The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  Wuest nearly fainted with relief.

  “No, my once faithful servant, that fate is not for you,” The Duke mused.

  Wuest opened his mouth to express his gratitude.

  “No, my once faithful servant, now black traitor!” Spittle flew from the Duke's mouth as he stood and screamed his sentence upon the cowering Wuest. “Yours is to be placed into the loving and gentle hands of the dungeon master! Yours is to be flayed slowly, and fed piece by piece to the rats and the vermin you chose to ally yourself with!” Bilardi finished his tirade screaming so loudly he was nearly incoherent, but Wuest understood all too clearly.

  The condemned aide collapsed onto the polished marble of the floor, gibbering in terror.

  Bilardi leaned back in his chair, a slow satisfied sneer playing across his lips, “Yes, I will enjoy this. You and I will become very close, dear Wuest, very close indeed. I may even dine upon your sweetmeats myself. Take him away.” He lifted his left hand in a languid wave.

  The two guardsmen bent and lifted Wuest. He offered no resistance, but hung limply, like a marionette without strings, in their grasp. Nodding a salute to the Duke, they turned smartly about with Wuest still hanging between them, and pushed through the double doors.

  Once through the doors and out of the Duke's presence, Wuest began pleading again for mercy, but it was like arguing with stone. The guards remained silent and continued their inexorable march down through the Ducal Palace's layers and toward the dungeons.

  As they drew closer to his doom, Wuest became more animated, eventually to the point of lashing out, trying to extricate himself from his captors’ grip. Again, the results could have been easily foretold. Against the power of those massive hands and arms the ex-aide was as helpless as a kitten pitted against twin mastiffs.

  Five levels down they entered the floor that led to the dungeon stair. The walls were lined with ancient suits of armor, set in position and stance as if guarding the way. Between each suit stood a man-high vase elaborately decorated with enamel and gilt.

  Wuest looked up and saw the iron bound door leading to the dungeon. With strength born of desperation he lashed out with his feet and managed to catch the haft of one of the spears set with the armor. The spear fell in just the right direction to catch the gauntlet of the one next to it, causing that suit to overbalance and tip against the vase next to it, which shattered explosively sending shards of porcelain into the unprotected faces of Wuest's vanguard. The resultant blood and pain caused both brutes to drop their charge, who scrabbled around on the tiles unsure of what to do with his new freedom.

  Half mad from the combination of fright and sudden surcease, the ex-aide darted from side to side trying to collect his thoughts. A hysterical giggle erupted from him as his hand darted out and tore a spear from a still standing suit of armor.

  The first guard grunted in surprise as Wuest drove the spear into his side. The second uttered no sound because the exploding porcelain had torn out his larynx. Another giggle signaled Wuest's delight at what he'd managed to do. Its echoes followed him as he ran from the palace and into the depths of the city.

  Hours later, a more composed, but thoroughly exhausted Wuest stumbled into the corner pub where Hodder, Stroughten, and he had hatched their ill-fated enterprise. It had not been his intention to push through that door; it was more a whim of fate and the habit of long years instead that placed him there.

  The gaffer behind the bar looked up as Wuest came in, grunted a greeting and resumed his glass polishing.

  Wuest waved off the attentions of the serving maid and threw himself into the first handy booth.

  “Avin! Gods, what happened to you, man?”

  Hodder's voice pulled the ex-aide out of his fugue. “Hodder, you're alive? But, I ... but I was told you'd been beheaded!”

  “Beheaded? Me?” Hodder's eyes widened as his hand went reflexively to his throat.

  “You, and Leum,” Wuest whispered, as he leaned forward. He turned his head from side to side as he scanned the pub, “Where is he? Have you seen him lately?”

  “He's asleep, I imagine,” Hodder replied. “Why, what's going on? You got me scared, Avin.”

  Wuest slapped a hand down on the tabletop. “You should be,” he hissed, “I spent a good part of this day being tended to by a pair of the Duke's Plague! It was only Bardoc's happy chance I escaped with my life.”

  Hodder made a warding sign, “The Plague? But they only take people on orders of ... gods, he knows!”

