FIERCE: A Heroic Fantasy Adventure (BRUTAL TRILOGY Book 2)

by James Alderdice

  Squinting against the sun, the giant blinked its one good eye at Gathelaus. Its tongue rolled across its lips as more saliva dripped in yards long strings of bile. It stood fully erect and roared an inhuman cry of despair and rage.

  The brute strength of such a behemoth was beyond imagining and Gathelaus stared, trying to find a weakness in those spindly, long arms. Each hand and foot bore six digits with the nails extended. Each ponderous step shook the ground and the colossus wheezed as it shambled closer.

  Gathelaus, at a loss on how to fight the thing, noticed one last heavy wooden ball at his feet. Stooping to pick it up, he whispered a prayer to his own nearly forgotten god. He knew he could throw better than hit with the paddle, so he coiled back his right arm and roared his own defiance at the Amon-Gahela in an attempt to get it to answer him.

  It did.

  The Amon-Gahela opened its maw wide and roared an anger that knew no right or wrong, only pain.

  Gathelaus threw hard and true, the ball flew into the creature’s mouth and down its gullet. The howl stopped cold and the giant’s long cold hands clutched at its throat. It gasped and choked and stumbled backward, stomping a horrified keeper to death in the process. It stared at Gathelaus with its one good eye, and then it wobbled and pitched forward upon its face. The right leg jerked for several moments before going still.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening. “Gathelaus! Gathelaus! Gathelaus!”

  Deal with the Devil

  Hawkwood attacked and burned almost a dozen ships off the coast of Derenz as he hunted for Tariq of Dar-Alhambra and Gathelaus, all with little to no information of value beyond what he had already learned from Rogliano’s first mate. He took his ship, The Kraken, out to the edge of the Invisible River current and watched as both the clouds above and stark contrasting sea itself raced in a southeasterly direction. Swirling eddies of water forced the Kraken to turn about as Hawkwood pondered his next course of action.

  “How long shall we wait here, Captain?”

  “As long as it takes,” barked Hawkwood, over his shoulder. After that, they did not trouble him any further as he stared out at the vast sea.

  Nearing the midnight hour when most of those aboard slept, Hawkwood produced a large iron brazier and brought out his alchemical supplies. Though he was known foremost as a mercenary captain of some renown, he was also sorcerer, but he kept that information to himself.

  Lighting the coals within the brazier he added a few other items—frankincense, quicksilver, and the spleen of an unblemished cock.

  Black jets of smoke sprang from the low burning brazier like gouts ink from a fleeing squid, an unfathomable voice issued forth from the acrid concoction.

  “Three questions you have bargained with me and two you have already asked. The price comes quickly, even for a man of your lifespan. What would you have of me?”

  “I seek a certain man. He is lost to my earthly contrivances,” answered Hawkwood.

  “His name?” asked the smoky god. A gigantic mouth and teeth from which it spoke now visible.

  “Gathelaus, famed Sellsword from the north. A named and infamous man who had usurped the crown of Vjorn and then had it taken from him in turn. He has been lost out upon the sea and crossed the great deeps.”

  The smoke pursed its lips as if deep in thought.

  “Well, Azmodeus?” prodded Hawkwood. “If you have no answer, we have no bargain.”

  The voice snorted in contempt. “You made the bargain, you cannot break that. But I have found him.”

  “Where?” asked Hawkwood.

  “He is marked for death upon the continent of Tultecacan. He is housed within the city of Chalco, in the palace of princeling Tezomoc Vy Dey Otumblioc. Cousin to the king of that land. Many forces are at work to slay the man you seek.”

  “I seek for proof of his head and death, not to preserve his life,” replied Hawkwood.

  “Then it may be possible for you to accomplish that which you seek.”

  “How then might I take my ship across the great deeps and cross that great divide?”

  Azmodeus chuckled and the smoke billowed twice as large as it had been. “You have only bargained for three questions of me and now we are done.”

  “A new bargain then?”

