The Miscreant

by Brock Deskins

  Georgo disappeared back into the trees where the men waited for orders. They led their horses by the reins across the ridgeline and down into the gulch, staying within the trees to avoid being spotted by wary soldiers standing vigil over the workers. As usual, the men were anxious, and the hours before the battle were fraught with anxiety. None doubted their victory, but rarely was it won without loss. Every man gambled his life for the promise of a good wage. Tonight’s tactics left the workers few avenues of escape. That meant they would fight harder, and the odds of dying significantly increased. Each of the mercenaries could only hope it was not their turn this go-round.

  The mercenaries spent the few hours before nightfall padding their mounts’ hooves and tack to muffle the sound of their approach. They took stones to blades, more as a distraction than any real need to sharpen the always battle-ready weapons.

  The contingent began moving before the sun set fully over the horizon. Dusk and dawn were the best times for an ambush, as visibility was at its lowest. By choosing dusk, half the men would be exhausted from toiling, and all were hungry and distracted by the upcoming dinner meal.

  Zoran ordered a skirmishing group to range ahead of the mounted soldiers. The advance party crept through the darkness-swathed forest until they were within fifty yards of the outermost sentries. The infiltrators took aim and loosed their bolts in unison. Half their targets dropped to the ground with little more than a yelp. A few missed, and others screamed and writhed in agony as they clutched at the shafts piercing their bodies.

  The archers worked to reset their crossbows as the rest of their band thundered to the fore, screaming over their mounts’ pounding hooves and waving swords and short lances over their heads. The work camp soldiers responded quickly, rushing from their scattered locations throughout the quarry to create a cohesive front. They were good soldiers who acted swiftly and with precision, but the battle was lost for the defenders within minutes.

  The men afoot stood little chance against cavalry. Several soldiers were able to create a mounted defense, but their numbers were too few to turn the tide of the battle. Half of Zoran’s men swept around the soldiers to attack the workers. The workers fled for the tree line or picked up tools with which to defend themselves. A few riders chased after the runners while the rest hewed into the unfortunate laborers who chose to stand and fight.

  The sound of steel ringing on steel echoed through the night. Men’s screams quickly turned into pleadings for mercy and fell silent even faster. It was not the easiest skirmish they had waged during their campaign, but it was over in less than half an hour. Georgo guided his mount next to his commander.

  “Several ran into the woods and have evaded our riders thus far. Should they continue the hunt?”

  Zoran shook his head. “No, let them flee and spread the word. Fear is as great a tool in dismantling the king’s operation as slaughter.” He turned toward the sound of continued battle on the far side of the camp near the cliff. “What in the world is going on over there?”

  The two mercenary officers spurred their mounts and trotted toward the source of the disturbance. A dozen of Zoran’s men surrounded a cleft in the rock face. Two lay near the entrance unmoving. Three others sat cradling busted arms and a split skull. Zoran could just make out the dark silhouette of a man pressed against the rear of the cleft, crouched in a battle stance and wielding a three-pound hammer and what appeared to be a small, round shield.

  “What is happening here?” Zoran demanded.

  “Sir, we got one trapped in the rock there, but the sonofabitch fights like a badger in his den.”

  Georgo said, “I’ll go get a few men with crossbows to get him out.”

  “Hold on, Georgo.” Zoran urged his mount closer to the crevice and leaned forward. “Hello in there, badger man. How about you come out now?”

  “How about you gutless bastards come in and get me!”

  Zoran turned to the man who had spoken. “Who is this man?”

  The mercenary shrugged. “I don’t know, the cook maybe. He’s wielding a cauldron lid like a shield, but he swings that hammer like a demonic blacksmith.”

  “Are you indentured as a convict?” Zoran asked the man.

  The man had the look of a prisoner. His clothes were threadbare, and a thick, black beard cradled his lantern jaw.

  “Yeah. They promised to reduce my sentence if I worked the road, but I knew it was crap. Even if they cut my sentence in half, I’d have to live to be two hundred years old if I was ever going to see the light of day. I signed on anyway because I couldn’t stand the damnable boredom of rotting in a cell.”

  “You equated yourself well in battle. Were you a soldier?”

  “A soldier? Naw, I wasn’t a tin-head.” The man released a gallows laugh. “I was a diplomat!”

  Zoran arched his eyebrows, surprised and impressed. A diplomat was the accepted title given some of the most skilled and cunning spies and assassins in the kingdom. A king’s agent who broke his oath rarely lived. Those who did were thrown into a dungeon never to emerge.

  “What’s your name, good sir?”

  “Dragoslav Zeegers.”

  “Dragoslav? You’re from Urqua?”

  “Father immigrated to Anatolia before I was born but kept our family name. What’s it to you?”

  “I might be interested in employing you.”

  “And my other option being…?”

  “Walk away; live as a fugitive until someone recognizes you. I imagine you are of a high enough profile that when your body isn’t found with the others they will make a concerted effort to track you down. The crown frowns on oath-breaking agents.”

  “You’d let me walk?”

