by Dan Decker
Paroke army manned the northeast section of the city wall and it was not a quick trip from where Napael army was located on the south side of the city. Nelion sometimes made as if to run, but Adar refused to follow her lead. It wouldn't do for others to witness him hurrying unless there was a dire need. Nelion looked back several times in frustration and urged him to move faster. Each time, Adar gave her a mirthless tight grin and continued at his steady pace.
It wasn't that he wasn't sympathetic for the situation or her desire to hurry; he was just more interested in maintaining his decorum as he traveled through the city. While Adar didn't consider himself image conscious, he recognized that there were certain limitations to what he would be able to accomplish if he didn't take care to cultivate an image of authority and respect. He didn't know why it was so important that Semal had sent for him but he couldn't afford to make many mistakes where the people of Rarbon were concerned.
Adar did a double take when he saw a squad of marching Redd Guard ahead. Their red leather uniforms made them stand out wherever they went. The dark skinned man at the front was big and bald. Adar was familiar with the man and because he didn’t know the large man’s name had always thought of the man as Boulder.
Boulder had scars running down the side of his face and neck. His muscled bulk looked as though it had stretched his leather uniform to the point that it would break if he were to flex. He looked at Adar but his face didn’t show any recognition. Adar hid a smirk as Boulder looked away, not doubting for a moment that Boulder had recognized him.
Their sole job was to keep Adar out of the Rarbon Portal until he passed the tests to become Ghar. In the past, Adar had tried to make conversation with some of the Redd Guard but they’d rebuffed his attempts. As a kid, he’d been able to procure a few smiles but that had stopped as he aged.
Once the Redd Guard had passed, Adar tried to remember what he knew about the intricacies of Paroke army. He had never been on the Paroke army grounds and wished that he hadn't spent the better part of the year outside of Rarbon. Too much had changed in the intervening time. He didn't know half of the new Council members and if the rumors were to be believed, Helam had become more daring in his insubordination towards Abel.
Of course, Adar might not have been promoted as fast if he hadn't come back with one of Derren’s tablets, even if it was broken and useless.
Still, it was annoying to be out of touch.
As they walked, Adar tried pumping Nelion for additional information but other than terse one-word answers he didn't get much out of her.
When they at last arrived at the Paroke army gate, the guards recognized Nelion and waved them through. Stifling his surprise, Adar had to suppress his desire to chastise them for their lack of attention to procedure. Her visit to the base should have been logged. While it was true they would have seen her leave not more than an hour before, it still was a breach of protocol not to record the return visit.
Adar addressed one of the guards, a blonde haired man who was having trouble keeping his eyes open and had been leaning against the stone doorway when they approached. His hair was a little too long and there were a couple of days of scruff on his face.
When Adar asked the man to inform General Helam that he would be visiting the archives, the guard stared at him until his companion elbowed him in the ribs and pointed at Adar’s triple sword pin on his collar that signified his rank as a general. It rankled Adar to let Helam know of his presence, but there was no way around it.
The guard coughed out a “Yes, Sir,” before breaking into a run. The other guard shrugged and mumbled something about the first being a new recruit.
Giving the man a look that he hoped conveyed his disapproval of how they were handling things, Adar continued through the Inner Wall and out into the Paroke courtyard where he found Nelion waiting with an impatient look on her face.
The smell of manure and rotting garbage hung heavy in the air, drawing Adar's eyes towards a pile of refuse that wasn’t more than fifty feet away. It was over two stories tall and he could see feral cats, rats, and dogs scavenging through the pile. He even spotted a goat near the top, pawing through the trash.
There had been a similar pile when Adar had taken over Napael army and it had been cleaned up during his first week. Trash was now either burned, placed into a compost pile, salvaged for metal or glass that could be melted down, or buried daily. The fact that this trash pile sat so close to the entrance of the Paroke army grounds filled him with a resolve that in the near future such things would be cleaned up on all the Radim army grounds. Even Helam would have to follow an order if it came from a Ghar.
Clenching his fist, he focused on Nelion. She was well lit by a lamp that hung off a nearby pole and it was the first good look that he’d gotten of her. He’d been so focused on the riddle she posed, that he hadn’t noticed the way her straight blonde hair complimented her face.
He gave her a smile that she didn’t acknowledge before she led him down an alley that ran behind a row of buildings that were parallel to the Inner Wall. These buildings varied in height and layout from those that had been built in similar fashion on the Napael grounds. He was disoriented by the different layout because there was a three-story building where he’d been expecting open ground. If Adar’s commission had been Paroke army instead of Napael, he would have had this building torn down. It was excessively close to the gate.
As he followed Nelion into the shadows of the alley, he noticed a tavern on the bottom floor of the building. The sign out front identified it as the Graceful Gal. The sound of laughter, both from men and women, came out of an open window. If the stench from the refuse pile wouldn’t have been so overpowering, he imagined the smell of the tavern would have been laden with sweat, perfume, tobacco, and beer. It was a given that most soldiers would frequent such an establishment, but bringing it onto the army grounds? That was several notches below wise and invited all sorts of trouble.
