Chapter V
Telallamain
Once back on the open road, the going became easier. They would pass other travellers, some had their heads held high, proud to be part of the Imperium, others of a lower cast or slaves, were more vagrant like, had their eyes to the ground, collars round their necks, some had their arms tied together, also there were columns of well drilled and armed troops that looked all the more ominous for their number and bearing. All in all people paid the five travellers little or no attention. Still they felt an uncertain disquiet descend upon them. Ventrigar had suggested that they first stop off at a small town nearby to rest, and find out whether or not there was word of a small rebellious band of fugitives being pursued currently by the Mandrake. There was little conversation as they slowly crept toward their next destination. Evening was descending rapidly, their shadows lengthened as if fleeing from the last vestiges of light, the roadway led up to a hilly climb, at the top they saw in the deep depression of a vale, a small town, as they approached large stone buildings seemed to shoot out of the ground, there were no walls or gate to signify any suspected threat, in the Imperium none were needed. All was quiet as they entered, passing down well planned tree lined access roads. Tall terraces watched the strangers as they went; any prying eyes that noticed them barely lingered at the windows long enough to be recognised themselves, as hurriedly shut drapes often kept the outside out. They passed through the main thoroughfare, where they were greeted by stillness, an almost unnatural calm, an isolated silence disturbed only by the clatter of their wagon and the clanging of horse shoes.
“What happened here Ventrigar, where’s everyone gone?” asked Nishga suspicious of the quiet.
“It is as with all settlements in Mead. The Mandrake build towns such as these, for which the local people pay a heavy price.” Sadness seemed to drift into his eyes. “In compensation all the men and boy folk between the ages of fifteen to fifty are taken for service in their mighty army. It is as though Mead does not exist anymore. Look around you; they have done all this in just a few years. We already imitate the Imperium towns and villages of the central kingdoms and the east.”
Achil noticing a tavern, hauled on the reins and the wagon slowly pulled up to the front of it. A door opened and light flooded out. A thickset man with short cropped hair exited the tavern, silhouetted in the fading light he emptied a bucket into a drain outside. He wore a tunic that was covered by a dirty looking apron, his breeches seemed too big for him, and his shoes were heavy on the strong wooden platform. On noticing the strangers he smiled amiably at them and welcomed them to his humble establishment. He waved a couple of boys forward to put the wagon and horses in the stables. Achil handed one of them the reins relieved to be free of the burden of them for the time being. His hands already had blisters on them, the consequence of a long journey and not wearing gloves. The Inn keeper held the doors to the tavern open and welcomed the new arrivals to his humble abode. Inside the tavern was sparsely occupied. A fire burnt to one side in the hearth offering warmth. Lanterns hung from the ceiling and wooden pillars offering light to see by. The ceiling had connecting timbers running along it. In the dim light Achil could see how the walls had begun to grey from the smoke of the hearth. Empty chairs and tables were scattered all around a floor of matted saw dust. The bar at one end was carved decoratively with shapes of flowers and vines. Through its small opening the innkeeper squeezed his oversized frame. His once white apron now dusty and grey the only indication that there had been life in the place, his face was tortoise shaped with a large well hung chin that almost touched his chest. His eyes sparkled with delight that he had some customers.
Achil gestured to the others to sit themselves down while he spoke to the innkeeper.
“Hi, we would like two jugs of beer and five tankards. Also what rooms have you got for my wife, myself and my guards.”
“Well. I have a double and three singles. In fact there’s plenty of space.” The man gestured for a serving girl to take the tankards and beer over to his new guests.
“I had noticed that. Where is everyone?” asked Achil gesturing toward all the empty tables.
“Well there’s a garrison of Imperial troops just outside town. They’re busy hunting down some rebels, but from what I understand by some of the legionaries that passed through here earlier it’s nothing more than a small band of bandits that made the mistake of setting up their criminal activities in the Imperium, apparently its all but resolved. The leader of the troop if I recall did not mind his men hunting the wayfarers down. It meant they kept their edge, you know, for when the real fighting starts against the Witch King or the Hero of the West.” The innkeeper gave Achil a knowing wink. “Everyone wants another opportunity to best themselves against the victor of Marshal Ti.” The barmen passed Achil a tankard of beer.
