I said.
“They brought a dragon! And a column of soldiers from the Citadel. I don’t know what you did, but they sat in this room for two spans until the Harbor Master declared all hands on the Fritzbink lost.”
Claudio took a deep breath. “The Harbor Master may have been premature in that declaration,” Claudio said. The clerk opened his mouth, but the captain raised a finger. “But all souls aboard the Delilah Fritzbink perished, save myself and Reno Leon.” Claudio emphasized the name as he pointed in my direction. “The same for the crews of the Kestrel’s Wing, the Azurean Strela, and the Pomsta.”
The clerk furrowed his brow for a moment, then nodded a slow understanding.
“I suspect you received a letter from Zori some time after the army arrived, yes?” It was the question that wasn’t a question Claudio was so skilled in delivering.
Another furrowed brow, followed by a look of recognition—the clerk ran through the door behind his desk into the warehouse area. A moment later he rolled a wooden chest reinforced with iron bands into the room.
Barnaby stopped the chest in front of Claudio and I, then produced a brass key on a chain from around his neck. He handed me the key and hurried back to the desk.
“Go ahead,” Claudio urged. “Open it. It is for you.”
I slid the key into the lock and pushed the lid of the chest open. Inside was a set of exquisitely crafted leather armor with a dragon carved into the cuirass. The armor was smaller than any I had ever seen before, almost like someone designed it for a child.
Or a gnome.
I lifted the cuirass out of the chest. Beneath the armor was a pair of steel daggers wrapped in linen, a rucksack with two sets of well-made traveling clothes, a gray wool cloak with pockets hidden inside the lining, and a pair of sturdy leather boots.
At the bottom of the chest was a leather satchel with my family name embroidered in gnomish. Inside the pouch was a letter and scroll with the seal of the Drakkan Commonwealth. My hands shook.
I sat on the floor of the trading house and read the letter scrawled in neat gnomish characters:
My Dearest Ferrin,
If you are reading this, my worst fears have come to pass. A group of unknown people have attempted to unseat me from the Council of Lords and have attacked you to achieve their goals. But you have escaped to safety.
Drakkas Port is no longer safe for you. The Commonwealth is no longer safe for you. You must flee. I can not bear the thought of harm coming to you, my son. The station manager has provided you with everything you need to start a new life beyond the Commonwealth and will guarantee you passage to anywhere in the world.
You are so charming, and I know you will thrive wherever you go. I will come find you when this threat is behind us.
Stay safe my love,
Zori
I looked up from the letter. Tears filled my eyes. Claudio had pulled on a fresh tunic and a pair of sabers from somewhere in the office and searched through a ledger as Barnaby reappeared holding a small chest, about the size of a large tome.
“You are in luck. I was about to send this back to the home office in the morning.” The clerk placed the chest on the floor next to me, “as instructed.”
My hands shook as I fumbled for the latch. This was all too much to process. Inside the chest was row upon row of golden coins placed on a red velvet tray. Next to the stacks of coins was a small pouch filled with gemstones.
“Five hundred gold anchors and assorted stones that can be converted into any currency,” he said in a tone far too comfortable for what he has just handed me, “roughly one hundred ships total.”
Claudio gave a low, breathy whistle. “You could buy your own fleet with that.”
“It’s our earnings from last month,” Barnaby said. “By sending it with you and a report of nothing earned, the home office would send someone to investigate. They could pass a message without the chance of it being intercepted. At least, that’s the only reason I could think to give you everything. What did the letter say?”
“I have to get back to Drakkas Port,” I said. “When does the next ship leave?”
I put the small chest in the bottom of the rucksack and put on the new clothes and boots. I thought for a moment, then donned the armor. It was a comfortable fit.
“Our next ship to Drakkas Port leaves with the tide tomorrow morning,” Barnaby said.
“And you can make sure I, Reno, whoever, is scheduled to be aboard?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” Claudio said with a smile. “Then we should get food. I am famished.”
At the thought of food my stomach roared to life. The food had been dry rations aboard the Ta’Ruh. My mouth watered at the prospect of an actual meal. I draped the cloak over the armor, placed the daggers into the rucksack and slung it over my shoulder.
“If the Watch comes looking for us, we will be at the Dragon and Eagle down the street,” Claudio said as he lifted the oak plank from the door.
“The Watch?” Barnaby asked with renewed panic. It seemed to be his natural state.
“We were castaways,” Claudio said. “Which reminds me, you owe Captain Isem of the King Ta’Ruh for our rescue and passage.”
“Oh good,” Barnaby said.
Claudio pushed me through the door and out into the street. “There is something I need you to see.”
***
The Dragon and Eagle looked no different from any of the other establishments we passed on our way. Claudio opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
The Dragon and Eagle prided themselves on being a tavern for officers, not a just another seedy dockside pub. There was a dress code Rosalyn, the owner and bartender, enforced. As such, patrons were met by a floor-to-ceiling mirror to ensure their appearance would meet Rosalyn’s exacting standards.
“What do you see?” Claudio leaned close so only I could hear him.
