Blood Mercenaries Origins

by Ben Wolf

  Frigid winds marking the beginning of winter in the north cooled Garrick’s overheated skin and quickly threatened to turn him to ice. Well, at least it’s not snowing.

  The white foam still covered most of Falna’s body, but she’d managed to wipe away the majority of it from her face. She looked past Garrick toward the blazing pub. Her eyes, now back to their original blue color but still outlined by charred skin, sank with grief.

  “You’re too far away. You can’t call the fire to you.” Garrick crouched in front of her, partly to intimidate her and partly to keep his body heat contained in the icy air. “We made sure of it. And we can either leave you out here to freeze to death, or you can tell us what we want to know.”

  Falna glared up at him with fury in her eyes, but no actual fire burned in them anymore. She clamped her mouth shut and shivered.

  “Tell us where the Crimson Flame temple is, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  She laughed at him. “You want to know where the temple is? Fine. If you three uninitiated brigands are stupid enough to walk into the Temple of the Crimson Flame, then by all means, please do. You’ll be walking into an eternity of fire, an inferno unlike anything you’ve ever—”

  Garrick grabbed her by her collar and yanked her closer to him. “Just get to the point.”

  She told him the location and how to get there. “But you’ll never escape. That, I guarantee.”

  “We’ll take our chances.” Garrick let her go and stood just as a gust of wind needled the backs of his bare arms. He turned back to Coburn and Irwin. “Let’s go. We need to find suitable shelter before we turn into mercenary icicles.”

  “What about her?” Irwin pushed his spectacles up to the bridge of his nose and shivered.

  “She’s got no coat, and the nearest town is miles away,” Garrick said. “There’s still a fire burning at the pub, so she’s tethered to it until sunrise, at least. Whatever the case, she’s no longer our problem, and we’ve got a lunch meeting in Mirstone tomorrow.”

  Irwin nodded. He walked past her with his pack slung over his shoulder and his hands tucked under his armpits.

  Coburn walked forward, crouched in front of Falna, and shook his head. “We could have been wonderful together, enchantress. We could have danced beneath the stars, frolicked in pristine waters, and made even the gods envious of our love.” He leveled his gaze at her. “But instead, you tried to light me on fire. Multiple times.”

  “It’s part of my job to seem amenable to patrons’ desires. Makes them drink more, and then the pub makes more money.” Falna sneered at him. “You never had a chance.”

  Coburn’s expression hardened. “Return to your ruins, harpy. The only warmth you’ll know tonight is that of the destruction wrought by your own hand. And in the morning, your bed will be just as cold as if I were in it this night.” Coburn held up a pouch. “Oh, and one more thing…”

  Falna’s eyes widened.

  “When you nearly set me on fire and I had to jump over the bar, I helped myself to the evening’s earnings. Consider it hazard pay.” Coburn jingled the pouch again.

  Before Falna could respond, Coburn walked past her. She screeched something at him from behind, but the howling winter wind swallowed her words.

  The next morning, Garrick grumbled as Irwin shook him awake just before sunrise. He didn’t want to wake up, but they had to reach Mirstone by midday.

  The night before, they’d gathered firewood, camped in a shallow cave, and survived the cold dark along with the insects and vermin that resided in that subterranean hole. Not the finest accommodations, but it beat waking up frozen to death.

  After packing up, they ate a modest breakfast of dried meats and stale bread from Irwin’s pack while trekking west through the numerous foothills in northern Etrijan. Fortunately for them, based on Falna’s directions, Mirstone, the nearest town, was roughly in the same direction that they needed to travel to reach the temple. Or perhaps a bit south.

  They arrived in Mirstone early, so they restocked what supplies they could using Falna’s money from the pub. Irwin took great joy in adding the revenue to his ledger, but his glee faded when the majority of it landed in the hands of various merchants and shopkeepers.

  Even so, Garrick was pleased that a town of that size had outfitted them with virtually everything he could’ve asked for prior to raiding a cultist temple. The local apothecary even satisfied most of Irwin’s requests for various elemental substances, and with a multiple-day journey ahead of them, he’d have plenty of time to formulate a considerable inventory of concoctions.