  “You have nothing I want, I already have your soul.”

  “Others then?” offered Hawkwood.

  “You cannot deal in that which you do not own.”

  “Give me a price,” demanded Hawkwood. “I live life that I keep my word and I always do what I say I will do, even to the dogs beneath my heel. Life lived in fear is no life at all.”

  “Very well. A year lost and a year taken for each crossing,” answered Azmodeus.

  Hawkwood furrowed his brow. “I’ll do it.”

  “You know what to do.” The north and south winds came up and wrestling from both the east and west, the smoke dissipated and was gone. The once burning red coals faded away and went instantly cold and still as the breath of the dead.

  Powerful sorcery always exacted a price, but he would pay it for the sheer personal satisfaction of accomplishing what he said he would do. Hawkwood was quite amoral, but when he made a commitment, he kept it regardless of the price and danger.

  Hawkwood strode to the starboard deck and lay his bare and corded muscle of a right arm out over the waves. With his left hand, he took a dagger and made a long cut upon his right forearm and let a stream of crimson blood fall toward a black sea.

  A hush fell upon the night and as the salty drop touched a salty ocean, a booming ripple washed out in all directions. A price paid, a bargain met, a compact sealed.

  Hawkwood glanced out into the gloom overhanging the ocean and somewhere far to the southwest as a glimmer caught his eye and led toward his goal.

  A sudden force drained from him and he grunted in agony. The red hair upon his head remained but his temple became frosted with grey and the bearded points upon his chin below the bottom lip became ashen too. It looked as if he had suddenly aged a very hard three years.

  “My captain, to do this is too much,” cautioned his first mate.

  Hawkwood shrugged him off. “To live without risk is not worth living. I will bring down the usurper king if it is the last thing I do. Sail on through the gale and we shall meet our destiny.”

  The Invisible River to his south became a curious swirling mass, even the clouds above twisted inwards and an inexorable current pulled the Kraken southward toward the lost continent of Tultecacan.

  To the first mate steering the Kraken it almost seemed as if sirens and other darker creatures of the depths watched in hungry anticipation of the ship as it began its tread into uncharted waters. Doom was coming, but for whom, he wondered.

  ***

  Tang Shook took great pride in understanding lost technologies and arts. In a scroll belonging to the fabled Red Emperor, he found mention of a curious type of sailing ship and this is what he had to show YonGee and Niels.

  “It is light and balanced and only has a two-foot draft, and those sails make it incredibly swift,” said Tang Shook.

  “Why the shallow draft?” asked Niels.

  “To make her swift as the wind. She is light and can speed over current impediments.”

  Niels wrinkled his brow. “What impediments?”

  “The Invisible River. You must have a shallow draft and great sails to cross over such a magnificent barrier.”

  “How do you know we’ll have to do that?”

  Tang Shook looked puzzled. “That spirit told me. I thought you knew that is where the lost king is. Far away and over the sea to a lost continent of Tultecacan.”

  “I missed that,” grumbled Niels.

  “Well,” said Tang Shook, slapping his hands together. “We must be off if we hope to overtake our enemies.

  “All of us?” asked YonGee.

  Tang Shook and Niels looked to the old man who was still casting a dubious gaze upon the strange ship and its twin outriggers.
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  “I could use your help,” said Niels, “but I understand if you doubt you can do this. It will be perilous.”

  “I fear I should remain in Vjorn and do what I can here. I am not well upon the sea,” said YonGee.

  “I will look after him,” said Tang Shook, to YonGee. “My skills will accomplish our needs on the journey to that fateful land. And once done, I would that I be made court high wizard of Vjorn.”

  Niels glanced at the sullen YonGee and at the all too gleeful Tang Shook saying, “I can’t promise anything for certain, but I believe that Gathelaus would honor that request.”

  “Fare thee well, then,” said YonGee.

  They took only six men with them and few supplies as for a month-long voyage. It seemed insubstantial to Niels, but Tang Shook assured them that the craft was speedy enough that it could not be compared to normal shipping times.

