by Reaves, Troy
“OWWW! All right, I took’ em. I admit it. They looked like they might bring a pretty price. Stop mashin’ me and I’ll give ‘em back!” The barmaid relaxed visibly as Boremac took his weight off her so he could retrieve his belongings. “You ought to know that what goes around comes back to ya, Boremac. Seemed rather fittin’ for an old goat like yourself to wake with a nanny fit to be tied.” Once more her laughter pummeled his aching skull. “For all your carousing of late, I am surprised you haven’t had that lass sooner.”
Boremac secured his belt and turned to meet her chiding with a laugh of his own. “I supposed there is more truth in that than I would care to admit.” The rogue stepped to the center of the room where the barmaid now stood with his daggers in hand, points out, he noted.
“Take the daggers, but you might do well to pay me first. What is that narrow hide of yours worth to you?”
“Fair enough.” It was her turn to grin, and Boremac extracted coins from his pouch before taking the offered blades. He didn’t like being at her mercy without knowing what to offer, but he tossed a gemstone in with the coins to be certain the barmaid shared what she knew.
“Nice! Might take some time from tables with that bit.” The barmaid tucked away the payment and put on a mask of concern for his benefit. “Tough figures looking for you in the city of late, Boremac. Should be glad I like you or they would have picked you up already. You wouldn’t be wise to be hanging around the inns so much anymore, I think. These aren’t the usual roughs that come by making inquiries, and definitely not the local constables so far as I can tell. Asking a lot of questions and not real happy when they don’t get quick answers. I would take your blades and go, Boremac. Come in when there isn’t so much trouble.”
“Well, I guess it was just a matter of time, but I have to remain here in the city a bit longer. Promises to keep, love. Unless you might take to the tables a bit longer and help me save the world?” There was no indication that he was speaking in jest, and the darkness in his eyes piqued her attention and curiosity. “A price much greater than those meager coins would be yours if you could keep my confidence. Of course, you might just as likely be killed for associating with me if what you say is true.”
His last words made her reconsider the wisdom in protecting the thief. “What have you gone and gotten yourself into now, Boremac? Some fool has filled your head with importance, I am thinking. Still, you have my attention. Tell me what you would have me do and I will tell you if I can do it. Don’t see any profit in being dead.”
Boremac sheathed his daggers as he suited up in his leathers and chucked her lightly under her chin. “Your part would be simple enough. Just keep an eye out for the knight that will be coming to the city, and give him a message for me when he arrives. Think you can manage it? In return I will give you enough coin and gems to get you half an interest in this tavern.”
She winked at the rogue coyly and answered with a singular affirmative. “Done.” She extended her hand to seal the deal. As Boremac reached out to take the offered hand, her eyes left his to rest at his waist. “Do those daggers always glow like that or are you just happy to see me?”
“What?” Boremac was taken aback by this new development. He too looked down at the two dagger hilts that glowed with a soft white light where they protruded from his belt.
13
Shadows and the Light
It had been several days since Gregor had placed the stones over the dead priest. The knight had regretted not being able to commit the body to the ground properly, but there was nothing to be done about it. Despite the man's misguided path, Gregor had prayed for the fallen one to be united with the true God he had once served. Three-Paw kept pace with the warrior as he reached the outskirts of Zanthfar. The odd behavior of the wild animal puzzled Gregor, but he was glad for the company. The knight felt certain the beast would make its way home once the pair made their way into the heavily patrolled lands of Zanthfar itself. Three-Paw had taken up the habit of wandering off into the woods whenever Gregor took to the road to check his path and exchange news with the militia of the city. The watchers of the road told Gregor that there had been rumors of a great counsel among the druids who watched over the woodlands near Zanthfar. Since that time, many groups of rangers and druids had taken up patrols, reporting many strange things at the outlying posts along the roads. Large orcs that dwarfed the other humanoids and the raiding parties they led were becoming more and more common. The brutal tribes of orcs seemed to be pressing their way toward Zanthfar itself, though at this point they had had little success breaking through the patrols of rangers. Gregor could not help but wonder if Tana were among them, and prayed for her safety.
He was still a day’s hard travel from the city when he decided he would take the road on the following morning. The desire to find his teacher pushed him, though he was uncertain why. Gregor could not shake the feeling that his mentor was in danger. The young Knight had learned to trust his instincts as well as his training, and he made the last camp that would be outside the reach of the city's walls with much trepidation. The cause for his alarm became evident soon enough as he returned to his fire with an armload of fallen wood.
No twig broke, no shadow shifted within his limited view. Gregor had just enough time to place his hand at his sword hilt before several webs the breadth of his height fell from the trees and pinned him face down to the ground, leaving the wood of his load scattered in every direction. The weighted nets were well placed by his attackers and he could not budge. It appeared that the men that had sprung the trap saw little need of stealth, as Gregor twisted his head to see the men emerging from the wood in a rough circle around his prone form.
"Ha, well that was easy enough. You two go and get the cart. We will drag him to the road." The coarse female voice seemed to belong to the leader of the group. "Damn shame we cannot just kill this one. Club him and secure his arms and legs. Be quick about it!"