  “If you like. Your death serves no purpose for me.”

  “But theirs did?”

  “Some of them. It’s just business. I expect a man of your former occupation to understand such things.”

  Dragoslav stepped from the fissure and looked up at Zoran. “Yeah, I understand it all too well. All right, I’ll sign on if you’ll have me.”

  “Excellent. Welcome aboard. Georgo, what’s our body count?”

  “Six dead, nine walking wounded.”

  “Mr. Zeegers, pick an ownerless horse and let us be gone from this place. There is a forest-clearing camp in Southlea, and it is a very long ride.”

  ***

  King Remiel Altena sat in attendance with his parliament. At least he was not required to stand before them like a common supplicant. It was about the only dignity they afforded him these days, although they did their best to cover their true feelings with polite smiles and deferential words.

  “Your Majesty, the people had significant reservations regarding the great trade road you desired to construct when you made the declaration. Now a year has passed, and the progress is half as great as expected and at nearly three times the estimated cost.”

  “The delay and cost of construction is entirely due to The Guild’s treasonous attacks on my work crews!” Remiel declared.

  “Sire, this is a body of law, and law requires evidence. Have you any evidence to present that supports such scurrilous claims?”

  Remiel’s jaw locked and his face flushed, but he would not squirm in front of these treasonous popinjays. “They are adept at avoiding complicity. Who else would profit from disrupting my—the people’s project?”

  “You control the most powerful intelligence-gathering body in the known world yet fail to find a single shred of evidence of The Guild’s complicity in what are obviously bandit attacks. Might it be that you desire to deflect blame for the delays and cost overruns away from yourself and onto The Guild, to whom you have shown such enmity because of your inability to accurately predict such challenges in this grand scheme of yours?”

  “I speak what I know and The Guild knows! They know this road will break the stranglehold they have on our economy and the power it buys them, power bought and paid for through this very body!”

  Lord Denne
ll never lost his ingratiating smile. “Now it is parliament who conspires against you. You lay many unfounded claims regarding others thwarting yours and the people’s will, Your Majesty, but it is toward you the people’s displeasure is directed. The cost of your road is extraordinary, and the people see it as a waste of money better suited to easing their suffering.”

  “It’s my coin, not theirs. Not one mile of roadway is paid for through their taxes.”

  “But your wealth is largely accrued through taxes. So, in essence, it is.”

  “I have other backers. The cost of this road does not come from the people.”

  “It does, by way of forced servitude by your decree. You have indentured nearly the entire prison population, substituted fines and incarceration with labor, and most recently and upsettingly, allowed the parents of able-bodied minors to sell their children to the work camps. You are enslaving the children of this kingdom for your road. How do you justify that to the people?”

  “I give the parents of troubled youths an opportunity to put their children in a program where they can learn a trade and do something productive with their lives. It is not slavery. They are paid a stipend and hopefully learn to be better people in the process.”

  “I’m not sure most would agree with you, Your Highness.”

  “Every parent who enrolled their children apparently does.”

  “Enrolled, such a nicer term than sold into slavery.”

  Remiel seethed, barely able to maintain his composure. He did not like the forced servitude any better than the people did, but it had become necessary due to The Guild’s campaign of sabotage. Parliament knew that, most of them anyway. They just wanted to humiliate and publicly condemn him. He would accept theirs and history’s condemnation if it meant freeing his kingdom from The Guild. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  “Are you finished berating me, Lord Dennell? I have important matters to attend to.”

  “One last thing, if you will indulge us just a little longer. You spoke of others backing the cost of your road. We feel it is important to know who we are doing business with to assure the people that we are not entering into any dealings that could bring harm to the kingdom.”

  “My investors require anonymity for their own protection. I am not about to divulge their identity so you can run to The Guild and force my allies to withdraw their support. The blood my workers shed for this road is on your hands, hands you use to take money from The Guild. I will see this road completed if it takes my dying breath.”

  Lord Dennell smiled. “We all pray it does not come to that, Sire.”

  Remiel stood. “We are done here.”

  The lords of parliament rose from their seats as the king stormed from the hall, leaving them in the wake of his suppressed fury. They openly mocked and criticized him. They made barely veiled threats without impediment. Such was how far the kingdom and his throne had fallen over the decades due to The Guild’s influence. He would tear down The Guild and bring dignity and respect back to the throne. Once the common man was able to ply his wares without The Guild’s extortion and control, his people would prosper like never before. Perhaps it would be enough to redeem him in their eyes, but if it did not, he would sacrifice his legacy for the people.

  A valet held the elegant coach door open for the king to enter. Remiel sat across from Agent Ward, his chief of security, who was awaiting his arrival.

  “I thought you equated yourself well, Highness,” Gregor said as the king sat down.

  “It was a bloody farce designed to make me look like a fool. Are we still no closer to proving The Guild is behind the attacks?”

  “No, Highness, I am afraid not. We are trying to trace the money back to them, but all the mercenary contracts we know of have been paid through intermediaries and dead drops. Those handling the money have no knowledge as to the identity of the people who hired them to make the payment and secure the contract. It is the same for the few mercenaries we have captured. We can occasionally trace the contract back to the intermediary but not beyond that.”

