Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story

by James Maxstadt

  Now, a minotaur with a toy weapon is about the same as giving a human man a semi-dull sword and telling him to go at it. Their toys weren’t soft and cuddly. When the General said that, he probably meant that it was smaller than a real minotaur battle axe, and sort of, kind of, dull, instead of razor sharp.

  This meant that Dabney could still do an awful lot of damage to those boys. And if that happened, Mr. Winchell and some of his buddies were going to have something to say about it, and Dabney was going to pay in kind, at least. Which would lead to the General coming in for his retribution, and so on. It would be a mess.

  I hurried up, trying to get back to East Gate as fast as I could.

  It took a few minutes for the door to be opened to my furious pounding on it. When it did, I saw Ronnie looking out at me through a huge shiner covering his left eye. It was swollen and mostly closed, and looked painful. Regardless, he studied me with the same sullen expression as the last time I’d seen him.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Ronnie,” I began, then I stopped, unsure of quite how to ask this. “That minotaur, from the other day, the one your friend’s mom posted on the Nuisance Board? Have you seen him today?”

  “No,” he said, and started to shut the door.

  “Wait a minute.” I stopped him from closing it and moved nearer. “If you didn’t, where’d you get the black eye?”

  “None of your business!”

  “Ronnie,” I said, lowering my voice. “I can help you. Get you out of here or something.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help!” he spat. “And I haven’t seen that stupid cow-head either! Now get out of here!”

  I opened my mouth to say something more, when I heard Mr. Winchell’s voice from inside.

  “Who the hell is it, Ronnie? Do I need to get up because you can’t handle answering the door?”

  The fear on Ronnie’s face was enough to make me step back. When I did, he slammed the door, blocking off whatever was going to happen next. I stood there, facing the solid wood, and fingered the gun at my belt. I could kick the door open, go in and…but no. I couldn’t. I could tell Sarge, who might or might not know someone who could come and get Ronnie out of here. Or, I could walk away, and hope that my visit didn’t cause him any more problems.

  I walked away, feeling like crap.

  If Ronnie hadn’t seen Dabney, there were still the other boys. The one was still out of the city with his family, and I fared no better with the other. While he wasn’t bruised and defensive, he still hadn’t seen any sign of Dabney, and seemed almost sorry that they pushed him around.

  Back to square one.

  I spent the rest of the day roaming the city, trusting to pure, dumb luck that I would stumble upon Dabney. I tried Orc Town, and the areas around it. I walked back to my house, and to the watchhouse, but nothing there either. Finally, as the shadows started to lengthen, I admitted defeat and returned to the minotaur camp, and to General Daken.

  “Sorry,” I told him, plopping down in the chair across the desk from him. “I spent most the day looking, but no luck. Wherever he went, he’s doing a good job hiding.”

  The General opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. He poured a small measure of a golden liquid into each, leaving one less full than the other. That one, he slid across the desk to me.

  “Thank you for trying,” he said, and raised his glass.

  I was an ale drinker and not a huge fan of the harder stuff, although I would sip at it now and then. This stuff though, this was like drinking liquid fire. It reminded me of a slightly less powerful version of the potion that Lilly gave me after the banshee incident. But, unlike that one, this had a sweet, almost honey-like flavor to it as well.

  I coughed after taking a sip. “Smooth,” I choked out. “What is it?”

  “A drink from home. Made from flowers that grow on the prairies. Do you like it?”

  “It’s not my usual,” I admitted. “But yeah, it’s not bad.”

  I took another sip and settled back, asking the General about his homeland. I listened while he talked of the wide open fields that minotaurs lived in, setting up their camps and then moving on when conditions, or simple restlessness, compelled them. About how the gatherings of the companies, with the mock battle and contests of strength that came with them, occurred twice a year. It was obvious that the General missed his home.

  “Why don’t you go back there?” I asked. “I know you told me what would happen to kids like Dabney, but you could say, ‘no, we’re not doing that.’ But still get all the good out of living there again”

  “It’s not that easy. The companies are ruled over by a council, one that’s respected and obeyed. To buck them would invite censure, and the wrath of all the other companies. The council agreed that I could take my troops here, endorsed it even. If I was to suffer abominations to live, better that I was far away.”

  “I think that’s a damn shame…” I was starting to say, when there was an urgent rap on the door, followed by it opening before the General could say anything. Captain Darvish entered.

  “Sir,” he said. “Pardon the interruption, but we have him. He’s home, sir, in the infirmary tent.”

  General Daken surged to his feet. “The infirmary tent? What the blazes is he doing there?”

  “He’s in bad shape, sir. Someone roughed him up pretty good. A couple of my men found him near the East Gate. We think he managed to make it back that far before collapsing.”

  The General rushed from the room, Darvish on his heels, and I started to follow when the Captain wheeled on me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he rumbled, looming over me.

  “Let him come, Captain,” the General said over his shoulder. “He might help find out who did this.”

  Darvish sneered, and then spun on his heel to follow the General. This time, when I fell into line, he didn’t say anything.