  Wuest nodded as he reached for and downed his friend's drink, “He does, and he's the one who told me you and Leum were minus your heads. We've got to get out of the city.”

  “How!” Hodder made the question an exclamation. “Leum and me, we've poked our noses into every possible crack there is ever since you gave that killer your golds. I tell you, there ain't no way out of this city. What do you think you're going to do, walk out the front gate, jump that chasm, and have the southern army greet you with open arms?”

  “I ... don't know,” Wuest replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “There's got to be a way out. Something, anything we haven't thought of. I'll wager this pub's under suspicion. Bardoc knows we've spent enough time here.”

  Hodder drew a circle in the condensation marking where his glass had been. “There's the sewers,” He said, in an off-hand manner.

  Wuest looked at his friend. A parade of expressions flickered across his face, finally settling into one of determination. “Right, let's do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “There's the sewers.”

  “Huh, what?” Captain Bilardi looked up from the page of scribbled notes lying on his desk, “Did you say something, McKenit?”

  The old Corporal nodded, “Aye, Cap'n, I did. You was askin’ me about the ways into the city, an’ iffn we was secure, an’ I was just telling you, there's the sewers, iffn a body was real desperate, that is.”

  Bilardi massaged his temples, “McKenit, have you any idea what a run on sentence is?”

  “A what sentence, Cap'n?”

  “Never mind,” Bilardi dropped his eyes back to the notes. “I'd already thought about the sewers, and discounted them. The rats alone would suffice as a guard down there. Any other vulnerabilities you can think of?”

  McKenit's mouth screwed up as he considered his Captain ‘s question, “Umm ... hmm ... naw, Cap'n, none. Not with that great bloody trench circling the backsides of the city. Seems it's too wide at the narrowest for anythin’ the southerners can do.”

  “That is my thinking,” Bilardi replied, without looking up. “Go back to your desk Corporal and keep any visitors from my door. I wish to remain private for a time.”

  McKenit flipped a perfunctory salute and shut the door quietly, leaving the Captain with the notes before him, and his thoughts.

  Bilardi ran a finger under one of the lines of script before him and pursed his lips, “So he's a Wizard, as well as a blademaster. What would my father say if he knew the rumors were true...? What would he say if I told him the next Emperor was one of my officers?”

  * * * *

  As Captain Bilardi ruminated over the sudden turn his life had taken, the object of those thoughts sat enjoying a hearty midday meal at his favorite pub. The platter before him held a good helping of a savory smelling stew, flanked by two thick slices of sweet, dark bread.

  “So, you're going to be a daddy,” Ethan said, as he dug into his own portion of stew and bread.

  “That's what Thaylli tells me.” Adam broke off a chunk of the bread and dipped it into the stew. He washed the bite down with a sip of brown ale.

  “Then, I suppose congratulations are in order.” Ethan followed Adam's example, duplicating the actions of dunking, chewing and drinking. “A woman is rarely wrong in knowing whether or not she's carrying. What plans have you made?”

  “Plans?”

  Ethan waved the chunk of bread he held in the air, “Plans, such as...” He sipped some more ale, “...pre
paring for the child's future. Maybe finding a home with a bit more room than that enlarged closet you and Thaylli now live in. I hear Access is a nice place.”

  Adam looked up sharply.

  “Don't look so surprised,” Ethan smiled around another bite of stew. “It's not like I'm going to be shouting it from the rooftops, and I quite agree with you. Thaylli will be much safer there than here, even with that ... moat you created. I'd wager the southerners are going to be in for a long, unsuccessful siege. Look at the attitude of the city. Right now, it seems to be mostly one of relief, but that could change. Yes, Thaylli'd best be on her way.”

  “How did you...?” Adam allowed the question to fade and just shook his head.

  Ethan held up his empty tankard for the bar maid's notice. “Friends tend to ask questions in the background, and their friend's friends tend to answer. You think Thaylli would have been able to keep quiet what you two managed to accomplish?” Ethan laughed, “Lad, you still have a lot to learn about women. She ran in here the second she found out and blurted the news to Ionea and Jeini. Fainnelle learned about it from all three of them at once. She told me about it last night.”

