“Garm, Alek, go get him,” Johan said. Almost immediately, the pair shot past him in a blur. They collided with the three deformed men, Garm’s greatsword glinting in the reflected light of Toma’s lamp. Garm, standing in the way of the man with the eyes, brought his blade downward in a killing chop and the man brought up his hands as if to ward away the blow. But to Johan’s surprise, the man deflected the blade with two bone-like claws looked to have ripped their way out of the man's wrists here his hands should have been. The monster staggered somewhat under the force of Garm’s blow who, not missing a beat, whirled and sliced off one of the man-creature’s legs. The monster grimaced as if in great pain, but uttered no sound as it fell. It thrashed as it struggled to stand, but a second downward chop severed its head clean off, its too-thick blood oozing on the cobblestones.
The first creature Alek reached, Underbite, was met with a full-force kick to the chest. There was a sickening crunching sound as the creature flew backwards out of the light. Bandage Head lashed out with one of its hands, its odd-numbered digits each ending in curved bone protrusions. Alek easily sidestepped the attack, but was caught unawares by Bandage Head’s other arm, it's thick, fleshy cord which snaked around his neck and began to constrict. Johan saw that Alek’s face was more surprised than in pain, but try as he might, he couldn’t rip free. Before the creature could bring its claw around on its snared prey, Garm’s heavy blade again flashed out, severing the appendage from its misshapen owner. Alek, now free, turned to the monster and with a tremendous blow clotheslined it to the ground. The monster spun heels over head and landed in a heap on the ground, where Garm found its neck with his blade.
The whole affair took less than a minute, quick enough where the other Outriders wouldn’t have been able to contribute much. The Underking, to his credit, hadn’t tried to escape during the melee. He simply stood before Johan, wounded in multiple places and nursing his injured arm. His hood was down and, framed against the night sky, it was hard for Johan to make sense of his alien features. The other Outriders surrounded him, and eventually Garm and Alek returned to the group.
“Well, since it would be unwise for any of us to remain in this part of the city, let us cut to the chase, and it being obvious who among you is in charge, I will address this to you” the Underking said, looking Johan in the eyes. “I surrender.”
It took a second for the words to register with Johan. “Excuse me? Ah, you’ll forgive me if I’m a little hesitant to take you at face value. You don’t necessarily have the most sterling of reputations.”
The Underking nodded, as if hearing what he wanted to hear. “Indeed. Under most circumstances, you’d be correct to treat my words as dubious. However, I quite enjoy living. And it has since become apparent that my previous escorts were unable to provide me adequate protection, you now have the distinction of delivering me into protective custody. Assuming, of course, that we can escape this city.”
“Just why did Kinnese meet with you? What the hells is happening here?” Johan demanded. He hated to just blurt out questions like this, but he wanted some kind of answer before the next unexpected surprise.
“Commander,” the Underking said, “surely you can agree that this is neither the time, nor the place, for such a discussion. Dangerous creatures are prowling these streets.” He cast a sidelong glance at Garm, who was staring so intensely at the Underking that Johan thought he may burst a blood vessel.
“Fine.” Johan turned to Garm. “Bind the prisoner. See that no undue harm comes to him. Am I understood?”
The change in Garm’s temperament was abrupt. Gone was the unquenchable flames of hatred, replaced by the usual stern, dutiful expression. He searched through one of his coat pockets and drew out a thin cord, which he used to bind the Underking’s hands together.
“Don’t worry Yue,” Garm said quietly, “if you aren’t safe with me, you aren’t safe anywhere.”
The Underking didn’t respond, but Johan swore he saw the sifar stiffen at Garm’s words. Johan turned to Ryker, who was standing off to the side, his eyes searching the darkness for more of those creatures.
“Rye, we gotta get out of here.”
Ryker turned and smiled weakly. “Sure chief, yeah.”
“When we get back to Coula, safely out of this place, you’re going to-” Johan’s words died on his tongue as large, deformed shadows shifted in the darkness beyond them. Darker patches in the night air. Glints of reflected light from overlarge eyes moved through the streets towards them.
All of the Outriders drew their blades again and for a moment unconsciously formed an orbis, the circle formation of last resort, with the Underking their precious cargo within the circle. Alek and Toma scanned their lights across the darkness around them, but there was nothing stirring in their immediate vicinity. Only the crumpled bodies of the three monsters they had encountered already.
“This whole city is lost,” the Underking said.
“Shut up, Yue,” Garm spat.
“Please tell me that it wasn’t just me who noticed those monsters looked like that man Griffon at the gate,” Vegard said, nervousness in his voice. “Same diseased, oversized appendages, same dull, unfocused eyes.”
“Yeah but he could talk,” Toma said. “Those three...things didn’t make a sound, even though it looked like they really wanted to.”
“The guards around him never uttered a sound,” Vegard said. “And we couldn’t see their skin or their faces under their armor and helmets.”
“Stow it you two,” Ryker said, stepping back into his role as second. “We get to the horses, we get the pike out of this city, and we deliver our prisoner to the Judicators. That is all we focus on.”