“Who?” asked Achil in mock surprise.
“Haven’t you heard, you’ve either been asleep or a thousand leagues from here. Apparently there is a mighty warrior west of here. They say he is an immortal from Askalon, others that he was sent from some unknown God. Apparently when our army withdrew into the lands of the Mead, he came after them with two companions, immortal guardians of the underworld they were.”
Achil practically choked with laughter into his beer at the thought of Andreas and Nicholas being guardians of the underworld. He gave the two a quick glance and gazed back at the innkeeper, who was staring at him with dissatisfaction.
“Sorry the beer went down the wrong way,” said Achil. “You know scary story and all.”
The Innkeeper nodded with satisfaction that his tale had been well received, before continuing, “Anyway, three Demigods bold as brass walk into an imperial encampment and one of them challenges Marshal Ti, the mightiest warrior in the Imperium to a private duel. Quick as you like he defeats him. Instead of lopping off his head, he runs him through with his sword and leaves him to live with the knowledge that he's been bested. Then and this is where it gets really interesting Marshal Ti’s adjutant, Din sends Wolfmen after these supposedly mortal men to kill them, the most powerful Wrath soldiers in the army volunteered. Not one of them returned, they all simply vanished, probably killed, proving that Marshal Ti's foe was an immortal.”
“Why do you think this warrior, immortal, or whatever he was let the Marshal live?”
“It’s a message of power. You see anyone can kill an enemy. But to let him live shows you do not fear him, or any reprisal to come. To deny any warrior an honourable death means that you also believe that enemy is beyond contempt. There is no greater insult to a Mandrake Soldier.”
“Well perhaps for the sake of argument this man thought he had killed this Marshal Ti and simply made a mistake.”
The Innkeeper gave Achil a bemused look, as though what he said made no sense.
“Gods don’t make mistakes even Demigods,” replied the Innkeeper proudly.
“So he was a God then? Or sent by the Gods or even an immortal from Askalon,” continued Achil.
The Innkeeper seemed to nod triumphantly at his story, as though he had seen all the events unfold and that his confused account made perfect sense.
Achil strode over to the table where his companions were and sat down next to Nishga.
“It appears we’ve come to the right place for information. Let's drink up, the inn keeper will send someone shortly to show us to our rooms. When there, I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”
They looked at each other and back at Achil curiously. After they had finished eating a pallet of food, a boy approached them, he had put the rig and horses in the stable behind the tavern, and now was to show them to their rooms, he gestured toward some narrow stairs and directed them to follow him. The stairs were narrow and wound their way up to a narrow corridor, lit by a lantern at the centre, and a candle stand at the far end. There was a large window that had been left open, with the shape of a Wolf inset a full moon moulded into the lintel. Achil thanked the young lad at the door, a
nd gave him a small silver coin for his help, the boy bowed in thanks, and with a broad smile he tossed the coin in the air and turned to leave, Achil watched the boy as he skipped down the corridor, to see something so normal brought a smile to his face, and then quietly as he remembered where he was he ushered Nishga into their room. There was a small hearth to one wall which spread soft light around. On the mantelpiece above it were two candlestick holders that flickered in the gloom, in between which was a small ornamental ceramic plate with a map of Suberia on it. There was a large double bed in the centre of the room with a trunk at its end. To the side wall opposite the door near the window was a wardrobe. Achil threw his holdall down on the bed and opened a door to a small side chamber that held a tub filled with hot steamy water and a brightly ornate glazed bowl. Achil exited the small room and joined Nishga by the window; the view took in the distant garrison, small dots of light, like fireflies were spreading out over grassy fields.
“To think that’s just a small garrison of theirs. The manpower at the disposal of this empire is immense.”
There was a knock at the door and Andreas and Nicholas stepped in. Before entering the room Andreas checked to make sure the corridor was empty.
