They entered separate bar area and a stern-looking man clapped Eliam on the shoulder. “We do not serve filth like you here.”
Instantly, three men went tense. Hands went to weapons. Melaki limbered his fingers. Galli prepared to let off a volley of veiled insult.
Eliam turned to face his attacker, and then wrapped him in a hug. “Tolos, you old fool!”
“Who are you calling old?” But the smile on Tolos' face was happy. They slapped each other's backs.
Eliam stepped back and winked. “You are only a decade younger--”
“Nonsense. You with your white hair.”
Eliam turned, beaming. “Melaki and Galli--” he pointed to each, “and this is Tolos, my former subcommander who taught me what I know now.”
Melaki and Galli nodded.
“I thought you had left the capital?” Eliam said.
Tolos followed them to a table but remained standing while they sat. “I had. Just returned yesterday.”
“Where had you gone?”
“Vattonses.”
“Vattonses? Why there?” Eliam seemed dumbfounded.
“You did not know? My family was Vattonses. I ran away from home to see the world and ended up a Callacan subcommander to a bunch of misfits who could not find their asses with either hand.”
Eliam wagged a finger at him. “Now, now.”
“Did you serve a full term?” Tolos was looking over Eliam's black leathers.
“I did.” There was no pride in his voice.
Tolos went still. “What happened?”
The innkeeper came by and slapped Tolos on the shoulder. “Good man. Good relations are what we are about.”
Tolos gave a very slight shrug to the three of them.
The innkeeper was a burly man, all hair and teeth. “What will you be having?”
Melaki raised an eyebrow. “Something amber, something strong, and we better be having to drag at least one of us out after just a jug.” He held up two gold coins.
The burly man pursed his lips, frowned, rubbed his fingers and nodded judiciously. He snatched the coins and departed.
Tolos thrust his chin at Eliam. He repeated himself. “What happened?”
Eliam blew out a loud breath and shook his head. “They denied me.”
“They did not!” Tolos was obviously outraged in shock.
“They did, friend, they did.” Eliam dropped his hand to the table in weariness.
“But why?”
The former subcommander shook his head. “Make up a reason; it will be as good as any they gave me.”
Melaki felt sorry for his new hired help. There were too many wrongs in the world. Too many injustices.
The innkeeper returned with a jug marked with all kinds of notes and symbols. He set down three mugs. He gave a quick waggle of the eyebrows and departed.
Galli was looking at the jug. “If my ancient Atlantean is not too rusty, it says that a genie will pop out and curse us if we open this.”
Melaki snorted.
Tolos clapped Eliam on the shoulder. “Remember where I am. I will let you and your friends drink. We should talk more.”
Eliam watched Tolos return to a stool at the door. “He's a good man.”
Melaki said, “Uncork that jug, quick, and aim it at Eliam.”
Galli snickered.
“Oh you...” Eliam swiped a hand at the bald man and slapped at Melaki with the other.
The three chuckled with mirth as they poured up a round of drinks.
Their mirth was about to fade and become serious.
CHAPTER 8
Adaris escorted Elleri to the door of the inn. He glanced over as they made their way out, and then he froze.
Listen to your heart, she had said.
There, sitting at a table, were the two men from the records shop he wanted to aid him in his nefarious task. With them was a man dressed in the high ranked leathers of a subcommander, but wearing the blue of a citizen. Callacan soldiers wore white and black.
Elleri looked up at him. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, not at all. Pardon me for a few seconds?”
She nodded, worry on her brow.
He approached the table. The soldier tensed. Melaki and Galli regarded him and raised their cups. That motion made the soldier relax.
Adaris soaked it all in at a glance. So the soldier was their man. He gave a short bow. “If it please you, may I join you shortly?”
The wizard Melaki frowned and raised his cup again. “I suppose we could order a little more genie-juice.”
Galli laughed.
Adaris did not know the joke behind it so he ignored it. “I would escort my lady friend... home. Then I shall return?”
“Mmm,” said the wizard. “We shall be here.”
Adaris gave a nod, then rejoined Elleri and took her arm. Leaving the building, he was startled by a sudden sound above him. In the dim light, a raven sat perched, looking down at him.
A good omen. Listen to your heart.
“They usually do not come so close,” said Elleri. She clutched his arm tighter.
“Ravens are a good omen.”
“If you say.”
He looked at her. “I would not lie to you.”
“But neither do you tell me the whole truth.”
They spoke nothing and said nothing when he rapped on the door to her servant's quarters. He gave her arm a squeeze and they met eyes after she went inside.
Then the door shut.
He made his way back to the inn, weaving in and out of those who strolled on a humid and breezy evening. No one paid him any heed; it was a talent of his. Unseen, unheard, silent, sneaking, behind the view and notice of others. Just like his opinion.
The stern guard inside looked at him and then away.
Adaris pulled a chair and sat down heavily amidst three silent men of differing occupations. “I need a drink.”
Three smiles greeted him.
He never drank. Ever. It dulled his senses. He needed all his senses to perceive and interpret information. But tonight he wanted to drown all of the noise. He wanted to submerge the conscience. He wanted to murder the musings that said he was doing wrong.
