‘The next stage begins at the ringing of the Four Bells of Midwatch. Rjurik cannot be inside the Fortress at that time. Period. Do whatever you must but do not let him interfere with the impending attack.’
‘But Master, if there is an attack shouldn’t we prevent it?’
‘Nay, our destiny is not to save one soul but millions. If Rjurik is inside the Fortress when the attack begins, he will die and that will change the course the Gods have decreed for him.’
‘But Master, how do you know his fate?’
‘Ronin, there are more factions at work here than you know. Trust in your training, trust in your faith and do your duty. You are but a tool, I am the sculptor.’
‘Yes, Master, by your command.’
All this went through Ronin’s mind as they traversed the elevated passageways of Asylum. He knew it was almost time, he could feel it. He needed some way to distract the old dwarf and keep him from the entering the Fortress. When he noticed that the door they were approaching opened towards them, an idea came to mind. Quickening his steps, Ronin reached the door one step before him and slapped his hand on the doorway. Knowing he needed to distract the veteran dwarf, he asked the one question he knew would get do the trick.
“Rjurik, I’m curious…have you heard any rumors about Graytael? I’m certain you searched for him, right?”
The old dwarf stopped and turned his body to face the young monk. “No…not a word in eight years. There were rumors of a slaver camp on the eastern shores of the Crystal Sea but by the time the Asylum navy made it there, it was abandoned. Of course, that was almost a year after the Day of Darkness but it was our only lead. If he lived long enough to make it to the camp, then he’d been sold as a slave and is who knows where.”
As Ronin kept him talking, the monk slipped a small wedge of wood out of his sleeve and into the top crack between the door and frame. “Do you still believe him to be alive?”
Rjurik nodded. “Aye, that I do. I can’t explain it but I know he’s still out there, just waiting for the day to break free from his bonds.” He swirled the tobacco juices around in his mouth for a moment before spitting again. “Hell, I probably wouldn’t even recognize him these days. He’d be nineteen now, no wait, twenty.”
Before the monk could respond, two sounds reached their ears, the chiming of the four bells marking the second hour of Midwatch and the sounds of fighting from inside the Fortress.
The dwarven Captain did not waste any time and slung his namesake off his back and onto his stump of a hand. With the other, he tugged on the door and prepared to bolt through. Tugging again, harder….the door opened ever so slightly but barely even enough to peek through.
“Bromios’ beard, the door is jammed and the Fortress is under attack!”
Ronin tugged also, not hard but enough to seem as if he was trying to open it. “It’s stuck. Is there any other way through?”
“Aye, this way!” Without waiting to see if the monk followed, Rjurik turned away and bolted down the passageway.
Ronin pulled free the small wedge and pocketed it before following the veteran dwarf. Part one of his mission had been accomplished, now he had to make sure that Rjurik stayed alive through the attack.
Chapter 28
Even with his eyes closed, Gray could tell exactly what his friends were doing behind him.
First, towards the back of the transport would be Tiny and Curly playing cards. It did not matter where they were or what was going on around them, if there were a few minutes of downtime, the cards came out and their game continued. Technically their names were Dovan and Nergüi but over the years, each member of the Sicárii had picked up a nickname.
Dovan was called Tiny because that was exactly opposite of what he was. He was probably the biggest assassin ever trained. He was at least a foot and a half taller than Gray and probably weighed twice as much. Even though Dovan had a perpetual faraway expression plastered on his face, his companions found that he was quick witted and honest to a fault. If there was one area Tiny was deficient in, it was lying. This was a good trait in a friend but bad in a spy. Nevertheless, woe to anyone that judged him only on his size and looks, Tiny had perfected the use of the Moon Axe and wielded two of them to deadly efficiency.
His counterpart was Nergüi, better known as Curly since he did not have a single trace of hair on his body. The bald black man from the southern lands was small of frame and relied on his skill with twin tulwars. He was a quiet soul that rarely spoke but when he did, it was profound.