“So what news is there?” he asked in a whispered tone.
Achil smiled, he moved across the room resting an elbow on the mantelpiece.
“Well it appears, us three left more than a passing impression on the Mandrake Imperium than we could have ever thought possible;” Achil turned round to see the confused looks on his companions faces. “When I fought Marshal Ti, remember. In fact we’re considered more like mythic protagonists, anti-heroes of old. The way we look at the great adversaries of the Gods, such as Promathus who displeased them by giving man fire.”
Andreas and Nicholas looked at each other and laughed.
“Look we'll rest up and be on our way early in the morning,” continued Achil. “I intend to go downstairs and mingle among the Soldiers when they arrive, to see if I can find out anything more revealing. You lot stay out of the way and tell Ventrigar to do the same. We do not want to draw any attention to ourselves. If I’ve learnt something from our time in the forest it's that the Mandrake Empire is not as secure as people believe it is. And that we will find allies in unlikely places. Nishga when I leave, I want you to see if you can get that Orb you discovered to work. If you can, try and contact the Alchemist in Findolin tell him what has occurred here. If while you're doing that though you sense something suspicious, then cut your contact immediately.”
Nishga nodded, she had used an Orb before for such purposes, and knew its inherent dangers without being told of them. Andreas and Nicholas quietly retired to their rooms for the evening, it might have created suspicion among the spies of the Mandrake had they lingered in their masters room overly long. Achil leant up against the window, drew in a deep breath and stared out; there was a strange smell to the air: he truly was in a foreign land.
Later that evening he walked into the bar and to his surprise found it sprawling with activity. Mandrake both legionaries and officers were helping themselves to beer and vitals. Achil ordered himself a tankard of beer and sat down in a corner of the room. Two Marauder legionaries came up to him. Achil lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword on instinct.
“Hey, I recognise you from somewhere; are you with General Zerus.”
“No. I’m merely a merchant on my way to Horrazim, and just thought I would stop off here on the way.”
The other Marauder pulled his friend away.
“See I told you it wasn’t him; let's get back to the others.”
They returned to a boisterous crowd situated to one side of the room that were dancing and singing war songs among themselves. Achil could see that the group of men were from across the vast Empire some looked eastern in origin; others could have been from Findolin, some of the men he could not tell where they could be from. They spoke one language, and all danced and sang to the same tune. Achil thought that in itself was illuminating. Their voices bellowed out as first one then another began to raise itself above the din.
Rise O Mandrake, Rise O Mandrake
Rise and see your enemies fall
With glory on every spear point
Strength behind every shield
Rise O Mandrake
And watch your enemies fall
We are the super first
To others it's like a curse
Our enemies we destroy
Like at the battle of Soy
So rise O mandrake
Rise O Mandrake
And watch your enemies fall
And watch your enemies fall.
The words like most battle songs were repeated, and unfortunately were done so, out of tune, though the warriors were probably too drunk to realise how bad they sounded. Achil was bemused by the men's antics, knocking tankards together whilst celebrating their latest victory. In one corner he also noticed a man staring at him. His long dark hair reached down to his shoulders, his boots were worn as though he had travelled in the wilds. His leather jerkin was also well weathered. By his side was a sword, the hilt in the shape of a wolf's head. The local Marauder warriors gave the man a wide berth. There was something ominous about him; he intently gazed at Achil, as though his dark eyes could penetrate Achil's being. Another marauder walked into the tavern, his eyes made a brief scan of the area, on spying the man seated in the corner he went over to him. He saluted, and handed him a piece of paper. On reading it, the man rose and walked over to Achil.
“I understand you came in this evening.” The man stood over Achil; he was unmistakably an elite Shadow Warrior. Thick set, his eyes flashed like burning coals. He had a scar beneath his chin. His dark breeches were tucked beneath long black boots and gave the man a more ominous effect.
“May I enquire as to your business here in Zamora?”
Achil handed the man his identity paper. The man looked at it, then back at Achil.
