The Shadow Of Fallen Gods

by V. R. Cardoso

* * *

  The three carts rolled along the cobblestones, clattering so loudly Leth couldn’t stop swinging his head around, scanning the windows around him, sure everyone on the street would soon wake up and come check what all that noise was about.

  Closed merchant stalls filled the plaza leading to the port, the outline of the port wall rising beyond them. It wasn’t a very impressive wall. Maybe as tall as two men on top of each other. There were no towers along its length. To Leth, it resembled the wall a wealthy family would erect around its estate, except there were dozens of guards up on this wall’s ramparts. No noble house he knew had the need to field this much protection.

  One of the guards at the gate raised an arm. “Where in the mother’s name do you think you’re going?”

  The three of them halted and Ergon stepped around his cart, Orisius joining him. Leth, however, stayed put. He was a man of many talents, but impersonating a plebeian was certainly not one of them.

  “Where the heck do you think?” Ergon asked. He waved towards the sea. “To work, of course.”

  “Not right now, you aren’t,” the guard said. “Turn back. Go home.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ergon took a step forward. “I got my boat in that harbor. I have every right to get inside.”

  The guard stepped forward as well, meeting Ergon head on. “I said to turn back.” He reached for his sword. “Before you get in trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Ergon asked, glaring. “Oh, you’re going to get me in trouble, is that it?”

  Orisius jumped between them and pushed Ergon back. “Easy, Phiddyp. It’s not worth it.”

  “Listen to your friend before you get hurt,” the guard said. “Freaking idiot!”

  Ergon went red. “Who are you calling idiot!?” he roared, spittle flying off his lips. His arms were suddenly everywhere, uselessly trying to slip away from Orisius’s clutch.

  Leth couldn’t help but be impressed. Those two were good.

  “What seems to be the problem here?”

  Everyone turned to the new voice. His Paladin uniform was impeccable. The light of the torches hanging on the port wall reflected off the black cuirass like two tiny suns, and the red waistband waved in the wind, trailing behind him like a banner. Still, Leth had no trouble recognizing Aric beneath the feathered hat. He sauntered forward, both hands sitting magnanimously at his waist.

  “Sir paladin, sir,” Ergon said. “My boat is in the harbor. He has no right to block me out.”

  “Alright, settle down, Phiddyp. We’ll see what we can do”

  Aric approached the guard and motioned him back as if requesting a private meeting.

  “You know who’s calling the shots around here,” the guard whispered to him. “I’m not about to disobey orders from these people.”

  “No, no. Of course not,” Aric agreed, then paused pensively. “Any idea when they’ll reopen the port? At least the fishing section?”

  “Not until dawn, that’s for sure.”

  Aric nodded and turned back to Ergon, Orisius’s arms still locking him in place. “Phiddyp, listen. I’m truly sorry about this whole mess, but there’s some… work, going on at the harbor. Why don’t you come back in a few hours okay? You know, after sunrise.”

  “We can’t!” Ergon objected.

  “Oh, come on,” Aric replied. “Now you’re just being unreasonable.”

  “No, it’s true, sir paladin,” Orisius said. “We’ll miss the tide. If we don’t sail in the next hour or so, we won’t sail at all. We’ll miss a whole day of fishing.”

  Aric turned back to the port guard with a dramatic sigh. “Fire take this… Is there anything we can work out, here?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…” Aric thought about it for a moment, then motioned towards Ergon. “That guy is my wife’s cousin. Well, second cousin, actually. A bit of a jerk, to be honest, but he does have three kids to take care of. All sick. And there’s his mother-in-law. Poor woman can’t even get out of bed by herself.” He sighed again. “What if I go in with them?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, sir. I don’t mean no disrespect. I know we’re on the same side here, but—”

  “Listen, the guy is a fisherman. He can barely feed himself but has more people under his care than the Legion. If he misses a whole day of work, he’ll end up borrowing money from either me, or my wife’s mother, and you can guess when he’ll pay, which is never, so come on. I’ll go with them, make sure they get on their boat, and that no one sees them. If anything happens, it’ll be my responsibility.”