  Someone had beaten Dabney badly. His eyes were mostly swollen shut and one of his horns was broken off, leaving only a stump. There was blood covering his snout, which flowed from his nostrils and mouth. It looked like one arm was broken, and was being carefully wrapped. He was completely unconscious and lay in the bed without moving.

  The General knelt down by the side of the cot. “Dabney. Son. Can you hear me?”

  There was no response.

  “Find out who did this, Captain.” His voice grew cold. “Use whatever resources are necessary. I want a full report, and give it to Grandfather here as well.”

  Darvish didn’t like that. “Sir, I don’t think we should share our information with…”

  “You have your orders, Captain. Or do I need to give them to someone else?”

  “No, sir.” Captain Darvish saluted, turned and left the tent without another word.

  “What can I do, General?” I asked.

  “Help Captain Darvish find out who is responsible. Bring them to justice if this was malicious. If not, and it was Dabney getting in over his head, find that out. Either way, I want to know.”

  I nodded, and left a father to his grief.

  Outside, I saw Captain Darvish talking to two other minotaurs. When I got closer, I could overhear that these were the two that found Dabney.

  “How did he make it that far?” Darvish was asking as I drew near.

  One of them made to answer, but stopped short at a nudge from his partner, and a glance in my direction.

  “Go on,” I said. “The General has given his orders that I’m to be included in this. Please, go ahead and answer.”

  The two of them looked at Darvish, who reluctantly nodded.

  “We don’t know,” one of them said. “We saw him coming, reeling like he was drunk. Next thing we saw, he keeled over. We ran over, saw that it was Cadet Dabney and brought him back here as quick as we could. Other than that, we didn’t see anything.”

  “Anyone else around?” I asked. “You know, paying particular attention, or looking like th
ey recently stopped running. Anything?”

  “No,” the other one said. “Like we said. We saw Cadet Dabney, and that was it.”

  “Well, Grandfather,” Captain Darvish said. “You’re supposed to a hot shot. Let’s see you solve this one.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said, and walked away.

  Truth be told, I had no idea. Until Dabney woke up, I didn’t see how I was going to figure it out. The city was full of ogres and trolls, either one of which would could beat Dabney to a pulp, to say nothing of other individuals teaming up to do it. It could literally be almost anyone.

  Regardless, I did head out to where the minotaurs said they found Dabney. Sure enough, there were blood stains on the street, but not much else. The East Gate area isn’t known for being the most genteel neighborhood and blood stains aren’t that unusual. No one was paying any attention to it.

  I back-tracked the trail, following as it led me through the winding streets, finally ending in an alley not too far from the edge of the East Gate neighborhood. There, I found signs of a scuffle, and more blood. Whatever Dabney encountered, he ran into it here. I picked up his broken battle axe, its head loosely hanging off the shaft.

  But that still told me nothing. I knew where he ran into trouble, but not with who, and certainly not the why. It wasn’t much, but I returned to the General, with the axe, to tell him what I learned.

  When I got there, Captain Darvish was in with him.

  “It was those three human boys again,” I heard him say. “The same ones as before. We think Dabney went looking for them, to regain his honor, and they got the best of him. They beat him badly, but now they’re all hiding in their parents’ houses, afraid to come back out.”

  What? That obviously wasn’t what happened. Dabney was nowhere near that area when he was attacked, and besides that, one of those boys was still out of town.

  Why was Darvish lying to the General? Perhaps he wanted to be the one to solve the mystery before I could, to appear efficient in his general’s eyes. Or maybe…could he have something to do with it?

  I stepped back outside the building and slipped around to the side, where I waited. A few minutes later, I heard heavy footsteps, and watched as Captain Darvish strode away. Then, I returned to the General’s office.

  “Grandfather,” he said, as I closed the door behind me and took a seat.

  “General. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out. Darvish is lying.”

  “What are you talking about.”

  In answer, I showed him Dabney’s broken axe.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked me, reaching across the desk to take it from my hands.

  “In an alley, where I believe Dabney was attacked. Out of the East Gate neighborhood. Not only that, General, but those three boys couldn’t have done this.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because one of them isn’t even around. His whole family is out of town.”

  The General was silent for a moment, gazing down at his son’s broken toy in front of him. “Then why would…”

  “I have an idea,” I said quietly.

  He looked up at me, his eyes flashing. “Are you accusing Captain Darvish of attacking my son?”

  “Yeah, I am. I don’t know why he did it. But I’m pretty sure he did.”

  “It would be your word against his, you know. And I’ve known Captain Darvish for years.”

  “I know. But there may be a way to get to the truth.”

  “Such as?”

  I looked around to make sure the door was still shut.

  Later that evening, word began to circulate through the camp that Dabney was coming around, and would name his attackers. I was there, off to the side, standing in the shadows when the gigantic figure of Captain Darvish came into the tent. Any notion that he was there to wish Dabney well was dispelled by his furtive movements, and by the huge battle axe he held at the ready.

  He moved to the bed and looked down at the still unconscious figure, then raised his axe high overhead. I stepped out of the shadows, gun drawn and aimed at his heart.

  “Don’t do it,” I said. “You know me, Darvish, and you know what this gun can do. I’ll blow a hole right through you if you move that axe an inch.”