“A merchant," scoffed the man quietly. “I’m sorry some fugitives escaped this morning and not all of them have been accounted for.”
“No one of consequence I hope." Achil stared blankly up at the man making sure he hid his disdain.
“No, just some local bandits.” The man also had an impassive face.
“Well if I see anyone I will report it.” Again Achil maintained his stoicism his eyes not wavering once from the man's.
“Be sure that you do,” the man said impassively.
He handed Achil back his papers turned and left, followed closely by two guards who had been sat apart from the rest. As the soldiers began to leave Achil called the inn keeper over to him.
“Tell me that man who was sitting in the corner. He looks to be someone of importance who was he?”
“You don’t know who that man was? That was the commander of the Garrison. He was probably wondering why you have not been conscripted into the army. You are of the right age, but of course since you are a Merchant you are exempt, lucky for you that the Merchant Guilds exert so much influence within the Empire. Let's face it they keep Jin's armies fed and armed. That’s why as you well know all guilders are exempt from military service. Excuse me.”
The Innkeeper went over to two burly looking Marauders that were too drunk to move and dragged them to the door, pushing them outside. He looked back at Achil and shrugged as if to indicate that that was a usual occurrence. Achil finished his drink, as the tavern began to empty. Soon there was just a serving maid left sweeping the floor, when she had finished another threw sawdust down. The windows were opened to let out the stench of the unclean smell of stomachs that had erupted volcanically from the effects of being drowned in too much alcohol. Those same windows let in the cool night air. As always the innkeeper had to eject a man found slumped beneath a table, so that he could sleep off elsewhere the effects of his drunken stupor. Achil grudgingly lifted himself from his now comfortable seat and left for his room. As he opened the door
he found Nishga seated on the floor in front of the hearth her legs folded beneath her, in the palm of her hand was the Orb. She was shaking her head concentrating hard. Achil went over and stood opposite her.
“No luck then?” He voiced the words quietly.
“I’ve tried everything but it simply won’t work. Perhaps it's not that type of Orb.” She turned it in her hand trying to penetrate its non reflective surface.
“What do you mean?” Achil leant forward curiously staring at it.
“Well do you remember Jin using an Orb to trap the Orochi’s soul? Maybe it's one of those. It has the ability to trap a soul so that you can then command the body to do as you will.”
“That’s an idea of how it might work but how do we know whether that’s right, there’re no Dragons close by that we’re aware of. Tell me can your crystal magic change the usage of the Orb? I mean who ever created these things must have had multiple uses for them at some time. After all they all stem from the same power. Which is the mind; it's just about adjusting the power within each Orb, to enable it to either communicate over great distances or cage souls or do whatever, if you follow me?”
“I do follow you but I don’t think it's that simple. Whoever created the Orbs originally had powers that we’re only now beginning to understand, powers such as being able to see distant lands and communicate across them and see through time, into the future or past. As well as bending other creatures to their will. Even to use them to shapeshift, and maybe there are many more powers that we don't even know of yet. Who knows what Jin is actually capable of?”
Achil began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth.
“Since your Crystal altered, you’ve tried it out once. That was in the stronghold of the Mead. Give it a go now.”
“Okay. You had better shut the drapes. We do not wish to attract attention to ourselves.”
As soon as Achil had pulled the drapes too, Nishga took out her Crystal and placed it over the Orb concentrating hard. The objects began to glow simultaneously, each radiating light as though wrapped in some struggle for control. The Orb began to become malleable, change shape, pulse, and even grow. Nishga could feel power run through her body. Achil looked at her as energy rose from both objects lighting up her face. Then the two lights seemed to die, snuffed out as easily as candle light could be. The Orb was back to its original form, the crystal seemed devoid of energy. Nishga looked dazed by the whole experience. Achil managed to catch the Orb before she let it slip to the floor. She slumped back onto the rug.
“Hey are you okay? What just happened?” Achil helped her to sit back on the bed.
“To be honest I don’t know, for a moment I felt disoriented as though I was about to faint.”
Achil stared into Nishga’s eyes; his forehead creased slightly a sign of how unsure he was of what had just happened.
