by Pedro Urvi
“As you command, Lotas,” Santes said as he went hastily out of the door.
A few moments later the lieutenant came back, followed by five men as rough as they were strong. They were armed to their teeth, and were huge men, their bodies marked with scars.
“Follow me!” Lotas ordered impatiently. He lifted an expensive Nocean carpet, under which was a trap door. He pulled a ring, and the trap door opened with a discordant noise. He was filled with a feeling of triumph. They would never catch him, he was too smart for those savages. He was the master of deceit. But they’ll pay, oh yes they will. With pain and blood. He would torture them himself until they begged him to put an end to their lives. Nobody crosses Lotas the Ruthless and lives to tell the tale! They’ll die in torment, oh yes! He’d see to that.
He quickly let himself down through the trap door, followed by his lieutenant and the five body-guards.
They went fast along the dark, dismal sewers. Lotas knew them well. Every nook and turn was engraved in his mind. He had marked particular spots with secret signs only he knew, so that even in the utmost darkness he could find his way without hesitation. The boots of the seven men splashed in the vile-smelling liquid which covered the floor. The stench was nauseating, but Lotas had applied eucalyptus ointment under his nose as a protection. Huge rats crossed their path, making him smile; he liked these queens of dirt and darkness. He thought them admirable, capable of not only living but reigning in that underworld of filth.
They took two right turns, then one to the left. The sewers were a true maze, and anyone not familiar with them would be hopelessly lost. The next turn was to the left again, and Lotas began to relax. They were putting enough distance between them and their pursuers, they would never catch them up.
He saw some hidden marks which signaled a left turn, and took it with calculated abruptness. Before him opened a long channel, which ended at a circular crossroads. That was where he would find the longed-for exit which would allow him to reach the surface of an alley, behind a little-frequented tavern. He would escape once again, and he could not hold back a smile of triumph when he came to the intersection. He stopped running and signaled his men to do the same, checking the ceiling as he did so to make sure they were in the right place.
The way out of the sewer.
He had made it.
“It seems we’re in a hurry,” said an unknown voice suddenly from his left, hidden in the dark.
Lotas turned immediately, caught by surprise. His heart skipped a beat. He half-closed his eyes and made out one of the two Norriel. The shorter and more athletic one came out of the shadows, a sword in one hand and a long knife in the other.
It was impossible!
“They must be late for an important appointment!” another, deeper voice thundered, to the right.
Lotas turned again and saw the giant smiling broadly and carrying a huge two-handed sword. Fear hit him, like a whiplash in his face.
“Treason! I’ve been betrayed!”
Then he understood. They had set a trap for him, and he had fallen into it head-first, like a novice. This was an ambush, well-planned and perfectly-executed, with himself as the unsuspecting prey. He suddenly realized who had betrayed him. It could only have been done from inside his organization, an inside job by someone who wanted his downfall so he could gain control. Santes! It had been Santes! How well he had played out his role, the gutless, treacherous worm! And what was even worse, he had not seen through him.
“Santes! You treacherous dog!” he shouted to his lieutenant. But the latter, ignoring him, walked toward the Norriel on the left and calmly stood behind him.
“After all I did for you, you crawling vermin, you betray me like this?”
“There’s no honor among thieves, that’s the first thing you taught me, Lotas,” Santes replied with an ironic grin.
“You bastard! I’ll tear out your throat with my own hands, you gutless pig!”
“It’s time for new blood to take command of operations,” Santes said reproachfully as he spat. “You’ve become too paranoid, frightened of your own shadow like a child. Today I take over, and I’ll lead your empire with an iron hand, not like the cowering scum you’ve turned into.”
“We’ll see about that, you bastard! Kill them! Kill them all!” Lotas shouted at his bodyguard.
They hesitated for a second, looking first at Lotas and then at Santes, seeming unsure who to stand with. After a tense moment they attacked the Norriel.
Filled with fury, Lotas watched his men. Two of them lunged at the most athletic of the warriors, who was the closest. The others attacked the giant with the enormous sword. With almost insulting calmness, he blocked the attack of the first bodyguard, crouched with unusual agility and perfect balance, then cut open the guard’s stomach from one side to the other. Lotas swore and unsheathed his own sword. His second bodyguard aimed a blow at the Norriel’s head, but the latter dodged it with a quick turn of his waist. He counterattacked with simultaneous thrusts from sword and knife, which his opponent barely managed to block. Lotas realized his men were no match for this accursed warrior. They were strong, hardened men with a knowledge of many weapons, experienced in dirty street fighting. But this man was an expert with the sword, nearly a master.
He looked at his other three men, who were fighting the giant and his enormous sword. They did not seem to be winning this battle either.
Just as he feared, he saw the green-eyed warrior pierce the heart of his man with one clean stroke after a feint with the knife.
Damnation! I have to do something fast. He would come for him now. Lotas was a pretty good swordsman, with ample experience and a well-trained arm, but he was not sure he was good enough to defeat this young mountain devil.
“Santes, help me and I’ll double whatever they’ve paid you. I’ll triple it!” he shouted.
Santes looked at him, amused.