The two ladies in their Aciês were Ursula and Tamina, or Scarlet and Mouse. Scarlet was their team’s best spellweaver. Technically, they were all accomplished mages but Scarlet’s skill was superior. She was a veritable master with fire-based spells. Her waist-long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail that helped to highlight her bright green eyes and freckles.
Tamina had gained the nickname of Mouse due to her uncanny ability to maneuver herself into the most unnatural positions. Of course, Gray’s mind was immediately filled with images of their most recent sexual liaison, and reflected on how true the observation concerning her flexibility really was. Although Gray and Tamina had worked hard to keep their affair secret, and judging from the lack of comments and questions from the rest of the team it still was, he knew that Galvorn had figured it out. Be that here nor there, Mouse was a highly accomplished cat burglar and could gain entrance to almost any domicile. Her preferred weapons were a small wrist mounted crossbow or a katar.
The rest of the team consisted of Falcon, Meatshield and Shadow.
Falcon was Jardan’s codename. He had gained it due to the fact that he seemed to have excellent far-sight and was the group’s best archer, which typically put him as the rearguard and over watch. He seemed to have developed a crush on Mouse and was constantly flirting with her even though she never returned his advances. The funny thing was that Scarlet had a crush on him but Jardan acted as if she did not even exist.
Meatshield was the nickname the Sicárii gave for whatever soldier the Dôminus assigned them on each mission. For some reason, Kralm insisted that each Aciês had eight members in it; seven Sicárii and one Bëllatôr. The soldiers rarely survived more than one mission with them, not due to their lack of skill at arms but by being placed in an unfamiliar arena. Since the soldiers died so quickly, the Sicárii had stopped learning their names.
Gray had made it a personal goal to have one of the soldiers survive ten missions with the team. Their current Meatshield was on his fifth mission with them. Gray had started placing them in the very back of the container to make them the last team member out and gave them very limited and specific duties, protect Scarlet. Not that the redheaded mage could not protect herself, she could. But when she was casting spells, she was more vulnerable than any other time. And it gave the Meatshield the best chance of survival.
The last member of the team was his half-brother Galvorn, aka the Shadow. He was the sneakiest bastard in the whole unit. He seemed to have the unnatural ability to become one with the darkness, hence his nickname.
Gray felt the container shift altitude and knew that they were approaching their target destination. Opening his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder at his team and was comforted with the sight. Tiny and Curly were playing cards, as always. Scarlet was flipping through her spell book but not actually studying since she was watching Falcon while he was busy flirting with Mouse. Tamina was sharpening her already razor-sharp katars and was pointedly ignoring the ex-noble. Meatshield was in the back of the container, white as a ghost and trying his best not to vomit. Shadow was playing with a ball of darkness, making it slither along his fingers like a snake.
Hearing the rapping of the dragonrider above them, Gray held up two fingers and everyone stopped what they were doing and grew serious, except Galvorn. He played with his shadow snake for a few more seconds until Gray stood up and began speaking.
“Okay, we are just a few minutes out. Remember, this is supposed to b
e a lighting strike. In and out, quick and fast. We are only supposed to kill those that get in the way of our target.” He transferred his gaze to Tiny and Curly. “I would prefer to keep the deaths of non-combatants to a minimum. I don’t want a repeat of our mission into Tjenu.”
The two Sicárii looked around sheepishly at his accusation but had no defense. They knew what incident that Grim was referring to. Tiny and Curly had made a wrong turn during their last outing and had ended up in a side chamber full of servants. Needless to say, it was a bloodbath. Neither of the two warriors had anything to say but nodded their understanding.
Gray gestured to Tamina. “This is supposed to be Mouse’s kill. However, the Dôminus has stated that if she falls or is unable, any of us are authorized to make the kill.”
Galvorn yawned and stretched. “Come on Grim, we know all this.”
Gray shot his half-brother a stern look that was completely lost on the nonchalant attitude of the half-dark elf. “True but remember what we were taught, abundans cautela non nocet.”