“When your feeling better would you try the Orb once more. See if what you’ve done has worked. Look at your Crystal it's changed back to its original shape.”
Nishga stared down at it in the palm of her hand. It was no longer circular, but long rectangular.
“Energy definitely passed from the Crystal into the Orb. I understand now why the Orb was so inert before, it simply needed to be revived and the only way to do that was with the power of a crystal. This Orb should now work."
Nishga looked up at Achil, her face still showing signs of her recent struggle. Achil helped her lie back on the bed. He lay by her side cradling her slight frame in his arms. Achil lay awake, the task ahead of them was difficult enough without the loss of Nishga’s abilities, in the future they would have to be more careful. Slowly his eyes closed and the two of them fell into a deep sleep
There was a rasping knock at the door. Achil jumped out of his bed drawing his sword in the same motion. It was Andreas shouting through the door for them to get up. They had already slept through half the morning. Achil threw his sword down and lay back on the bed ready to go back to sleep. Nishga, who was already sitting up, gave Achil what was meant to be a gentle nudge. Instead it propelled him off the bed and onto the cold hard wooden floor.
“Why did you do that?” His head had hit with such force that when he sat back up he felt a bump.
“So much for an early start, we need to be in Horrazim by this evening at the latest. This isn’t a holiday so that was a gentle reminder that we’re not here to enjoy ourselves.”
“Gentle!” Achil got to his feet opened the drapes and let the light flood into the room. Blinding Nishga as she was getting out of bed. She tripped over one of his boots. Achil reached out to grab her, missing her completely.
“Just a gentle reminder.” He said with a mischievous smile on his face as she landed on the floor. She gave him a quick kick to the rump. But this time Achil was too quick for her.
“Missed!” He said jumping out of her way, only to collide with the chest at the bottom of the bed which sent him to the floor.
“The great Achil, Victor of Marshal Ti bested by a chest.”
“Okay you win this round. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He put on his leather Jerkin and boots. Placed the sword in its scabbard, placed his shield over one shoulder his bow over the other, picked up their holdalls and left. Andreas was in the corridor, he had heard the commotion at the door and there was a broad grin on his face. Achil threw him Nishga’s bag almost knocking him down the stairs with it. The two of them made there way into the tavern for a late breakfast. Eggs, Gammon, fried potatoes, tomatoes, mushrooms and fried bread went down a treat. The smell itself was to be loved and put them in a good humour. Nicholas and Ventrigar had both eaten and were seeing to the wagon and horses. By the time Achil and Andreas had finished, Nishga came and joined them, a little late but groomed to perfection. She had something light to eat. Soft bread and cheese, after they had finished Achil settled up with the innkeeper, purchasing some beverages and bread off of him for the journey ahead.
The sun was high in the sky by the time Achil took the reigns of the wagon and urged the horses forward. As they exited the small town there was a cage within which was a half eaten corpse a sober reminder of the Zero tolerant nature of the empire. Ventrigar looked away but said nothing, it was as though he recognised who it was that hung there. The next approach was the garrison. They slowly rode passed it hoping not to catch the attention of prying eyes. The gates to it were open, when out rode a small guard, the afternoon patrol. Riding past the five conspirators as if they did not exist. On the front two horses were the two guards that had confronted Achil the day before, yawning and chatting among themselves. The carriage forced itself forward; Achil was determined to put as many leagues between them and the town as possible. And as late afternoon approached the countryside became more rugged. The hilly downs led onto woods that converged into a mighty forest, above which in the distance there was a mountain range, one they had to cross to get into the central kingdoms and the east. They rode throughout the rest of the day across flatlands and rough hewn hillocks. The day that had started brightly had turned by the evening to a drizzle. The skies becoming overcast, at one point they were threatened by a growing storm but fortunately the grey cover above them passed by. Before long they were on a winding road that crept snake like along, cutting right into the heart of several large rocky hills in the middle of which was a vast plain, wherein a magnificent city had grown up; The City of Horrazim. From where they were they could see the planned nature of the city, buildings that were monuments to the empire stood at the heart of it centre of commerce, rising up out of the ground like the mountains in the distance; and to one end of the city leading away from it appeared to be what was a river, with a roadway at its side. As they got closer they could hear the hustle and bustle of this sprawling metropolis, people from all the races of Suberia had come there to sell their wears. A large Sign at the entrance to the city read, ‘Horrazim - City of a thousand Stars.’ And from beginning to end there was a market running through the hea
