Alric pointed with the tip of his dagger to a seat at the end of the table. Slowly, Julian walked to the chair and looked each of them in the eye.
“You really light up a room, don't you, pal?” Alric said with a smirk.
Julian ignored the comment. “Have you reached a decision?” he said getting straight to the point.
Alric looked at each member of his crew and then back to Julian. “First, I think you ought to know each member that you're dealing with.”
Julian nodded once.
“This is Inga. She has a higher sensitivity to magic than I’ve seen in any Sorcerer to tell you the truth. It’s proven to be an invaluable asset to completing our jobs.” Inga gave a slight nod of recognition.
He motioned to the giant of a man. “This is Coffman. He could take ten arrows to the chest before going down.” Coffman let out a low grunt, warning Julian not to overstep his bounds.
He then looked to the blonde man nearest to the window. “This is Lorcan Zamire and yes, your suspicions are correct, he is Erellen. He’s spent hours going over the mission plans with me and neither of us can figure it out.”
“Mr. Thirsk, I don't think you would have dragged your crew out here just to tell me that it can't be done, so please, get to the point.” Julian said.
“Well, let’s just be clear on exactly what you are asking for,” Alric said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “You want us to travel to Timugo, infiltrate the Anwyn’s territory, steal some sort of medallion kept in one of their most sacred areas, and somehow get it to you without being killed.”
“I don’t care if you’re killed,” Julian corrected, “just so long as I get that medallion.”
“Right. Let me be real with you, friend,” he said. Julian thought him to be an unusually vivid speaker, as if every sentence he spoke were of dire importance. “We need another man.”
“That’s not my problem,” Julian said. “You find the man you need and you get it done.”
“Fine. Let’s talk price.”
“Name it.”
Alric looked at all the others as if to give anyone a last chance to object. “Ten thousand.”
Julian nodded. “I think that can be arran-.”
“Each,” Alric interrupted. “Ten thousand each.”
“You can’t be serious,” Julian said squinting. “How can you expect us to pay forty thousand?”
“Well, when you take into account that we need an extra man then it’s fifty thousand,” he said. “What you want is a suicide mission. We’ve gone over the schematics a hundred times, and there is no way to accomplish this mission without one of my crew getting caught or killed.”
“Is that what your Erellen friend has come up with?”
Julian stared at Lorcan Zamire as he shifted in his seat. “There has to be bait,” Lorcan said. “I don't know how you got a map of the underground workings of Timugo, but if it's correct at all then we don't stand a chance of getting out with the medallion. The bait will go after a staff. It’s the staff of Uriah.” Lorcan took a deep breath then continued. “Trying to steal the staff will trigger an alarm and the fifth man will be caught, leaving us the chance to slip in and get the medallion.”
Julian's eyebrows furrowed. “If you only need someone to be captured then why the extra ten thousand?”
“No one will go on a job without seeing the money first. And anyway, running a job like this is a higher risk, so we demand higher funds.”
Julian nodded. Alric was right and they weren’t going to budge. The Dunarians had to go under the table with this sort of mission. Stealing the Anwyn’s medallion was cause for a war and the Dunarians were dwindling in numbers. Having the blame fall on a mercenary group would absolve the Dunarians if Alric and his crew happened to be caught.
“I'll give you half now, and half when you hand over the medallion.”
“Just like that, eh?” Alric said. It sounded as if he were about to laugh. “What does this jewelry do anyway?”
“You have a job to do,” Julian said. “I give you the money, you get me the medallion.”
He stood abruptly. His sudden move caused all four of them to come to attention. Lorcan and Coffman grabbed for their weapons, then sheepishly calmed themselves when they realized Julian was only standing to leave.
“I don't care much for your intrigue,” Julian said. “We just want to make sure you get it done.”
“Oh, it'll get done.”
“Good. Then I will be back in a few moments with the money.”
It was Alric’s turn to stand. This time Julian inched his hand a little closer to his blade. “Actually, we're going with you. We don't want that kind of money in a place like this.”
Julian thought for a moment that this might be a ploy to get him out of the public eye so they could rob him of his money and get paid without having to lift a finger. This normally wouldn’t worry him too much, but with a magic user, an Erellen and brute force under Alric's command, Julian wasn't sure it was a fight he could win. He decided to take his chances, however. With a nod, he turned to leave the pub the way he had come. Eyes followed him and the group as they made their way through to the exit. A cold hush fell over every table as if all of the heat had been sucked out of the room.
“Fine impression you've made,” Alric muttered under his breath.
Julian walked out into the dark street, ever ready with his dagger tucked under his cloak. Eden would not be too far away. The moon lit their path and Julian led them to a large field on the outskirts of town. The night sky was bright and open and his company's footsteps fell heavy in the grass. Julian could sense a wariness in the others, a fear that they themselves may be walking into some sort of trap. They were used to undertakings that were usually sketchy at best, and for all they knew they were walking into large group of the king's soldiers, only to be placed under arrest for previous crimes committed.
