The Darkness at the Edge of Noon: a Thalassia novel

by Patrick McClafferty

  “I’ve got to see this.” Kirby strode forward, right on Logan’s heels.

  “It might not be a good career move, my friend.”

  “Hells, I don’t care. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “It’s your funeral.” Logan shrugged. “Now, shall we pay a call on the High Councilor?” Logan’s boot heel opened the door with a resounding crash, and they stepped in. “Oh hells, not again.” Behind him he heard the sergeant’s muffled guffaw.

  The fat fiftyish Councilor was sitting on an overstuffed red couch with a pretty young secretary on his lap. His arm was hidden up her skirt, and her eyes were closed.

  “Wha...?” The Councilor stammered. The girls’ brown eyes flew open, and she emitted a shrill squeak. Logan jerked a thumb at the door and she got out, tugging at her overly short dress. She had just run past him when he heard the smack of steel on soft pliant flesh. Ryanne had the young secretary bent over her knee, and was taking the flat of her sword to the girl’s tender bottom.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” SMACK. Do you think that your mother raised you to be a whore for the High Councilor?” SMACK. “DO YOU?” SMACK.

  “No, Aunt Ryanne.” The voice whimpered.

  “Then what,” SMACK, “the bloody hells,” SMACK, “are you doing it for?”

  The girl was weeping loudly. “He said,” Sniff. “He said he loved me.”

  “WHAT?!” SMACK “That’s what they all say.” She raised the sword for another swat, and Logan stepped in.

  “I think that is quite enough, PFC.”

  Ryanne turned white when she realized what she’d done, and she snapped to attention, dumping the crying girl on the hard floor. “Sir, yes, sir.” She slammed her sword back into its sheath.

  Logan turned his head slightly, so that the girl on the floor wouldn’t see, and gave Ryanne a slow wink. “Get back into formation, soldier.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” She turned, but not before Logan saw the mirth hiding behind her eyes.

  Kirby looked at the rank of ramrod straight soldiers, all grinning like satisfied cats. “You have a close group, Logan. Those people would die for you, you know.”

  “And I would die for any of them too, but they don’t need to know that.” He replied in a quiet voice.

  “They already know, my friend. And I envy you.”

  He turned back to the Councilor. “Well, well, well.” Logan’s voice was cold enough to split stone. “I wonder what your wife will say when she finds out.”

  The Councilor turned a pasty shade of white. “You wouldn’t...” He blinked, as if seeing Logan for the first time. “You’re Logan MacKennit. You’re guilty of murder. I arrest you...”

  “Oh, give it a rest.” Logan muttered. “Blame it on that idiot Minister Dumple for wanting to go outside for no good reason and for Captain McDermit for ignoring my warnings.”

  “I’ll get the soldiers in here to arrest you. I’ll...”

  Logan put a hand to his medallion. “I need a little demonstration, please.”

  “How big?” The goddess’s sensual voice whispered in his ear.

  Chills ran up his spine, and he swallowed. “I just need to convince this one idiot minister that it would be very unwise for him to call the army on me.”

  “Have your people stand back. That desk might be a good target.”

  Logan glanced to the right and left, then drew his long sword and struck the desk with one fluid motion. It sounded like a thunderclap, as the sword sheared through the thick wood, and continued on into the granite floor beneath. There was a rumble, the ground shook and the thick granite block split with a huge crack. The split continued on until it had run halfway up both walls. Logan slammed the sword back in its sheath, too stunned to think straight for a moment. He took a deep breath.

  “So, Councilor. How many men are you willing to lose?”

  The man had fainted.

  Chapter 8

  They had a day to kill. The High Councilor had promised them that he would convene the entire City Council for an emergency meeting the next day. In this case the man was completely sincere. His life depended on it.

  So the squad sat and sipped warm beers, in a cold empty barracks room. After the moon of Medin, the men and women found that this place held little appeal. Fetid smells assaulted their tongues as fervently as they assaulted their noses.

