The Wrath of the Orphans (The Kinless Trilogy Book 1)

by Chris Philbrook

  "I wonder how they'd fare when they are the ones outnumbered?" Makar supposed, his eyes drifting over to Omniri's three bodyguards.

  "I was wondering the same thing Makar. Make sure their bodies are returned here to me. I very much enjoy the thought of them replacing Ivar in my stable of undead." Omniri grinned in his devious way, as one more game piece was put into play, and one more move made.

  - Chapter Thirteen -

  A NOOSE TIGHTENED

  The night that the twins were ambushed at the military barracks, and Malwynn's necromantic power had been first ascertained by Dram, Mal was given his first horrifying lesson in what you must do to master the darkest of arts. That night, so many weeks ago, had been the first step on a path that neither twin could've truly appreciated the importance of.

  Dram had leaned over one of the warrior corpses that night in the frigid cold air and produced a wickedly long dagger from the folds of his robe. The blade slid into the moonlight, cutting the air like a ray of blue sun. It screamed of ancient deeds that were foul, and should not be spoken of.

  "Realizing fully that you will not approve of what I am about to do, there is a distinct need for you to learn quickly, and this is a convenient opportunity for a brief, and visceral lesson," Dram said to Malwynn.

  Malwynn's mouth was still dry and locked shut from the events of the night, and the fact that he had come to the realization that he was gifted in The Way. He was oblivious to the true state of the moment.

  "Harvesting bones and organs is a source of tremendous power for us Malwynn. You will not approve of this as I said, but over time as you appreciate the gifts a dead body can offer you, I'm sure you'll come around." Dram looked up to Umaryn and saw the blank look of horror on her face and continued, "I am not so sure your sister will come around."

  Dram turned down with the slender dagger in hand and drew the edge of it along the man's trousers from his waist to his feet. The blade parted the fabric effortlessly. Malwynn's estranged mind realized that the knife must've been sharper than a razor to achieve such a cut. His suspicion was confirmed when Dram repeated the incision again, only deep into the man's leg. The thin blade glided through the heavy muscle of the leg as if it were no firmer than the snow the body laid upon. Glistening red flesh gave way to expose the upper leg bone, then the knee, then the shin, and the second leg bone underneath.

  Dram was speaking aloud, but neither brother nor sister was truly listening, "-And once that incision has been made, it's merely a matter of cutting through the connective tissues at the hip, and knee-…" His words were lost on them as he deftly cut the entire leg free from the corpse proper. Dram wiped the dead man's blood on the dead man's sleeve, and stood, holding onto the leg as a grim trophy of their victory. A hunter about to head home with his kill.

  Malwynn and Umaryn were sickened by the fact that the entire scene of Dram cutting the corpse so efficiently and without remorse had no emotional effect on them. They were anesthetized to gore, and violation of the man.

  "Why the leg? Why not bring the entire body back to harvest if there's so much power in it?" Malwynn asked softly, confused.

  Dram finished sheathing his surgical weapon and addressed the young man, "Do you feel like carrying the entire man's body back?"

  "No, I guess not."

  Dram tossed the limp limb to him and turned, "The leg is all you'll need for some time Malwynn. But that lesson is for another day. Come along."

  Malwynn looked down at the leg and finally felt a twinge deep in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was nausea, dread, or guilt.

  That night, he couldn't quite bring himself to make eye contact with his sister again.

  Many days had passed since then for the twins, and much had changed in that time.

  Malwynn's fledgling skill in necromancy and The Way had turned into burgeoning, true skill in The Way. Under Dram's tutelage Mal had been able to learn almost ten spells over the course of the winter. One of which would save his and his sister's life today.

  Umaryn had tripled her knowledge in The Way as well. Unlike her brother, she had failed at mastering even a single of the basic Neomancy spells, instead focusing on her Artificer spells to fully master them. Umaryn was dedicated; more than her brother or Dram could hope to appreciate. She suffered for perfection in everything she intended to master, no matter how long it took. Asking her to give up on something was wasted breath. Quitting was not in her nature in the same way that breathing water was not in a horse's nature.

