by Lee LaCroix
“You all know Kayten, one of the resident smiths here. About this tall with red hair,” Garreth addressed as he indicated her height with a flat palm in the air.
“Yes! She’s such a sweet girl but has a fiery temper if you waste her time,” Tamil remarked with a smile.
“That sounds like her. To be blunt, she’s been taken by the Queen’s Aegis and taken to the dungeons,” Garreth divulged.
There was a collection of gasps in the group, and Cern kicked at the dirt.
“Damn those dishonorable dogs. What are we to do?” Behn questioned.
“I’m glad you asked,” Garreth replied with a smirk. “It’s simple really. We break into the dungeons.”
“Aha! Strong and simple. I like it,” Behn roared and thumped his chest.
“That sounds a tad dangerous,” Cern retorted with his arms crossed. “The city is thoroughly locked down. You think they’ll just let us stride into the Upper Quarter fully armed and break the doors down?”
“That’s not the plan at all. I just needed to know you’d all stand beside me in this fight,” Garreth explained.
There was a chorus of nods, for no one seemed against helping their captain again.
“Very well. Meet me later at the Salty Dog after sundown. I’ll be ready by then. Make sure you are,” Garreth concluded.
He dismissed them, headed back to his room to prepare himself, and waited to meet his son. An hour or two before sundown, Novas came in through the door and had himself a seat in the study beside his father.
“Anything new to report?” Garreth asked his son, who was sweaty and tired from his work.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve been getting a surprising amount of herbal remedy in from overseas and having a trouble finding a herbalist to package and store it all for us. Other than that, there has more stolen goods going out to crooked vendors,” Novas recalled as he pulled and waved his shirt to cool himself off.
“I need your help getting into the Upper Quarter. Are there any suits of armour in the storage there, ones like the Queen’s Aegis uses?” Garreth queried.
“I’ve never seen a full set on display, but I know there are bits and pieces. A pair of gauntlets here, or a helmet there,” Novas claimed.
“Good, good. You said you delivered to all around the city. Is there a way to get into the Upper Quarter undetected?” Garreth inquired.
“Funny you should ask. Varkas just had Zill and I running through a set of tunnels to deliver some fabrics to the Upper Quarter. They are enclosed, hot, and musty. Zill commented that parts of the tunnel looked like old bootlegger passages, while others seem to be recently excavated. Given the seafaring past of the harbour, I could suppose it to be true. I didn’t get to explore them all, but I could assume there’d be an entrance in the Lower Quarter as well,” Novas described.
“Novas, I want you to go now. Go back to the Black Market and find those tunnels. I need to get from the Lower to the Upper Quarter tonight,” Garreth uttered, looking Novas straight in the eye.
Novas sat up, realizing the urgency in his father’s gaze.
“Why the big rush? What’s wrong?” Novas questioned.
“Kayten has been kidnapped,” Garreth explained, letting his words hang in the air and his voice drop like a stone.
Novas eyes widened, and he was out the door in an instant.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Garreth was sitting in the corner stall at the Salty Dog when his crew began to trickle in one-by-one. Before long, they were all sitting round table making small talk and going over the day’s uneventful passing.
“So, what is the plan?” Cern asked.
“This,” Garreth revealed as he placed two pairs of shackles onto the table.
There was some gentle nodding and some humming and hawing, but finally Behn spoke.
“What’s that? What’s that mean?” Behn demanded.
“Behn and I are going to don some stolen armour from the Queen’s Aegis and pose as guards while we take the rest of you as prisoners into the dungeon. With some luck, we’ll be able to explore the dungeon and find Kayten without much difficulty. Novas has found his way through some bootlegger’s tunnels to get us into the Upper Quarter, and we’re gonna lift some armour from their private storage. If all goes well, we’ll be able to get in and out under the guise of a prisoner transfer,” Garreth disclosed as he lifted one of the shackles up.
A shared ahhhh rose from around the table.
“If you think we have a chance, then we have to try,” Behn agreed with a firm nod.
“Good, we’re leaving now. Novas should meet us outside shortly,” Garreth commanded.
