Sam Raid’s Book of Time disappears. She takes a few steps closer to me, Wolf still at her side. “There are a few things I’ve come to know since taking my new avatar, feelings, really – feelings I can’t really define.”
“What do you mean?”
“The future is hazy, and I’m not able to completely predict it, but I do have the sense that going to Drachma is a step in the wrong direction. We are the ones the Obelisk has somehow linked together, and we should take every effort to do what it is we were put here to accomplish.”
“And we will,” I tell her firmly, “but this is something I was put here to accomplish. Drachma is more or less on the way, and if we’re smart about it, we can close this chapter and move on.”
“For every chapter that closes, Oric, a new one opens. Sometimes, the story on the pages that follow is considerably worse than the story currently being told.”
I shrug her concern off. “Are you a prophet now, too?”
She places her soft hand on my arm. “No, but I am a friend, and I don’t see this ending well.”
“Non-negotiable, Sam.”
She keeps her hand on me for a moment longer and I can feel a spark of electricity between us. “I was afraid you’d say that. In that case, I will go to Tael with Lothar when the time comes. I’ve never visited, and now seems as good a time as any. I won’t argue about this with you again. Too many words are wasted on things that have already been said. I support your decision, but I believe you will come to regret it.”
(^_^)
“... And it was during the reign of Piebald the Powerful that Metica experienced its first and only male ruler. It was a good run, and it was at a time when Tagvornin had spread hegemony as far south as Tin Ingot, if you can imagine that.” Lothar chuckles. “It was years ago; hard to imagine Tags that far south now!”
Sam sits before me, my arms around her waist as we trot along on Wolf’s back.
“Metican rulers have always had allegiances with either the Tagvornins or with Solidus. The Meticans – note that some pronounce this meh-tee-kans and others met-i-kens; meh-tee-kans is correct – are known for the short horses they ride without saddles. Typical male/female roles are reversed in the city too, leaving men at home while women handle government affairs and war.”
“Interesting,” Sam says just to keep him going.
Lothar bites his lip for a moment. “It really is too bad that Tael, my home city, has been at odds with Metica since before I was a child. My parents fondly remember going to Metica and being treated as guests; giants are now treated as suspected enemies.”
“Why’s that?” I scoot a bit closer to Sam and she looks at me over her shoulder. Deathdale, on the other side of Lothar, travels on a spiral of light at her heels. She hasn’t said much since her brief interaction with Sam back at the campsite.
“A dispute with the last ruler of Metica, a woman named Orchid, whose allegiances were tied to Tagvornin. If Orchid is still the same ruler, I would bet good lira she’d want to meet you and would be partial to your cause.”
“And you?” I ask. “How will they react when they see a big guy like yourself?”
“We will find out shortly.”
Shortly comes in another thirty minutes or so, as the city gates appear on the horizon. Dark clouds hang above the city and blips of crimson light poke through them, a foreboding reminder that nothing will stop the Red Plague.
City guards take off on small horses, stand-riding as they race towards us. It’s been a good while since I’ve been to Metica, and while I am aware of their leader, Orchid, I didn’t pursue a relationship with her as the mayor of Ducat. I wanted Ducat to be entirely neutral, and to do so, it had to be a place where both the north and south could trade.
Aligning with Metica would have skewed this.
“Let me do the talking,” I tell the group as the Metica city guard approach.
Sam laughs. “You? Diplomatic check – since when did you want to do the talking? Maybe it’s better if I do the talking.”
“By all means, Sam,” I tell her. “But when you’re ready to let the big dogs handle it, you let me and Wolf know.”
She laughs. “I seriously doubt there is anything you can say that I couldn’t say better.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve put a lot of points in MIND since we last met.”
She laughs. “You clearly haven’t put enough.”
Wolf skids to a halt and Sam and I both hop off.
Her hands tucked in her robes, she steps before us as the city guards arrive. The women’s horses snort as soon as they slow. The first guard to approach, a muscular female with spiky black hair and an androgynous face, keeps her eyes on Lothar as Sam speaks.