rt of it. The city was split up into concentric zones. To one area there were huge slave pens filled with dishevelled people of all ages and sizes. To another; great banners flew in the wind proclaiming where the Merchant houses resided, they sold every type of item imaginable. They passed a large forum that had streets running off in all directions, there was at its entrance a statue dedicated to the God of illusion, Chameleones, further over in another zone rose up above the houses and municipal buildings, a great Hippodrome, and along the roadway they travelled down were many covered stools and open platforms, where people watched shows with shadow puppets or hand puppets, which led onto a large amphitheatre where people were performing plays, comedies, tragedies etc. From the shouting and brawling gambling also was common place. As they moved off and approached the city centre there in front of them stood a large statue of Jin. There were many large public buildings that cast their long shadows across the roadways from a Magistrates office, to a Customs house, all made of marble and in appearance they were like imposing temples. And in a walled park area set back from all this, was a grand palace. There were also building works for the construction of larger marvels to come, all made of stone. And what they had thought of as a river was a feat of engineering wizardry, there was a depot where a canal had been built, connecting Horrazim to the rest of the Imperium, a city that was founded in the lands of the Mead had grown quickly over the passing years and stood at a crossroads between the Mandrake Imperium and Western Suberia, it was more magnificent than anything they had seen before. Achil found the Guilders Hall where every merchant had to register. Should he market his goods in Horrazim he would have to pay a duty. Nishga, Andreas and Nicholas had gone to the market. In that city Ventrigar knew who it was he had to see to aid them on their quest and so had gone off to find the head of the once mighty Black Marketeers. The Black Marketeers apparently despised the authoritarian Mandrake Imperium, in fact the punishment for being one, was death. They had started off as being a loose confederation of traders not good enough to be guilders. They were charged a greater duty than the guilders, and were not permitted to trade in the more prestigious locations. They were only allowed to sell certain goods, and could not trade in slaves, arms or magic potions, which was where the real money was to be made. As this inequality grew between the traders and the guilders so grew resentment. They became known as the free traders, an ironic title given to them by the guilders for their own amusement. As the last thing they could do was trade freely. Often there would be an increase on the taxes or licences they had to pay. The reason for these increases occurred in no small part to the power wielded by the guilders association. Eventually the restrictions placed on them were like a noose around their neck they also meant that they had to evolve into the Black Marketeers or collapse altogether.
Ventrigar met up with Achil later and told him that the head of the Black Marketeers wished to meet him. Achil was at first suspicious, but he knew he needed to make contacts, with persons who did not just know the Imperium but understood it, so he sceptically and reluctantly agreed to the meeting. By the evening they had found a place to stay for the night. There was no shortage of these. Horrazim had more taverns, brothels and lodgings of all types, than any other place in Suberia. It had become a truly civilised City. They settled into their lodgings, a wide three storey red brick building within a comfortable setting that had a large sign to the front saying Boarders Welcome. They entered and were greeted by the porter, who wore a bright tunic and funnily enough an apron which he had forgotten to remove from when he had finished his kitchen duties, on his head covering his long layered blond matted hair was a peculiar looking cap, he was clean shaven uncomfortably so, maybe the blade he had used was slightly blunt and needed sharpening or maybe he was at that age where a persons sight began to fail them; his green eyes regarded the newcomers with a little distain, it was after all late and he did not desire to be disturbed. He was slouched over the counter in the lobby area; and seemed disinterested and distracted, yawning as they approached him. And without much ado or any questions asked except the obvious ones, could they afford to pay up front and no credit was allowed. He passed them some keys and a ledger book so that they might sign in. On seeing the colour of their money, gold and silver, a sudden broad smile did appear on his face; he was now more than happy to accommodate the tired looking travellers. He handed them their keys and directed them to the stairs at the side of his counter. They made their way to their respective chambers. After they had settled in, Achil and Ventrigar met in the corridor outside their rooms and made their way downstairs. The porter had by then left for the evening, locking up the reception area behind him. Fortunately the front doors had been left open, the two quickly checked to make sure they were not being watched and disappeared into the dark.