“Yes sir,” they said, almost simultaneously, and as a unit they all began hurrying back the way they had originally came, with the Underking not needing a push or prod to get out of there.
Johan was surprised by his own reaction. He didn’t feel anxious or frightened. There was simply a dull ache of exhaustion and annoyance where he thought he’d find fear. Was he really becoming so calloused to the dangers of this world? It didn’t matter, really, he thought. Just one more aspect of this day that just kept getting better and better.
Nerthus felt a familiar chill as she descended deeper into Titus’ cellar. She moved silently, her boots barely making a scuffing sound on the thin carpet. A handful of doors had stood in her way, but their unassuming locks were no match for her expertise. Or for her intricate lockpick. With each satisfying clink of a lock springing open, the air became more frigid. The cold she felt was nowhere near as intense it was at the warehouse, but it still assured her that she was on the right path. What she would find at the end of that path, however, was a mystery.
Nerthus had so far encountered only one other person. A member of the wait staff, a young girl, had almost run into her as Nerthus stole away from the privy. The two of them had simply shared a look and the girl turned and scurried off. News of her hurried rush through the kitchen traveled fast, Nerthus thought with a grin.
The narrow hallway she was in, just past the kitchen area, was lined with small doors. Behind each were pantries, supply closets, moldy furniture, and empty rooms. Nerthus was thorough as she searched through every room with the speed of an experienced burglar. She didn’t care about leaving any sign of theft. She didn’t plan on remaining in the city for more than an hour. There was a noticeable lack of people, especially just one hallway away from the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. The sudden quiet, coupled with the increasing chill, kept her senses primed and ready.
The lack of guards spoke to a number of factors on Titus’ part. Overconfidence was Nerthus’ first guess. A privileged politician like Titus probably thought of himself above suspicion. Indeed, even his victims, the various unions of Bellkeep, held him blameless. It didn’t hurt that he apparently had the City Watch in his back pocket. Why place guards in a house that no one can get to without his permission?
As the chill grew ar
ound her, Nerthus thought of another reason why Titus had no guards down there. The effects of the crystals Titus was using to create his army of monsters, while not something that takes effect immediately, certainly wouldn’t be good for anyone in the long term. Without realizing it, Nerthus quickened her step going from room to room. She had no intention of becoming anyone’s puppet.
Seven rooms had surrendered their secrets to her, but none of them were what Nerthus was after. She had begun to think that perhaps the answers were up instead of down when the final door she opened, after a particularly surly lock refused to budge, exposed a wide, well-lit staircase leading down to another level. Nerthus sped down the stairs, lit by hanging alchemical lights, and felt the cold intensifying with every step downwards she took.
Chapter Twenty
A blast of cold air slapped her across the face as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Nerthus breathed deep, her shoulders hunched as her body reacted to the cold. Focusing, Nerthus straightened herself out and took stock of her new surroundings. The stairway had deposited her into a wide room, deeper than the other rooms she had searched. The walls were decorated with richly embroidered tapestries of various patterns, and framed by dark brown beams of wood. Bookshelves leaned against the wall to her left, stuffed with old tomes with burst bindings. A large, well-upholstered chair was next to them, a book left open on its comfortable looking cushion. A stocked bar, and three more chairs were clustered around a table with a thin, red tablecloth. A vase with dry, wilted flowers sat atop the table. If it wasn’t for the deathly cold air, the room would have been cozy. A favorite den, or a private retreat from society.
The wall directly across from the staircase was dominated by a large workbench. Tools, both familiar and unfamiliar, were strewn across it. Empty flasks and beakers were suspended over unlit burners. Sheaths of paper were stacked off to one side. Shards of what looked like faded green glass were spread out in the center of the bench, with one complete crystal sitting on a small wireframe holder. The crystal wasn’t blue, nor was it glowing like the one at the warehouse, but it looked the same. The size of a small apple, jagged crystalline ridges rising upwards like stalagmites.
Next to the crystal shards was what Nerthus could only describe as a large golden disk. It was slightly smaller than a serving tray, with concentric rings of different metals embedded within the gold. She could see a ring of copper, a ring of what looked like bronze, and a number of other metals she couldn’t readily identify. The bottom quarter of the plate was scorched, with the metal rings warped and blackened. This must have come from the devastated area of the Craftsman District.
Nerthus hurried over to the bench, drawing out Egveny’s handkerchief, and draped it over the crystal. The effect in the room was immediate. The cold sensation vanished, as if Nerthus had just closed a window facing a winter storm. She quickly scanned the sheaths of paper as she folded up the crystal and placed it in one of her pouches. The papers all seemed to be diagrams of one sort or another. While she could read the original writing on the paper, a different hand had written notes all over the diagrams in a script she didn’t understand. Not dwelling on the notes or their possible meaning, Nerthus folded the papers delicately into small squares, secreting them into different pockets around her person.
The gold disk presented a problem. It just begged to be taken, but it was simply too large for her to conceal in one of her bags. Nerthus’ mind raced. She picked up the disk, using her mecharm, and found it deceptively heavy.