As soon as they were away from the soft glow of the city’s lights, Julian lifted a chain from his neck that had been hidden beneath his cloak. He clutched a small cylindrical device at the chain’s end, held it to his mouth and blew softly. From the device came a sound unlike a conventional whistle. It resounded through the plain with a much lower tone than anything so small should have made. It echoed for several long seconds and the onlookers waited in silence. Alric gave the others a skeptical look. Then, shooting from the sky, came a large beast with wings as long as a house. The massive flying animal was much like an eagle, yet twice the size of a horse. Its dark, brown wings tucked close to its sides as it landed and its head shot straight up to give a long, peculiar look to the new guests. Its feathers were soft to the touch, but strong. It was a sarian.
Julian heard the group behind him whispering. Above the rest he heard Coffman say, “A sarian? I haven’t seen one of those in years.”
“This is Eden,” Julian said as he reached to the head of the bowing creature. He stroked her long neck as she glared at the others, daring them to step closer. “She's been mine for more than two years now.”
Inga was the next to speak. “It takes a special person to be able to ride a sarian. They aren't usually very trusting.”
“As a magic user I'm not surprised that you would know much about them,” Julian said. “It takes magic and agility to even get near one in the wild, much less train it. She goes everywhere I go.”
“That's all well and good,” Alric said, “but if you don't mind, I'm out here to see the money, not talk about your flying pet.”
Eden flashed her sharp beak. With a single swipe of her knife-like talons she could slice through a man’s body. Julian moved to the side of the creature and unlatched a pocket on the saddle. He sorted through the pocket for a moment then threw a bag at Alric's feet.
“It's twenty-five thousand. You'll get the rest when we get the medallion.”
Alric hunched over the bag, counting for several moments then looked up and nodded. “We'll see you in five days then.”
> “And you remember the designated place?”
“Of course,” Alric answered.
“If you don’t show up I will assume that you’ve run off with the money,” Julian said. “I will hunt you and spread your entrails all over Canor, you understand?” He said the words coolly and without malice. He wanted them to know he meant what he said without sounding rough or evil.
“Fine,” Alric said. Without another word spoken, the group turned and left the field.
Julian mounted Eden and whispered in her ear. “Let's go home, girl.”
The next part of his mission would be the most dangerous.
Chapter Three
Silas Ainsley’s grandfather was dead and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be killed too. Marcus and Theron had taken Garland's body away several hours after he had died. Marcus had questioned Silas for hours, often times hitting him and slapping him. Once or twice, Silas offered a lie leading the men on a wild goose chase to find the medallion. They told him that if he did it again that they would end his life. They gave him twelve hours in the dark to think about it.
Silas tried to imagine what his captors did over the course of two days, but it was difficult to see in the dimly lit room and they rarely walked by. Trying to listen in on their conversations was no good either because the door muffled their sounds. Silas was so exhausted that he was starting to hear noises that weren’t even there.
It had been two days since his capture and in that time he had not been fed, and water had been given to him only once. He was weak and without hope. He began to think that the help his grandfather had promised was a figment of his imagination or just words of a dying man who had lost his grip on reality. Marcus and Theron would eventually decide to kill Silas and that would be the end of it.
One night, or morning, Silas didn’t know which, it was Theron’s turn to question him about the medallion. On orders from Garland, Silas pretended to know nothing about it. Theron said it was a powerful tool and that he needed it. After a few slaps to the face and a threat of longer time in the room without food or water, he was gone. Silas expected him to return, but he did not.
The ropes dug deep into his wrists and he wished he could at least try to escape, but there was no use. He would be dead before he made it through the door. He tried to reconstruct the path he took when the men dragged him and his grandfather to the room. It was a long passageway, and it went through several levels. The fact that he passed out several times along the way didn’t help the reconstruction either. There was no way to remember. He knew it began on a mountainside and tunneled downward. Old gold mines littered these parts of the mountains. Now, two goons used one of them as a hideout to keep their hostage. Probably as good a place as any, Silas thought. He wondered what was here that his grandfather had been trying to reach.
Sleep was scarce and when he did, he was plagued with nightmares. Silas ultimately came to the conclusion that if they were going to kill him then they should just do it. What was the use keeping him here? As he lay contemplating his fate, he was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps nearing his door. The faint glow of a torch grew into a bright flickering under the door as the bearer came closer. The door swung open and Silas had to shut his eyes to keep from being blinded.
“It’s time,” the gruff voice spoke. It was Theron.
Roughly, Theron grabbed Silas by the neckline of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. The dim light in the corridor was blinding to Silas’ dilated pupils. He had to force himself to keep his eyes open to study his surroundings in case he found a chance to escape.