Before me stood a gnome with skin darkened and creased from endless days in the unforgiving Azurean sun. A scar ran from his disheveled black hair, down his right cheek, to his thick, dark beard. He wore matching leather armor that peeked from under his gray cloak. His eyes were dark, sunken, with a stare that had seen more than any man should.
“I see,” I said just above a whisper, “an adventurer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Captain Azpa,” Rosalyn greeted Claudio with the warmth of an old friend. “You look like you fell through all ten hells. Who is your friend?”
“Turns out, there is an eleventh, Ros. Oh, and I am, in fact, dead.”
“You look it,” Ros said with a snort. “So your spirit is here to settle your tab?”
“We are here to celebrate the lieutenant’s promotion.”
“Ah! Congratulations, Lieutenant,” Ros said. “You want your usual table, Captain?”
Ros didn’t bother to wait for a response. Instead she walked toward a curtained off area near the back of the common room.
“Come here often?” I looked up to the disheveled seaman.
“In a city full of merchant and sailors, you have to do something special to attract the best clientele. In Whyte Harbor that would be ships’ officers.” Claudio slid into a polished wooden booth. “Ros, here, specializes in meals from home.”
Whose home?
“Beef Callumine, as usual?” Ros asked. The captain nodded his approval.
“How about a nice spiced lamb roast for you, Lieutenant?” Ros slid into Drakkan with such a command of the language it took me a moment to realize she had changed tongues.
I nodded. Ros turned from the booth and released the curtain to conceal the table from the rest of the room.
“Did she?” I fumbled for words. Claudio laughed at my response.
“As best as I counted, she can speak over a dozen languages,” Claudio said. “It pains her to not greet you in Gnomish. She will at least have the basics the next time you …”
Claudio paused, then looked down at the table. His warm smile fled.
“Have you decided where you will go?” He changed the subject.
“I have to get back home,” I said. “Zori said someone was trying to unseat her from the Council of Lords.”
I paused. Zori was one of the Lords of Drakkas Port?
It was obvious Claudio had the same thought. His eyebrows shot up at the mention of the Council. “I—I suppose that would make sense in a way,” he said. “She is the most powerful merchant in the Commonwealth. If that is true, then you are in more danger than I could imagine. It would also explain why the accusations against you were so significant.”
“How much more danger?”
“Do you recall reading about the collapse of the empire a century ago in your studies?”
“Sure, Zori and Ignis were there,” I said, “my brother as well.”
“If someone is trying to overthrow a Commonwealth Lord—a hidden lord at that—this is not revenge. It is a coup.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “What would you do?”
“An unknown enemy with powerful connections,” he said, “powerful enough to take on Zori Alsahar—I would run.”
We sat in silence for a time as I considered what he said.
Eventually he spoke again. “What am I doing? This is supposed to be a celebration.”
He reached under the table and came back up holding one of the two sabers he had pilfered from the Company office.
“What’s this? It’s as large as I am,” I said with a chuckle. “How were you even sitting here with that on?”
“When a captain decides a midshipman has completed his training and is ready to serve on his own, he presents the midshipman with a saber, a symbol of authority and rank as an officer,” he said. “You have done more in two months than some midshipmen will do in years of training. So I am presenting you with your saber.”
“Claudio, I—” tears welled up in my eyes.
The curtain shifted, and we silenced our conversation. I slung the saber belt over my torso and across my chest. Ros moved the curtain with her elbow and placed a platter of still sizzling meat in front of each of us.
She ducked out of the curtain and returned a moment later with a full bottle of Stormreach Whiskey and two glasses. “You said you were celebrating, right?”
Her Drakkan was perfect.
My damp eyes widened to the size of my platter at the sight of the bottle. Had it been two months? It felt as though years had passed.
“It is a celebration!”
She dropped the bottle and glasses on the table. “Well then, enjoy!” she said. “To the Empire!”
I reached up and poured myself three fingers of the amber elixir into a glass. The aroma of the liquor and the spiced roast wrapped me in the memories of home.
We did not say another word until both our platters were clear and two thirds of the bottle was empty.
“I have a friend,” Claudio broke the silence first. “She is a former captain with the Company and takes on contract work from time to time. Her ship, the Harpy’s Remorse, had a manifest in the Empire office when we arrived.”
I furrowed my brow. Now well intoxicated, I couldn’t decide the captain’s intention with the remark.
“I added our names.” He cleared his throat, “the names of Claudio Azpa and Reno Leon, to the manifest. She sails tonight for the west coast of Nivalis.”
“Claudio, we were in a shipwreck—two shipwrecks. I have no interest in Nivalis,” I said with all the sternness I could muster. “I want to go back to Drakkas Port. Whatever is waiting for me there, it can’t be any worse than what we’ve experienced so far.”
Claudio huffed then nodded. “This whiskey is stronger than I remember. I need to hit the head. Think about it.”
He pulled the curtain aside to reveal a now bustling common room and marched toward the back of the tavern.
Two large humans seated at a table close to our shrouded booth huddled close together and looked in my direction more than once.