Nelion increased her speed without looking back to see if Adar was following. Was it just his imagination or was her back straighter? Cursing, Adar increased his stride, hoping that nobody would notice him. He wouldn’t know where to find the archives without the woman and he didn’t like the idea of going back to the tavern or the guards for directions.
When she turned a corner without so much as a glance over her shoulder, he restrained from breaking into a run. It was bad enough that she’d got him to hurry as much as he had.
Would the building have a sign? The Paroke archives were the largest of any of the armies and it was said to rival that of the Rarbon Palace archives. He sped up, it was best not to chance it.
Adar went around the corner in time to see two shadowed figures jump off the roof of a one-story building. Both were hooded and had Radim swords on their back. When they landed, they turned their drop into a roll and came up on their feet without any audible sound. It was a move he’d practiced hundreds of times, same as any other Radim soldier.
The first was ten feet from Nelion and charged towards her as soon as he was up, drawing his sword from his sheath as he did.
Adar broke into a run while unsheathing his own sword, his boots clattering on the cobblestones of the road as he closed the gap between the closest figure and himself. The other man must have heard Adar’s approach because he drew his sword and flipped around, but it was already too late.
Adar ran his sword through the man’s stomach, swept his foe’s feet out from underneath him, and pulled out his sword all without stopping. It was only as the figure cried out, that Adar realized he had just put his sword through a woman. As she fell, her hood fell open and blonde hair spilled out from underneath. She wore a black mask that covered most of her face, leaving a place for her eyes and mouth. She screamed again, piercing the quiet of the evening.
Adar had never harmed a woman and even though the realization filled him with regret, he didn’t have time to dwell on it because her companion had turned on him.
Beh
ind the cloaked figure, Nelion held a dagger in each hand, her beautiful face marred by a snarl. The second dagger was a surprise but Adar supposed he shouldn't have been taken off guard; she had after all served as a Radim. Seeing her with the blades flashing in the night made him pause. His hesitation was almost too long, by the time he tore his eyes away from her the other man was to him.
Adar parried an attack and met it with his own, only to have the man—there could be no doubt this time, based on the low tone of his growl and his large shoulders—block the blow with his sword and return it.
The blows they exchanged rang through the still evening air. As the next attack came, the arc of the man’s blade, the way he leapt off the ground, and the glint of his eyes behind the mask all seemed to slow. Adar took a breath, brought up his own sword, took a step forward and took advantage of the fact the man was in the air to push him to the ground when their swords met.
The man rolled to his feet but remained squatting as he blocked Adar’s next attack. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Adar was surprised that he hadn’t taken the man down by now. There weren’t many in the Radim armies at Adar’s skill level, and he could count them all on one hand. Whoever was behind this mask, Adar knew and had fought before. He began to list them off but stopped so he could turn his full concentration to the fight.
Crouching, Adar dodged a strike and brought his sword up into his attacker, who twisted in time to take the blow on his ribs and lower arm, instead of through the chest. The man made a low howling sound but continued through with his own blow. Adar dove in time to keep the man from taking him in the neck.
Nelion charged with a cry, wielding the sword of the fallen female assailant. The man met the new attack, giving Adar a chance to get to his feet.
Adar expected the man to cut Nelion down, but she parried the blows rather well, even though she struggled to bring her own attack. Adar charged without hesitation. Some believed a fight should be one on one, but Adar never felt bound to such restrictions. Dead was dead, and he wasn’t about to let Nelion be cut down by some shadow in the night.
The man shifted his attention to Adar and blocked the attack, resulting in a surprised but relieved look from Nelion. In another situation, the look on her face would have brought a smile to Adar’s lips. Instead, he was just glad she was skilled enough with the sword that she was still alive.
After meeting Adar’s attack, the man fumbled with something up his sleeve that slipped out and fell to the road. Breaking glass accompanied a blinding flash of light. Adar slashed at the place where the man had last been, but his sword found nothing but air. Blinking his eyes, he tried to see through the afterimages and could make out the man hopping onto a barrel before scaling the wall of the building he’d jumped off earlier.
On instinct, Adar pulled a dagger and flung it. The blade made a dull sound when it sunk into the wood, missing the man by a few feet.
Cursing, Adar was already reaching for another dagger, but the man had disappeared onto the roof.
Adar weighed his options and tried to decide if it would be better to chase after the man or see to the woman he’d attacked earlier. The building that their attacker had climbed wouldn’t be the man’s final destination. The next several buildings were close enough that he’d be able to travel from roof to roof. If he made it over to the tavern, it wouldn’t take much effort to disappear into the crowd.
With a glance at the roof, Adar examined the woman he’d run through with his blade. Her breathing was labored and shallow; blood formed in a pool underneath her and she had her hand to her mouth. In the scant moonlight, Adar could just make out foam as it oozed past her lips.
Sycanon root extract. The woman had seconds to live. Cursing, he bent down even though it was futile and removed her hand. Her head slumped to the side as she stopped breathing.
Nelion approached. “She’s dressed like the others.”