After Theron cut the rope around his legs, they walked down the tunnel that led from his tiny room. Eventually they came to a much larger area at the mouth of the cave where the stone danced with a red and orange glow from the torches lining the wall. The ominous blue light of the moon revealed the cliff’s edge outside of the cave with a figure standing near it.
Marcus. He wore his sword on his side, but kept his hands behind his back as he watched Silas walk along willingly with Theron.
“You can let him go,” Marcus said. He stared at the boy and shook his head. “Silas, Silas, Silas.”
Silas did not acknowledge him.
“As I have explained to you before, we need that medallion. It has a greater value than you can possibly know. If you lie to me again, I will kill you. If you refuse to speak, I will kill you.” He paused. “If you tell me where it is, and you are true to your word, you will be left here to fend for yourself. If you survive, fine, I don’t care. It doesn't matter to me.”
Silas smiled weakly. “If I knew, I would have given it to you when you brought me here in the first place. But I don’t.”
Marcus lifted up a hand. “Stop talking.” He walked to Silas and grabbed his neck and forced him to walk further into the moonlight. He took him to the edge of the cliff and shoved Silas to his knees.
The moon shed its light onto the entire landscape. It was beautiful, yet eerie as it illuminated the 500-foot drop Silas would encounter should he slip. Or be pushed.
“I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me where it is,” Marcus said as he slid the sword from its sheath. The sound sent an electric shock to Silas’ heart. He was about to die. “If you don’t tell me, I will cut your throat and your body will fall down the mountain. But if you do, I’ll leave you out here in the wilderness alone. Either way, you will never hear from us again.”
Silas didn’t believe it for a moment. If he told them the location of the medallion he would be at the bottom of the cliff before he knew what happened to him. But if he refused he would be there too. Telling them the truth, however, might buy him an hour more. It was worth a try. A certain peace came to his mind as the mountain’s night wind shuffled his blonde, shaggy hair. He almost didn't mind dying in such a wonderful, tranquil landscape. For a moment, he was alone with nature, but he was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden cold press of steel against his throat. Silas closed his eyes, ready to accept the fate that was about to present itself.
“It's in the truck.”
“What?”
“The medallion. My grandfather left it in the truck before we sent it over the cliff.” He sighed loudly. If his 'protector' wasn't coming then this was his only chance. He was out of time. “You will find it there.”
“You lie, I looked in the truck,” Theron said, stepping forward.
“Well, look again,” Silas said. “There’s a secret compartment behind the passenger seat.”
“Mr. Ainsley, I've grown tired of your deception,” Marcus said. “Whether you are telling the truth or not, I'm tired of you.”
Theron moved closer. “Marcus, what are you doing?”
“Shut up,” Marcus said.
“It's really there,” said Silas frantically. Even in his physical state of weakness, he felt adrenaline pulse through his veins. “You told me you would let me go.”
“I'm through with you, Ainsley.”
“Marcus! Stop!”
“He’ll be no use to us!” Marcus yelled, facing Theron.
“We’re supposed to keep him alive!”
Marcus shook his head and turned back to Silas. “Let Judoc take care of him.”
Silas closed his eyes as Marcus reared back to slice through his neck, but the swipe never came. Silas’ eyes flew open at the sound of Marcus screaming in horror as an arrow tore through his shoulder. The whistle from the arrow shot seemed to chase the impact. Silas instantly dropped flat to the ground as he heard more shots through the air. Theron was hit in the knee, bringing him to the ground. He pulled out his sword ready for a fight, but another arrow soared into his chest, ending his life on Earth.
Whoever was doing this was helping Silas tremendously, but perhaps they were not a friend at all. Could this be the protector? Silas began to crawl with his bound wrists away from the cave and down the path as Marcus continued to scream out in pain. Another arrow ended his cries as it struck him
through the neck.
Seeing a chance to flee, Silas pulled himself off the ground to run, but before he was able to take two strides, an arrow landed only inches in front of him. He froze in place, knowing if he took another step the next arrow would not miss. The commotion from behind him had stopped; Marcus and Theron were dead. Silas stood with his tied hands in the air feeling stupid and even more vulnerable than when Marcus had a sword to his neck. He shuffled around on his feet, trying to see his attacker, or savior, he wasn’t sure which. He looked into the trees surrounding the cave and the path. The woods were too dark for him to see much more than rustling leaves.
He looked from one direction to the other. When he turned once more to the cave, a dark silhouette met him with a drawn arrow inches from his forehead.
“If you so much as flinch I won’t hesitate to let this go,” the dark figure said. His voice was rough and harsh.
Silas tried to swallow, but his mouth was a desert. “I believe you,” he said.
“Are you Silas Ainsley?”
Silas nodded.
“Good. Get back in the cave.”
“What?” That was the last place Silas wanted to be.
“Go, now!”
Silas did as he was told and marched toward the cave opening. “I don’t know what this medallion thing is! I don't even want it!”
“Shut up! Get in the cave!”
“What are you here for?”
“Get in the cave!” the man repeated.
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 3