  Umaryn was deeply invested, no-, obsessed in the perfection of a spell commonly known amongst Artificers as Rope of Iron. With it, she could make any length of rope turn into cable as strong as steel, or a rod made of iron. She was convinced that the spell and its potential to arm them at a moment's notice would be the difference for them when their lives were on the line.

  She had no idea how true her suspicion would turn out to be.

  Kemmin, Danglere, and Roybeth had been in the employ of Omniri Decadra since their adolescence. They all hailed from the same neighborhood in the Low City. The same neighborhood that Quality Meats, Cheap was in. If the twins had ever discovered that fact, they might've found it ironic.

  The three warriors who now were veteran guards and murderers had been caught quite literally red handed after they'd killed a Graben noble's horse. The noble had been fool enough to leave it tied to a hitching post on the side of the street while he impregnated a woman of ill repute at length. The boys killed the horse only a few blocks away for food. After all, a single butchered horse could feed all three of their families for a month that winter.

  Omniri had simply been in the area passing through, and caught the smell of an evisceration. There are some scents that are simply too hard to hide.

  The three young men, boys really, tried to kill Omniri when they were caught. It was pointless of course. Omniri was a capable adult, and with a single spell he was able to paralyze them, and take full stock.

  Kemmin was tall, and lean with a shock of blonde hair. He had muscles like taut cords, quick reflexes, and with training, he could become a fearsome warrior.

  Danglere was shorter, thicker, and even at that young age, sported a thick black beard that made him look much older than he actually was. He was brutish, simple, and stout. He was the enforcer even at their inexperienced age.

  Roybeth was perhaps the least remarkable of them all. He split the difference between both his friends in both height and weight, being wholly unremarkable. His crown was adorned with red hair the color of ripening strawberries, and his skin covered in tiny brown freckles. Over time, he was the worst of all of them when it came to cruelty and malice.

  Omniri struck them down with The Way, and offered them a single out from the crime they'd committed: join the military, learn how to be warriors, and serve him for a decade. In return they'd live through this grievous error in judgment, and Omniri would see to it their families were provided for. Omniri had bought a trio of loyal, young warriors to serve as his bodyguards that day, and it had cost him nearly nothing.

  That was just over a decade ago. The three men had been assigned to a very difficult instructor, and were then assigned to a very difficult unit that was deployed in the far north where the most dangerous Ice Bears roamed. Despite the incredible losses the unit sustained over the years, the three men managed to use their wits, training, and a little bit of luck to stay alive, though not without a few scars, and a few enemies to show for their efforts. Despite their agreement of a decade of service having lapsed, the men knew protecting Omniri afforded them status, wealth, and a fair amount of power. Few ever attempted harm against a Lord High Inquisitor, or those that were in their employ.

  Until now it seemed.

  Kemmin, Danglere and Roybeth kept their master's apprentice in eyesight at all times. When he'd left the small café and headed towards Graben's lifts Roybeth left the shoe polisher's stand abruptly to join him. Kemmin and Danglere would remain behind, and catch up la
ter to assure no one knew their true number.

  "The man is high born. He is educated, and likely a necromancer. I do not know who he serves but he will be an adversary for certain. Omniri will wish him dead most hastily," Makar said to Roybeth as the lift ascended. Roybeth could hear anger in his voice.

  "You seem angry. Has this man gotten under your skin?" Roybeth asked, a sliver of taunt in his voice.

  Makar's face snapped to Roybeth, and he rebuked him, "Watch your tone warrior."

  Roybeth did his best to hide a smile, "My apologies Makar."

  "I have no use for apologies from anyone Roybeth. Speak in the manner to me that you should. Remember where you come from." Makar was furious.

  "I will never forget where I hail from sorcerer, certainly not with you reminding me all the damned time."

