by Sam Ferguson
“You die here, maggot,” the man growled.
“You first,” Moggs replied. The Shausmatian captain mustered the strength to leap from his horse, straight at the man with the eye-patch. He swung wildly with his broken blade, landing three solid scores on his enemy’s shoulder, cutting deep into the joint and almost severing the man’s arm. Moggs then brought his shield down, hard on the man’s face and the two went flying to the ground.
The man with the eye-patch flailed wildly, but he was no match for the Shausmatian captain. Moggs broke the man’s windpipe with a sideways strike, using the edge of his shield as a blunt weapon. A flurry of riders closed in, each of them determined to end Moggs’ life. Moggs rolled through the red sand, striking out with his broken blade and his shield. He miraculously dodged several fatal blows aimed at him, and somehow he managed to bring down two more riders and sever a horse’s leg before he was finally kicked to the ground and trampled by numerous riders.
When the last of the riders galloped past, Moggs rolled his broken body over and strained to find Teo. He had a hard time scanning the desert through all the blood that was flowing over his eyes. He tried to wipe his brow, but he found that neither of his arms worked. They had both been broken in several places. Moggs arched his back and scrubbed his face across the body of the man with the eye-patch to clear the blood from his field of vision. Then he looked up, hoping to see that Teo had made it to the gatehouse safely. Finally, he saw his young friend, standing tall in his saddle and waving his arms frantically. Moggs smiled, believing that Teo had in fact made it, and that his men would be safe, but then Moggs spied a rider aiming a crossbow at Teo. Moggs tried to call out, but only a bloody whisper escaped his throat before he saw a bolt pierce Teo’s back and throw the man from his saddle just outside of the portcullis. A tear slid down Moggs’ cheek and his shaky head fell down to the sand below for the last time.
*****
A large, robust man sat at the head of the long table in the dining hall. He was alone enjoying fried eggs on buttered toast, one of his favorite mid-night snacks. The moonlight beamed through the window, adding a silvery hue to the dining hall. No candles were lit for he despised the light of flame. He would much rather just sit in moonlight. Of course the weather did not always permit this, but when it did he was sure to be relaxing in the silvery lunar beams.
A door opened at the end of the dining hall and a small wiry servant came through the doorway, took two steps into the room, and bowed his head.
“Your majesty, there has been an incident at Harts Bridge which requires your immediate attention. A border guard has arrived to give you a full report.”
“Let him in,” King Sarito’s low voice boomed. The servant, still bowing, backed out of the room and in came a young border guard with a bandaged nose. The border guard dropped slowly to one knee and bowed his head, placing his right hand over his heart in salute.
“Tell me what happened,” King Sarito commanded.
The border guard quickly approached the king’s table and stood about fifteen feet from him. “My king, three days ago I arrived with a small company to reinforce Hart’s Bridge. As you know, we had been told of a criminal on the loose that posed a danger to the border-crossing and we were going to reinforce our side of Hart’s Bridge. When we arrived, we found our comrades dead. Inside the main keep of the gatehouse their heads were placed upon pikes and crows were pecking at their flesh. A warning letter was placed upon one of the heads, written in blood.”
“What did it say?” King Sarito asked as he pushed his plate away.
“Death to Shausmatian dogs,” the border guard replied. The young soldier swallowed hard and then cleared his throat before continuing. “Naturally we went straight over to the Zinferth gatehouse to uncover what had happened.”
“What did you find?” King Sarito asked.
The soldier’s eyes went distant and lost focus as he recalled the images. “Blood was all around, on the walls and the ground. A wagon had been burnt, as well as one of the stables on the Zinferth side. But, we didn’t find anyone there.”
“What do you mean?” Sarito asked. “No one survived on either side of the bridge?”
“I’m not sure, sire,” the soldier replied. “All I know is we didn’t find anyone on the other side of Hart’s Bridge.” The soldier swallowed hard.
“Was it the criminal we were warned about?” the king asked.
The soldier shook his head. “Captain Moggs didn’t think so.”
King Sarito sighed and rested his chin on his fist. “Go on, what happened next?”
“I was sent to the tower and I kept a lookout while the rest of the company continued to search the grounds. After a while some riders came. They were Zinferthian soldiers. They attacked us. They killed everyone sire.”
“What provoked them?”
“Nothing, Captain Moggs rode out to meet them, but he was attacked straight away. Then they rode in and killed everyone before we could lower the portcullis. They kept shouting about avenging their brothers. They were ruthless, sire.” The young soldier lowered his head and started to weep.
King Sarito was silent for a moment. He rose from his seat and walked over to the open window. He looked out over his kingdom. “This must be some kind of mistake.”
“Not so, sire,” another commented from the shadows.
King Sarito turned to see a familiar, long face with a gray beard. “Simon Tellwelle, my most trusted advisor, how long have you been here?”
“Just a few moments,” Simon replied with a sweeping bow. “This is no mistake,” he repeated. “If anything, it is a sign that things have become far worse than we had anticipated.” Simon was a tall man, standing well over six feet. His head was crowned with an ample amount of silver hair that fell down around his thin, pale face. His narrow, pointy nose lent him a shrewd, rat-like appearance.
