Geblin hobbled to the table. “A mug of ale would warm me up, that’s right. But this will work.”
“Help yourself. Between you and me, Mapin is also an amateur brewmeister. It’s one of the few indulgences we get.”
The Gnome took his first sip and immediately felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He gagged, eyes watering. His throat burned in protest. He expected smoke to come out of his nose and mouth.
Pharanx laughed, deep and hearty. “My apologies, but I did say he was an amateur. It only burns for the first few mouthfuls. Two or three glasses, and you won’t remember your name, little Gnome.”
Talk quickly turned serious. The Fist leadership converged on the main table to listen and add intelligence to the battle briefing.
“It is a tower of the darkest obsidian less than an hour south of Rantis. That is the source of his power,” Pharanx explained.
Kavan studied the map, gauging the distance from Kalad Tol to Gessun Thune and then back down to the obsidian tower. “No one has tried to sack it yet?”
“The forest is protected by unnatural creatures. Some say they are born from the very bosom of the old gods.” Pharanx spoke closer to the truth than he knew. “The entire area breathes of evil. I will not risk my men to do so. No. Our best chance is to catch him alone and in the open. I’ve had men watching him and his associates since they turned on us.”
“How many?” Aphere asked.
“Why?”
She exhaled mild frustration. “Because there have been public executions of some of your men over the past few days. Special army squads constantly patrol the city in search of anyone affiliated with the Fist.”
All conversation stopped. Until now, it had only been a whisper they refused to believe. Aphere didn’t like everyone staring at her, or being the bearer of bad news, but she was a Gaimosian Knight. Such was her solemn duty. “I’m sorry,” she added softly.
Pharanx frowned. Others began whispering frustrations.
“I suspect they’ve rounded up many more, innocent men, and charged them with being Fist as well,” Kavan said.
“That would explain why so little word has reached us. I took a great risk by coming in search of you. He must be preparing to strike.”
“It’s much worse than that,” Kavan added.
“What do you mean?”
“There will be an eclipse in six days. Your benefactor will attempt to open the nexus, a path between dimensions, and free the dark gods from their prison. All Malweir is in jeopardy.”
Pharanx paled. “How would you know that?”
“The Oracle of Wenx told us,” Aphere said.
Another bout of murmurs spread through the room. Pharanx idly traced one of his facial tattoos in thought. “The oracle.”
“How can this be?”
Only Geblin remained smug. He almost enjoyed seeing so many Humans rendered speechless. Forget that he had felt the very same way in Wenx. The decision to stand and fight had never been difficult. He’d feel better in the underworld knowing he gave his all for friends and family. It was a small comfort. He sat and watched the mercenaries to see how they would fare under the same condition.
“I’ve heard legends of the oracle,” Pharanx said. Clearly, he had difficulty assimilating this new information. He’d never signed up to fight gods. “His words are to be revered. This changes everything.”
“Not for us,” Kavan replied.
“I don’t follow.”
“We came to Aradain to put an end to the threat in the ruins. We’ve been charged by the oracle to stop this evil and keep the dark gods in their prison. This is a task appointed solely to us. All we needed was to know who their agent on Malweir was. Thanks to you, we do.” Kavan decided now was the time for a good, strong drink. Or even a bad one. He filled his mug.
Pharanx joined him. “What’s your plan?”
Kavan struggled to swallow the bitter liquid. “We had thought of charging down into Gessun Thune and sealing it off. The oracle only confirmed our charge, not the method.”
“Attacking the pit is suicide,” Pharanx said. “Eglios has held more than a dozen of his hunts. Some of the bravest men in this part of the world died down there. You risk your lives foolishly.”
Kavan already knew that. “That’s not entirely true. We have a guide who participated in one of the hunts. He took us to the ruins two days ago.”
“You Gaimosians are a dangerous breed. All of your plans are based on not knowing who to direct your attack against. When will you change?”
Smiling, Kavan wished he had a better answer. “Our goals are the same. We both want this madman stopped. I propose an alliance, at least until this mess is done.”
“An alliance?” Pharanx stared back wide-eyed. “The Fist normally work alone.”
“I don’t think either of us have a choice,” Aphere said. She was more than willing to have the small army of mercenaries at her back — anything in order to survive.
“She speaks true. Very well, an alliance is formed, but on condition,” Pharanx told them. “When we catch this man, I get to be the one who slits his miserable throat.”
“Done.”
The door burst open, and an Elf dressed in black, worn leathers entered, out of breath and disheveled. His eyes were wild. Fist members crowded in behind him, eager to hear what had him spooked.
“Calm down, Pelios. Take a breath first,” Pharanx said.
The Elf obeyed, finally regaining his stoic composure. “Moncrieff is assembling an army. They’re coming here.”
“When?”
The word was measured, fatal.
“Two days time, maybe less,” Pelios replied.
Kavan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Are you certain this is not just part of the coming hunt?”
Pelios noticed the Gaimosians for the first time and stiffened. They had been the enemy the last he knew. Pharanx caught his eye and shook his head. The Elf relaxed, if barely. “No. The army doesn’t gear up for the hunts. We overheard some of the soldiers mention an assault on Kalad Tol. They’re coming here to annihilate us.”