“Sorry, Lotas. They’ve paid me with something you can’t match,” his late lieutenant said from the shadows. His arms were crossed over his chest in a clear gesture that showed he would have nothing to do with the fight.
A severed head rolled by Lotas’ feet: one of his guards. He was so startled he jumped back. He looked to the right and watched with horror as the giant skewered the last of his opponents still standing. The other two were lying on the floor with their heads cut off. Fear spread through him like a deadly disease.
Run, I must run! Now!
He turned to flee, back the way they had come.
The sharp end of a sword at his throat stopped him before he could even take the first step. He raised his eyes from the shining sword and recognized the woman who was blocking his escape.
She smiled. “Were you thinking of going somewhere?” she said caustically.
Lotas dropped his sword. He knew he had been defeated. Beaten at his own game. He could not understand it. How was it possible? How had he been fooled? He would never know…They would soon kill him, of that he had no doubt. A bitter end, to die in a stinking sewer, one step away from freedom and two steps from his wealth…
Kayti looked Lotas, the slippery lord of the smugglers, in the eyes. She pressed her sword against his Adam’s apple. She watched him in silence. The plan had come out exactly as she had planned it, perfectly. It made no sense to attack a wild animal in its lair, they would have perished. The strategy was to make it come out into the open. Deceit was the course to follow. When she presented the plan to her friends she had met with opposition from the two Norriel; needless to say they preferred direct action. How typical of men: plenty of muscle, not much brain. If the world were ruled by women… What a shame that kingdoms were governed by men with the brain of a marsh mosquito and the short temper of a black mountain bear.
Luckily, although her companions were men, and quite rough at that, they were not completely lacking in intellect. Which was an exception to the rule, and she thanked Zuline the Custodian Lady for it. A couple of arguments about the assault strat
egy and its possible results had been enough to dissuade the men from their preferred option of direct attack. Even Lindaro, who rarely gave his opinion on questions like that, had supported her.
Her plan had been simple and risky. Finish Lotas with the help of someone from inside his own organization, someone he trusted. The chosen: Santes, his right hand. As despicable and vicious as Lotas, he had more to gain from his boss’s disappearance. In a couple of nights of discreet investigation, Hartz and Komir had gathered enough information at taverns and brothels around the docks to have been able to write Santes’ memoirs. Apparently he was very popular, with regular habits centered on alcohol and whores. That made the plan much easier. But how would they convince that sewer rat to betray his boss? The answer had come to her with the dazzling clarity of the lightning bolt which comes before the thunder. They would offer Santes a deal he could not refuse.
The night before the assault they waited for him outside his favorite brothel. Inside, Hartz and Komir took care of the three body-guards who were somewhat distracted by the girls’ attentions. Once captured and dragged out of the brothel naked, the deal was easy.
His life and the leadership of the band for betraying his boss.
If he refused he would die there and then, in a dark wet alley. Santes had looked her in the eye while listening to the proposition, and Kayti had seen how his eyes went from fear for his life to a flash of greed and triumph. It was a proposition he could not refuse. And Santes accepted the deal without hesitation.
Kayti was proud of her plan and the way they had carried it out. Everything had come out as expected, smooth as silk. But now she was aware that whatever the man at the other end of her sword revealed could be of supreme importance. It might even break the delicate balance of her current relationship with the two Norriel. Everything depended on what that vile, disgusting sewer rat knew and told. A chill ran down her spine, but her firm hand did not move. Those years of training in the Custodial Brotherhood had served her well. She had to stay calm, and that was not her forte, as she well knew. She would have to contain the inner rage which sometimes overpowered her, there was too much at stake. She could not fail the Brotherhood. She had a sacred mission, and she would either fulfill it or die in the attempt, just like her brothers.
She saw Komir approach, with Hartz following. Both stood behind Lotas. If truth be told, since she had known them the two warriors had surprised her: surprised her very pleasantly, she had to admit. She had expected two mountain brutes with no skill or noticeable quality other than the renowned fierceness of their people in battle. It had been a mistake to think that. They had impressed her, those two young warriors. There was something about them, an ethereal quality, which made them special. They were not aware of it themselves, but Kayti could see it clearly, they were the chosen and every day she spent with them she was more certain of it.
By now she had no doubts that her mission was to be in some way tied to the destiny of the two young warriors. Their paths ran parallel, their missions followed the same road. That was why she had to calm herself, put a stop on her inner fury and keep it in check. She must not jeopardize her relationship with them, whatever Lotas might reveal next.
“Let me crush his skull, Komir, please!” Hartz begged his friend, looming behind Lotas like a menacing tower.
When she heard the northern giant’s voice, Kayti was filled with a sea of contradictory feelings which fought inside her. On the one hand was a visceral dislike for him, which was rapidly soothed by a deep, unfamiliar feeling of well-being. This rough, untamed mountain-dweller got on her nerves with his nonchalant ways, he infuriated her. But on the other hand, his mere presence nearby filled her with a warm, even pleasant sense of safety… She stared at him for an instant, as if hypnotized by his magnetic presence. She shook her head energetically and all those feelings vanished at once, replaced by rejection.
Think! Concentrate! Be alert! she chided herself.