  They bore out of the hidden harbor southeast of Hellenaik just as the stars were vanishing in the dawn.

  ***

  “Never before has a man overcome the will of the gods and bested all champions,” said Tezomoc, as he poured wine from an ornate decanter for himself and Gathelaus.

  “You wanted to send Mixamaxtla to slay me after I slew the Amon-Gahela,” said Gathelaus, only drinking the wine after Tezomoc did.

  “I was rash. You cost me a vast fortune with the spicer’s guild and the crown prince of the nation. I lost vast tracts of land, I was angry, but I have calmed and realize it is all for the best, even if it was more wealth than a barbarian like you can even dream of.”

  “It was my life you gambled with. I’ll not apologize.”

  Tezomoc grinned. “And the people love you for it. They demanded your release, that you be honored above all men as a champion of that weak god from across the sea, KuKulacan. Alas, I can still recover my lost wealth if you will serve me in a new game.”

  Gathelaus only stared at him with the hard blue-gray eyes of the north.

  “There will be supreme reward for you. I won’t hold back in my gratitude. As of this moment all I have is yours, just serve me in the games. Serve me for only the next few weeks and I will supply you a ship and crew to take you wherever it is you wish to go. I know this place does not suit a man of your bearing. Serve me but a brief moon and you will be more than prepared to continue your travels.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I throw you into the dungeons because a man of your abilities is too dangerous to have walking the lands of my people. Serve me well and you will be greatly rewarded. Defy me and I will cut the heart from the woman you love, keeping you in chains to watch.” Gathelaus gave Tezomoc no reaction. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your relations, or that she had the gift of tongues. It disappears and you suddenly have it,” said Tezomoc, with relish. “That’s not a normal occurrence even here in decadent Chalco.”

  Gathelaus bristled at Tezomoc’s threats but could do nothing with the guardsmen’s spears at his back.

  “It is a simple choice.”

  “And what will you have me do?” asked Gathelaus, cracking his knuckles.

  “There is a ball game in one moon. I would have you serve on the team with Mixamaxtla as captain. He will train you,” said Tezomoc.

  “A ball game? What am I in a ball game?” snickered Gathelaus over his wine.

  “Your prowess is second only to Mixamaxtla and I doubt even he could have slain the Amon-Gahela. You swing your club as good as any son of the gods. You will help us play against my cousin king Itzcoatl’s team and afterwards—I will have one more great favor to ask of you—that is when you will truly serve me.”

  Gathelaus put down his drink and eyed Tezomoc with burning intensity.

  “A man of your strength is needed. After the ball game, which you and Mixamaxtla will barely lose, you will go before the king to honor his victory with a garland of flowers. A cord will be concealed within the garland, and with that you will strangle the king. You must be quick, before his bodyguard can stop you, and then I will provide for your escape,” assured Tezomoc, with a sly grin.

  “What kind of fool do you take me for?” snarled Gathelaus. “Such a thing is suicide.”

  “It can be done. I am his cousin and should the king die, I will become king in his stead. I could wait for nature to take its course, but he is seven years younger than me. I know what you are thinking,” Tezomoc continued as he strode about his palatial villa. “I have tried poisons multiple times but have not been able to get past his royal food tasters. You think me mad or cruel? He has tried to kill me more than a dozen times too. He is a cruel man and his wife is a whoring witch. Not that it matters to you, but you slaying him would be a service not just to me but our very nation. Perhaps you know nothing of tyrants and what harm they do a people, but I assure you such is the case here.”

  Gathelaus kept his face even, giving no mention of having accomplished the same thing himself in the year past.

  “Listen to me barbarian. The moment he is dead, I become king of all Tultecacan, her peoples, and all of our vassal states. I will not allow the guards to slay you. I will have to say that justice will be served and all of that, I will have Mixamaxtla capture and imprison you and soon thereafter, under cover of darkness, I will free you.”

  Gathelaus scoffed.