“Where exactly are we going?” said Achil, betraying a certain unease and apprehension. The streets were well lit and well guarded. Ventrigar took Achil slowly through the city, they cut across parks, walked down long avenues, and traversed lean roads, until they reached their final destination a small darkened alleyway; where from the shadows crept two men.
“We have to take you blindfolded to the head of the Black Marketeers,” said one of them, a tool burly man with an unwelcoming abrasive appearance. A thug if ever there was one.
“That’s not going to happen,” Achil said sternly. He was about to back away when Ventrigar took him by the arm and implored him to carry on.
“They need such a precaution. It prevents someone from giving their location away should they get captured. Please listen to what they have to say, you are after all on the same side.”
Achil studied Ventrigar’s face a moment; there was no sign of deception, so yielded to his protestations.
Achil was blindfolded and then taken to what appeared by the smell to be a slum area of Horrazim. He could feel the closeness of the buildings on either side, though he could not see that these were shabby erections thrown up quickly that had no aesthetic beauty to them; their purpose being to enable poor people who felt they could make their fortune stay and live amongst the wealthy with whom they had nothing in common but admired nevertheless. The streets were quiet, dark, this was an area where even the Soldiers of the Imperium did not like to go, except when they sort favours from Courtesans. It was the Courtesans and the Black Marketeers that ran what the locals called the Flee Market. Achil stubbed his foot on the uneven surface stumbling into one of the runners. It was a woman she jerked him up unceremoniously gripping his arm tightly and forcing him forward. Eventually he did come to a stop. There were three rasping knocks at a door.
“Who passes this way?” said a gruff reply, the tone muffled as it escaped from behind a thick wooden door.
“Falcon. I bring a field mouse.” It was a woman’s voice that responded, but one with more than a hint of harshness about it.
The door opened and Achil was flung inside, followed by his two guides and Ventrigar. The man at the door removed Achil’s blindfold.
“I will take you to Tel.” The man standing in front of Achil was huge. He took up the hallway and the corridor. Broad shouldered, as he turned to lead Achil up the stairs his stomach touched the walls. His face had a scar running down one cheek, his blue eyes were alert and at his side was a long scimitar.
“Tel?” Achil almost didn’t want to voice the question.
“Grand Master of the Black Marketeers.” The man boomed, with a look of disdain on his face.
At the first floor level Achil and Ventrigar were shown to an empty room. There was a large desk two candles already lit on its top. Chairs to the front of it, and behind it, benches lined the walls to either side. They were directed to sit on the chairs and wait for Tel to arrive. Achil and Ventrigar sat down looking around the room. There was only one small window, it was curtained in such a manner that no light could infiltrate it. There was a large door behind the desk, light groped its way out from the crack beneath it. Lanterns hung from the walls. There was
a cold hearth that leant itself to a moody atmosphere. The door behind the desk opened and out stepped a tall man, he was broad with a black patch over one eye, partially covering a deep scar that extended from above his eyebrow to half way down his cheek. His nose had been knocked out of joint altogether, he looked imposing and well dressed in a deep red silk tunic, beneath a dark jerkin, that matched his breeches; he had almost knee length burnished boots. There was something deliberate in his manner as he sat down staring into Achil’s eyes.
“Gentlemen my name is Telallamain, you may call me Tel. As I understand it we have a similar interests.”
Tel leant forward as if gauging Achil his chin resting on his large hands, his elbows hard on the table. He certainly had an air of confidence about him, with a strong business type manner.
