“For the mage inside if he gives you trouble,” Toma said.
“What, do you want me to sprinkle this in his porridge when he isn’t looking?”
“Gods, that would be perfect, but no. Throw it at him. Preferably before he explodes you.”
Ryker eyed the pouch as he passed it back and forth between his hands. “What will it do?”
“I, er, I’m not sure,” Toma said. “It should stop him though. Somehow. Leonid wasn’t too sure of the mixture’s results either. Had a lack of test subjects.”
“Piking wonderful,” Ryker muttered. A tree trunk of an arm hit him in the back. He looked over and saw Alek, still with that golden aura around him.
“Aw cheer up sir. The three of us could probably take the Citadel. Garm’s blade, my brawn, your...um, handsome visage. Nothing can stop all that.”
“Yeah yeah,” Ryker said. He gathered up his weapons, leaving the rest of his kit on the ground. He turned towards the direction of the manor house and motioned to Garm and Alek in the dim light. “Come on then. If I don’t get killed in the next half hour I’d like some decent breakfast after.”
“Gods watch your backs,” Ryker heard Vegard said as the three Outriders walked towards the manor. Ryker really hoped the gods were listening today.
Though the sun was still hidden behind the horizon, the sky was a dark violet with early rays of light cracking the night.. In the dim light, the three Outriders were able to make their way with ease through the sliver of forest remaining between them and the small vegetable fields that surrounded the manor, making no effort to conceal themselves. In fact, Alek and and Ryker found themselves quickly adopting Garm’s confident bearing and did their best to give off the authority that he did.
“Listen,” Garm said as they walked, “you two keep an eye on things behind me, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” Alek said. “But just what will be going on in front of you?”
“Not sure yet,” Garm replied.
“Wait, you told Johan you had a plan to get us in,” Ryker said quietly. “You do right? Actually have a plan more than this? This whole ‘just knock and waltz in’ bullshit was just bravado, right?”
“Well sir, if I can’t bluff or intimidate us in, then we’ll just do things the old fashioned way. We are armed, right?”
“Planes,” Ryker swore. Next to him, Alek chuckled but didn’t say anything further. They emerged from the woods and saw that the house almost exactly how Toma had described it. The manor was a large, three floored structure, shaped like a large, rectangular horseshoe. The main doorway was located in the far back of the courtyard, created by the large wings of the house. The wings of the manor had an eerily inviting appearance, reaching forwards as if to embrace anyone approaching. The walls were clean, cut stone painted a dark orange hue, with brightly whitewashed window frames. Nothing about the house hinted at the criminal mastermind that inhabited it. Ryker could almost picture a large family living there, toiling alongside their hired help. Would he end up such a man one day? Farm life may be a simple life, he mused, but it would be a good one, right? Yeah, and boring as hell. No thank you.
Almost immediately upon walking out of the woods, calls of challenge rang out from the Underking’s guards. “That was fast,” Ryker whispered, his mind snapping back into focus as his hand unconsciously went to his sword. “We’d have been pin cushioned quickly if we had just charged.”
“Yeah, Yue never played around with security,” Garm mumbled. He raised his hands up, as did Alek. Ryker reluctantly did the same, and the three of them walked from the small fields into the courtyard.
Three guards walked out to meet them from the courtyard, their weapons drawn. Garm kept walking towards them, making no effort to draw his own blade, so Alek and Ryker followed suit.
“Just keep quiet,” Garm muttered. “Try and look the part.”
“What part?” Ryker whispered back, but Garm didn’t have time to respond.
The lead guard of the three planted his feet in the ground, flanked by his two comrades. All of them wore mail with heavy gloves and boots, their faces concealed by leather and cloth masks. They all also bore simple spears, which were now pointed waist-level at Garm.
“You have one minute to convince me not to have you all run through and fed to the hogs,” the lead guard said, his voice that of a young man. Ryker looked up at the manor and saw two archers, with arrows drawn, on the roof of the manor. He felt a gentle throbbing in his mind, and something told him there was at least one other archer concealed behind them. This was getting better and better.