“Eh, pike it,” she mumbled. Setting the disk down, she hurried over to the small table and in one brisk motion pulled the tablecloth off, sending the vase and its contents to the ground. Back at the workbench, she hastily wrapped the disk in the cloth and shoved it under her arm. If any of the staff questioned her, she was sure she could cow them with her aristocratic glare.
Nerthus turned back to the staircase, confident that she had found what she had come for. As she flew up the stairs, she kept her mecharm at the ready. This had seemed far too easy, but she wouldn’t complain so long as they were able to escape this godsforsaken city. She only hoped that Edda was able to learn something while mingling with the other guests.
Edda hadn’t learned a damn thing talking to the other guests at the party, and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep up the mask of giving a shit. As soon as Nerthus had taken off with that poor waiter, Edda had attempted to start or join conversations with other guests. She found that the other guests either politely disengaged themselves from talking to her, or ignored her altogether. Watching as Egveny had struck up some sort of discussion with the two greenish Forn and another two guests, Edda sighed, blowing a renegade strand of hair out of her face.
Though her memory still refused to open itself up to her further, Edda could feel, to the marrow of her being, that she didn’t belong in these high society settings. It was as if her social standing had some sort of muscle memory of its own and, alone in a room of the wealthy and noble, she knew she shouldn’t be there. However, she found herself savoring each sensation she encountered now, tumbling them over in her mind. Every smell, every sound, every texture she touched may somehow trigger another memory. She found herself cradling a small grain of hope within her frustrated mind.
“You look to be as miserable here as I am,” a voice said behind her. Edda turned, her best faux smile on her face, and found herself face to face with Captain Gustav. The cruel man seemed both bored and amused with himself.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m miserable, Captain,” Edda said, batting her eyes. “Simply bereft of conversation at the moment. But you have saved me from my distress.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” Gustav replied, taking a proffered drink from a passing waiter. Edda declined, and Gustav raised an eyebrow at her as he downed the fizzy concoction. “Not finding the refreshment to your liking, my Consortium friend?”
“Too many bubbles. I’m more a hale and wyrmsblood girl myself,” Edda responded.
Gustav nodded. “I agree with you there. I’m not a fan of this stuff either. Prefer a good, dry mead. The bubbles in this junk indeed aggravate me. That and, well, the poison disagrees with my stomach.”
Edda blinked at the man. “My pardon, Captain, but did you just say-”
“Oh yes. Everything here is lined with it.” Gustav smiled cruelly. “Not to worry though. ‘Poison’ is perhaps too strong a word. Heavy sedative, perhaps? I need you all alive. Good and docile for what happens later tonight. Especially you and your Umbra friends.”
Edda took a step backwards, containing her shock. “Captain, I believe you are mistaken, we-”
Gustav waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Enough with the deception. We know it was you that attacked one of our nests, and that you brought down our ward net. I had considered simply killing you at your inn, but I was persuaded to let you arrive here tonight unmolested so you can share in the mission we have planned for your fellow guests.” Gustav’s eyes slid up and down Edda’s body, and she suppressed a shudder. “Yes, there are many uses we can put you to.”
“Why tell me this?” Edda asked flatly, her hands darting to her concealed weapons.
“Because it pleases me to do so,” Gustav smirked. “To know that your last few moments of consciousness will be spent in panic delights me. Now, by all means, go tell your associates. They'll know what is about to happen soon enough, but I'd appreciate you sowing a little more panic.” Gustav set his glass down on the tray of another passing waiter, turned and walked amongst another knot of guests.
Edda took a second to compose herself. Her facial expression had never let its false politeness slip, but her heart was now beating with the force of a kettledrum in her chest. Her eyes flickered to more members of the City Watch, unobtrusively appearing out of side doors and standing out of the way of the guests. Turning behind her, she saw that the main doorway had been closed, with three Watchmen standing in front of it. The trap was about to be sprung, Edda kn
ew, and she didn’t see any way to get out of it.
Doing her best to maintain her dignity, Edda hurried over to Egveny, who was still speaking with the Forn. The woman dressed like a high-priced harlot seemed completely entranced by what Egveny was talking about, whereas her large, musclebound stable hand seemed bored until he saw Edda approach.
“I am sorry to interrupt your conversation dear brother,” Edda said, her voice sweet, “but I really need a moment.”
“I, ah, but,” Egveny stammered, his eyes lingering on the Forn woman before turning to Edda. When he saw the look on her face, he sighed. “Of course sister, what is it.”
Edda took him by the arm and dragged him a few feet away. “We're in the shit now. Gustav knows who we really are. Told me we only have a few minutes before whatever piking hell they have prepared gets dumped on us.”
Egveny looked up and around the room, as if for the first time. The Weaver blinked a few times, and one hand went to the small pocket watch attached to the slim gold chain in his pocket. “Have you seen Nert yet?” he asked as he looked at the watch.
“No. They may already have her,” Edda replied, her eyes now on Egveny’s watch. It had a , number of extra knobs than other timepieces she had encountered. “What is that?”
“Our ticket home, if it comes to it,” Egveny said as he manipulated the small knobs. He stopped suddenly, as if pricked by a thorn. “Oh no. We just ran out of time.”
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 33