The rest of the crew followed him out of the Salty Dog and tried not to draw attention as they loitered with their arms at the ready in the alleyway. Anxiety grasped at more than one of them, for all but Garreth knew the way ahead, and even he had not seen the way through the tunnels. Cern began to breathe heavy and sweat beaded at his temples, but the sea breeze and the night air cooled and calmed him. Novas ran past the alley and was about to step into the tavern before he heard his father and was directed to where they stood in wait.
“Follow me. This way,” Novas called out with a wave of his hand.
Garreth and the rest of the crew followed Novas quick and quiet. They moved down the street towards the harbour unseen. The party moved like the passing of the wind and were as smooth as shadows. Only a few lengths from the arches of the harbour, Novas took the crew left and into the alley that faced the dividing wall of the Lower Quarter and the Trade District.
“Try not to mind the smell,” Novas whispered as he led them down into the storm drain.
They all slid down a ridge and came to a row of seemingly fixed bars that separated some sewage piping to the open drain. Novas grasped the bars, slid them upwards and out of their setting, and placed them to the side. Garreth smirked at his son’s ingenuity even if the path was odorous. They didn’t end up going into the sewage pipes but instead found the opening to the tunnels within range of the bars themselves. They continued inside the tunnels a few feet until the limiting twilight ceded to complete darkness.
“Wait here,” Novas asked as he fished two pieces of flint from his jerkin.
He kneeled in the darkness and struck the flint over and over, sending flashes of light down the tunnel. Novas struck the flint again and a torch was lit, illuminating the crooked path which lay before them.
“Lead on,” Garreth commanded as he passed the light back to his son.
Novas continued in front, examining a series of lighted scratches on the corner of each turn in the labyrinthine tunnels. Even being the experienced traveller he was, Garreth lost track of his direction in the wayward set of twists and turns in the tunnel, but they came to a wooden door framed in metal before long. Novas felt around the bottom of the door, grasped a rod wedged into the side, and forced the door open.
“It’s usually closed in here at night but try to keep quiet regardless,” Novas whispered.
He opened the door to a small hallway, and they soon passed into the spacious storage of the Black Market. Novas led them into the maze of crates, and Garreth was surprised by the market’s sheer size and how well it was hidden in the city. He had only had to see the sparkling reflections of treasures lit by Novas’ torch to see that this room held the purse strings of the most powerful company in Malquia. He would have to have his son show him the way again, he mused.
They travelled not long before they came across the sets of armour stacked on crates and hung from makeshift shelves. Garreth and Behn equipped a layer of chain mail from neck to ankle, and then the rest of the crew helped strap the plate mail pieces onto them. After the boots, leggings, chest plates, pauldrons, bracers, and gauntlets were secure, Garreth and Behn took their helmets under their arms and looked a shining example of the one of the Queen’s Aegis. Novas took the lead again and led them through the puzzling layout of the warehouse, and the rest of the crew could
not help themselves but to take a handful of shiny valuables on their way by, trying their best to stifle their mirthful laughter.
Before long, the crew was back in the tunnels and headed north in roundabout way. Enclosed underground in such a tight space, the heat was still oppressive, but at least the smell of sewage had been replaced with one of subterranean dankness. They all jumped as a high pitched scream was let out beneath them, and they pressed tight against the wall. Behn’s metallic foot had stomped on a gigantic rat, and it pleaded to be released until Behn lifted his hulking boot. The journey continued on without event until they came to a wooden frame at the end of the tunnel. Novas pushed the frame open, and it led into one of the back alleys in the Upper Quarter. Novas closed the door, and it swung on its hinges back into the wall where seamless brickwork fit the door’s other side into the wall.
“We’re not far from the main street now,” Novas informed them as he waved them on.
The group paced through a set of alleyways until they were at the opening of two residences.
“Ready to go?” Novas asked as he looked both left and right.
“Novas, I need you stay here,” Garreth whispered.
“I want to go save Kayten with you,” Novas pleaded under his breath.