  Most importantly, Garrick’s initial guess about the temple’s location had been right, so the meeting he’d scheduled with Noraff made perfect sense.

  As planned, Garrick and his crew met Noraff in a tavern on the north side of Mirstone for lunch. When they arrived, Garrick noted first that Noraff wasn’t alone. A man in brown robes sat at Noraff’s side.

  Noraff noticed them as soon as Garrick ducked under the tavern’s doorframe, and he stood up from his seat and ambled over on long, lanky limbs.

  Noraff was an Onni, a humanoid species known for their prowess in climbing, in part thanks to their incredible grip strength and the talons tipping each of their fingers and toes but also because of their extended limbs. They made for capable fighters, too, because of their exceptional reach.

  “Garrick, you old sot,” Noraff spread his long arms wide to embrace Garrick. “Bring it in.”

  Garrick spread his arms wide, too, noting how his wingspan didn’t reach as long as Noraff’s even though Noraff stood at least a foot shorter in height. “Good to see you, Noraff.”

  As Garrick and Noraff embraced, the mage-type man at the table stood and faced them. Garrick eyed him. He wore simple brown robes and looked unimpressive in virtually every way.

  Noraff released his grasp on Garrick and held him at his considerable arm’s-length. “Look at you. How long has it been? Two years? You haven’t changed a bit. Well, maybe a bit bigger overall.”

  Garrick refocused on Noraff, specifically on the brown hair that covered every inch of his exposed skin. “You’ve gotten even hairier.”

  Unlike regular humans, Onni grew coarse hair all up and down their bodies, arms and legs. Where human men could grow beards, Onni grew hair on the entirety of their faces and rarely trimmed it. The only parts of their bodies not covered in hair were their palms and the soles of their feet which could function like a second set of hands.

  Give him a tail, and he’d be a monkey, Garrick had once said about Noraff to a fellow mercenary. He’d meant it as an insult, but that was back when he hadn’t yet been forced to work with Noraff and didn’t know or trust him.

  Then again, now that Garrick knew him, he still didn’t fully trust Noraff. But they needed a fourth man—specifically one with climbing skills—for the next phase of this job, and Garrick preferred the Onni he knew over the Onni he didn’t.

  Noraff caught Garrick glancing at the mage-type, and he let go of Garrick’s arms. “I see you’ve noticed my friend. Garrick, this is Phesnos. He’s a mage.”

  “Pleasure.” Phesnos stepped forward and extended his hand.

  As Garrick shook it, he studied Phesnos’s keen blue eyes and angular face. He didn’t like what he saw, though he couldn’t exactly explain why.

  “Same,” Garrick replied. He introduced Irwin and Coburn to them, and they shook hands and then took their seats at the table.

  A tavern wench brought each of them a round of ale, but Irwin declined his, as usual, and requested goat’s milk instead. Coburn didn’t say so much as a word to her, and Garrick wondered if it was because of how things had gone with Falna last night.

  “Bring us a full spread of food, too, love,” Noraff said to the wench. “We’ve all got big appetites.”

  Irwin cleared his throat and nudged Garrick’s leg with his under the table.

  Margins. Irwin was always concerned about the margins. Paying for a huge meal wasn�
��t an expense Irwin wanted to justify.

  Garrick turned toward him and gave him a corrective look as if to say, “it’s fine.”

  Irwin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “So tell me about this job.” Noraff adjusted his belt, and Garrick caught a glimpse of a green knife hilt sticking out of a sheath.

  Despite his hairy body, Noraff still wore clothes, although they hung loose on his limber frame. Some Onni Garrick had met didn’t wear anything, and he’d always found it awkward when trying to have conversations with them.

  Garrick cast a long glance at Phesnos. “I’d rather not talk about it in front of—”

  “Sorry,” Noraff interrupted. He turned to Phesnos. “Could you give us a moment?”