  The guard chewed on his lip and looked over his shoulder, at his own men. “Your responsibility alone? I’m totally off the hook?”

  “Completely off the hook. Listen, I know you guys aren’t from around here, but I’m well known in this city.” He extended a hand. “Sergeant Talbek, second Cyrinian Cadre. Everyone in Tabriq knows who I am. You’ll make a good friend here.”

  The guard hesitated for a moment but ended up accepting Aric’s hand with a nod. “Sure. Go ahead. Just be careful.”

  Aric smiled. “Don’t worry.” He looked at Ergon, Orisius, and Leth. “Alright, Phiddyp, you owe me one. Go ahead.”

  The three fake fishermen broke into a flurry of thank-yous and hurried to the backs of their carts, pushing them under the disapproving eyes of the guards. Aric was first through the gate, followed by Ergon, then Orisius, and finally Leth.

  “Wait, stop!” one of the guards said, grabbing Leth’s arm just as he crossed the gate’s threshold. “What do you have in there?”

  Leth’s jaw moved, but he produced no sound. He looked ahead and received a set of worried glances from his companions.

  “Did you hear me?” the guard asked impatiently.

  “Wha… what do you think I have?” Leth stammered. “It’s… fishing paraphernalia.”

  “Fishing what?”

  “You know… Nets and harpoons and…”

  “Harpoons?” the guard leader asked, approaching Leth. “What kind of fishing do you do?”

  Instead of coming up with an answer, Leth found himself trying to remember the last time he had been rendered speechless. Funnily enough, he failed to remember any such event.

  “Any kind,” Ergon shouted from up ahead, answering in Leth’s stead. “We ain’t picky! Now come on, or we’ll lose the tide.”

  Instead of adding anything else to it, Leth simply stared at the guards, trying his best to look stupid until he received a dismissive hand wave, motioning him inside. At the very least, he managed not to sigh with relief, or at least not so loud the guards would notice.

  Leth followed the others into the labyrinth of old crates separating the port’s main gate and the docking peers. The cart felt heavier than a bull and he groaned as he pushed, beads of sweat swarming on his forehead. He would have sworn he felt the veins in his neck about to pop. It was almost like trying to roll a boulder up a hill.

  Row upon row of crumbling wooden containers passed by as Leth followed Ergon and Orisius deeper into the fishing section of the port, the stink of rotten fish swathing him. Or was it cat urine? He honestly couldn’t tell. His nose was capable of distinguishing between a floral perfume from Arrel and a woody fragrant oil from Akham, however, these sorts of scents were not his expertise.

  When they finally reached the waterfront, they came to a stop.

  “Excellent acting back there,” Aric said, stepping next to Leth.

  “I felt I was pretty convincing.”

  “If you were trying to impersonate a mute, sure.”

  Darpallion’s head popped from beneath the tarp covering Leth’s cart, a thick fishing net framing his face. “Keep it down,” he whispered.

  Aric and Leth pulled the tarp and the fishing net beneath it back while Ergon and Orisius did the same on their carts. The four stowaways on each cart jumped out one after the other, and soon the entire group was gathered.

  “Goddess these carts stink!” Trissa complained, dusting her clo
thes off as if that would make any difference.

  “Not much better out here,” Leth assured her. He looked at Darpallion. “What now?”

  “Now is when it gets interesting,” the bard replied. He stretched a finger towards the other side of the harbor, across the water, where a large, rectangular-shaped building stood, the only one in the port with any lights on. “That’s our target. The safe with the artifact is in the basement. The lot of you will climb the adjacent building, cross the roofs, and wait for us there. Eliran and I will go in through the front door, make the switch, take the safe up to you guys on the roof, then leave the way we came in. We’ll all meet back here. By the time they realize something’s up, we’ll be long gone. Remember, the last thing we want is for the alarm to be raised, so if there’s any killing to be done, do it quietly.”

  “What about the large body of water standing in our way?” Leth asked. “Are we stealing a boat?”