“We have been sent north by the Obelisk to investigate the Red Plague.”
The city guard drops her gaze from Lothar to Sam.
The Metican warrior women wear white armor that accentuates their curves. Tied to the left side of their waists are what, with my little knowledge of fashion, I’d label as “half-skirts.” The bottom of the half-skirts are cut in an oval-like pattern, and there are embroidered symbols along the seams.
After introducing all of us, Sam begins: “As representatives of the Obelisk, we would like to meet with Lady Orchid, to discuss a situation in the south that may prove useful to the free peoples of Metica. If this is not possible, please grant us passage to Metica so we can resupply for our journey north.”
“Lady Orchid is no more,” the city guard says, her voice strong and clear. “Lady Blacknor is now the leader of the free peoples of Metica.”
“When did this happen?” Lothar asks.
The city guard ignores the giant as she continues. “Seeing as how you’ve been sent by the Obelisk and you possess information we could use, I will have one of my guards see if Our Lady is available for a meeting this afternoon.” As soon as she says these words, the guard at the back of the pack takes off.
“We can wait here,” says Lothar.
The guard places her hands on her hips and looks up to Lothar. “No, all of you will meet Lady Blacknor. We have yet to make contact with anyone from Tael; now is as good a time as any.”
“I’ve never pictured myself as a unifier of cities, but if the shoe fits … ”
“Quiet, Lothar,” Deathdale hisses.
We all turn to the Solar Mage, whose arm is at her side, ready to pull her sword of light from the air if need be.
“Get your girl under control,” Sam says under her breath.
My girl? I swallow hard as I make my way over to Deathdale.
“Hey.”
The Solar Mage keeps her eyes forward as three more city guards arrive.
“What?” she asks.
“Keep your cool, for now. If Lady Blacknor is sympathetic to our cause, she may give us some assistance in taking out the Drachma Killers.”
She narrows her single eye on me.
“What’s that look supposed to mean? Use your words, Deathdale.”
“What happens?”
“If what?”
“If we can’t get help.”
“Then we’ll get mercenaries,” I say under my breath as I shoot one of the Metican warriors a shit-eating grin and a thumbs up.
“And if no mercenaries?”
I nod. “Don’t worry. I have a plan. Well, sort of, but we can flesh it out as we ride there. It should be about eight hours’ ride from here. That’s plenty of time to come up with something.”
Deathdale nods. “And then?”
“And once we kill them – all of them – we will ride that very night to Tael and meet up with Sam and Lothar in two days’ time. It’s not a stupid idea,” I say just to reassure myself. “The Obelisk knows this was one reason I came north. I want it to be quick – one night, one strike, and then we’re gone.”
I glance to the ground, suddenly ashamed for my personal quest. Deathdale reaches out to me and touches my arm.
“You understand the impor
tance of this, right? Even with the Red Plague?”
“I do.”
“And you’re still willing to go along?”
“I am.”
“Good.”
After offering Deathdale a firm nod, I walk around Lothar and return to Sam’s side.
Chapter Fifteen: Lady Blacknor’s Outside Court
It takes the Metican city guard who left a good hour to return to us. During this time, Lothar continues to talk everyone’s ear off, and like many academics, he never gets the hint that none of us are interested in what he has to say.
And for me, it isn’t because I can’t understand him, especially with my added points in MIND; no, it has more to do with the fact that there are now twelve city guards on small horses before us, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, led by a woman in head-to-toe armor who has chosen to forgo the half-skirt the others wear.
It’s times like this I miss the silence of solitude.
Riding to Tin Ingot the other day, while lonely, did provide an ample amount of time to get lost in my thoughts. Even with Deathdale around, this is possible. With Lothar, impossible – Sam too, as we’ve had banter going between us since we first met.
Simpler times? This thought brings a smile across my face. Only could a man with a life stained with vengeance and violence look back at a time just before he was to go to war and call it “simple.”