“At least you’re to the point,” Garm grunted. “Kid, we are here to see Yue. He's expecting us. We're from the Vonderhall clique, we have payment due and we intend to see it in his hands before breakfast.” The lead guard remained silent, and with his face concealed Ryker couldn’t tell how successful Garm’s bluff was. A cold sweat had started to drip its way down his spine, and Ryker hoped it wasn’t soaking through his clothes. That would be undignified, especially for the second in command.
“Look kid,” Garm continued, “we wouldn’t have even known to come here if Kian hadn’t okayed it. Did he not send a bird or a runner ahead of us?”
The guard didn’t respond immediately, and Ryker’s hand twitched as it gripped his sword hilt. Finally, the guard turned his head to one side. “Go fetch the Eyes,” he said, and Ryker swore he heard uncertainty in his voice. The guard on the left turned and ran back towards the house. Garm turned to Ryker and Alek and flashed them a quick look. It was probably meant to put them at ease, Ryker supposed, but it only made him more tense. Alek, Planes take him, looked bored. He had strolled to a small vegetable bed nestled up against one of the manor walls. He actually stooped and pulled a root or vegetable of some kind out of the ground, sniffed it, and took a bite out of it. He stood there, chewing thoughtfully as he eyed the guards.
A long minute passed before the guard returned, with a thin, older man with him. The man wore unassuming clothes, and had a pair of thick spectacles sitting on his thin nose. The man halted a few paces from the group, disbelief and shock on his face. He removed his spectacles and squinted his eyes as if disbelieving what they reported.
“Planes…” he said, putting his spectacles back on. “Garm is…is that you?”
“Hey Gnoll,” Garm said, his voice anything but friendly, “good to see you. Guess you finally got that promotion, yeah?”
“Uh, yes, I did.” The man called Gnoll took a hesitant step towards them. “Been a, uh, long time Garm. Didn’t expect you here.”
Garm shrugged. “Me neither. My boys here and I have payment to give to Yue.”
Gnoll’s eyes widened slightly. “Um, you can give it to me, you know. You don’t have to do it this way. I’ll, uh, see that he gets it.”
“You know I can’t do that, Gnoll. I’ve got debts to pay, and I need to see them paid in person. I think you understand where I’m coming from more than most.”
The silence that descended was tense. The guards’ posture suddenly looked less threatening to Ryker, and as he looked at them, he knew they were growing unsure of what was about to happen. It was suddenly like he was tracking Kian through the streets again. He could look at the three guards and Gnoll and know things about them. He somehow knew, for example, that the lead guard’s heartbeat was intensifying. Ryker also knew that the guard on the right was left-handed, and based on his posture and bearing he wasn’t a skilled fighter. Gnoll was looking at Garm, and Ryker could almost feel the storm of uncertainty and inner conflict brewing within the man. Seeing Garm had caused something to surface in the man, something that had been long submerged, and he struggled with it now. And the uncertainty was affecting the other guards. The longer Gnoll remained quiet, the more agitated the other guards were becoming. Even the two archers who were covering them from the rooftop had put their arrows away and simply watched.
“Fine,” Gnoll said at last, dragging the word out of his throat. “Let’
s go see Yue. Together.” He turned and walked back towards the manor house. The Outriders followed, with the Underking’s three guards behind them. Gnoll knocked once on the large, ornate double doors and they opened with a creak of old hinges and heavy wood. As the doors opened in front of them, Ryker had a momentary sense of deja vu but it passed quickly. He could almost hear the Voice chuckling within him.
The inside of the manor was just that; the inside of a well-appointed home. There were no grisly trophies, no sinister men lurking in corners, no sign that this was the home of a criminal empire. The walls were paneled with dark wood, and richly woven rugs lined the floors. The the house was lit with soft chemical lights and lanterns. The house seemed quite comfortable and actually reminded Ryker of the old house in Newcomb Square that the Outriders had used in the past. It was very similar in layout, only much larger and of finer make.