“And you will. It’s important that our escape route is secure at all times. You’re doing a necessary task by staying here hidden, safe, and ready,” Garreth explained.
Novas frowned and sighed, and then his shoulders shrank as he leaned against the wall.
“Alright. I’ll be right here. Get going,” Novas complained as he waved them away.
“That’s my boy. Be back soon,” Garreth concluded as he passed him and went into the streets.
Cern and Tamil were shackled and positioned in front of Behn and Garreth, and their confiscated weapons were slung across the backs of the guards. The street was completely empty that night with the exception of a guard on the corner of the intersection ahead. With their heads bowed, the rebels passed him by, and Garreth sent the patrolman a nod, which was returned promptly to their relief.
They turned into the alley beside the courtyard, and the single light from the street behind them stretched their shadows onto the solid iron door at the end of the way. They approached the door to the dungeon, and Garreth tried the handle to open it. With a quick jerk, he found that it was firmly shut and then knocked upon it three times. There was a lengthened silence before he could hear trudging footsteps from within, and then the slat at eye level opened to show a pair of sunken eyes.
“A little late for deposits, don’tcha think?” the voice inquired.
“My sincerest apologies, mistah. We found this lot trying to break into the district from the harbour and happened to get the jump on them,” Garreth explained.
The eyes peered around to survey the prisoners to be brought in, looked over at Behn, and then looked back at Garreth. He slammed the slat shut and then undid the heavy locks, and the door swung open inwards. The dungeonmaster was a brutish man with stained hands and a nasty complexion. He closed the door behind them, hobbled over to his desk to the right in the receiving room, and then sat down. He reached up to the wall, took one of many key rings off the wall, and then tossed it across the desk.
“There should be two empty cells on the third floor. Feel free to shove that scum in there for now. I’ll deal with them in the morning,” the dungeonmaster growled as he kicked back his chair and put his feet on the desk, wrapping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.
Garreth looked at the key ring on the desk and the assortment that hung on the wall. How would he know which one he needed for Kayten’s cell, he wondered. He decided to take them all. Garreth stepped towards the side of the desk and curled his armored fist.
“Goodnight then, ol’ chum,” Garreth murmured before he launched his gauntlet square into the dungeonmaster’s cheek and knocked him off the chair and onto the floor.
The brute’s head was slammed against the floor, and the dungeonmaster moved no more.
“Take the keyrings,” Garreth ordered as he went around the desk and started tossing them onto the tabletop.
Soon, everyone had a keyring and headed down the first flight of stairs to find Kayten. Garreth led the way with a torch in hand, and Behn followed last with a torch as well. The first few cells, communal ones by the look of it, were disheartening and reeked of blood and offal. While Garreth was not a frequenter of the dungeon under his previous employment, he had never seen these first set of cells so filled and so poorly maintained. Even though the prison floor was made from of cold stone, the prisoners inside appeared to be so dirty that Garreth shuddered to think about where the grime came from. They peered as best they could into the depths but could not see the telltale red hair of Kayten within the spattering of bodies.
On the second floor, there were more singular cells with doors instead of bars. They made the obvious mistake of opening one of them when they could not force the light into the open slat and look through it at the same time. A crazed and wretched man jumped out at Cern with his dirty hands at Cern’s throat and was thrown back in his cell. His howls and screams awoke and aroused some of the more crazed prisoners, and soon there was a drowning roar of cursing utterances as they pressed along from cell to cell. Garreth feared that they had blown their cover and continued to rush the rest of his crew along the way.
They found themselves on the third basement floor when they came to an open observation cell separated by iron bars. Within, there was a set of racks, hanging chains, a bed of crooked and misplaced nails, and a table with an assortment of wicked and cruel tools. Garreth had never seen this room as it has been previously used for storage, and was dismayed to think of the purpose of such contraptions. Under the King’s rule, prisoners were never held with this type of aggressive treatment, for even those who committed crimes were reserved some amount of dignity. But the marks of clawing and the stains of sweat, blood, and fear on the instruments were proof enough to Garreth that things had changed. Garreth’s eyes scanned the macabre devices and their terrible uses, and he found what he was looking for in the place he wished never to find it.