  Makar's eyes flared as he turned to face the ex soldier to challenge him. The necromancer reached slowly into the folds of his purple robe to fetch the arcane items that would allow him to cast a spell. His patience had reached its limit, and the lowly warrior speaking out of turn needed to be reminded of his place.

  "Now, now Makar. Let us not waste our resources on a petty argument. Omniri would certainly sanction you were you to kill one of his men at this strange point in time. Ivar is dead and his paranoia is at peak you know? You aren't even angry at me. Tell me what bothers you. Confess your troubles." Roybeth, ever the master manipulator calmed the situation.

  Makar took his deep breath and removed his hand from the robe, empty of a threat. "His audacity infuriates me. He isn't scared of me, or Omniri, or the threat of an Inquisitor's ire. He personally insulted me as if there wasn't a force in the Empire that could hold him accountable. It makes my blood boil."

  "Well at the end of the day then, we've but two things to consider."

  Makar's eyes narrowed, "What two things are those?"

  "Well he is either an arrogant, overconfident prick who we will kill in short order, or he is the real, genuine article, and we are in very a very dire situation. Either way, our direction is clear. We are to kill him, or die trying."

  Makar didn't appreciate Roybeth's frank assessment.

  As the three warriors and Makar already knew, Omniri wanted the man named Malwynn, and his female accomplice killed. No one of power in the Empire wanted prisoners. Dead bodies were just as useful, and answered almost as many questions.

  Because of the vagaries of the man and his female ally, the murders had to be carried out with tremendous care. Any patron of theirs would certainly see the assassination coming if it were carried out carelessly.

  The trick would be finding them outside of wherever they were hiding.

  Omniri's three warrior-assassins had stalked prey in the capital of the Empire before. Graben was a familiar hunting ground. In a not so strange coincidence, the three used the lifts as their central examination area. However, unlike their prey they set themselves up at the top of the lifts in the High City.

  It was better than the Low City for many reasons, but only one reason was good enough to matter; there were simply far less people moving about. When Malwynn came down the central avenue of the High City heading towards the lift, Danglere saw him easily amongst the wealthy and powerful few moving about. The tiny amethyst colored Amaranth flowers stood out amongst the returning green of the garden of the High City as Malwynn walked by, clearly keeping a wary eye searching about. Danglere chose an interesting place to stand watch that day. He was standing at attention near the entrance to The Queen's palace. There were a dozen other guards moving about, and Danglere knew most of them from his time in the army. They were more than willing to allow his presence and lend him a uniform for a handful of Crowns.

  Danglere watched and assessed as Malwynn stood waiting for the lift. He'd put his eyes on this Malwynn person before. Just a day earlier when he'd left the café when Makar confronted him. He'd seemed confident, and capable. He was in very good physical fitness, carried himself with noticeable balance, and that spoke of martial training. At his hip hung a dagger, and on his back was an old, ratty bow. Danglere had to laugh at the sight of the terrible weapon. It certainly didn't scare him.

  Danglere glanced down the avenue of the High City and caught the eye of his friend and ally Roybeth. Roybeth was leading a small group of undead that was tending one of the trimmed hedges that lined the street, and was dressed as a necromancer should be. His light purple robes denoted a low rank, and he had his hood down as a sign of respect to The Queen. When the two looked at one another, they both knew one of their future victims was walking directly into their trap.

  Malwynn stepped onto the massive lift platform and waited patiently once more while it gathered those about to head down. After a minute or two of waiting, Danglere hustled away from his false post, and stepped onto the lift. A moment later Roybeth joined them as well, and the first steps of the hunt were on.

  As the Artificer engineered feat of wonder glided down on cogs powered by steam and The Way, Umaryn stood at the top, looking down at the two men who'd attempted to join the elevator with her brother with no one looking. One was dressed as a Queen's guard, and the other wore a robe of light purple. It was comical that he'd left his trio of undead standing still, abandoned at the greenery he'd been pretending to maintain with them. Umaryn smiled as their identities were spoiled. Now there was but one more threat to identify for her to know all three of Omniri's warriors.