A mounted Metican gallops towards us, her sword sheathed at her side. I relax a little, knowing that if she were bringing bad news, there would have been some signal to the guards surrounding us.
She stops before us, her round half-skirt draping from the right side of her small horse. “Lady Blacknor will see you.”
“Me too?” Lothar asks.
“Lady Blacknor will hold the meeting in our arena to accommodate your size.”
“That is very considerate of her.” The ground shakes a bit as Lothar gets back to his feet. He’s been sitting on his meditations box for the last thirty minutes or so, after complaining he was growing tired of standing.
“Please, follow me.” She turns and the city guards around her fan out, forming a large circle around us. Lothar lifts his meditations box by its handle and holds it over his shoulder. As he takes his first step, Deathdale zips past him propelled by her magic. Sam mounts Wolf and I follow.
“This should be interesting,” I tell her.
“Get ready for anything,” Sam replies.
(^_^)
We are kept away from the city proper, with its houses built closely together for added warmth. According to Lothar, Metica has thought of an inventive way to keep their homes warm. In the northeast corridor of the city, they have a mansion-sized furnace that constantly burns a special wood known as white log, which has a good heat output and an impossibly slow burn – a single log can burn for two days or more.
The steam from the boiling water goes through a succession of pipes beneath each of the homes, warming the floor. Now isn’t the season for burning, but it is chilly and soon, the city furnace will kick on.
“You can smell it for miles,” Lothar says to anyone who will listen. “Since childhood, I’ve recognized the smell of burning white wood in Metica.” He laughs. “That is some scent!”
Rather than go into the city, we circle around to the left, to a stadium outside the main gates. The stadium is a simple affair and I’d estimate it can hold several thousand people in its stands. It is nothing like the coliseum of Solidus, a grand architectural piece with a famous promenade on its sea-facing side.
More female guards stand at the entrance to the stadium, forming two lines for us to pass through.
“This is a bit unexpected,” Lothar says as a cool wind blows up, ruffling his red hair. It’s odd how quickly I’ve grown used to traveling with a giant. I learned pretty early on to stay clear of his feet, not for fear of trampling, but because he can be a bit heavy-footed and the quakes from his steps throw Wolf off.
Once we enter the arena proper, the sweet smell of blue melon reaches my nose. I glance around, looking for the source.
“You smell that?” I ask Sam.
It’s Deathdale’s scent, I think as we continue forward to the center of the arena.
“Yes,” she says, “but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”
“The blue melon fields aren’t far from here,” Lothar calls down to us. He laughs jovially. “They are quite fragrant this time of year.”
“That’s right,” I say, recalling a time when merchants from Metica would come to Ducat to sell blue-melon-related items.
We approach a dais at the opposite end of the stadium. Sitting on a throne made of large bones – a nice touch, if I may add – is who I can only assume is the new woman in charge, Lady Blacknor. While her guards and attendants wear white, she wears a sunburst-yellow dress that fades into white at its tips, a dress at odds with the sharp armor and weapons all around her.
“I thought she’d be wearing black,” I say under my breath to Sam after we’ve gotten off Wolf. “I do like the throne of bones though; that’s something I was hoping to install at the hut before I burnt it down.”
“Behave,” she tells me. “Did you just say you burnt it down?”
“I thought I mentioned that. Long story short: lots of bodies and I needed something to do with them.”
Sam turns to me. “My body too?”
“It was a humane way to go! Don’t worry, I didn’t loot your corpse or anything.”
“Ahem!” Lady Blacknor’s lead attendant, a feeble man with a collar around his neck, steps before her and begins her introduction. “Seated before you is Lady Blacknor, leader of the free people of Metica, the answer to the despair wrought by the former leader of Metica.”
All those gathered slap their hands against their sides. I glance at Deathdale, who seems completely on edge. She stands on the other side of Lothar, one of her heeled boots slightly in front of the other. My hand naturally finds Wolf’s head – or better, he finds my hand – and I start scratching his ear.