  Adam looked shocked. “Ethan, you and she didn't...” He motioned with his hands.

  Ethan sopped up some gravy with the last of his bread. “Another thing you need to learn about women, Adam, is that the really good ones respect a man who can be friendly with them without being too friendly. You understand what that means? Besides, Fainnelle is the Gaffers woman, or didn't you know that?”

  “I ... think so, no, I really didn't.”

  Ethan leaned back and called out to the bar maid, “Jeini, bring this lad another ale, will you? He's thirsty from last night's work.”

  “Ethan!” Adam said, scandalized, as the girl burst out in giggles.

  “An object lesson, did you mark her reaction? She's going to remember that bit of fun for a long, long time, and a lot more fondly than if she bounced around in bed with some stranger. A good man, Adam, doesn't play with a woman's affections and then use her for his own satisfaction. He's friendly, helpful, and honorable. A good woman will see that, and understand that his friendliness will only go so far. Fainnelle learned about Ellona the first night I stopped in, and she knows how much my commitment to that woman means to me. Besides, as I said, Fainnelle has her own commitment to the Gaffer to consider, as do I.” He nodded in Jeini's direction while the girl was relating Ethan's joke to her father. “Now take Fainnelle's daughter there. She's near as good looking as Thaylli and full of energy. I imagine she could wear out a man, or even two, you interested?”

  “Ethan!” If anything, Adam was even more shocked than he was over the joke.

  Ethan nodded just before taking a sip of ale. “See what I mean? You're a good man, Adam, and Thaylli knows it. That's one of the reasons she spread the news of your virility around to her friends as quickly as possible. She's proud, and rightly to be so.”

  “You've sure got a funny way of proving your point,” Adam said, torn between flattery and outrage.

  “Well, you don't have to go by me, here she comes.” Ethan pointed across Adam's shoulder with his free hand.

  Adam turned just in time to be enveloped by a positively glowing Thaylli. While Ethan hid his smile behind another sip of ale, the young couple reacquainted themselves after being separated for the morning.

  The demonstration of affection went on until Ethan coughed, “Uh hmm, if you want, I can ask the Gaffer to clear the place so you could have it to yourselves.”

  “Would you?”

  “Thaylli!”

  Ethan roared with laughter, “Seems you're going to spend this day being shocked, lad, relax a little, you'll enjoy life more. Now, if you two will excuse me, I've some sargenting to do. ‘Scuse me, girl,” This was said to the she wolf lying next to the booth, seeming asleep, only the constant movement of her ears giving away her alertness.

  The wolf raised her muzzle off her paws and grumbled out a long, low-voiced growl.

  Adam replied with a short series of quiet barks.

  “What was that all about?” Ethan carefully stepped over the wolf, especially mindful of her tail.

  “She asks if we're ready to go and says she's had her fill of two-legs and their crowded, smelly caves. I said they'd be leaving soon.”

  Thaylli leaned back from Adam and searched his face. “What do you mean, ‘they'? You aren't going?”

  Adam puffed out a sigh, “I said I'd join you, remember? I still have to make sure my leaving Grisham isn't called desertion. The last thing I want is to have to put up with Bilardi sending a company of the guard after us to try to bring me back in chains. Not that they'd have much luck,” he added.

  A party of four pushed through the pub door, letting in a rush of cool air and prompting another grumble from the wolf.

  Thaylli looked down at her. “What did she say?”

  Adam smiled, “She's getting impatient. If we're going to do this, it had better be now. I don't fancy the chances of the next person to walk by her. She's really gone out of her way, you know. This hasn't been easy for her.”

  The Gaffer slapped his bar rag down. “It ain't been easy on any of us, m'lord. That great gray beast lyin’ there, in easy bitin’ reach of me ankles, no ... it ain't been easy at all. The only reason I let it in was ‘cause your missus vouched safe fer it, an’ her being in the way an’ all. No, I can't say I'll be sorry to see it go. Not sorry at all.”

  “Seems you'd best be on your way, Thaylli,” Ethan nodded. “I wish you a pleasant journey, may Bardoc guide your steps along the way.”