“I have never wished to see blood in my days,” King Sarito said to Simon. “I do not think that two countries must resolve their matters by shedding the blood of their people.”
“Obviously Queen Dalynn feels otherwise,” Simon said with a sweep of his arm to the young soldier. “We must answer this offense, sire, with full force.”
King Sarito looked down to the young soldier. “You are dismissed lad. Tend to your wounds and then report back for duty with the city garrison here. You have had enough adventure in the desert for a while.”
“Yes, my sovereign.” The border guard saluted again and swiftly exited the dining hall.
As soon as he exited Simon stepped closer to speak with Sarito. “Sire,” Simon began in his exceedingly nasal, austere voice, “I have discussed the matter with the council and I have prepared some options for you.”
“How could you have had time to speak with other council members?” Sarito asked.
“I pride myself in being the first to know everything, sire. That way I may come to you with solutions rather than just problems.”
“Simon, this is most likely a spill-over from the border disputes in the south. Perhaps an over zealous soldier began taunting the others, or maybe someone had a relative killed in the border disputes. Whatever it was, I am sure it was a misunderstanding. I don’t want to make it worse by launching a full assault and seizing the bridge. That would only escalate the hostilities. Besides, we need the trade to remain open between our kingdoms. We depend on Zinferth for many resources.”
“And they depend on us for our gold,” Simon pointed out.
King Sarito shook his large, thick head. “I would be willing to send out a unit of the Death Hawks, but nothing more,” Sarito said.
“I understand, sire, but I do not think that is enough.” Simon strode in towards the table and laid his left arm on the back of a chair. “I believe that dark days are coming for our kingdom.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have discussed the matter in full with the junior advisers. We are all in agreement that war is inevitable. One unit of Death Hawks
may be a good start to secure the bridge, but I believe that we must prepare for full scale war.”
“I am still waiting to hear back from my emissaries,” King Sarito countered.
“Your emissaries have been rejected by Queen Dalynn,” Simon replied matter-of-factly. “They are not allowed to go beyond Rasselin, where Governor Gandle sends them back to us promptly, all in the name of the Zinferthian Queen.”
“Why must she proceed in this foolishness?” Sarito growled. “I sent her offers of peace, a proposal that could end the border hostilities and let each kingdom thrive.”
“I am afraid not everyone is as amicable as you are, sire,” Simon sneered. “I can not pretend to know why she insists on turning them away. All I know is that in the last seven months only one emissary made it to Kobhir, and we have yet to hear anything from her. All of the others have been turned away at Rasselin.”
“Well, then perhaps we send another through the southern border, and avoid Rasselin altogether,” Sarito offered.
Simon shook his head and crinkled his nose. “A diplomat would not last a day through that border. You and I both know the southern border is rife with bloodshed and murder. Even the large, well-armed merchants avoid it entirely, preferring to travel through Hart’s Bridge.”
“Very well, if you insist then you may alert my armies.” King Sarito held up a short, chubby finger. “Put them on standby only. I would like them to be ready at a moment’s notice, but for now I will not mobilize any troops other than the unit of Death Hawks. If, in the future, things escalate to a more dangerous situation then you and the council may call upon the armies.”
“As you wish, sire,” Simon agreed. “I will follow your instructions exactly.” Simon turned and left the hall. The pit-pat of his soft leather soled shoes echoed grimly off the stone walls. The door clicked heavily into place, sending vibrations through the chamber. Then, all was silent and King Sarito was alone.
King Sarito turned to face his window. He looked out over the landscape. He admired its beauty, but even in the silvery moonlight his mind’s eye envisioned crimson washing over his lands as warriors set about their dastardly deeds. King Sarito shook his head and went down to his knees.
“All-father, surely misfortune has found its way to my door. I have done my best to preserve peace in my land, but now I need your help. Watch over my lands with your all-seeing eye, and protect my people with your all-powerful arm.” King Sarito bowed his head in respect for his ancestral god, but even as he finished his prayer he felt little comfort in his troubled heart.
CHAPTER NINE
Talon couldn’t remember the last time he had knelt, either to a man or a deity, let alone a woman. Yet, here he was kneeling before Queen Dalynn. He waited for her to finish the letter from Governor Gandle. He had already informed her of her cousin’s murder. The shock of the news had taken her breath from her for several minutes, and it was very difficult for Talon to get the queen to refocus on the issue at hand.
“You may rise,” the queen said after a few moments.
“Thank you, milady,” Talon replied as he stood up straight. He could read the grief in her features. The wrinkles of time on her face skewed into a frowning grimace coursing with fresh tears, yet Talon noted the fire within her light blue eyes.
“You have served your country faithfully,” Dalynn said. Her hands folded the letter from Gandle onto her lap. “I find it quite disturbing that King Sarito would assault my forces in the north, and even more so that my cousin has paid with his life for the discovery of Sarito’s dastardly endeavors. Insomuch as this was his last request, I will send support to Rasselin. Moreover, I will send the best men at my disposal to answer this atrocity. There will be blood!” The queen clenched her fist and slammed it on the arm of her throne.