“Please step forward,” her lead attendant says, “and state for the record who you are and why it is you have come here.”
Sam tucks her hands in her robes. “I am Sam Raid, and I speak for all of us when I say we have come here for two reasons, the first being to discuss the Red Plague and the second regarding a recent development in southern Unigaea.”
“I am Oric Rune and this is Wolf Ruffian,” I tell those gathered. “It is an honor to meet you, milady.” I bow my head slightly.
“I am Lothar Shane,” says the giant. “I met these travelers on my way to Solidus to join academics in understanding the Red Plague.”
Everyone in the room looks to our final member.
“I am Deathdale.” The Solar Mage steps forward, offers a full bow, and steps back in line.
“You may be seated,” Lady Blacknor tells her lead attendant. She returns her cold stare to us. “Who is the leader among you?”
Lothar and Deathdale look to me, and I look to Sam.
“Go ahead,” Sam whispers, “but stay classy.”
I approach Lady Blacknor and bow my head again. “I am the leader. Fearless, I might add.”
“Oric,” Sam hisses.
Lady Blacknor’s gaze hardens on me. “Before we discuss the Red Plague, please explain to me what is going on in the southern lands.”
I clear my throat. “Governor Florin Talonas, of Stater Island, is waging war with the Tagvornins, who have already attacked Tangka, which we,” I nod from Sam to Deathdale, “defended not long ago. Governor Talonas provided the armor for us to defend the city, and he has helped me in other ways, including outfitting me with weapons. But as we’ve come north, we’ve discovered that things aren’t what they seem.”
“Oh?”
“Talonas is hardly pious. The entire spectacle has been a false flag, and I seriously doubt if the Tagvornins know they are being misrepresented. You see, I happened upon a convoy of Stater soldiers with
wagons that contained Tagvornin armor. They were also riding Tagvornin wolves. I managed to take one of the soldiers aside and I confirmed it for myself – Stater soldiers are disguising themselves as Tagvornins. Also, a group of mercenaries attacked us yesterday and were paid in lira wrapped in sea fruit husks, and only Stater does this. It is a false-flag operation to extend southern hegemony.”
Lady Blacknor considers this for a moment. Finally, she locks her cold eyes onto me and speaks. “The mercenaries do not concern me. Regarding your other claim, you are saying that Governor Talonas is having his men and possibly others dress as Tagvornins to attack southern cities, are you not? He then defends the cities, and uses the defense of the cities to extend his power.”
“Yes, milady, and while I don’t have evidence of it yet, I believe he may be behind a meteor attack on Solidus. We were there when it happened,” I say, again nodding my head back to Deathdale. “From what we’ve learned, the meteor shower has nothing to do with the Red Plague. It is something an advanced mage could likely have caused.”
“I see. And you come to me, aware of the free people of Metica and our allegiances?”
“Your allegiances?” Lothar asks. “To Tagvornin and the Rune Lands, like Lady Orchid before you.”
Lady Blacknor bares her teeth as she offers the giant a sinister grin. “I’m afraid you are wrong, giant; our allegiances are to the south, to Governor Talonas. How do you think he got the Tagvornin wolves and the armor? Before the coup d’état that put me in power, I’m the one who sent the armor and weapons to them. We’re the ones – ” She points at the Metican warriors closing in around us. “ – who slaughtered a good many Tags to get the supplies.”
She stands from her chair and laughs. “Guards, kill them all!”
Deathdale brandishes her sword of light. Sam’s hands are tucked in her robe; if she feels a fight coming on, she’s showing no signs of it.
I flourish Splintered Sword and drop to a battle-ready position next to Wolf, who lowers his head, snarling as the guards surround us.
Chapter Sixteen: Bloody Coronation
The ground quakes as Lothar comes down hard with both feet, sending shockwaves all around him. The Metican guards closing in on us are thrown off balance, giving me time to spin right with my Splintered Sword.
The Drachma Killers (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 2) Page 14
