Red Jade: Book 1: Journeys In Kallisor

by Stephen Wolf

  Swendel’s Lodge was a decent establishment, with mahogany accents along the bar, leather-topped stools, and cushioned seats for the patrons, as well as a variety of menu options throughout the day. It was uncommon to have such choices in a tavern, but Pindington was a large enough city, and with five other major inns to choose from, options were important.

  “Swell to see you,” greeted the proprietor. “Special today are the roast tigroar patties, seasoned with our own selection of spices and served with a rich red wine. What will it be?”

  “The special sounds good, thanks,” Gabrion said, walking over and selecting a table along the wall. A few other patrons were in the room, and he tried to eavesdrop without staring at anyone obviously.

  “Then Battie won’t give me the recipe, so Jalla’s cake will be ruined!” said a woman at one table, her face flushed from rage.

  “That’s terrible, Marth!” commiserated her friend. “You know I can’t cook for a rodia’s tail, or I’d help you in a heartbeat. Oh, you poor thing!”

  They continued nattering back and forth, and Gabrion aimed his focus elsewhere.

  “—never seen the boss so miffed,” commented a blond fellow around Gabrion’s age, off to one side with two other young men.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Threw his dagger at me on my way out, he did,” agreed the red-haired lad among them. “Didn’t even do nothing wrong.”

  “Didn’t do ‘anything’ wrong, you idiot,” corrected the third, dark-haired companion. “Seriously, I think he yells at you because you talk like an uneducated piece of street trash.”

  “Well, I am a piece of street trash, so whatever. Don’t matter though. I won’t be working for him much longer.”

  At this, the other two put down their drinks and stared in unison. “What do you mean?” asked the blond one.

  “I’m getting out before there’s trouble.” He looked at his friends, aghast. “Didn’t you see her?”

  “It doesn’t mean we have to hightail it out of here!” argued the dark-haired youth.

  “No? Well, I doubt she’s changed after all these years, but she was a menace back at—”

  “Tigroar special?” asked a barmaid, dropping a plate down in front of Gabrion and interrupting his concentration. “Do enjoy!” she said before whisking away.

  Gabrion grabbed his utensils and tried to look like he was enjoying his meal, but the three young men had called the barmaid over to replenish their drinks, after which they changed subjects and talked about who had the best chance of taking her home.

  The fare was better than he had had in a long while, especially considering he had eaten some tigroar on the road. The meat was juicy and perfectly cooked, and the red wine washed down the meal exquisitely. He wondered, if food this good was available in a tavern, what would a king’s feast be like? He amused himself with the thought.

  Some of the patrons shuffled around, either leaving when they finished or ordering a meal upon arrival. He expected Dariak and Kitalla to come through soon and wondered if he should check the rooms in case he had missed them. But then a quartet of singers shuffled toward one end of the room and sang of heroic deeds and distressed maidens, and Gabrion lost himself in their songs, feeling warmed with each victory told in the tales. Clearly, they had been paid to keep all the songs light and cheery for the patrons, for even in the most dire circumstances, the hero always prevailed. It seemed farfetched to the warrior, but it instilled him with hope. He got caught up in one of the refrains of a raunchy courting song and sang aloud with many of the patrons:

  Shining bright in a dress of gold,

  all made of her hair.

  The fairest maid that ever was made,

  gorgeous, standing there.

  No garments ever touched her skin.

  No tailor’d ever dare!

  Oh, the gold I would have paid

  to see what’s under there!

  “I’m sure your ladylove would appreciate that,” teased Kitalla as she pulled up a seat next to his, taking his fork and swiping a bite of food. “Still though, it is a catchy tune.” She joined in the next repetition of the refrain.

  The two were still singing when Dariak joined them, his stern face ruining the mood. “We have trouble.”

  Kitalla waved for him to sit down, out of the way of the performers, who had moved on to a light song about springtime. The one woman in the group accented the vocals with elegant flourishes that enticed everyone to bob their heads with her tune.

  “I’m serious,” Dariak interjected.

  With a groan, Kitalla pulled her attention away and stared at the mage. “There are four detachments of guards working at all times in Grenthar’s domain. He has installed new security measures, which means a series of deadly traps, and he intends to move the jade to some unknown location within the next few days. Yes, we have trouble.”

  Dariak frowned. “Well, you know that detachment the king sent to Warringer after us? Apparently, it wasn’t the only patrol he sent out. They know about us here. Our faces are posted in the town square.”

  With a shrug, Kitalla replied, “Then eat up tonight and sleep deeply. We’ve a busy day tomorrow.” She then smirked conspiratorially and jabbed Dariak in the arm. “Although, that fellow over there is rather dashing, don’t you think?”

  The mage glanced over at a redheaded young man sipping his mead casually. His face was well balanced between rugged strength and sensual charm. His large eyes drew Dariak’s attention the most, for even across the way, they lit with humor when he grinned.

  Kitalla yawned. “Sadly, he doesn’t fancy my kind. Don’t forget that we have pressing business tomorrow, but nothing says there’s no time for a little fun too.” With that, she stalked off toward her room, leaving her companions behind.