  Phesnos nodded, picked up his ale, and walked across the tavern without so much as a word.

  “Sorry,” Noraff repeated. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine,” Garrick said. “So the job is—”

  “I’m sorry. One more thing,” Noraff said. “I just have to say that I can’t work the job unless we cut in Phesnos as well.”

  Garrick sat there. The idea that Noraff had included Phesnos in the meeting was troubling at the onset because of the secrecy of the job. The thought had crossed Garrick’s mind that Noraff had brought him along for this exact purpose, but Garrick hadn’t given it serious consideration. Now he would have to.

  “It’s a four-man job,” Garrick said. “We don’t need a fifth.”

  “But it won’t hurt to have a fifth. One extra guy to watch our backs,” Noraff said.

  “One extra share, meaning smaller payouts for each of us,” Irwin countered.

  “Pay a workman his worth, right?” Noraff stared at Irwin. “I assure you, he’s worth every coin.”

  “I said we don’t need a fifth, Noraff.” Garrick’s voice hardened. “End of discussion.”

  “If you’re saying the discussion is over, then you’re doing the job with three men.” Noraff sat back in his chair and folded his long arms across his chest.

  “Then we’ll do it with three.” Garrick held his ground. He’d expected some negotiation from Noraff, but he hadn’t anticipated this type of pushback.

  “You just said it’s a four-man job,” Noraff said.

  “I also just said it’s not a five-man job.”

  “If it’s a four-man job, how can you do it with three?”

  Garrick knew they could do it with three, but it would complicate everything. Having a fourth man along would make everything quicker and easier.

  Most jobs Garrick took, he could do with Irwin and Coburn just fine. But a deep dive into a temple full of hostile cultists and whatever else lurked under its foundation called for a fourth man—especially one capable of climbing literally anything.

  That’s why he’d contacted Noraff in the first place: According to the diagram Garrick had received from Lord Valdis, the interior of the temple housed a secret entrance to what could only be described as a dungeon beneath it, and the diagram suggested plenty of opportunities for a climber to come in handy.

  Plus, having a fourth man capable of fighting took some of the strain off of Garrick. He proudly carried the load when it came to the majority of battles, but he often caught himself having to watch out for Irwin and even Coburn at times. A fourth man on a job like this, in a dark place filled with only the gods knew what, would come in handy beyond just climbing.

  But Noraff didn’t know any of that, nor did he need to.

  “We’ll make do,” Garrick replied.

  “So you had me travel all the way to the middle of nowhere, in Etrijan, just to send me back?”

  Garrick grinned. “At least we get to have lunch together.”

  The tavern wench reappeared with a large platter of food and set it on the table for them. The aromas of roast chicken and potatoes, goat stew, warm bread from the oven, and seasoned ears of corn set Garrick’s stomach rumbling.

  Coburn looked up at the wench, who smiled at him, but he looked away immediately. Garrick smirked at the sight. Maybe Coburn had learned something.

  “Look.” Noraff leaned forward as he filled his plate. “Think about how this looks from my perspective. You asked me to travel hundreds of miles for this job. I get here, and you’ve got two other guys with you whom I don’t know, and it’s supposed to be a four-man job. I’m outnumbered. If you want to scam me, it’ll be easy for the three of you to cut me out.”

  “No one’s going to cut you out, Noraff,” Irwin said. “We don’t operate that way.”

  Now Garrick nudged Irwin with his leg to get him to shut up. He’d had no intention of cutting out Noraff, but the more information Noraff had, the harder he could negotiate on the price and terms.

  Too late now, but hopefully Irwin would keep his trap shut going forward.

  “You can make all the promises you want. That doesn’t change how this looks,” Noraff said. “For all I know, you’ll just kill me once we finish the job and leave my carcass in a trench somewhere.”

  “Since we’re only using three men for this job now, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Garrick tore a leg and a thigh off of one of the roast chickens and bit a large chunk out of it. Salted, smoky meat tantalized his tongue.