  Wandering about, Logan found himself at his old home. Some vandal had kicked in the front door, and the plain drab gray walls were depressing. What little he had possessed for furniture had long since been stolen or removed. Even the memories of his family were fading and gray. His hand touched a chip taken out of a wall. That was where his son—he actually had to stop and remember his name—that was where Jer had borrowed daddy’s sword to kill imaginary monsters. It had taken him a week to polish the chip out of the cheap ceramic blade.

  It was the first words Jade had spoken in days.

 

 

 

 

  At least he had that simple friendship to fall back on.

  Kirby found him on the way back to the barracks. “Things are all set for tomorrow.” He was grinning broadly. “Boy, you sure set the fox in the chicken coop. Rumors are flying about everything from space aliens to strange saviors in black suits with magical weapons.”

  Logan laughed. “My friend, believe it or not, we are the aliens here.”

  “Yeah, right.” The sergeant scoffed.

  Jade was chuckling.

 

 

  Jade’s humming confused him at first, until he realized that for the very first time, he had called her “friend.”

  The High Council of the City of Stirling were a pasty faced bunch of skeptics, who like all government officials wanted nothing more than to maintain the status quo. The seat of the High Councilor they had met the previous day was conspicuously empty. The rest of the board glared at him with cold angry eyes.

  Logan greeted them with a toothy smile. “You’re all going to die.” He let the sentence hang in the air for a few seconds. Behind him he heard Sergeant Kirby cough. “There are thousands of Zzzkntti, those are the creatures you’ve been fighting by the way, waiting to assault this stronghold. We were lucky. We arrived just in time to save your sister city Ballinasloe from being swarmed under. As it was, they lost thirty soldiers and many civilians.” He glared back at the old men. “And we WON.” He took a step forward and put his hands on the polished wooden Council Table. The men moved back, a flicker of fear in their eyes. Good. “We won because I collapsed their main entrance. I figure that it will take the Zzzkntti six months to dig through the rubble. Hopefully by then I will have come up with something to neutralize the Zzzkntti threat. Pray to your gods that I do, gentlemen.”

  The oldest of the councilors crossed his arms over his thin chest and scoffed. “Why should we believe you? An accused murderer, you come traipsing in here, smashing everything up and threatening people. Why should we believe you? What proof do you have?”

  Logan was calm on the outside, but his fingernails were digging furrows into the palms of his hands. “You should believe me because your very lives depend on it. Increase your guards on the main gate by tenfold. Better yet, close off the main and secondary gates entirely. Leave only the small emergency exit located on the west side gallery. You can probably defend that. If you don’t believe me, ask your own Sergeant Kirby if the threat is real.”

  “Kirby is your crony. We all know that.” The Councilor looke
d at the men to his left and right with a tight, thin smile.

  There was a growl from Kirby, but Logan ignored it. “Please, I beg you. If you won’t consider sealing off the gates, then defend them. Forty men on the front gate will slow the creatures’ attack enough for you to call up your reserves. No less than twenty guards on the back gate. Less will be inviting disaster.”

  “We’ll discuss this further, Mister MacKennit.” The Councilor purposely omitted Logan’s rank, relegating him to no more than a civilian. “And consider yourself under house arrest.” Glittering black eyes looked down a narrow beak of a nose. “You will surrender your sword to Sergeant Kirby.”

  Logan put his hand on his hilt. “I don’t think so.” His voice was grim.

  Glittering eyes shifted slightly. “Sergeant Kirby. Take this man under arrest.”

  Kirby held his hands well away from his own sword. “I gave Logan safe passage to and from this Council Chamber. I will not renege on my given word.”