  He froze, staring at me, hate in his eyes.

  “Now, drop it,” I said. “Right there, behind you. Let it go.”

  I was mildly surprised when he did it, but he did have other weapons; his great strength for one, not to mention those two wickedly sharp horns on his head.

  “Leave,” I told him.

  “Just like that? You’re letting me go? Why?”

  “Who says I’m letting you go? I only told you to leave.”

  He dropped his hands, sneered at me, and walked out of the tent, and into a ring of fire made from torches stuck into the earth. Inside that ring, stood General Daken.

  “Why?” was all he said.

  Darvish looked around at the torches, and at the faces outside the ring, watching.

  “Because you suffered that freak to live!” Darvish spat. “You brought us here, away from our home, made us weak and dishonored us! You aren’t fit to lead!”

  “Prove it then,” General Daken said. “If you’re right, you can take the company back to the plains. If not…then you won’t have to worry about it.”

  Captain Darvish snorted, put his head down, and charged without another word.

  I can fight, and I’ve had my share of tussles with those that are bigger and stronger than me. There are ways to do it. Don’t stay in one place, stay out of arm’s reach, punch and move, move, move.

  But I’ve never seen anyone move the way the General did. Every move was precise, calculated. He stepped to the side, avoiding Darvish’s charge, and his fists came down on the back of the bigger minotaur’s neck as he went past. Darvish went down, but bounced back up with a bellow, and moved in again.

  If he swung, Daken wasn’t where the punch landed. If he charged, Daken dodged, and got in a blow that would send Darvish sprawling. If he tried to grapple, Daken grabbed and twisted limbs and fingers, causing Darvish to howl in pain.

  Finally, Daken stepped in, delivering a flurry of blows to Darvish’s stomach, then a vicious uppercut to his chin when he bent over. Darvish went down on his back, and Daken sprang on him, lashing out again and again, rocking Darvish’s head from side to side, until he stopped moving.

  Daken stood, breathing heavily, and looked down at his defeated opponent. The whole fight only took minutes and Darvish never laid a hand on him. My esteem of the General went up another notch.

  “Anyone else?” he asked, turning to the others gathered around. “Anyone else dispute my right to lead?”

  No one said a word.

  Later, I sat with the General in the tent where Dabney still lay unconscious. He had brought the bottle, and I drank a little more of that floral liqueur.

  “Will he wake up?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the General said, smiling. “We’re tough. Even Dabney. He’ll recover, and I’m sure he’ll name names. He’s a good boy, despite his sometimes overactive imagination.”

  “Names? Like more than one?”

  “I believe so. I’m not convinced that Darvish was the one who actually attacked him. But I’m equally sure it was on his orders. There may be other malcontents. We’ll find them out. If Dabney can’t tell us anymore, we’ll get it out of Darvish, over time.”

  I nodded and finished up my drink.

  “I wish you luck, General. It’s been an honor to meet you.”

  “You as well, Mr. Grandfather.”

  As I walked home, it occurred to me that the elves were due to arrive in two days. I was ready for a holiday.

  And beyond that? Well, there was still a mysterious figure sending attacks into the city, and even more importantly, for me, a wedding coming closer by the day.

  THE ART OF DARKNESS

  The day before the elven delegation w
as to arrive, Lilly and I took the day off. Our wedding was less than two weeks away, and we still needed to find a place to hold the reception. She didn’t like my idea of simply finding a tavern that appealed to us and going in. In her mind, it needed to be an event, with a pre-set menu, and perhaps a signature drink, whatever that meant.

  The ceremony itself was going to be held at Father Magnus’s temple, and I couldn’t have been happier about that. Although I, myself, didn’t prescribe to any one particular train of thought when it came to the gods, I did greatly admire Magnus, and firmly believed that if he were to bless our union, it would indeed be holy. Plus, there were a few unconventional guests attending, and by that I mean non-human, and since all were welcome at Magnus’s Temple of the Good God, that helped too.

  I wondered how Lilly’s family would react to those other guests, but she assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem. For all of their money and breeding, she swore that they were remarkably open-minded when it came to things like that.

  Lilly heard of a new thing here in the city, which was what was making my idea of simply stopping in to a tavern unappealing to her. She said it was called the Rose Petal Room, and was bound and determined that we were going to check it out. After a hearty breakfast, and an extra cup of coffee, I felt fortified enough to brave it with her, and arm in arm, we headed out.

  With a name like the Rose Petal Room, it sounded like it would be too…well…foo foo…for me. When we got there, I was surprised. It was even worse than I thought. The outside of the building was covered in ornate stone work, with glass fronted lanterns placed on each side of the door. Huge windows occupied the second floor, although there was only more Capital City to see from there. And true to its name, there was an abundance of rose bushes in pots, arranged along the front of the building. I was amazed that one of our more decorative minded citizens hadn’t made off with them.

  Lilly was enchanted, and stopped to smell several of the roses as we walked to the entrance, insisting that I do the same. They were nice. She gave me the fish eye when I said that, like I was some sort of barbarian who wandered in from the mountains and tracked mammoth dung all over the floor.