  “I guess we should go too,” Gabrion said hesitantly.

  “You go. I need some food first.” His eyes flitted back to the redhead. “And time to think.”

  The warrior went upstairs and sat on the bed, finding it full of duck feathers, which he had to pound into shape until it was more comfortable. The blankets were soft, but he wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. He’d had a relaxing day compared to the reconnaissance the others had done. He felt foolish for being so lax instead of gathering any useful information.

  He was still staring out the window when Dariak came in over an hour later. “You okay?” the mage asked, bolting shut the door.

  “I went to the healers today to clear up my wounds.”

  “That’s good. You need to be at your best for tomorrow. Did you hear any good gossip?”

  The warrior shook his head. “That’s my point. You two were on point, but I just went and tended to myself today.”

  Dariak waited in case there was something else, but the young man fell silent. “Well, Gabrion, we all did things for ourselves today. We just happened to pick up a few tidbits along the way.”

  “Kitalla picked up more than just a few.”

  “Maybe you hadn’t noticed, but she’s a thief who specializes in being privy to what’s going on. Besides, I think it bothers her that she’s never been here before.”

  Gabrion turned around from the window finally. “I thought that too. It was weird though, these guys at the tavern earlier. I thought they were talking about her, but they didn’t really say anything of importance. If it was about her, then they knew her when she was younger. They seemed frightened.”

  “It’s a big city; they could have been talking about anyone. You probably just thought it was about her because whatever you heard matched her in some way,” Dariak concluded, lying down on his bed. “Or even if it was her, so what?”

  Gabrion considered for a moment. “Well, if it was about her, then it just seems like this task of ours is even more dangerous still. We don’t even have a plan of action for it.”

  “Go in, t
ake it, leave quickly.”

  Gabrion smirked at the retort. “Nice and easy, then.”

  Dariak noticed an uncertain look in the warrior’s eyes. “Is there anything else bothering you, or is it time to go to sleep?”

  Gabrion hesitated for a moment, but he couldn’t find the right words. “Did you…go talk to that man?”

  Dariak sat up and scratched his head. “Who? The redhead? No. Why?”

  Gabrion shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “You seemed…interested in him.”

  “I like men. He was attractive, so I looked. What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s just creepy.”

  “No more creepy than you ogling that singer onstage. ‘The fairest maid that ever was made,’” Dariak quoted, rising to his feet. “I saw you singing along like a big buffoon. It’s really no different.”

  Gabrion stood up, glaring at the mage. “It’s completely different. I wasn’t ogling anyone. I was just singing a catchy tune! But you…you were staring at him!”

  “Not exactly, but—” He stopped. “Oh,” Dariak said as if enlightened. “You want me to stare at you?”

  “No!” Gabrion grunted in frustration. “It just isn’t right.”

  Dariak frowned. “And yet, back in Warringer, you were all upset that people judged me just for being different.”

  “But this is—” Gabrion stopped himself.

  Angry, Dariak sat on the bed, pulling the blanket around him. “I’m sorry for creeping you out.”

  “So, when did you decide this?” the warrior hedged.

  “Which part?” Dariak huffed.

  “Being into men.”

  “Ha!” Dariak said, struggling not to shout. “When did you choose to like Mira?”

  Gabrion started an angry retort but then understood the intent of the question and paused to consider it. “I didn’t. It just happened.”

  “Right,” the mage agreed. “It just happened.” Frustrated, he turned his head away and focused on the unadorned wall.

  Silence hung in the air for a few long moments before Gabrion asked, “Do you ever look at me that way?”

  The mage looked around and opted for honesty. “I’m attracted to men. You’re a good-looking fellow and you’re in great shape.” He shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I never did.”

  Gabrion’s face curled into a scowl. “I think I like that even less.”

  “It isn’t like I’d ever pin you down with the Shield of Delminor and have my way with you. At least, not without your permission.”

  Gabrion’s jaw firmed for a moment before he shook his head. “Jokes like that don’t help.”

  “Would you prefer a nice hug?” Dariak crafted his face into the purest force of innocence he could muster amid his annoyance.

  Gabrion groaned. “No, thanks.” He regarded the mage for a moment. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it,” he admitted.

  “You’ve gotten more used to magic,” Dariak pointed out.

  “I’ll get used to this too,” Gabrion promised. “You and other guys, that is.”

  “It isn’t like I’m the only one, you know. There are at least…five others in the world.”

  Gabrion laughed at that. “Okay, I get it. Sorry for being an idiot about it.”

  Dariak shrugged. “You can really apologize by taking off those leggings.” He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the pillow.

  “Idiot,” Gabrion accused, rolling his eyes. “Go to sleep, mage. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Okay, meat.” Dariak laughed, throwing Gabrion’s pillow back at him.

  Chapter 21

  Grenthar’s Complex

  A few hours before dawn, Gabrion awoke to Kitalla shaking him aggressively. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Groggy, the warrior sat up and looked over at the door. “Wasn’t that bolted shut?”