  Tezomoc frowned. “My treachery is necessary. To usurp my king and even have my ambassador—you, approach him, I must be humbled. My honor must be damaged and my team must lose the sacred ball game. You will play well but ultimately lose. Trust me, your life will be in more danger within the ball court than when you assassinate the king for me, I swear it.”

  “Why should I believe you?” asked Gathelaus, awaiting a grand lie.

  “You don’t have to believe me, just do as I say or Xilitiaxacoco dies.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh yes, you call her Coco, how simple. She is my prisoner, do as I say and she lives, defy me and I will slay her myself. Men of power must make hard decisions. I am not the type of person to needlessly threaten or harm those weaker than myself but for the good of my people I must do this, and you must help me.”

  Gathelaus pondered how everyone assumes they do the right thing for the right reasons. Was he like Tezomoc when he took the bloody crown of Vjorn from the gory heard of Forlock the tyrant? No, he would not have had anyone do anything he would not have been willing to do himself. And he would not have threatened an innocent at any cost.

  “This must be done, or more will die.” With that threat, Tezomoc sat himself down on his ornate jaguar skin dais. A dwarf slave began rubbing his master’s feet. “Harder Tulum, harder.”

  “You think the woman means that much to me?” bluffed Gathelaus.

  Tezomoc snorted, kicked his dwarf masseur and bolted upright in his chair. “I don’t think she does, I know she does.”

  Gathelaus made his face as impassive as ever. He didn’t want to appear that he cared for her at all.

  Tezomoc continued, “I spoke to the guardsmen and the other slaves, and I have had men keep watch on the road between the twin black mountains of fire. No one has been troubled by the gods of the mountains this last week, not since the slaves told me that you slew the hairy gods to save the girl. You must truly care for her.”

  “You really believe that?” asked Gathelaus, pushing his goblet forward for more wine. A serving girl leapt to fill the copper cup before her lord could say anything. “All of your women look the same to me. This one looks similar enough to Coco. But all of your women are too scrawny for my tastes.”

  Tezomoc sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “She is as different from this as the sun is to the moon. But about the gods of the mountains? I didn’t believe the slaves myself, at first. I thought they were lying to worship you. The big stranger from across the sea. East Star Man some of them called you. Utter nonsense. But after you slew those knights and the Amon-Gahela I had to wonder. Do I truly have an incarnate representative of KuKulacan serving me? A strange white
-skinned man who can slay god and devil alike? Perhaps you are more than you appear to be.”

  “Perhaps not,” answered Gathelaus, draining his cup.

  Tezomoc wagged his finger at Gathelaus. “You are still lying to me. For as great a fighter you are, I know you are not speaking the truth. You care for the girl and do not wish any harm to come to her. A great liar can always spot another, and a poor liar is no challenge for me at all.”

  “The way I see it, you’re asking me to kill your king, then I get stabbed in the gut for the effort. You really think I’d rather that happen than you hurting some hussy?”

  Tezomoc gave a tortured grin. “What could I do, so that you would do this for me? So that we all get what we want? How can I get you to trust me? There must be something?” He gestured about the room at his fine furnishings and golden art. He pointed at the serving women and even the dwarf masseur. “Anything could be yours for this service.”

  “I don’t know. You just told me yourself that you’re a great liar.”

  “I have not lied about my desire to slay my cousin and take his crown to save my nation and my people.”

  Gathelaus shook his head. “No, but I don’t care who is king here. Why should I have to be the one to kill him?”

  “You are the man that can conquer on my team. The common folk think you are a hero. A legend returned to our shores. The king would accept you bestowing the sacred garland. You are a man strong enough to strangle him in an instant. And we will come to an agreement on how I can assure your safety once the deed is done. I can arrange a route for your escape, if you fear going into my custody. But I assure you, our agreement stands. I will shower you with wealth and grant you passage away from our lands, with the woman you claim not to care about.”

  “All right. I agree to your wishes, but…”

  “But what? No one negotiates with me. But what?” spat Tezomoc.