A mug was placed down by the innkeeper and an extra jug, if smaller, was set next to it.
The bald man, Galli, reached over and poured him a drink.
Without thought, reservation, or fear, he snatched up the mug, amber liquid sloshing, and downed it all. He erupted in a series of coughs. The burn was incredible. What do people see in this vile liquid?
The three were laughing, Melaki on his right and the soldier on his left both slapping his back.
“My sorrow,” he said.
Galli pursed his lips and lidded his eyes, shaking his head. “It is a strong and good brew.”
“I suppose,” said the soldier, “that my associates know you. I am Eliam, formerly of the Royal Callacan Army.”
He blinked and swallowed. “I am Adaris, and of what position I know not.”
Galli squinted. “Information Agent, was it not?”
He gripped his mug tight. “I...”
Listen to your heart.
Galli poured his empty cup full.
He gripped it, tighter, his hand shaking. He lifted it, taking a gulp, but not draining it. His limbs shook with effort, but he was not sure what he was trying to do.
Eliam leaned over slowly, concern on his face. “I have seen that face. I have known that face, friend. The burden is not yours.”
How could this man know? Despite his wild white hair and his white beard, how could he know? Was he a wizard of sorts? Delving minds? “I--”
Listen to your heart.
The shaking increased. He did not know what was happening to him. He did not know what to do. Bubbling up from within his soul erupted a blubbering and forceful series of words that destroyed his life. “I. Can. Not.” Each word was punctuated by a clenched jaw, breath whistling through his teeth.
He lo
oked down, shamed, knowing he had thrown everything he had built away. His trust, his secretiveness, his value as an agent to the emperor.
Eliam said softly, “By the gods, man, nothing is worth the torment.--”
Adaris was shaking his head, but the words came out, flowing slow at first, then faster. And faster. “I can not. No more. I can not I can not I can not. I will not do it.”
Eliam's hand was on his forearm, Galli's hand on his mug hand, Melaki's hand on his other forearm. Concern, something with which he was unfamiliar, was on all their faces.
How could they know? Listen to your heart. But it was faint, distant, triumphant. Then it was gone.
Melaki withdrew his hand and made sure Adaris' mug was full. “Sounds like we are in for quite a story.”
* * *
Melaki shook his head. “That sounds like the recipe for total disaster.”
“You agree?” the wiry man named Adaris said.
“Absolutely. Why would the emperor throw away his only secure border? It is not even a gamble – it has no immediate pay-off. He proposes to cheat his ally and everything will be fine? Trusting that two or more steps down the line of disaster that things will sort themselves out?”
Adaris was wide-eyed, afraid, but nodding.
“At least a gamble has a chance of winning for those gambling. In this case, there is no win for Callacan, only suffering and setback. It sounds preposterous.”
“Oolan is convinced--”
“If the Vattonses are moving everything to confront the Altanleans of the Euskaldani, why bother with Callacan sending anything against him? The borders have been quiet.”
Adaris fiddled with his mug. “Indeed. The border between Tartessan and Vattonses has been quiet for two years. We do have troops there, but--”
“But none of it makes sense.” Melaki frowned into his mug and waved it at Galli.
His assistant looked at him sideways and poured him more.
“Ouch!” Melaki jumped. He turned on Galli. “Kick me again and I will make you urinate blue light.”
Eliam snorted.
Adaris said, “I do believe in the need to strike Vattonses, but I do not see how any of our nations could.”
Melaki turned back to him as Galli poured his drink. “And why do you think Vattonses needs to see war? And bloodshed? And death?”
“They are evil.”
“Has there not been enough war already?”
“But without war, how do you remove a demon?”
Melaki froze, mug halfway to mouth. “Demon?”
Galli sputtered. “Demon?”
Eliam blew out a breath and poured himself another drink.
Adaris nodded. “Lagash is demon in flesh.”
Melaki scowled. He knew of such evil. Even the Altanleans considered it the most vile evil. He thought back to facing off against a lich. Necromancy was like a first ward initiate's knowledge compared to the evil and power of a demon. Necromancy was magic – a twisted form of spirit magic. A demon in the flesh was a power unto himself on Earth, corrupting, twisting, controlling without having to call upon and control others to do it.
A first ward initiate produced a little blue light. A demon ate your soul.
Adaris shook his head. “But I can not cause so much deceit amongst allies to bring down this demon. The cost is all we hold dear.”
“Peace,” said Melaki.
Adaris nodded. “Peace.”
“There is enough war and death,” said Eliam.
Melaki looked into his mug. His visions had told him he had a purpose here in Cilenn. To help this man avoid damaging relations between countries? To help Adaris form an alternative to Oolan's? Why was any of them here? Fortune seemed to have given him companions of varied talents.
He felt nothing, though. No little voice telling him what to do, no vision, no dream. “What other methods had you in mind, Adaris?”
The man blinked and shook his head as if confused. “None. The intelligence does not support any option. No viable option exists. Unless we could magically create an army to march on Galvir, I just do not see how we can topple their empire.”