Several grunts of acknowledgment sounded as the way-layers went about their tasks. A shout drew Gregor's attention. "Who the hell are...?" The challenge ended with a fluid gurgling followed by the reply of the new arrival.
"What is this about? Seems like a lot of trouble for so little a reward. Certainly the lot of you can see the waste of time in taking this prisoner." Gregor caught sight of a glimmering white light at the corner of his eyes though he could not see the source.
The female’s voice rose in a clear challenge to the unknown killer. "Show yourself, bandit, and maybe you can make your way out of this wood alive! We have no patience for rogues, even talented ones. You’re clearly outnumbered, and there is no profit for you to take for interfering here."
Two more of the brigands dropped near where she stood, throwing daggers protruding from their necks. The silky voice had moved while she spoke and emerged now from behind her. "Ah, I disagree with you there, mistress of the Hand. Yes, I know who you are, and I know your kind never labor for free. Give your prize to me and leave here before I have to do something nasty. I can assure you, your parcel will be delivered to your master with much haste. I have been seeking an audience with the Lord of assassins for quite some time."
"You slay mere pawns, fool. It is better that you should cull the unprepared from the Brotherhood. Do not think you have any chance of surviving my blade." Her voice was light and it appeared she was glad to have the chance to shed the blood of a worthy challenger. "Come out of the darkness and face me." She waved a hand toward the shadows. "No one touches him but me! This one is mine." The reflection of firelight on metal was little warning as once more a throwing dagger tumbled out of the darkness as if in reply. Even as she returned the blade to her assailant with a flurry of motion, she smiled. This would be fun.
Boremac stepped into the firelight, dropping the dagger intended for the leader back into its sheath. "Can't blame me for trying, Sgiana. It has been too long since our weapons crossed. Let us dance." The rogue and assassin each brought their weapons into their han
ds with the economy of movement that was the mark of their craft. Boremac noted the pommels of the twin blades of the assassin and grinned. They bore the prestigious skulls that were granted to the brotherhood's elite killers." Is your master still mounting skulls of the fallen assassins? I bet your pretty head will be worth quite a bit." He began to circle her, with Sgiana matching every step.
She took her time measuring her foe, noting with pleasure that the throwing dagger she had returned to him had made its mark. The assassin nodded slightly to the thin line of blood tracing its way down the torn leather at the rogue’s left shoulder. "If I remember correctly you favor your right hand, fool. It would be a shame to kill you too quickly."
Boremac feinted rapidly, stepping toward her in reply. The attack caught her slightly off guard, allowing his own left-handed dagger to penetrate the light protection at her right shoulder. He glided backward as she moved her own daggers to cut him, the jagged blades narrowly missing tearing his stomach open. "Nice move, my lady. You will find my blades are equally effective no matter which hand they are in." He nodded lightly to the wound he had opened at her right shoulder. "Looks like we are even now."
Her eyes narrowed at the rogue's words. She had underestimated him for the last time. The movement of the two combatants was remarkably similar as their blades clashed and withdrew, each in their turn. Something in the way the rogue moved tugged at Gregor's memory, though it took him some time to think why he knew him. This was the acolyte that had seen Gregor slay the candelabrum so long ago when he first held his black sword. The blessings of the God of light truly took strange forms. The knight would never have known him except for the bald head once more glimmering in the firelight and the unmistakable close cut beard that he had found so curious when last he had seen the man. Despite the man's skill, Gregor saw little reason to think he could undo the assassin.
The killer was learning more of her challenger with each thrust and parry. He preferred a quick strike that would kill his opponent, and each stab he weaved beyond her blades was easily countered with a backward step or slight twist. Each time he cut her leathers or punctured her flesh, the rogue was paid double for his efforts. She was in no hurry to kill him; she found so few real tests for her vast skills of late. The marks of her efforts wept openly, painting Boremac’s leathers from his neck to his waist. No one among the onlookers, or the two figures engaged in each other’s destruction, could have known what was going to happen next.
Gregor heard his companion before the others and shouted. "No!"
It was too late. Three-Paw crashed into Boremac, spinning him away from the assassin as the first arrow appeared in her chest. The sound of splintering bone and the rushing air forced from her open mouth were the only sounds for a moment as Sgiana fell face forward toward the ground. A frightening bellow erupted from the trees as the whisper of arrows was suddenly everywhere at once. Gregor had never seen anything like the man charging out of the trees, holding a giant pickax over his head, intent upon killing Boremac. Bodies fell from the trees, clothed in black leathers, with arrow shafts protruding from various body parts.
Despite his prone position, Gregor raised his voice over the thunderous hollering of the short, broad figure nearing Boremac's kneeling form. Jumbled words poured forth as he sought to save the rogue. "Stop! You there, do not harm him! Get down or lose your head, rogue!" As it turned out, the knight’s words were all but wasted.