“And what do you two want?” It was a drunken shout that drew the attention of a few patrons.
“My mate here,” said the bearded of the two men. “Said he heard you mention a shipwreck, said he was looking for a bloke on a ship that was lost, the Delilah Fritzbink. Was that your ship?”
I sobered as he spoke my grandmother’s name. “Sorry, mate, I was on the Pomsta.”
Not a complete lie.
The two stood and moved closer to the curtained table. “You see, the thing is, we have been looking for a gnome,” said the clean-cut man.
“Just like you,” his bearded partner said.
“Who was lost at sea in a shipwreck,” Cleancut said.
“Just like you,” Beard added.
“And may be on his way back to Whyte Harbor,” Cleancut said.
“So here we are,” Beard said.
With a third of a bottle of the strongest whiskey on any shore coursing through my veins, my reaction time was slower than it should have been. In all honesty, I let my guard down and it bit me in the ankle.
The two mercenaries (and by their odor they were mercenaries) grabbed me, threw me over Beard’s shoulder, grabbed my rucksack, and were out the door before I had time to realize what happened. The sun was already dipping below the horizon. In a mark the narrow streets would be dark. I shouted as the two escaped into an alley beside the Dragon and Eagle.
Claudio was still relieving himself in the alley behind the tavern. He heard the commotion and ran toward me and my latest captors.
“Unhand that officer of the Southern Empire,” he said.
Cleancut laughed, tossed my rucksack against the urine-soaked wall, and drew a sword, “What are you going to do about it, Eyepatch?”
Beard threw me to the ground with a swift kick to the stomach, “Stay put if you know what’s good for you.”
Claudio reached for his sabers. He patted the spot where the blade he had given me had been. With a flourish, he pulled his lone saber and blocked a chopping strike from Cleancut and pushed him into Beard.
Claudio turned and put himself between me and my would-be captors. Cleancut untangled himself from Beard and rushed in for another attack. Claudio parried the strike, but Beard used the distraction to drive a dagger into Claudio’s side.
The three men slowed as I pulled yili from their motion.
“No,” Claudio shouted. “The Watch will find you.”
POP.
The Fabric thrummed as I released the energy I built within myself.
Claudio grabbed Beard’s wrist and kicked him toward me, sending both the captain and the mercenary off balance. Claudio fell to one knee. Blood seeped from between his fingers against his chest.
No.
The mercenary stumbled my direction. I pulled my saber, planted my feet, and plunged the weapon between the mercenary’s shoulder blades. Torchbearer stance. The saber reappeared through the front of Beard’s chest as he let out gurgled scream before he collapsed to the ground.
I looked to Claudio who was now on the ground. Cleancut saw his companion bleeding out on the cobbles of the alley. He shouted something in a language I didn’t recognize.
“That’s no way to talk about anyone’s mother,” a voice behind the mercenary said.
“Ten hells, what’s going on back here?” another voice asked. This one more feminine.
I tightened my grip on the now crimson blade and changed my stance to Greedy Goblin. Great, more mercenaries.
As I shifted positions, I could see an elf and an orc behind Cleancut. The large mercenary charged toward me. For a brief second, I heard an arcane word, then nothing.
A mass
ive blade exploded through Cleancut’s mouth as the orc pantomimed a ferocious roar. The body of the mercenary slumped on the end of the blade. The orc lowered blade, and the body slid to the ground next to his companion. With gesture from the orc, the elf waved his hand and released the enchantment.
“What did you do to get the Red Hand after you, little one?” the orc asked as she shook the blood from the enormous blade and slid it into the sheath on her back.
I rushed to Claudio’s side. His breath was shallow as blood pooled near his body. I closed my eyes and sought the yili within him. There was only a faint flicker of light, a dim yellow that sputtered to remain alight.
“I need to help him,” I said.
I focused and bound his wounds.
Claudio grabbed my wrist. “This is not the life you want, my friend,” his voice was coarse as he strained to speak. “Go now. Captain Keets waits for you.”
“Of all the boats in the ocean, we are on our way to Keets,” the elf said.
“And we’re late,” the orc added.
“Well I don’t think he minds that we stopped,” the elf nodded toward me.
I tried again to find Claudio’s yili, but his face was stern. I stepped back from Claudio and grabbed my rucksack from against the alley wall. I pulled two daggers from the belt of the dead merc and slid them into my own.
It was then I noticed a rolled-up piece of parchment in Beard’s pocket. Something compelled me. I needed to read it. I reached down, pulled the roll, and read what the mercenaries died to claim.
Wanted for Murder and Treason
FERRIN ALSAHAR
Drakkan Gnome, Last seen aboard the Trading Ship Delilah Fritzbink.
One Hundred Silver Heads for his live capture and return to Drakkas Port.
Fifty Silver Heads for proof of his death.
By order of the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth.
My blood ran cold.
“I will not tell you again,” Claudio said. He braced himself against the urine-soaked wall as he tried to stand. “I will live, thanks to you. Now you must do the same.”