  “Oh, I’ll handle this.” A slim dapper man dressed in blue silk and sitting at the far end of the council table stood up, twirled his elegantly waxed mustachio and flung back his cape with a dramatic flourish. Drawing his blade with an exaggerated movement, he waved it about several times for everybody to see. The three foot blade made of shining blue crystal was glowing softly. “This is an unbreakable stelwood crystal sword.” He aimed the sword at Logan’s heart, holding the hilt loosely. “You might as well give up. You can’t beat...”

  A hiss and a ting punctuated the sentence. The room went deathly quiet. The hiss had been Logan’s sword tearing the very air, and the ting had been the steel blade shattering the stelwood blade, two inches above the fancy basket hilt. There was a snap as the steel sword returned to its sheath.

  “Think about what I said.” There was a deadly tone in Logan’s voice.

  “Nice blade.” Kirby whispered as the two men turned to exit the silent council room. “Can I get one of those?”

  “Probably.” Logan mouthed.

  Kirby pulled the door to the room shut behind them. “Good. I have fifty men who are ready to go with you. I could have had a hundred, but you said that you wanted veterans.”

  “Fine.” Logan smiled, and felt some of the tension drain out of him. “How soon can they be ready?”

  “Well.” Tam ran his four fingered hand through his short hair. “I figure an hour to get them together, and another hour or two to get them outside. Transportation will be up to you, then.”

  “We don’t need to go outside. Can you find us an old abandoned auditorium, or warehouse?”

  “What are you up to?” Kirby frowned. “Yeah, I know where there is an old warehouse. When do you want them there?”

  Logan thought quickly. It was too late today, so... “Tomorrow morning. Earlyish. Start of the third watch, say. They can only bring what they can carry. They won’t need food.”

  “No food?” The old sergeant was bewildered. “Then how are you... Never mind. The warehouse is at passage LN, room 482.”

  “I haven’t been down to LN in ages.”

  Kirby grinned. “Me’n the boys used to gamble down there, sometimes, when I was younger.” He coughed, and blushed slightly. “Say, if you don’t plan to leave until the third watch, why don’t we slip down to the research area first thing tomorrow morning? They’re working on a lotta new stuff, and I think you might be interested.”

  “You’re right. I would be interested.” There was a distant low chime in the air, and it rang five times.

  “Damn.” Kirby cursed. “I didn’t know it was so late. I’ve got to make sure that the troops get down to chow, and then my wife and kids will be waiting for me. See you in the morning.” Soon the sergeant’s back was only a shadow disappearing down the long corridor.

  Jade sounded mildly interested.

 

  Logan wandered along the seemingly endless corridor, until he heard distant voices. The smell should have told him where he was: sweat, vomit and spilled beer. He was coming to the entertainment district.

  The cabaret was called The Rose, and Logan had gone there often with his wife, before they were married, that is. The two times he had been there for dinner after she had died just hadn’t been the same.

  The vaulted cavern was spacious, set with many great buttresses to hold up the distant ceiling. Small tables were scattered about, some set into intimate nooks between the buttresses, and in the corner a small group of musicians played local instruments: a mandolin, flute, harp and guitar. Best of all, the food and wine were excellent. His nose caught the smells of the many superb dishes being prepared in the kitchen, and his stomach growled. He had a tab here at one time, and he wondered if...

  “Ahhh, Gunny MacKennit. It is good to see you again, after all this time.” The head waiter greeted him like a long lost brother.

  “Do you have a quiet table, Orin?” He sighed in relief that he’d been able to dredge up the man’s name from the depths of his memory.

  “Oh, yes, sir. It’s a quiet night.” Lighting a small candle, he wove his way to a small table covered with an immaculate white tablecloth. “Will you be dining alone?”

  Logan was about to say yes, when an idea flashed through his mind. “I’m not sure, Orin. Just bring a bottle of your best red and two glasses.”

  The waiter smiled. “Very good, sir.”

  Logan’s hand touched his chest where the medallion lay. “Rhiannon?”

  “Yes, Logan?” She answered immediately.