Boremac dropped to his back, shooting his legs upward to take the new threat high in the chest, easily throwing the thick man over his body. Despite the short, heavy figure’s considerable girth, the man landed a few feet from Boremac flat on his back with a ground-shuddering thud. Boremac began to throw his legs forward, intent on regaining his feet, only to be struck in the chest by a gray wolf considerably larger than Three-Paw. The beast pinned the rogue to the ground, its paws resting on his shoulders as it drew its muzzle close to Boremac's nose. The animal let out a growl that let the man know that trying to move would be a very bad idea.
Gregor's voice once more shouted out in confusion and alarm. "Fang?!? Fang! Where's your mistress? Tana! Get Fang off him! He is one of the good guys! By the Light, someone get me out of these nets!"
Dramor sat up, still gripping his pickax, and shook the lights dancing in his eyes from his vision. " What’cha want me to do, Tana? Thump the thief or free the knight?" There was no doubt which of these two actions he would prefer, judging from his tone.
The voice that answered the mountain man's inquiry made Gregor's heart leap at the sound of it. Despite the current predicament in which he found himself, the knight flushed deeply as Tana emerged from the wood with an arrow nocked and pointed at the rogue. "This one is well in hand, I think, Dramor. Get Gregor out of those nets so we can sort this mess out." She shifted her arrow to line up properly with Boremac's nervous gaze. "You won't give Fang any reason to tear out your throat, will you? Be careful how you answer, she is a bit high strung with all the excitement." Boremac's nearly imperceptible shake of his head seemed to satisfy Tana. "Good, we will get to you in a moment. Fang, make sure our friend stays comfortable." Fang barked her response, the wolf's eyes never leaving the rogue's.
Dramor busied himself with first pulling at the tangled mass of netting before giving up and cutting through the individual strands. "Rest easy, boy. We’ll have ya outta here before ya can spit." He yelled over his shoulder to the leather-clad figures that began emerging from the trees. Gregor was thinking that if this man could do nothing else, he excelled at bellowing. "Could use a 'and over 'ere! Damn nets is tough! Can one o’ ya or a pair lend a blade?" A few figures that were checking the bodies of the slain assassins moved to help the mountain man. Dramor appeared to be well on his way to joining Gregor in the interlocking nets before he was finally freed. Gregor brushed himself off, trying to make himself presentable while Tana stood near the center of the encampment, giving directions to the assembled rangers and druids. Boremac seemed to be all but forgotten.
Gregor's next action went against all he knew to be proper, but he never regretted it, even as he begged Tana's forgiveness later. The knight came before her as the druid warrior hung her bow at her back and replaced the arrows she had collected in her quiver. Impulse drove away good sense as he threw his arms around her. "I have missed you so much, Tana. I'm glad you are safe. Many things have happened since I saw you last and I feared I would never see you again. I..."
She silenced his words with a light touch of her finger to his lips. Tana backed away from him, fighting her own desire to be near him, but knowing now was not the time. "You seem to excel at finding trouble, Gregor. Let me have a look at you. So what is all this? The work of master Firebeard is unmistakable; however, the meaning of the symbols your armor bears is unfamiliar to me."
Gregor could not hide his disappointment at her withdrawal from their embrace though he recovered quickly, relating his acceptance by the God of Light at his vigil. He briefly touched on the meaning of the symbols he wore and told Tana of the path that brought him to meet her once more. She nodded, listening intently, and did her best to hide the feelings she had herself so recently discovered. The man that stood before her now was still a boy in so many ways, yet it had been all she could do to not return his innocent embrace moments before. The forgotten rogue brought the pair out of their preoccupation.
"If it’s not too much to ask, could someone get this animal off me?" Boremac had lain quietly beneath his keeper throughout the exchange between Tana and Gregor, but enough was enough and he decided if the wolf meant to eat him, then so be it.
Tana turned to the rogue, smiling. "Sorry about that. Fang, come!" As the man rose to his feet, he was aware of a large number of arrows nocked and pointing in his direction. There was also the matter of the mountain man that still held ill feelings for the tossing the rogue had given him. "I guess we should give you a chance to tell us who exactly you are and how you came to be here. The words between you and the assassin giv
e me little hope for your redemption."
Gregor spoke in the rogue's defense before Boremac could get his tongue moving. That probably saved his life, as certainly as Three-Paw had by knocking him out of the first arrow's path. "He is a friend to Master Silverwing, and to myself as well, though I do not know his name. He spent a great deal of time at the Temple of Light, with instruction to watch over me I suspect, though we never spoke. Gregor turned to Boremac. "You were the one who killed the summoner at my weapons trial, am I right?"
Boremac bowed with a flourish to the knight before him. "I am that man, master Gregor. Boremac is how they call me and I am at your service. Master Silverwing sent me to watch over you until you were knighted at the Temple though an enforced vow of silence restricted my contact with you. Father Oregeth insisted I hold my tongue and focus on my past sins while I was within the Temple. The priests are very sticky about certain rules where their faith is concerned, and I was treated as any other acolyte. Still, when there was a need for my skills, I was able to do what was necessary to protect you."
Tana narrowed her eyes at the rogue. "A saint in a snake's skin. Care to explain the exchange between yourself and the assassins that lie strewn about us? There seemed to be only a minor difference in each party’s intent until we started shooting."