  She pointed her thumb at her chest. “Thief, remember?” She then went and woke the mage. “Come on, you two, we have to get moving before they change guards again. Do hurry.” There was an edge of concern in her voice as she drifted out of the room, heading downstairs into the tavern.

  The mage and the warrior dressed quickly and followed her, shaking the drowsiness from their heads as much as they were able. “Heard something?” Dariak yawned.

  “Guard changes at dawn, noon, dusk, and midnight. Those are our only chances to get in.”

  “You don’t sleep much, do you?” Dariak muttered under his breath. “So what’s the plan?”

  She took out a small glass tumbler and handed it to Dariak. “Those glass shields would be nice.” Nodding, the mage cracked the glass against the table, doling out the fragments for them to each bleed upon so he could bind the shields to their bodies. While he was at it, he added a second protection with the glass, thanks to the water jade, which would deaden the sharpness of weapons that made it through their outer defenses.

  Gabrion noticed that his piece of jade trembled more intensely than before. “I feel all wet. But then I’ll know when it’s not working, right?”

  Dariak nodded and turned to Kitalla. “What else?”

  “Just have some of your spells ready. There are several sets of guards who will try to stop us, and I’m sure there will be more than pressure plates on the floor that sound an alarm. Be alert, be quick, be wary.” She drew in a deep breath. “Our goal is the piece of jade, correct? Good. Then it’s important to reach it at all costs. If we fail, then we won’t likely have another chance any time soon. Which means…” She let her voice drift off to silence.

  Dariak frowned, and Gabrion looked between them. “Which means what? If one of us falls, the others just go on ahead?”

  “Basically.” Kitalla nodded. “And since we need the mage to unite the pieces when we have them all, I think that means we will have to cover him and clear a path.”

  Gabrion didn’t like the sound of it. “This sounds like it’s over our heads.”

  Kitalla shrugged. “If we can’t do this, we’ll never get past the king’s guards in Hathreneir.”

  “She’s right,” Dariak added. “My king is also protected by mages, not just soldiers.”

  “Then let’s get moving,” Gabrion grumbled. “The longer we wait, the more anxious I feel.”

  The three companions strolled from the tavern as casually as possible, wending their way through the streets toward the western wall where the entrance to Grenthar’s compound awaited. As the morning sun crept over the eastern wall, its light struck the Prisoner’s Tower, which cast a black shadow on the ground. They kept within the shadow as it swept slowly toward the entrance to the lair.

  From the outside, Grenthar’s estate didn’t look like much. It had a stone-and-wood facade, with torches on either side of the entryway. A guard stood underneath each torch at full alertness. The sidewall of the compound extended back, parallel with the barrier of the city itself. Looking quickly, it seemed as if the building just stopped and the outer wall continued back and around, but rather, the estate ran the entire length instead, painted and carved with masonry to make it seamlessly blend in.

  The men weren’t sure how the thief intended to breach the compound without notice, and they froze in place as two guards came from within while the other two walked off into town. Without a word, Kitalla crept along the edge of the shadow, signaling Gabrion to follow. The two new guards were bending and stretching gently, preparing themselves for a long stint outside the doors. Kitalla snuck right behind one and cracked him on the back of the head. She then leaped for the other guard, but she needed Gabrion to help keep him from shouting out an alarm.

  Two thumps and the guards were silenced. The task wasn’t done yet, though. Kitalla pulled out two lengths of rope, handing one to Gabrion and tossing the other over the torch bra
cket. She quickly tied knots around one guard and hoisted him up, securing him to the wall. After adding a gag to keep him quiet, she went and helped Gabrion with the knots. An additional length of rope went to tying their hands behind their backs, effectively immobilizing them until someone came along and freed them. At a quick glance, it seemed the guards were still on duty. Then, the trio went in through the main doors.

  The interior of the compound was luxurious, even in the entryway. Gold-foil columns ran floor to ceiling at various locations around the room, creating a rectangular symmetry. With a door to the left, the right, and in front, they knew already that this was no straightforward task. Kitalla hadn’t been in town long enough to learn more than the general location of the shard, but the path to get there was anyone’s guess.

  Kitalla stepped toward the door on the right, but Dariak stopped her. “Hold on.” He clutched the jade in his pocket and slowly spun in a circle. He felt the strongest resonance when he faced the left door, and so they went for it. But two steps before reaching the threshold, Kitalla swung her hands out to stop her companions. She pointed to the floor, tracing in the air the outline of the floor tile, which was just barely raised above the ones surrounding it and masked by a thin layer of dirt and sand. It was a pressure plate and would have been easily missed if she hadn’t been watching for it. The trio stepped over the plate and pressed on into the next room.

  Three torches lined the wall, but only one of them was lit. Kitalla kept low as she entered the room, noting a random assortment of weapons and armor along the walls and chests and crates along the floor. “Touch nothing,” she whispered, inching her way ahead one step at a time. Gabrion and Dariak kept close behind her, wondering what had her so edgy in an obvious storeroom.

  They worked their way carefully around a few obstacles on the ground, and Kitalla pointed out several pressure plates along the way. When they reached the center of the room, the middle torch burst to life, startling them. Dariak sidestepped, and his foot tripped a pressure sensor.