Hung by the arms, suspended against the walls in cuffs and chains, was Kayten. With her head down, her chin into her breast, her body a bevy of bruises and bloody smears, and her clothing torn and revealing, Kayten had seemed to be on the wrong end of torture. Garreth sped through the chain of keys, jamming each into the slot and fuming when they did not unlock the door. When the proper key finally opened the door, Garreth kicked the gate right off the hinges and onto the floor. Garreth and Behn rushed over to the wall and tore off the bindings, and Tamil caught Kayten in her arms as she fell. Tamil took off her vest and placed it around Kayten’s starkness. Tamil eased Kayten’s head back and tapped at her cheek, trying to restore her consciousness. Kayten’s eyes seemed to flutter before opening a crack, and her almost unnoticeable breathing became hoarse and coughing.
“It’s okay now, Kayten. It’s okay. We’re here now,” Tamil cooed, rocking Kayten in her arms.
“We should go. The sooner we’re home, the better,” Garreth ordered.
Tamil hoisted up Kayten into her arms and began to carry her. They sped through the dungeon at a quick pace and flew up the stairwells.
When they got to the receiving room of the dungeon, Garreth heard the door creaking open and shut. When he looked to his left, there was no unconscious dungeonmaster asleep on the floor. Garreth breathed quiet as he opened the door and peered out the crack. Eight of the Queen’s Aegis stood outside the door in a circle conversing, and Garreth could see another two marching down the road. They could be the majority of the night patrol, Garreth mused, or their group could only be a small part of it. Garreth turned to his crew and looked at each of them in the eye.
“Swords. Stay between Behn and I,” Garreth ordered as he unsheathed his blade.
The rest of his squad withdrew their weapons and calmed themselves.
Tamil held a sword in one hand and steadied Kayten over her shoulder with the other. Garreth opened the door, and he and Behn stepped out first, followed by Cern and Tamil. At the churning sound of the heavy door, the night watch all turned at once, faced them, and looked at each other. The guards all withdrew their weapons, shining broadswords sharpened to a razor’s edge, and ranked up in two rows of four and approached.
No words were said. Everyone knew that things were about to become loud and violent. Teeth were grit, and curses and prayers alike were whispered. Garreth looked up the street. Since there were no alleyways to make a quick escape, they would have to fight to the courthouse. Garreth moved his group against the right wall, but the Queen’s Aegis moved to counter this. When they came within sword’s reach, Garreth lashed out.
An overhand stroke to a guard’s neck sent him to his knees, but the blade grinded off the chain mail. At once, two guards lunged out at Garreth, and he parried one of the strokes while another hit him solid on the hip. Because of the stolen armour, the force did not cut but blunted and bruised him. Garreth continued to lead the group right as he lunged against the row of guards with every strike, holding his ground against the volley of blows. Behn, wielding his brother’s claymore, defended the back end and made sure none of his unarmored comrades were overpowered. Tamil held Kayten behind her and lunged out with her sword where she could, and Cern supported Garreth and Behn as best as he could between the clashing of their blades.
Garreth brought his sword up to defend against two overhand strokes and misdirected the blades as they descended into the cobble stone. Garreth raised his sword upwards and impaled it between a guard’s breastplate and plaudron, piercing the chain mail nearest to his armpit. The guard yelled, grunted in pain. and then dropped his sword as he unable to use his sword hand. Garreth knew this was his chance.
Garreth kicked away the injured guard, picked up the fallen sword in his offhand, placed it behind him, and took a sideways stance. While he sacrificed the power of the two-handed stance, Garreth could deflect the flurry of multiple blows with a series of counters and parries of his own using two blades in quick succession. Every time a guard would send a strike against him, Garreth would parry it with one sword and then have the next blade swinging around for an additional strike or parry. In this wild display of swordsmanship, the guards spread further to avoid the wide arcs of his countering blows, which he landed more frequently as the battle continued; the Queen’s Aegis were kept off balance, and Garreth continued to move the fight up the street.