Adar didn’t answer as he used a dagger to cut the string that secured the mask to the woman's head and lifted it from her face. Shifting so the moonlight would hit her, he looked down on the woman, her face burning into his memory. From the dark eyes to her trimmed eyebrows to her pointed chin, he knew he’d never forget her. She wasn’t as attractive as Nelion but had probably turned a head now and then.
Sighing, he knew he shouldn’t have looked because he would be seeing her in his dreams. Each time the scene would play out and he’d try to take a different path, but it would always end the same, like so many of the others he’d killed before. The thought brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back. While he was awake, it wasn’t a problem. He’d made the right decision and it wouldn’t hold him back while he was conscious.
Standing, he looked at Nelion and held out the mask. “The others wore this?” The last time he’d seen its like had been in the Rarbon Palace archives. There were little spikes at the top Adar hadn’t noticed until now. He’d supposed that they were there to mimic the horns that sat on top of the Hunwei heads. He’d never seen a live Hunwei but had run into a fossil a few times before.
She gave a quick nod of her head and Adar sighed. It had been a long time since the Kopal had dared to show themselves in Rarbon. In light of everything else he had going on, it was something that he could have done without.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. With all the evangelizing that Semal was doing about the return of the Hunwei, the Kopal were bound to become more active. How could they not? It took effort to not crumple the mask as he held it in his hand.
Chapter 8
The temperature in his office was warmer than Helam would have preferred so he opened the window to let in the cool evening air. Children played on the street below and Helam was reminded of when Molach had been that young. The image of his son holding a wooden sword and out of breath from running with his friends brought a smile to Helam’s lips.
It didn’t last long though. Briggs hadn’t returned with a report yet and Helam was having a hard time concentrating on anything else. As the evening had progressed, he was becoming concerned that he’d made the wrong decision. Killing Birgemat while in Adar’s custody would have been less risky; he should have just done it and found a way to get another spy close to Adar. Helam had already underestimated Adar, the risk wasn’t worth it.
He realized he had something in his hand and looked down at the small bottle he’d been rolling around with his fingers. It contained powdered laely flower; he was never without it. All his bodyguards carried the stuff as well. He couldn’t count the number of times it had turned out to be useful to sprinkle a little bit of the stuff in someone’s drink or on top of their food. Once consumed, the person would be unconscious within a few minutes and when they woke up half a day later, they’d be hard pressed to remember their last waking hour. It was a nervous habit of his to play with the bottle.
He looked at the cork to make sure that it was still in place before replacing it in his pocket. He’d accidently taken some himself one time and fortunately hadn’t forgotten anything important. Ever since then he found himself checking multiple times a day to make sure that the cork hadn’t moved.
Several times during the last hour, he had almost sent one of his personal guards after Briggs, but each time he stopped himself and renewed his determination to be patient. Before too much longer he hoped to receive word that the ruse had worked and that Birgemat was on his way to the Paroke army base.
Helam had already signed the man’s execution order. Once Birgemat was in Briggs custody, it would just be a matter of time before the problem was behind him. With Birgemat dead, executed because he’d been found guilty by the Paroke army tribunal in absentia for stealing gold from the Paroke army treasury, Helam would breathe a lot easier. Because the made up crime had happened on his base, it was within Helam’s authority. Everything was in place; all that was needed was for Briggs to come back with Birgemat.
He went back to his desk and stood behind the chair as he surveyed his office; it was ano
ther reminder of the compromises he’d made since he’d discovered his wife Elaire’s secret. If it had been up to him, he never would have traded his austere quarters located within the Inner Wall for this more comfortable home on the Paroke grounds. But Elaire had a way of getting from him the things that she wanted, even before she had the full threat and force of the Kopal behind her. She’d given him an ultimatum and left him with few options other than killing her or going along with it.
He still loved her too much for the former and so he’d been stuck with the latter. He’d considered mounting a campaign against her that would have allowed him to move back into the official Paroke general headquarters, but the thought never made it far because he couldn’t allow himself to think of his wife as the enemy she was. With love, some matters didn’t make sense and that was just the way it was.
He could have moved back without her, but the rumors that went around about his marital troubles were bad enough without adding fuel to the fire. He didn’t know whether it was Elaire, Molach or one of their servants spreading around the troublesome stories and he didn’t much care to find out because he was afraid of what he would learn.
Sometimes it was better not to know. At least, that is what he told himself. Since there appeared to be no chance of repairing the relationship between him and his wife, they’d at least managed to arrive at some semblance of civility they each could live with. For now. While he knew that he’d never convince her to see his way on things that still didn’t stop him from hoping that at some point she’d give in and they’d reconcile.
But was he taking too much of a chance by not proactively monitoring her activities? He’d never arranged to have a spy follow her and he was beginning to wonder if that was a mistake. When he’d learned the truth, he had initially considered the idea but had delayed implementing it. Somehow, it had just felt wrong to have his wife followed. But as his hopes for reconciliation had all but disappeared, he had to be more practical, especially considering her increasing unexplained absences.