  “I hate to bother you, Goddess, but...” He bit his tongue and frowned. How did one go about inviting a goddess who was also the most beautiful woman he had ever imagined, to dinner? “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Wincing at his own bluntness, he still jumped when her soft hand touched his shoulder.

  “I would love to. Thank you for asking.”

  She had done something to her hair. The glossy red tresses hung in a flowing cascade down her bare back, and there seemed to be highlights in it, like sparkling gems, or maybe swirling galaxies. Swooping down in front, her white single shoulder gown gave him precious little not to stare at, and the amount of creamy smooth skin that it exposed took his breath away. Her silver medallion seemed to glow all on its own.

  He pulled the chair back for her to sit. “You look... you look.” He was having trouble catching his breath. “Rhiannon, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  A hint of a blush washed up her cheeks, and she smiled. “It has been a long time, Logan, since I’ve felt so good. So much a woman.”

  She sat there, looking up at him, lips red and inviting. It was impossible. You don’t go around kissing goddesses, he told himself. Then he looked into the unfathomable pools of her violet eyes, and he was lost. He leaned down and their lips met.

  She tasted of strawberries.

  “Ahem!” Logan was vaguely aware that this was the third time he’d heard this particular word. He slowly moved his lips away from those of the goddess. Rhiannon’s eyes were still shut, and turned to the waiter.

  “Yes, Orin?” His head was spinning.

  “Your wine, Mister MacKennit.” He deftly poured two glasses.

  Logan took a quick sip, but all he could taste was the strawberry of Rhiannon’s kiss. “Very good.” He mumbled. Orin gave him a knowing look.

  “It took you long enough.” There was laughter in Nan’s voice.

  “Pardon me?” Logan was confused, and still more than a little off balance.

  “It took you long enough to kiss me, silly. You’ve wanted to almost since we’ve met.”

  He opened his mouth to deny it, and then closed it again. “What’s it like to be able to read minds?”

  She gave him a steady look. “Most of the time it’s horrible. You see all the horrible smallness of people, the petty jealousies, the envy.” The corner of h
er lips lifted in a faint smile. “And then there is your mind.”

  “Even worse, huh?”

  “Oh, no.” Her smile became mysterious. “Would you like to find out what it’s like to read other people’s minds?”

  He swallowed. “Not right now, however...” He gave her a direct look. “I’d like to find out what’s on your mind.”

  Rhiannon threw back her head and laughed with the sound of cascading silver bells under a full moon. “Oh, Logan. A girl has to have a few secrets, doesn’t she?” She took his hand. “Someday you will find out.”

  He lifted the soft hand to his lips. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Dinner at The Rose was as superb as he remembered, with wonderfully spiced actual beef steaks with mushroom sauce and fresh crisp salads. Dancing afterward was better yet. Sometime during the second dance, Rhiannon was an exquisite dancer, Tam Kirby walked in with his wife and teenage daughter. Kirby’s gaze swept over the room, passed over Logan and Rhiannon, and then flashed back. Kirby tripped over a table leg, and had to be helped up by his wife.

  “Uh oh.” Nan’s voice was low. “I think he’s recognized us, Logan. You’ll be hard put to explain this.”

  Logan laughed at her worry. “No I won’t.” He held Rhiannon’s look. “If they can’t accept the fact that I am taking someone I care about out to dinner, then I’d say that they have the problem. How long has it been, Nan, since you last went out to dinner like this?” He guided her between the tables, his hand on her warm smooth back.

  Her violet eyes pierced him, and her face grew serious. “I have never been out like this, Logan.”

  They returned to the table and sat for a long time, simply holding hands and listening to the soft music.

  The rough stone floor was cold on Logan’s bare feet, and the memories of the night before seemed nothing more than a pleasant, impossible dream. He stood up, stretched, and began to put on his armor, shuddering at the clammy feel of the cold steel. Across the wide barracks, the other members of the squad were doing the same.