  “They mean to bankrupt and humiliate me. I might be king, but I am one man where they are a small nation unto themselves.”

  “Forgive me for even suggesting this, but is it really worth all this to destroy them? Most of the kingdom has done well enough with the status quo. This covert war between the throne and The Guild will surely ripple out to the people no matter how hard you try to shoulder the burden.”

  “Gregor, we are a free nation, but at present, it is The Guild which is steering its course and not the people. Most of the underclass could rise to the middle and higher were it not for the weight of The Guild’s boot upon their necks. This cannot continue. I will not allow it.”

  “I hope you understand the risk you are taking. The Guild has so far been content to be an expensive nuisance. There may come a time when they become much more dangerous, and the closer you come to completing the road, the closer that time draws near.”

  Remiel’s face grew long, and he stared out of the coach’s curtained window. “It is time to send Adam away.”

  “It has been confirmed then?”

  Remiel nodded. “The abbey will take care of him and teach him what he needs to know. I hope it is enough to keep him safe in the years to come.”

  “Thankfully, we have Marcus to continue your family’s reign.”

  “He’s so young. It is difficult for me to imagine him succeeding me.”

  “I’m sure he will be of age long before it becomes necessary.”

  Remiel snorted. “You are more of an optimist than I am. I just need to live a few more years, and my road will be finished. Damodara can sit as regent until Marcus comes of age. There is also Evelyn. She’ll be a woman before I know it.”

  “Girls always seem to grow up too fast in a father’s eyes,” Gregor said.

  “What would a lifelong bachelor know about that?”

  “Just because I never married doesn’t mean I don’t have children.”

  “Do you have children?”

  Gregor shrugged and smiled. “I visited a lot of ports in my tenure as a diplomat. Who knows what I left behind?”

  Remiel and Gregor shared a laugh and made the rest of the trip in silence.

  ***

  There was no fanfare or needless displays of obeisance as the king strode the halls of the palace in search of his wife Damodara. He found her in the parlor where she was enjoying the afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “How did the assembly go with parliament?” she asked.

  Damodara was a woman of regal beauty. She stood tall, proud, and always composed. A silk net adorned with glittering gems cradled her flowing, golden hair between her shoulder blades.

  Remiel wrapped his arms around her from behind, not the least bit put off that she stood a good three inches taller than he did. “Dreadfully of course. They feign ignorance and deny the reality that The Guild is responsible for the attacks.”

  “Of course they do. That is what The Guild pays them to do.”

  “Gregor fears for our safety if I do not abandon my cause.”

  “Yet another reason why you must not. When a king lives in fear of subjects who rule through the power of the purse, then he is no longer king, and the kingdom is nothing but a state of tyranny.”

  “You know I do not fear for myself but for you and our children.”

  “I spoke to Father Abram today. He told me they confirmed Adam’s…condition.”

  Remiel nodded. “Yes. Gregor is arranging transport to the abbey. He should be safe there, no matter the political outcome. He can no longer be king, so The Guild has no reason to harm him.”

  “When have they ever needed a reason? If they do not have one, they will simply invent one.”

  “There is little else I can do for him now. Should Gregor feel the threat to us is imminent, I have put together a plan to secrete you and the children away in safety.”

  “Is
there any place in this world they cannot reach? Their fingers are long and in the pockets of almost everyone of significance.”

  “Not everyone. Some of those who proclaim to support them condemn them behind closed doors. I found a few who would ally with us.”

  “These are your other investors aside from the Free Traders. Who are they?”

  “I cannot say. Their anonymity is of the utmost importance.”

  “You do not trust your own wife?”

  “Implicitly, my love, but I do not trust these walls. The Guild has spies everywhere. I dare not so much as hum a tune on the privy lest they discover my favorite song.”

  “Should the time come, I will stay here with you.”

  “Absolutely not. You will go with the children and keep them safe. You are the strongest, smartest woman I know, and they will need you.”

  “You want me to leave you here to die.”

  “I want you to leave so that what I have done can live.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Psst, Garran,” Matt whispered through the three-inch horizontal space serving as a window to Garran’s jail cell.

  Garran pressed his face against the opening. “It’s about time you showed up.”

  “Sorry, I had to wait until everyone got bored standing around. People are pretty excited. This is the biggest thing to happen in this town for some time.”

  “That’s because these people are all whores, and whores like nothing better than a good screw.”

  “Speaking of which, yours must have been pretty terrible to upset Claire so much.”

  “That bitch. You know she’s lying, don’t you?”

  “Of course. You’re a lot of things, mostly crappy things, but you’re not that.”

  One corner of Garran’s mouth crooked up. “Thanks for your undying loyalty and support. You’ll make as good a character witness as you do a milk bucket.”

  “Don’t blame me for your awful character.”

  “Do you really thing I have an awful character?”

  “I think you are an awful character, but you’re my friend, so I try to see beyond it.”