As soon as they were inside Gnoll turned to them, his face twitching nervously.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave your weapons here, Garm.” Garm said nothing, he merely folded his arms in front of his chest and fixed Gnoll with a stone faced glare. Ryker had to give the little man credit. He didn’t fold under that gaze. Ryker could almost feel the pulses of the three guards behind them intensify as they drew their weapons. “Garm please,” Gnoll said, almost pleading. “You of all people know I can’t let you see him armed. This is...your only chance at this.”
The standoff ended faster than it had begun. Garm shrugged and unslung his greatsword from his back and unsheathed his legion sword, setting them both on the ground. He did not remove his gauntlets, Ryker noticed. That was good. Alek set his own sword down, and Ryker followed suit. They all still had knives on them, of course, and Alek never really needed a weapon. Ryker’s hand unconsciously brushed the small pouch containing Toma’s dust at his belt also. He still had that, for whatever good it would do.
Gnoll looked relieved, and Ryker could tell the guards behind them loosened up and re-sheathed their own weapons. “Thank you, Garm,” he said.
“Just here to do a job,” Garm said. “Personal reasons aren’t entering into this.”
Gnoll blinked at that, but said nothing. He turned and led them up the grand staircase which ran through the center of the manor. It had landings on the second and third floor with platforms looking down onto the ground floor. It was pretty, Ryker thought, but he also saw the tactical utility. The upper floors could rain any number of defensive measures down onto the first floor with ease. Garm had been right, he realized. Trying to take this place head-on, even with the element of surprise, would have probably ended very very badly for them.
The three guards continued their escort of the Outriders, but Ryker sensed that they were much more relaxed inside their house. It made sense. Only those most trusted by the Underking would be allowed into his private residence, no one there would dare think of causing trouble here. As Ryker looked over at Garm and Alek, he had to suppress a shiver of anticipation. Even without weapons, those two could cause a lot of trouble.
“So,” Garm said as he took in the scenery, “seems like things have been going well for the old gang since I’ve been gone.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Gnoll said, never turning his head. “There have been a lot of contracts lately. We’ve even got people off-continent. Officially no less, with the seal of the city-state of Skyton.”
Garm whistled. “Things have changed.”
“Yeah. Yeah…but maybe not for the better,” Gnoll said quietly as they reached the third floor landing. “Contracts may be coming from more and more legitimate people these days, but the work is becoming much more vicious. People are losing their respect for subtlety and cunning it seems, choosing instead the blunt approach instead. Our contracts to maim or kill are far outweighing our other, more creative, services. I think we are being used more as a cheaper alternative to hiring the Order of the Crimson Fang or the Daughters. Using us still affords some measure of prestige, no matter the job, but we aren't being as discriminatory in selecting the jobs offered to us.” He paused for a moment, looking at Garm. “Gods, I miss the days when it was just us out to rob the world. Seemed much…cleaner back then, you know?” Gnoll paused for a moment. “Sorry, I, uh, I’m rambling.”
Garm said nothing, instead looking over the dark wood railing on the third floor landing.
“Right,” Gnoll said. “Come on, Yue is just down this hall.”
Gnoll led them down the dark hallway, their destination the only door at the end. As they approached the door to the Underking’s chambers, Ryker again felt the vertigo from his dreams. He hoped it wouldn’t happen every time he approached a door. It was getting tiresome. The vertigo distracted Ryker for but a moment, and when his senses cleared up he realized there were no guards near them. None by the door, and their three guard escort had left them at the stairs. The odds had tilted greatly in their favor now. If he could somehow grab the Underking and use him as a shield, with Garm and Alek running interference, they just might make it.
They halted for a moment in front of the door as Gnoll knocked. The door opened from the inside, and Gnoll led them in. The Underking’s room was lit a soft orange from three ornate alchemical crystals affixed to the walls. The room was dominated by a large table piled high with ledgers and rolled papers. Behind the table was a tall man in a simple tunic and robe. Ryker started when he realized it wasn’t a man, it was the Underking.
“Hells, he’s a sifar,” Ryker whispered, hand going to where his sword would be despite himself.