“You tell me what your interests are, and I’ll tell you whether they're similar.” Achil said not wishing to trust on a single meeting a man he had only just met.
Tel looked at Achil a smile appearing on his face.
“Well lets see do we trust each other or not. If I wanted to have you arrested and collect the bounty on your head Achil; victor over our great esteemed Marshal Ti, I would have done so. There would certainly be no need for charades and I would have had you led blindfolded to the nearest Imperial guard. But I didn‘t did I.”
"Achil who's he, and who's Marshal Ti?"
Achil sat back in his seat. His hand glided over to the hilt of his sword, he was curious to hear what this leader of the Black Marketeers had to say. There were many questions running through his head also.
“We had word from our sources in Findolin that you were on your way to Horrazim. At first we did not believe that the Finns would mount so daring an expedition until we heard that the one leading them was the very same man that had walked into the enemy camp and challenged Marshal Ti to single combat. We didn’t even believe that story, until Ventrigar told us of how you had fought the Mandrake in the forest, first freeing and then helping complete strangers. The pattern of those exploits seemed to fit the description we have of you. I thought you definitely someone I'd want to meet.“
“Well thank you, I think.” Achil could not tell whether he had been paid a compliment or not.
“Ventrigar, bet you didn’t know you were helping out the great Achil.”
Ventrigar simply shook his head apprehensively.
“Well that’s very kind but I’m not that great.” said Achil with a less than modest smile on his face.
“I know. Grief I was only joking about the being great bit.”
“You were? Well of course you were,” replied Achil.
“Anyway now that we’re all friends,” replied Tel. “Lets get down to business. We both want the same thing, to hinder the Mandrake Imperium. You because your lands are in danger, us because they’re really bad for business. We have been looking at ways to do this, but until you came along we didn’t have any one mad enough or desperate enough to follow through with our plan.”
“Thank you. Again, I think!”
Once more Achil could not make out whether he had just been paid a compliment. He now slowly rested his hands on the sides of his chair.
“You need to go to the very heart of the Mandrake Imperium, to Jinopolis. To where ‘The House of the Guilders’ is, and raise it to the ground. It’s the Guilders that hold much of the power and the wealth of the Imperium. If you can wipe out the heads of all the merchant houses, in one stroke you would cause a crushing blow to the Empire, chaos would ensue. There would be infighting the like of which has never been seen. With that much wealth and power at stake it would take years for the Empire to recover if it recovered at all; leaving us a free hand to get on with our business. And giving you the security you require to safeguard your lands.”
“It's an interestingly simple plan,” replied Achil. “To destroy one building while everyone’s inside. I can only foresee one or two problems with that. There is the small point that we don't have a weapon capable of bringing down such a building.”
“Oh, the task will be far worse than you can imagine. And how you do it I will leave up to your imagination, but to help you on your way, we will purchase your goods off you. Even that wreck of a wagon of yours. We will take care of the duty you have to pay also. We’ll give you horses and supplies for your journey for a nominal fee. By the way you‘ll be leaving in the morning. We know Ventrigar, so he will act as our liaison with you. Agreed?”
Achil nodded. The man lifted the lid off the desk, and pulled out a bag. He tossed it across to Achil. From the weight of it, it could only be gold. Achil opened the bag and sure enough it was. There was enough to pay for a small army. Telallamain showed them to the door, shook Achil’s hand and wished them luck. In the corridor waiting for them was the large burly man; he immediately put the blindfold on Achil. Then took the two of them to the alleyway where they had first been picked up. After saying their swift goodbyes Ventrigar showed Achil the way back. The two darted down small paths, across gated parks, and raced across lengthy boulevards. A cool breeze keeping them company along route, and soon enough they were standing in front of their lodging house. The front door was still open and the reception area still locked up. They crept inside and up the stairs to Achil’s room, where the others had been waiting sullenly in the dark for their return.
Achil explained what had happened at the meeting, that their goods had now been sold. And of the plan to destroy: ‘The House of the Guilders‘.
Achil & The Kingdom of Jin Page 7