“Abundant caution does no harm,” Galvorn nodded. “You are correct Grim, continue.”
Gray grinned and turned his attention back to the rest of the team. “Falcon, you’re on over watch. Find a position and limit the High Councilor’s reinforcements. Scarlet, you and Meatshield will hold the landing zone.”
He did not continue until all three nodded. “Curly, if the door is locked, you’re up. You’ll have thirty seconds to pick it before Tiny kicks it in.” Both warriors nodded. “Shadow and I will be the first ones in and we have the flanks. Mouse, you know what you have to do.”
Mouse calmly loaded a bolt into her wrist crossbow and smiled. Even in the dim light of their container, the team could see the green substance that coated the barb and knew that she had chosen to use poison.
Gray heard the three raps of the dragonrider seconds before the front gate opened up. Gray always felt a momentary sense of vertigo whenever he first looked out over the dark city far below.
The Dark Lady had come up with a brilliant plan on how to get her strike troops into enemy strongholds. In the deep hours of early morning when the sentries were the sleepiest, a dragon would carry a container full of Sicárii over their target city and they would jump out. Typically, the Dôminus scheduled some sort of distractionary attack in a different part of the city to limit reinforcements and to create confusion among their enemies.
Gray knew that tonight’s distraction was to be a band of orcs sneaking out of the hold of a ship in the harbor. They were to attack some Inn near the docks of Asylum and kill everyone inside. He had no idea why the Dôminus had picked that particular target but then Kralm rarely explained his reasoning.
As the dragon hovered twenty feet over the highest most balcony of a certain tower in Asylum city, the Sicárii jumped and began their attack. One part of Gray’s mind noticed that he could hear the ringing of a ship’s bell in the distance. They were right on schedule.
* * * * *
Ronak Skullcrusher tried his best to dry off the leather bindings on the handle of his trusty rusted axe. He had not wanted this mission, if only because of the swim. It was not that Orcs did not know how to swim. They particularly did not like to swim. Nevertheless, the Dôminus had ordered him and nine of his brothers to swim to shore and attack an Inn. They were to ignore any other targets until the Inn was destroyed. Then, he and his brothers could run rampant throughout the city and kill at will.
Ronak grinned as the Inn came in sight. It was exactly where the Dôminus had described. There was a small courtyard of grass and trees a spear’s throw from the docks. On the north side of the park, there was a four-way intersection and the inn would be in the middle. He had said it would be three stories tall and the only building in the area constructed with grey stones.
Ronak ran his long tongue over his sharp canine teeth. He looked around at his band; they all had the same grin. Soon they would taste human flesh. The orcs had hidden themselves behind trees and stones in the small park and waited for the predetermined signal. No one wanted to attack early. The Dôminus had a way of finding things out. With the first chiming of the ships bell that marked the two o’clock hour of the morning, the orcs jumped up and ran toward the building. They did not scream their normal battle cries since the Dôminus had ordered them to make the attack as quiet as possible.
Bursting through the door to the inn, they skidded to a halt when they found a single man dressed in grey robes standing calmly in the common room. Judging from the scars on his face and the empty eye sockets, the old man was blind. However, he did not seem shocked to have a band of orc warriors busting through the door on him.
“Go back. Return to your dens and live a productive life.”
Ronak sneered and lifted his deadly axe. “The only life we will have is yours.”
The old man shook his head. “Such a shame, just remember I gave you a chance.”
As the orcs rushed forward, they were confronted with a blinding white light that seared them to their souls and beyond. Ronak and his band of orcs ceased to exist as the light faded.
* * * * *
Many leagues to the north and east, the Queen’s Regent studied the maps laid out on the table before him. His royal counterparts had brought numerous reports with them upon their arrival. Some of them were conflicting but they were all unsettling. The three rulers had worked long into the night to collate the data.
Khlekluëllin shook his head. “I just can’t figure out what Lalith’s endgame is.”