  “So mote it be.” The Gaffer echoed the end of the ancient blessing along with Jeini.

  Thaylli looked around at the interior of the pub with tears welling in her eyes, “But I don't want to go, not without Adam.” She wiped a tear away from her cheek. “I know I agreed to, but now that it's come to it...” She broke into sobs.

  As if Thaylli's tears were some form of signal, the women of the bar descended upon her en mass, cooing sounds of comfort and sympathy. Several of them sent glances of accusation Adam's way, it mattered not that he was innocent, he was a man that was enough.

  Ethan took the opportunity and ducked out the pub's door leaving Adam to face the emotional storm to come.

  Fainnelle was the first of the women to break away. She came over to Adam, her hands still coated with flour from the kitchen. She brushed them off on her apron as she approached. “That gal of yours is gonna be missed, lad. You'd best be takin’ good care of her, now.”

  “Of course I will,” Adam replied, not without some heat, those glances from the women clustered around Thaylli had grated on his nerves. “What do you think this is all about, anyway? If anything happened to her...” he paused, “well, I really don't know what to say at this point.”

  Fainnelle chuckled, “An’ wise enough to admit it.” She leaned over and kissed Adam on his cheek. “That's from a momma what's been through some of what you two are facin'. We'd best be getting’ your lass on her way afore too much gets said in that hen circle. We's the only ones what knows about the secret in the Gaffer's cellar, an’ I think he'd like it to stay that way.”

  Adam nodded in the gathering's direction. “I think you better be the one that pulls her away from there. I feel safer over here,” he pointed, “behind the wolf.”

  The older woman patted his cheek and smiled, “You just stay here, sweets, I'll collect your woman for you.”

  Fainnelle vanished into the scrum and emerged a few seconds later with a smiling Thaylli. Whether it was by Fainnelle's apparent fearlessness, or some instinct within the she wolf, there is no recorded answer, but the gray beast rose as the older woman gathered them together and led them into the rear of the pub, down the steps and into the cellar.

  “Now then,” Fainnelle said, folding her hands before her apron, “here we be. Doesn't look like I'll get to see that belly swell, after all, does it?” She smiled, muting the angs
t of her statement.

  “Oh, come now,” she raised a hand at Thaylli's expression. “No more tears. I've had my fill of them, these days. I'd druther have a memory of that face the way it looked when you told me your man'd done his duty by you.”

  Adam could feel the flush rising in his face.

  Thaylli wiped her face and forced a smile, “I'm going to miss you, Fainnelle, but now that I'm really going, I think I'd really like to see my family again. I can't wait to see the look on my mother's face when I tell her she's going to be a grandmother.”

  Fainnelle gather Thaylli into a hug and whispered, “You take care of yourself child.” In a louder voice she said, “Where's that pack, lad?”

  Adam looked around the cellar floor for a second and then stooped. “Here it is, heavy thing. You going to be able to carry this, Thaylli?”

  She sniffed, “Of course I will. It's the same size of the one I carried here, let me see it for a minute.” She held out her hand.

  After a few moments of rummaging through the pack, Thaylli declared it adequate and resealed its ties. “The Dwarves taught me how to do that,” She explained to Adam, “when I was on my way to see you. I'm glad I remembered my lessons.”

  The wolf looked up at Adam, “Is your she ready? This one wishes to be out of this cave.”

  “Soon, packmate, very soon, I am glad you will guide her on her way.” Adam replied, in the language of the wolves.

  He turned back to the two women. “It's time. I was never shown this tunnel, Fainnelle. Where's the door?”

  “Just behind that cask, lad,” She pointed to a man-high wine cask snuggled into the rock of the cellar's back wall. “Grab the right edge an’ give a bit of a tug.”

  He did so and the front of the cask rotated away with a sloshing sound.

  “The Gaffer had a false front built into it,” Fainnelle explained. “Holds a good amount, too, so's you wouldn't even guess it was also our back door.” She chuckled. “Back when the old Duke was tryin’ to tax the publicans to death, it made for a handy hidin’ place.”