  Darpallion shook his head. “Too conspicuous. We’ll need to swim across.”

  “Well, I can´t swim,” Nahir replied, hauling a steel safe from one of the carts and placing it at his feet.

  “Forget about you, what about this?” Dothea asked, kicking the safe. The block of metal didn’t so much as move.

  “I can take it across,” Eliran replied. She reached for a bottle at her belt and took a swig, blue puffs forming with her breath.

  “Is there anyone else who can’t swim?” Aric asked. When no one said anything, he added, “Alright. You’re sitting this one out, Nahir. Wait for us here. Make sure no one finds the carts.” Nahir nodded and Aric addressed the rest of the group. “Let’s do this.”

  “Wait,” Eliran said. “There’s still one part I don’t understand. How exactly are we supposed to go in through the front door, Darpallion?”

  The bard smiled. “Just leave that to me.”

  * * *

  Eliran took some time drying her clothes and Darpallion’s using a mild heating spell. Whatever the bard planned to do to persuade the guards to let them in, it wouldn’t do to show up at the customs building’s front door drenched. The rest of the group, however, was forced to carry on with wet clothes. Drying them all would’ve just taken too long.

  As Eliran finished drying the last patch of moisture from Darpallion’s jacket, a speck of light twinkled over the roof of the customs building, as if a star had decided to come down from the heavens to live there instead. The light shone twice, then three times, then twice again. The dragon hunters were in position. Now, all they needed was to get the safe containing the artifact up to them.

  Eliran and Darpallion set off, each holding one of the handles on the side of their bogus safe. As they turned the corner of a warehouse, the customs building’s front door came into view, as well as the five men standing guard outside of it. All of them reached for their weapons immediately, the one in the middle stepping forward, head tilting slightly as he searched the darkness, trying to identify the incoming shadows.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Eliran whispered.

  “When I have ever let you down?” Darpallion replied lowly.

  Eliran’s head snapped to the bard. “Is that a joke!?”

  “Oh, right! Poor phrasing, my apologies, but you know what I mean. We made a great team.”

  “We did not make a great team… We did a couple of missions together, that’s all.”

  “Oh, come on… we did more than a couple of missions.” Darpallion sent her a wolfish grin. “A lot more.”

  Eliran returned the grin with a murderous glare. “Another word from you, and I’ll tie your feet to this safe and throw you into the harbor.”

  Darpallion complied, a smug smile on his face.

  The guard at the front kept peering and squinting until finally, he said: “Darpallion? I thought Torvad’s gang had the night off.”

  “Norwan, I had a feeling it was your turn to get this crappy shift,” Darpallion called. “We did have the night off. Or, rather, they do. Me and the rookie, here, got on Torvad’s bad side. This is our punishment.” He lowered the safe to the ground, Eliran mimicking him, and started massaging his hand with a grimace.

  The guard chuckled. “What did you do this time?”

  “Me?” Darpallion aimed a thumb at Eliran. “Not my fault this one decided to swing her hips at the boss.”

  The guard’s chuckle turned into a cackle. “Let me guess, you’re the one who ended up swinging at her hips.”

  The other guards joined in on the laughter and Eliran felt her cheeks warm along with a sudden urge to blow them all up into small pieces.

  Too bad they’re all wearing Syphons, she thought. She even knew a spell that could do it silently.

  “Well, Torvad does tend to get a little jealous, I’m afraid,” Darpallion said.

  Norwan wiped a tear from one of his eyes and motioned his chin towards the safe. “What do you have there?”

  “Bogus safe.”

  Eliran nearly blurted out a “What!?”

  “Bogus?” Norwan asked.

  Darpallion nodded. “Another security measure. The mistress wants there to be several copies of the safe so if someone comes for it, they won’t know which is the real one.”

  “Ah, I see,” Norwan said. “That woman is nothing if not smart.”

  “And devious.”

  “Indeed. Where are you taking it, though?”

  “In there.” Darpallion gestured at the building. “It’s supposed to go in the basement.”