Grunk Nightslayer, Jarl of the Jotens, cracked his knuckles. “I agree Khlekluëllin, her actions are strange but she doesn’t do anything on a whim. There has to be a reason why she recalled her troops now, especially since they have been unable to breach the walls of Asylum, Krantos or Jotenhiem in eight years.”
Khlekluëllin looked up at his friend and realized that he had not changed much in the past twenty years.
Standing nearly nine feet tall with charcoal grey skin and a single red eye, he wore the same armor that his guards did a bronze cuirass, greaves and bracers. Only his helmet was different, it sported a red plume of dyed horsehair. Well, that and his massive battleaxe that was never far from his hands.
The new king of the Dwarves, Midach Bonecrusher moved a marker on the battle map to represent the new home of the dwarves, an island off the west coast. “Well, Darkmoor has fallen. It is completely overrun with spiders and gnomes. We could’ve beaten back one or the other but not both.”
Khlekluëllin sized up the sturdy dwarf. It must have pained him greatly to admit that. The dwarven king was dressed in a simple vest of chainmail and carrying the same weapons he had been carrying when he accompanied Hawkeye on his travels through the underground. Of course, his black beard and hair showed more grey than it did the last time they had seen each other but then the past twenty years had been fraught with peril. Especially since he knew that Midach was just like him, he had never wanted the throne. The mantle had been thrust on them by circumstances beyond either of their control.
Khlekluëllin had no words for his friend. What does one temporary ruler say to a young king that had allowed the Great Enemy to take over their cultural homeland?
Therefore, Khlekluëllin turned his attention back to the battle map and tried once more to ponder their enemy’s strategy. The Dark Alliance had recalled all eight of its armies to four different strongholds that were strategically placed throughout Terreth. Only three of them were of any major concern to the gathered rulers which was actually three-fifths of the leaders of the League of Free Nations. Only the High Councilor of Asylum and the King of Krantos were missing from this summit but the roads between them had been too perilous to traverse.
Darkhold was the name the League had given to the Black Falls Fortress in the Highlands. From there, the Dark Alliance controlled the lands north of the Wall and was rumored to be the home base for their commanders. Only Jotenhiem stood as a bastion of freedom in that reg
ion.
Of the Highlanders, there had been numerous reports of lone barbarians wandering the Highlands but not in any significant numbers. Not enough to really matter to the League. In effect, the Highlanders were done as a power and race in Terreth. The chosen race of Luna the Moon Goddess was gone or now pawns of the Great Enemy. It was a sobering thought for the true followers of the Dhyana.
Khlekluëllin shifted his gaze to the two strongholds situated between Elfholm and Krantos, Ebonhold and Deathhold.
Ebonhold was a fortress nearest Krantos. Built from the ruins of an old tower, its basalt walls gleamed in the darkness. From its strategic location, the Dark Alliance army could harass and delay anyone trying to reach the human stronghold of Krantos or traveling through the northern region of the Grasslands.
Deathhold kept the southern area of the Grasslands under its watchful eyes and iron fist. Built over the last eight years of brown stones, it was due north of Asylum and actually straddled the Draken River. There were rumors of a large slave camp in the region but none of his elven scouts had been able to locate it or if they had, able to return to tell anyone about it. Khlekluëllin lost one out of every three scouts that he sent to spy on the Dark Alliance Strongholds.
These fortresses allowed Lalith to completely control the lands not under her direct control. She had in effect, divided the lands of Terreth into smaller independent kingdoms. Not to say there was not a way to send aid to the allies of the League. It had just become more difficult and very costly.
Khlekluëllin flicked his eyes over to the lone marker on the eastern shore of the Crystal Sea. Lagash, home to the Dark Alliance navy and the only Dark Alliance fortress in the east. It was said to be impenetrable. Lalith had recruited nearly every pirate that sailed the seas and had them working for her. She also had hundreds of shipwrights building a new fleet for the Dark Alliance Navy. It would not be long before they controlled the shipping lanes also, which would limit the aid and number of troops the League could move around Terreth.
Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) Page 25