“Very astute,” the Underking said, his eyes set on Garm.
The Underking was tall for a sifar, taller even than Alek. But he was thin, almost unhealthily so. The gray skin and dark brown eyes of the sifar only added to the unhealthy look. He raised a spindly hand, with long fingers extended.
“I’d offer you a seat,” the Underking said, his voice a strong tenor, “but why waste the effort. You've developed a habit of spiting me despite my hospitality.”
“Hospitality. That isn't exactly the word I'd use,” Garm growled. Ryker thought he heard, or else the Phaedra within him heard, something else in Garm’s voice. Contempt mixed with pain? That couldn’t be right. Not from Garm.
An uncomfortable silence descended, oppressive as the humidity from a bog. Garm and the Underking had locked eyes, their throats tight as if a struggle for a knife had broken out, unseen by everyone else. Alek was looking around the room, seemingly oblivious to the situation. And Ryker found himself sharing a look with Gnoll, who was sweating profusely.
“Can we just get this over with?” Ryker asked, finally breaking the silence. “Awkward silences were never my thing.
“Fair enough,” the Underking replied, not taking his eyes off of Garm. “Gnoll? Fetch Blackwood for me. And then wait outside. This won’t be much longer.”
Gnoll swallowed, bowed his head, and quickly let himself out, making no attempt to hide his desire to escape the room. Ryker was envious. The Underking stirred, sitting down behind the table. He crossed one long, thin leg over the other, his hands folded into his lap. Alek made a move, almost imperceptible, but Garm held up a hand. The Underking smiled.
“So. you have your own little crew now. Is that what gave you the stones to finally decide to come back?”
“I’ve owed you a return visit for a while now,” Garm said, his teeth grinding. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, Yue. I walked away, you could have too. Instead it’s been fifteen years and you still send your ‘messengers’.” Garm spat on the floor. “Always got to be heard, yeah?” Ryker almost flinched at the venom in his comrade’s voice.
The Underking simply shrugged. “As of last year, nine assassination attempts in total. All of them professional, all of them expensive. You should be honored. No other pet project of mine has required the expenditure of so much time and resources. Though I must admit, however, that the heat of ...that particular moment has passed long ago. Now when I order men to
kill you, it’s rather low on my daily list of priorities.” The Underking suppressed a yawn. “Usually as I’m ordering breakfast. Trying to kill you is now just routine. The anger, the thrill is gone. Yet it must be done, no matter the cost.”
“That’s poor business, squandering resources on a petty vendetta. You should know better.”
“On the contrary, it is very good business. Now everyone who works for me knows there is no statute of limitations on betrayal, Garm.” The door opened behind them, and Ryker and Alek whirled around. Garm, to his credit, did not turn his back on the Underking. The man who walked through was straight out of a clichéd storybook. Ryker couldn’t tell whether to be afraid of the man, or to laugh at him for his awful taste. He had jet black hair slicked backwards, a painstakingly trimmed goatee, and wore a ridiculous purple robe. In one hand he carried an oversized tome, stuffed with bookmarks of various fabrics and types. He glided past Alek and Ryker with practiced arrogance and took his place around the table behind the Underking.
“Ah, Blackwood. So good of you to join us at this early hour.”
The man bowed his head slightly. “But of course,” he replied, his accent generically foreign. Ryker rolled his eyes. He would have simply punched the man on principal as he walked past but for the strong aura he saw around the man. For all his terrible attempts at theatricality, the man had magic in him, and that made him dangerous. Ryker again rested his hand next to Toma’s pouch. He would find out soon enough if it worked.
Yet Ryker didn’t act. Not yet. Something was telling him to let whatever it was between Garm and the Underking play out before leaping into typical foolhardy heroics. Alek must have felt it too, as he also held his ground, instead of casually backhanding that ponce wizard Blackwood into the wall as he walked past.
“I take it this is the employee who has caused you such hurt?” Blackwood asked, his voice oozing deference while his face contorted into practiced anger.
Gods, Ryker thought, even his mannerisms were out of a child’s tale.
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 23