  Norwan frowned. “I wasn’t informed about anything like that…”

  “Oh, come on…” Darpallion spread his arms in frustration. “I already got that same crap at the two checkpoints. Listen, if you want to go get the higher ups, be my guest, but I’m not going to go all the way back to the office. I’m already having a bad enough night as it is.”

  There was a moment of silence as Norwan considered. “So, what, you just need to drop that off inside?”

  “Just drop this off in the basement, yeah. Tell you what, why don’t you take it yourself? Goddess knows the two of us have better things do.” Darpallion winked at Eliran.

  Clenching her fists in an effort to keep herself from punching him in the nose, Eliran managed to produce a smile.

  “No, no, no. I’m not your page. It’s your assignment, you carry it, thank you very much.” Norwan turned around and knocked loudly on the large double door. “Open up. Two to get in.”

  As Eliran and Darpallion knelt to pick up the safe once more, they exchanged a glance.

  Was this really going to work?

  As if in reply, a lock clicked open and the double doors slid apart, a lantern glowing on the other side.

  “Delivery for the basement,” Norwan added. “In and out.”

  The guard holding the lantern aimed a finger at Darpallion. “You bastard! Where are my pints?”

  “Hey, a bet is a bet,” the bard replied, smiling. “You’ll get them.”

  “That’s what I’ve been hearing for a week.” The guard waved them inside. “Follow me.”

  The atrium of the building was a wide, empty rectangle surrounded by a collection of doors leading in every direction. With the lantern swinging in his hand, the guard led them through the widest of the doors, just opposite from the building’s entrance. There was a smell of neglect in the air, and even in the dark, Eliran could tell there was a thick layer of dust covering the wooden floor.

  Two more guards stood at a staircase Eliran guessed led down to the basement. They’d need to be dealt with on their way back.

  “Basement delivery,” their escort announced. “Two. In and out.” The staircase guards nodded back at him and stepped apart, opening a path down the stairs. He turned to Darpallion. “You know your way back, right?”

  “Sure.” Darpallion pointed at the basement entrance. “You don’t have to come in with us?”

  “Can’t. None of us are to go down there. New orders.” The man patted Darpallion’s back. �
��Meet you back at the front door. Don’t linger.”

  Eliran and Darpallion watched him leave then exchanged a glance with the two remaining guards. Both looked like they were about to fall asleep on their feet.

  Something in the pit of Eliran’s stomach turned uneasily. She looked down the stairs. The opening leading to the basement glowed faintly as if she was staring down the throat of a dragon about to spew its fire.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Darpallion said.

  Eliran nodded and the two of them started down the stairs, the handle of the safe threatening to slide from her sweaty palm. At the bottom of the steps, a corridor stretched on for about twenty feet, ending at a wooden door. They walked beneath the trembling light of a torch hanging in a sconce on the wall.

  “I thought there would be two more guards down here,” Eliran said.

  “Maybe they’re inside,” Darpallion replied. “What’s that smell?”

  Eliran thought she knew the answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Something inside her told her to turn back and get away from this place, but she was too close now. She had to get to the chalice.

  With a light push, the door creaked open. Eliran nearly dropped the safe, a scream frozen in her throat. There were indeed two men inside, except instead of standing guard, they were both hanging from the ceiling, metal hooks through their shoulders, heads tilted backwards, mouths open, and eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Their skin held the pale grey tint of a cloudy winter sky. Between them, with its lid wide open, was an exact copy of the safe they were carrying, a single sheet of parchment inside.

  Darpallion drew his knife and his eyes darted around like lightening.

  “Shush!” Eliran demanded. “Don’t make a sound.”

  Darpallion looked at her, then nodded, his eyes wide with panic. At Eliran’s signal, they slowly lowered their safe. Those two guards weren’t just dead. She had seen a similar scenario once before. Over a year ago, in the blood house of Nish. This was cleaner, though. The Circle was certainly improving their technique.

  There was one major difference, however. This was no blood house. There was no brewing chamber here, which meant the two dead men were nothing more than theatrics. A show put on exclusively for her.