“Hart’s Bridge is the last open trade route, milady,” said Korin, a middle-aged man at her left. “To close it would mean that all chances for peace with Shausmat will…”
Queen Dalynn regarded him with a heated stare and silenced him with a raised finger. “This has risen beyond the matters of trade,” she said. “Perhaps my cousin was right all along. He kept telling me that these border skirmishes would escalate to something more devastating. It was you who always tempered my responses.”
Korin bowed his head. “Total war is not a decision to be made lightly. Perhaps if we send some emissaries to King Sarito we can resolve this matter.”
“Will you bring my cousin back to the world of the living with the empty words of an emissary?”
Korin bowed his head even deeper, arching his back to avoid the queen’s wrath.
Queen Dalynn drew in a slow, deep breath and then turned away from Korin. “Korin, go and fetch the other ministers. I will hold an audience with them now.”
“By your command,” Korin replied. He gave one final bow at the door and exited the room.
“What shall I do your majesty?” Talon asked.
Queen Dalynn forced a smile. “I appreciate your valiant fortitude in this matter. I thank you again for your faithfulness and ask that you return to Rasselin as quickly as you can. No doubt the city will need all of its garrison to maintain order until a new governor can be appointed.” The queen rose from her throne and placed her hand on Talon’s bowed head for a moment, before walking on to gaze out through the arched window nearby.
“As you wish,” Talon replied. The thought came to him that now would be a perfect time if he were to follow through with Gandle’s request and slay the queen. Her frail back was turned to him and her hair was up in a bun, exposing her tender neck. It would be so simple. His fingers almost stretched for his dagger, but he quickly shirked the idea off. He was not a man of many rules, but not murdering women was one tenet he had held sacrosanct his entire life. Despite the obvious political gain to be made, he could not seriously contemplate disregarding his own code of honor, as twisted as he might be otherwise. Besides, he knew that his plan would work just as well, if not better, with the queen alive and demanding revenge for her murdered cousin. Talon had already delivered the instructions to General Tehrigg previous to his audience with the queen, so everything was moving smoothly. He also had faith that the recent developments at Hart’s Bridge would spur King Sarito into action as well. The assassin backed out of the room, still bowing as he exited the large throne room.
Talon’s part in engineering the war was now over. He was confident that General Tehrigg was capable of carrying out his part of the coup.
Talon moved swiftly through the palace halls. His grin widened and his gait increased with each step. The forthcoming chaos would allow his actions to go unnoticed by the more powerful kingdoms. He knew that as long as Shausmat and Zinferth turned their attentions more fully to each other, he would be free to disrupt the Elven Isles. He would soon have the Tomni’Tai Scroll. Then he would have the power to challenge the demigods themselves, and lay hold on immortality.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved the list he had gained from Gandle. The first name on the list was Jahre. Talon knew Jahre, or, at least he used to know him. This was the name of a very old Nizhni’Tai sage who knew the locations of the other artifacts needed to activate the Tomni’Tai Scroll. More than that, Jahre was likely the single most influential person in Talon’s life. He was responsible for what Talon had become. Jahre had also betrayed him a long time ago. Talon breathed in a satisfying breath as he thought how delicious it was that his current pursuit of the Tomni’Tai Scroll would also allow him to pay Jahre back in kind. Talon could feel the thrill of victory coursing through his veins.
*****
After night fall Talon sat alone in a tavern by the docks. He waited until the late hours when a rougher crowd would come in. He surveyed the room carefully as he watched a few minor brawls, a knife fight, and a couple of gambling games. Most people would have felt more than a little scared to sit in such a place for hours. Talon was not only comfortable, but enjoying the goings on around him. Each gambling game
that broke out into a fight was amusing to him, and he studied each fighter’s technique, or lack thereof, scrutinizing their every move and imagining how easily he would counter and defeat each of the fighters. Talon almost joined in himself when a man was laid out on Talon’s table after a savage punch from a big, ugly brute of a man. The assassin decided against it though, for fear of drawing too much attention to himself. So he pretended to be intimidated and switched tables instead.
Finally, after several more fist fights, he saw the man he wanted. An average built man with a missing little finger on his right hand. It was Captain Dorder, an ex-Shausmatian navy commander. Talon had heard that Dorder was drummed out dishonorably for allegedly smuggling naval supplies to the city of Jonndok, but they had never proven it and the old captain had never been sent to prison. Talon knew that Captain Dorder would be able to rustle up exactly the kind of crew he needed to take him to Bluewater, where Jahre lived.
Talon rose from his seat and crossed the wooden floor of the smoke filled tavern. Captain Dorder turned to face him but said nothing as he watched Talon approach. “Captain Dorder, my name is Silver,” Talon said simply. He noted the suspicious look that the captain gave him. “Bag full of silver,” Talon continued as he placed a large bag of coins on the bar directly in front of Captain Dorder.