  “You could make good use of Phesnos,” Noraff said. “He’s a talented mage. I’ve worked with him on a couple of jobs before.”

  “I said we don’t need a fifth,” Garrick reiterated. A fifth would be nice, but they didn’t need a fifth.

  “I want to do this job with you. I didn’t come all this way just for a meal with an old friend.”

  “Friend” was a generous term to describe Garrick’s relationship with Noraff, but he didn’t say anything to the contrary.

  “I want you to do that job as well,” Garrick said, “but we don’t need Phesnos involved. So if you want to sign on, just you, then we can make an agreement.”

  “It’s either Phesnos and me, or neither of us.” Noraff shrugged. “That’s how it has to be.”

  “Even if we were to entertain this fancy of yours, bringing in your mysterious and unnecessary acquaintance into our fold,” Coburn started, “it would mean splitting our shares of the take. For what possible reason would we give up a percentage of our coin for someone whose worth is yet unknown?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, your worth is equally as unknown,” Noraff replied. “Same with spectacles, over here.”

  “I am quite useful, thank you very much,” Irwin said. “I am well-versed in chemistry, alchemy, and a variety of other sciences that are both useful and germane to our—”

  “And how good are you at wielding a sword? Or a spear? Or anything sharp and pointy?”

  “I do rather well with needles and scalpels, as a matter of fact.”

  “Well, the next time I need a splinter removed, I’ll be sure to look you up,” Noraff quipped. “Not that I’ve ever had a splinter in my entire life, mind you. Tree Onni don’t get splinters.”

  Irwin huffed and filled his mouth with bread.

  Garrick studied Noraff as he ate. There was no question that having a fighter as skilled as Noraff would prove valuable where they were going. But at the cost of splitting the payment five ways to accommodate the addition of a fifth?

  “Here’s what I propose,” Garrick said. “If you want your friend to come along, he gets half of your share.”

  “Not a chance.” Noraff shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

  “We don’t know his capabilities or anything about him,” Garrick said. “So the burden is on you.”

  Noraff pointed at Irwin and Coburn. “I don’t know their capabilities either, but you’re vouching for them. I’m vouching for Phesnos.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not your job. We don’t have to convince you. You have to convince us.” Garrick took another bite of the chicken.

  “Trust me. He’s skilled, he has worked as a mercenary many times before, and I’ve seen him in action,” Noraff said. “He
can handle himself in a fight, and if we encounter anything with magic capabilities, then he’ll come in doubly handy.”

  Neither Garrick nor his crew said anything.

  “How about this: I’ll pay him a quarter of my share—we’ll call it an investment in my peace of mind—and then the rest of you can each chip in an eighth of your shares. That way, it only hurts you a little to bring him along, and he still makes a little more than half of the original fee.”

  “I’d rather keep all of my earnings.” Irwin looked up at Garrick. “But I suppose…”

  Garrick looked to Coburn.

  “Another set of hands may prove advantageous,” Coburn said, “particularly if those hands are imbued with magic.”

  Garrick turned back to Noraff. “Your friend’s been waiting to eat long enough. Bring him back over.”

  Noraff whistled and waved at Phesnos, and he headed toward the table. As Phesnos walked, Noraff asked, “Does that mean he’s in?”

  Something about the whole situation still bothered Garrick, and Noraff hadn’t made a very strong case, but ultimately, doing the job with three men wasn’t something Garrick wanted to try. So they’d do it with five instead, and hopefully they’d be able to work through the job even faster.

  As Phesnos took a standing position next to his seat, Garrick stood to meet him. Phesnos stared up at him with those sharp blue eyes—but without a hint of intimidation in them.

  Garrick extended his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

  “We must be close to the temple,” Garrick said as the five of them left Mirstone together. “A town of that size, out here in the foothills with no major rivers and only one major road in and out—I’d be willing to bet the cultists stop there for supplies regularly.”

  “It would explain why Mirstone had so much to offer despite its relatively small size and population,” Irwin said. “In any case, I’m pleased with the outcome of our visit.”