“Before I let you crush him I want to ask him a couple questions,” Komir said with the coolness of a slave-dealer. He stood beside Kayti so as to face the smuggler.
“What do you want to know?” Lotas asked, with a distrustful glance at Komir.
“Who wants us dead and why?”
“Ah, good questions, yes sir… questions I could answer. But for that, as in any transaction, there must be an exchange of goods. I can give you the information you’re looking for. What can you offer me in exchange?”
“I can make your death quick instead of slow and painful,” Komir replied.
“Your offer is not good enough for me to give you the information you’re looking for.”
Komir looked at Kayti, and with a nod signaled her to lower her weapon. Kayti, understanding what was about to happen, put down her sword. Hartz stepped up and delivered a brutal left-hand blow to the liver, followed by a tremendous right punch to the helpless man’s jaw. Lotas crumpled to the ground like a felled tree.
“Don’t believe anything he says, he’s a compulsive liar,” Santes warned them from the corner where he was standing, watching events unfold. “He’d say anything just to save himself.”
“Get up!” Komir said, and kicked him where he lay on the ground.
Lotas, still dizzy from the blow, tried to stand without success. He sat on the floor with a lost look on his face, apparently on the verge of vomiting and barely able to hold himself up.
Komir bent down to Lotas’s level so as to look him in the eye.
“Now look, Lotas, my friend here isn’t fond of people who try to kill him from behind. So either you tell me what I want to know or I’ll let him beat you to a pulp. It’s your choice.”
“Wait…wait…I’ll tell you… don’t let him beat me any more…” Lotas managed to say. “A servant… of a rich merchant who lives in the upper city hired me. He offered me six thousand gold coins for your lives: three thousand up front and the other three at the end of the job when we gave him your heads, literally.”
“What merchant?” Komir asked.
Lotas hesitated for a moment and Komir looked at his friend, which made Lotas reply at once.
“Guzmik, his name is Guzmik… he’s a foreigner, nobody knows exactly where from, but he’s not local.”
When she heard the name Kayti shivered involuntarily. Damn! This is what I was afraid of! The two Norriel did not know the name, of that she was sure, but she did. If they got to him there would be trouble, he could reveal information about her which would put her in a very awkward position. Matters would get extremely complicated. Calm down, let’s see how things turn out…
“Are you sure it’s him?” Komir asked.
“Yes, I always make sure who I go to bed with at night. I don’t like unpleasant surprises in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time someone careless had woken up with his throat cut, in a manner of speaking. I had the servant followed closely for several days.”
“Did he say why he wanted us killed?”
“Give me something in exchange and I’ll tell you. Let me leave here alive and I’ll tell you everything. I’ve got money, a lot of money. I’ll share it with you. Everything!”
“Hartz…” Komir suggested, with a glance at his friend.
The giant took a step forward, and Lotas said hurriedly, “Wait! Don’t hit me again! I’ll talk!”
Komir said coldly, “I’m listening, vermin…”
“He paid to have the three of you killed. The contract was for the three, without making too much noise. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicions. A quiet job, nothing to attract attention. But the one he specially said mustn’t survive was the redhead in white armor.” Lotas pointed at Kayti from the ground.
“Her? Why her?” Hartz thundered.
“I don’t know! That’s all he said, I swear!”
Komir raised his hand to stop Hartz, who was already preparing to lunge at Lotas. He snorted and stepped back, calming down as he did so. Komir looked at Kayti, taken aback.
�
��Do you know anything about this Guzmik and why he wants to kill you?”
Kayti swallowed and tried to stay calm. There was a knot in her stomach. It was not the time or place to explain the situation. She knew they would not understand, not yet. She had to lie, there was no other way. She felt deeply sorry, but it was for the good of everyone.
“No, I have no idea who this Guzmik is or why he’d want to kill me,” she said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.
Komir and Hartz looked at her, then exchanged a cold glance, as if they did not believe her. This worried her.
“All right, Lotas, guide us to his residence. If you’ve lied to us I’ll cut off both your ears, then your nose and each and every one of your fingers and toes before I let Hartz play with you. Do you understand me?” Komir sounded as cold as a sadistic torturer.
“It’s the truth! I haven’t lied! I swear it!”
The sewer entrance in the ceiling of the circular hall opened, letting the sun pour in. A head and half a body emerged hanging upside-down from the vault and stared down at the group below.
“Everything all right, friends?” said Lindaro, “I was beginning to worry.”
“Everything’s fine, Lindaro. We’re going for a visit,” Komir replied, smiling broadly.
Battle Mage
The group of twenty riders galloped into the courtyard in front of the tower. The jet-black building, shaped like a stylized triangular needle, was an impressive ninety feet tall, and it radiated a mystical aura in the heart of the great aspen forest which surrounded it. The beautiful tower reflected the sun from its three polished surfaces, an esoteric island in the vast Rogdonian forest. The officer in command of the column pulled sharply on his courser’s reins and stopped before the entrance. He studied the base of the arcane building and jumped off his horse. The enormous embossed door of wood and steel opened with a piercing squeal as a middle-aged man in a simple blue and green woolen tunic came out to greet the soldiers.