Kazme jerked his sword from Nik’s corpse. The assassin looked around the forge while his men ransacked the place. Blood dripped down the blade, landing on his boot. Kazme snarled and stabbed the body again in frustration. He’d just bought these boots.
“Where’s the girl?” he said menacingly.
“We can’t find her. She may have left before we had eyes on this site.”
Not likely. He’d timed his attack perfectly, waiting until the last lamp went out before breaking in. The old man had put up a mediocre struggle before dying with a blade through his belly. The redhead was nowhere to be seen. Corso was not going to be pleased. Kazme briefly gave thought to killing him companions and burning the bodies, but that would be a waste.
“Burn it,” he commanded. “Burn it to the ground, and turn this city upside down. I want her found and dead before dawn.”
They began spreading the embers. Cries arose a short time later as flames spread to the neighboring structures. Nik’s smith burned to the ground.
FORTY-FIVE
Grief
The trip back to Rantis was fast, uneventful. The only thing out of ordinary was the unusual amount of traffic on the roads. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, and adventurers began their pilgrimage to Rantis and the great hunt of King Eglios. All came seeking glory in one form or another. Most would find only death. The Gaimosians avoided them. Times were foul, and these additional people would only get in their way.
Little could they know that, at the same moment, Pirneon was finishing the last of his hot tea while preparing for his own hunt.
By the time they arrived back at the inn, all were exhausted. The sudden increase of long nights followed by troublesome days left them in need of a large bed and hot baths. Kavan trudged up the stairs with barely enough strength to unlock his door. What he saw then was beyond reckoning.
Phirial looked up fr
om Mabane’s embrace. Tears had stained her face. She saw Kavan and rushed into his arms. Mabane wiped his own tears.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he said weakly.
Kavan wrapped her in his embrace, whispering soft words of soothing.
“It was horrible,” she sobbed.
The others filed in. Barum closed the door and worried.
“They killed him, Kavan,” Phirial cried. “They murdered my father.”
Aphere immediately crossed to the window and scanned the streets below. Barum drew his sword and waited in the event the enemy was about to ambush. Kavan felt a piece of him break. Not her. Not her too. Geblin climbed onto the low bed and struggled to hide his tears.
“Phirial, I know this is hard, but we need to know who did it,” Kavan attempted to soothe.
“I don’t know. Three men broke in. My father pushed me out the back and went to stop them. I wanted to stay. I wanted to….”
She broke down completely, all but collapsing in his arms. Kavan felt torn. His feelings for her threatened to overcome a lifetime of soldiering. He wanted to grab his sword and find those responsible. Duty came first. He stood, Phirial in his arms, helplessly trapped between duty and heart. All he could do was hug her tighter.
“I see one hiding in the alley across the street,” Aphere confirmed. “They tracked her here.”
“Unless we’ve been watched the whole time we’ve been in Rantis,” Barum suggested. He kept an ear to the door, listening for boots.
Kavan put the facts together. “It has to be Eglios. With the army getting ready to move, the king needs to shut this city down.”
“Once his enemies are removed, nothing can stop him,” Aphere concluded. “The whole kingdom will be against us.”
“We must leave immediately.” Kavan’s words bore finality.
Mabane glanced up. His reluctant help had become a death sentence. If indeed they were being followed, he knew he wouldn’t last the night. “What about me? They’ll kill me as soon as you leave.”
Kavan fixed him with a hard stare. “You come with us.”
“But….”
“Unless you care to fill a hole come dawn. We have allies in the countryside. It’ll be safe enough for the time being.” Even as he spoke, Kavan knew the words weren’t entirely true. He had no idea how large a force Moncrieff was assembling or how hard they planned on hitting Kalad Tol. Still, a few hundred mercenaries offered better protection than a handful of knights. There was still a chance.
“We should go now before others come. Use the hunt for cover and head straight for the fortress,” Aphere said.
Kavan nodded. “Pack. We leave in an hour.”
Phirial stopped crying long enough to look up into his determined eyes. “What about me? I have nothing. They took it all.”
“Our first stop will be the forge. Collect what we can and —”
She cut him off. “They burned it down. I have nothing left in my life, Kavan.”
His eyes watered, genuine tears that hadn’t been shed in many, many years. “You have me.”
There is was. His decision made. He’d committed to her safety and whatever hardships that entailed. Kavan didn’t bother looking around to catch the open-mouthed stares from the others. Even Mabane jerked back in shock. He knew what he’d done the moment he’d said it. He just prayed the complications didn’t prove too much.
Barum cracked the door to check the hall. It was the middle of the day, an unlikely time for any attack. That didn’t prevent the knights from using caution. The man who had hired the Fist very much wanted them dead, giving Kavan little reason to doubt that had changed recently.
“Clear,” Barum said.
Kavan pointed. “Move.”
Easing the door open, Barum slid into the hall and hugged the wall as he made for the stairs. The others filed behind with Kavan pulling the rear guard. He wondered how they’d come to this as he closed the door. A hobbled Gnome, a drunk, and the daughter of a dead blacksmith. Life had been so much simpler a few months ago. Lamenting old grievances wouldn’t change anything, so he focused on the now. He’d been thrust into the leadership position, and it was now his responsibility to keep them alive through the coming storm.