“I do not hesitate to say that I can not summon an army.”
Eliam burped. “You can get a raven to sit on your shoulder.”
* * *
The fat demon Goroth met with Ralial in the assigned place amidst the dwelling of the demon-ruler Pruflas. He looked around, idly, scratching at a roll of flab on his breast. They were alone for the moment amidst the columns that upheld the roof of the cavern. “I will lead the Atlanteans personally. They must succeed. How go your plans?”
Ralial glanced this way and that. “They go as planned.”
Goroth looked at the diminutive insect-demon. Has he just lied to me? I have no time to check on his veracity, and it is forbidden anyway. Best not to alert Pruflas before time. “See that it does. I need Lagash at maximum distraction. The Atlantean forces are strong, but will need much help.”
Ralial looked away. “Of course.”
* * *
Lagash revealed himself on the throne. No more need to pretend. No more need to hide. The fear is complete. The control is total.
His reptilian face and fiendish horns settled over a scaly body of black. His wings folded behind him, he crouched forward, giving them room. “I will begin needing blood sacrifices.”
The king's counselor gulped in front of him. A shaky nod told Lagash the man understood.
“Plans have been set in motion that disturb our power. I will need extra strength. Do not bring me the old or sick. I require youth and vitality. Bring me at least three every day.”
The old man nodded.
“When the battle starts, I shall require more. Prepare and see it done. Erect an altar of sacrifice, there.” He motioned with a talon.
The man looked behind him, huddled over, face pale.
Lagash would draw deep, drinking in the sacrifices' life essences and power. He knew Goroth stood against him. It was the way of demons. He knew he was weaker than Goroth, but the Atlantean demon-ruler was stretching his power; Lagash would only have to face a portion of Goroth's might. With the sacrifices, he would temporarily strengthen himself considerably. Perhaps even above the strength of Goroth.
The sacrifices would have to be consistent, steady, and constant.
* * *
Eliam dragged Melaki home that night. The wizard had been deep in thought and had not controlled the pace of his drinking. He knew when the wizard started singing with Galli that the night was over. “It is against the king's law to sing.”
Galli stumbled along beside him. “It is not.”
“We could have been imprisoned.”
Rishtu flapped overhead.
“Imprisoned?”
“Yes.”
Galli eyed him as if trying to detect the lie. “I have never heard of such--”
“The king takes a dim view of the kind of foment you two were producing.”
“Foment? What was our singing fomenting?”
“Riot. I believe I saw several patrons go pale and green.”
“What?”
“If I had not broke you two up from that horrid caterwauling, you would now be in chains, three levels below in the dungeons and forgotten by all but the rats.”
Galli sniffed. “I would expect you to dig us out.”
“Yes, my sword is a special make - made for digging through several paces of soil and stone to release two fools from prison.”
“Lucky us.”
Eliam grumbled.
“Oh now, we dragged you home last night.”
“I was not singing. I can not even call what you were doing singing.”
“No, you were reciting poetry to the barkeep's wife.”
“I was not.”
“You were, and it was awful. Several patrons were laughing so hard they were coughing up mead.”
“I refuse to believe--”
“Care to go back to that inn tomo
rrow?”
Eliam looked over at Galli, measuring. “Well, no. I suppose not.”
Melaki groaned on his shoulder.
“Do not drop him,” Galli said. “I have his other two robes out for laundering.”
“I will kick you.”
Galli chuckled at the threat. “What do you think of Adaris?”
“Troubled man with a troubling task. I do not envy him.”
“Neither I.”
Eliam glanced at Melaki's bowed head. “He grew quiet after Adaris told his tale and then drank faster.”
“Not a good sign,” said Galli.
“Why?”
“It means he's thinking.”
“What does his attempt at singing signify?”
“That he drank too much.”
“I thought that was rather obvious.”
Galli looked perturbed. “Then why did you ask?”
Eliam heaved a sigh and heaved Melaki homeward faster.
CHAPTER 9
Melaki rubbed his eyes at his desk and groaned. He normally was not hung over with drink. While having fun drinking with friends, he was always very cautious. But what Adaris had said ate at him.
A Vattonses evil, a demon-in-flesh, was worrisome for everyone on the Iberian Peninsula.
I will consider myself tonight. Such a mistake will not happen again. A few drinks, a few laughs, then home. It was his way. It would do no good at all to be drunk because he could not control himself. His magic would be useless.
He pinched a parchment and pulled it toward him. Gingerly picking up a quill, he dipped it in ink and tapped.
The demon needs to be removed but none of the countries against it can muster the forces. Disaster for the entire peninsula was in the making. Suffering beyond imagination.
He realized the quill was still at the edge of the bottle and his mind had wandered. He dipped it back in and tapped again.
He thought back to Mokura the Lich. Just a single necromancer with a good grasp of power and its use had set back an entire Altanlean army and a necromancer only harnessed magic, bad magic from the spirits. The demon in Galvir was in the flesh, more powerful than any lich. Melaki had defeated Mokura by tricking her magic. But demons did not use magic, they were raw spirit force.
The Melaki Chronicle Volume II Page 7