  "You don't seem all that unhappy to have just missed a lift milady." A thin and frail old man said from near her. She turned to him and saw his excessively fine clothing, and twin undead dressed nearly as fine as he. He must be quite well to do for such finery she thought.

  "Well if it was meant to be, I would've caught the lift. I suppose this just gives me time to enjoy the view."

  The old man smiled, "A good way to look at life." He looked up to the vast expanse of the Low City below them, and the rolling plains that tumbled forward to the northern horizon. It really was a breathtaking view.

  Umaryn smiled again and turned her gaze to the descending men below her. She was looking at an entirely different view, for entirely different reasons.

  Kemmin was dressed as a city guardsman at the base of the lift in the Low City. Much like his ally Danglere above, he knew the guards, and with a small handful of Crowns he was able to stand with them as one of them. Years of service could often buy you access to places where mere coin would be insufficient. Kemmin knew he could've intermingled with the men without the gift of Crowns, but appreciation in the form of wealth showed the men that their assistance was valued. The next time he needed to do this, there would be no questions by them, their cooperation would be immediate, and they'd be glad to have done it.

  Kemmin's sole purpose on that day was to wait and watch for either Danglere or Roybeth's arrival. If they had descended to the Low City, then they were on the trail of the Malwynn man, or the woman that he worked with.

  He saw Danglere first. Danglere was hard to miss, with his barrel sized torso and thick, ruddy beard. Even wearing a nice uniform like the one the High City guard wore he was unmistakable. It took a few seconds of searching to find Roybeth in the necromancer's robes. Kemmin continued to chat it up with the other lift guards as his two friends departed, clearly following the man they'd seen the other day leaving the café.

  He would be killed today, as soon as he went to a place where they could do it without drawing excess attention. Kemmin thanked the men for their help, and excused himself to join the other men on the hunt.

  The man they were following had to be on to them. He was taking a very circuitous route through the city that had no rhyme or reason to it. A certain amount of random behavior was normal, but after a point, the randomness became a pattern. He was visiting no businesses, or residences, yet he went from neighborhood to district with purpose. Roybeth wondered if he was scouting for something.

  No matter where he went he was always on a thoroughfare that had a handful of pote
ntial witnesses should they attempt to strike at him. It hindered their plans even more when they had to split up and rotate off to ensure that they were never seen all three at a time, thus tipping off their presence and numbers to the man, or anyone working with him.

  Over the course of the multi-hour hunt Roybeth was reduced to taking off his purple robe and discarding it to change clothing, as was Danglere and Kemmin. Their patience wore thin, but their experience held their hands.

  Kemmin was in the lead of the group, closest to Malwynn when he finally went into a business. It was a butcher shop in a seedy neighborhood of the Low City. The shop had no customers, and through the windows in the front Kemmin could see that it had no customers. He looked back and nodded to Roybeth, indicating this was the time.

  Quality Meats, Cheap, would be the site of another round of murder.

  "He went inside?" Danglere asked as the last to catch up. They had gathered just down the way in an alcove between two tiny shops, out of sight of anyone inside the butcher's.

  Roybeth nodded, "A minute ago. He's speaking to the owner at the counter. Simple work. There are no dead bodies for him to reanimate or dominate around if he's a necromancer, and the only witness is the shop keeper, who we can kill easily enough. If we steal all the Crowns as well it'll look like a robbery. The fool set the scene for our cover."

  Danglere drew his sword, "Then let's see to it." Kemmin and Roybeth showed their agreement with the hiss of their blades unleashing.

  Danglere and Roybeth leapt up the steps to the door of the butcher's and yanked the door open. Their swords were drawn and hungry to spill red blood. Inside they saw Malwynn, standing casually at the counter, watching them as they burst in. He had a straight length of rope hanging from his hand to the floor, and he looked to be resting on it as if it were a cane.