He sighed. Once they reached the horses, their chances would improve considerably. Combined with the diversion he planned, the knights should be able to exfiltrate the city undetected. Kavan decided there was no point in concealing their true nature. They advanced with weapons drawn, enough to deter any fool looking to score a quick bounty.
Kavan tossed the room keys as well as a small purse filled with silver coins to the frightened innkeeper and watched as Aphere led the others through the kitchens to the modest stable in the rear. Satisfied, Kavan headed for the front door. There was never a doubt about what he intended. He decided to sheath his sword so as not to draw undo attention. He walked confidently into the crowds without being recognized. The crowds provided camouflage, allowing him to slink across the street. He caught sight of his target and grinned.
The risk was relatively small. Kavan was counting on the lookout not paying attention. The gap closed. He figured the lookout was searching for Phirial and would fail to notice him until it was too late. Kavan palmed a dagger as he neared. With a quick movement, the three-inch blade drove between ribs to puncture the heart. He let out a strangled groan before collapsing in Kavan’s arms. Kavan wasn’t satisfied until he watched the eyes roll back into his head and smelled the fresh urine spilled down his trousers. He dropped the body in the alley with the dagger still embedded.
“Any problems?” Aphere asked after he rejoined them.
Kavan mounted his horse. “No. It was fast.”
Phirial caught the drying blood on Kavan’s sleeve. Hate burned brightly in her eyes. “I hope you made him suffer.”
Her words spit vehemence. No amount of bloodshed would be enough to erase the pain of losing her father. Kavan empathized with her but lacked the comforting words she needed. He’d never been particularly compassionate, seldom feeling anything remotely comparable to sympathy. He merely nodded and rode forward.
“Was there any sign of more?” he asked Aphere.
“None that we’re aware of. Mabane knows a back way through the city. We should avoid contact, at least until we gain open ground.”
Mabane looked serious for the first time since joining them. He wasn’t sure where his life was headed anymore. Death loomed ever closer, a fact he had once accepted and, oddly, looked forward to. He knew he should have died long ago. Perhaps that would have been best, but time and foul memories conspired to reinstall his will to live.
“The way leads through some of the housing areas. Patrollers are about the only ones who ever look there. The army is forbidden, or at least they used to be.”
“The army has no reason to know who we are yet,” Kavan deduced.
That was not entirely true. Pirneon had somehow been subverted and could well have given the enemy a fully report on why they’d come to Aradain. Kavan struggled with this concept. Gaimosians were many things but not traitors to blood. More distressing, Kavan couldn’t feel the Knight Marshal any longer, and he didn’t know why.
“Where is everyone?” Barum asked.
Mabane answered, “More likely at the grand parade. Eglios has one in honor of the brave souls come to attend the hunt. It’s a small concession, all things considered. There’s food and drink, whore of all sorts, and a festive environment. None of it really matters.”
They made their way through the virtually deserted housing area. Stray dogs and cats stared back from trash piles or empty alleys. Actual people were few. They heard the muted bustle of activity in the business district announcing the opening procession of the hunt. Kavan frowned with disgust. The entire charade was developed to keep the population from learning the truth of Gessun Thune. The enemy hid his work in plain view. With so many dying at the hands of werebeasts, the ruins had been turned into the center of a great ma
ny fears. No one in their right mind would dare go there, making it the perfect scenario.
It took almost no time before they reached the gates and were out onto the winding road through the bogs. Kalad Tol — and their fates — awaited.
FORTY-SIX
A Dream in Ruins
Pirneon stood atop the small rise gazing down into the mouth of the black pit of Gessun Thune. He felt no fear, no hesitation. All his life had been a series of trials pushing him to this moment, the culmination of every despicable deed and hardship suffered in the name of his vanquished kingdom. Chest filled with confidence, he mentally prepared for battle. Both his sword and senses were sharp. He’d never been more ready. The first cracks of sunlight were streaking into the night sky. He paused to watch and thought of happier times.
“It will be safer once the sun rises,” Corso told him.
Pirneon nodded. He’d been told the same repeatedly during their trek to the ruins. He was a man unaccustomed to taking advice, tired of suffering lesser people. Arrogance demanded satisfaction. Only he had the ability to destroy the werebeast threat permanently.
“What sort of numbers are there?”
“None know for sure,” Corso lied. “The monsters sleep during the day, almost in a state of hibernation. They won’t impede you.”
He stared deep into Corso’s eyes in search of deceit. “Where will your men be positioned? This needs to be executed quickly and with precision.”
Corso had brought six men, all acolytes of the dark gods.
“They’ll be stationed on either side of the opening. I’ll accompany you.”
Pirneon scowled. “I didn’t come here to fight alongside anyone. We tried that on the path to Aradain. It was a terrible mistake. Gaimosians are meant to work alone.”
Corso smiled politely. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The werebeasts are creatures of dark power. I alone have the knowledge to counter that. You will need me to extinguish the source and win your war.”
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