Victory forced a smile. “Hello, Jenna, so good to see you again. We were hoping to have a word with your father.” He greeted her by name hoping to win a bit of mercy. He hadn’t actually seen her since his days in the Academy, and they hadn’t been friends then, but there was always a slim chance.
“I’m sure he will have several words for you,” she shot back and motioned to the guards. “Disarm them and bring them along.” Two of the guards moved forward at her command. The other two kept their crossbows trained. Despite what all was said of the mercenaries of the Warrens, they were quite well trained.
With a hand raised for them to pause, Victory quickly unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over to the closest guard. “We have no desire to fight. We only wish to speak with Graves,” he said calmly and motioned for Havoc to follow suit.
“Not as if I really need weapons to kill you,” Havoc said with a shrug, as he removed his own swords and daggers and handed them over readily.
“Did you really need to add that fact?” Victory asked him through clenched teeth.
“Not really, I suppose. The bloody big hole in their gate should pass that fact on nicely enough,” Havoc replied, nonplussed.
“That gate held Barllen in it. I’m sure my father will be curious to know how you managed to bring it down with magic,” Jenna cut in before they could continue their discussion.
“I’m Firym,” Havoc replied to her with a scoff as if he couldn’t believe she would ask such a foolish question.
Victory let out a long sigh and looked to Jenna. “Milady, would you please escort us to your father now? We will do our best to answer whatever questions he might have.”
“Escort? That sounds so nice and polite, almost as if you were guests. You attacked our gates, Victory. That makes you unarmed enemies, which are now my prisoners.” She smirked and motioned to her guards. Without another word, the closest man seized Victory and brought his hands roughly back behind him, binding them quickly with shackles. He felt the cold metal bite into his wrists and then the deeper cold as the magic began to seep out of him. Barllen shackles he realized and cursed the inventor of the damned metal. He would be lucky if he could open a scry by the time they reached Graves.
“Victory might be so nice and obliging, but if you try to put those on me, I’ll cook you,” Havoc warned the guard approaching him. “I may die, but I promise you that you will die first, and likely your three friends as well.” He looked to Jenna and smiled. “You know I will, too, so call off your dog, and I’ll walk along peacefully.”
She seemed to consider him for a moment, and Victory saw her eyes flicker to the ruined mess of the gates. “Leave him unshackled but keep a close eye on him. He is dangerous,” she said with resignation.
Havoc let out a snort and smiled. “Obviously,” he agreed.
Victory kicked him lightly in the shin. “Diplomacy you ass,” he hissed.
Havoc raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he pointed out. “That is about as diplomatic as I get. Don’t blame me for this. Blame Caspian. He is the one that made you bring me.”
“If I survive this, I’m requesting a new partner,” Victory grumbled, sounding childish even to himself.
“Sure you are, just like you were going to when I got us arrested in Avanti, or when I started that brawl on the docks in the Greenwild. Or how about that time I set the entire southern district of traders on fire in Norvan.” He continued to drone on, and Victory blocked him out. He kept his attention on the tunnels they were being led through, rather than his partner’s list of idiocy. That particular bit, he knew all too well. He saw Jenna glance back a few times, each time her expression growing a bit more concerned, as Havoc continued his list of deeds that had earned him his name. Victory suppressed a smile. If Havoc meant to unnerve her, he was doing an excellent job. By the time they reached Graves, she would either demand him killed on the instant or have them both expelled from the city.
They hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile from the gate before the tunnel opened into a cavern so large the ceiling and walls were lost in shadows. They were on a slight rise and the area commanded an impressive view of the entire city. It had been divided into neat districts with perfectly straight streets running through them. It was a welcome sight after the maze above to see such order. He could clearly pick out the merchant district as well as the housing, and closest to them was obviously the military quarter, where troops were training below in perfect precision.
A thick musk rose from that area as well, a sure indication that the Warrens Calvary was quartered there. Grave’s mercenaries were famous for the beasts. He scanned the area until he found one of the creatures. He had never actually seen one before. He had read of them, of course, but that was hardly the same. Overall, the creature had the build of a very large wolverine with thick grey hair covering its body, hiding the tightly compacted muscles below. He searched his memory for the proper name for the beast and after a moment was rewarded for his years of study at the Academy. Zyvrine, they were called. A creature from beyond the barrier, and according to the history books they were capable of tunneling through stone faster than most horses could run. He found that hard to believe but decided here was not the best place to dispute the fact. It was said Graves could have his Zyvrine riders under a battlefield, and not even a skilled earth mage could detect them. It was their crowning glory as well as infamy. It was well known that the mercenaries of the Warrens did not fight fair.
He lost sight of the beast as Jenna continued to lead them through the city. Soldiers paused in their training as they made their way through, and Victory noted that not a single expression was a friendly one. Despite how many times they had gotten lost on their way down here, it was quite possible that getting in here was going to be much easier than getting out. He paid careful attention to the buildings they passed, memorizing every turn and landmark that he could spot. By Havoc’s silence, he guessed his partner had come to the same conclusion. Though in a pinch, Havoc’s solution would most likely be to burn as much of the city as he could, rather than running.
Jenna stopped outside a large building in the merchant district and led them up a narrow flight of stairs to a stone door. With a gentle push on a panel, the door slid open and light sounds of music and conversation drifted out. The air inside was thick with the scent of beer and smoke. An inn, Victory realized, or a bar at the very least. All in all, it was far better than the interrogation room he had been expecting. She led them through the room, passing tables of off-duty soldiers and scantily clad waitresses who fell silent at their approach. Jenna did not even so much as spare them a glance as she crossed the room and began climbing a set of stairs to the second floor.
This floor held no crowd, but a single table stood in the large open stone room. There was a balcony lining one wall looking down over the taproom below, and guards stood at each corner of it. The other three walls were bare, with not even a door in evidence. Graves sat at the head of the table watching them approach. He was not your typical Immortal. No flash or glamour to mark his power. He wore simple black rough-spun. He had his daughter’s same dusky skin and darker hair. His eyes were what drew their attention, so dark they seemed black and filled with intelligence. Beside him, lounging in a chair, sat Kithkanon, the eldest and sole surviving son of General Kithvaryn. This was unexpected, and Victory did his best to conceal his surprise. Kithkanon watched them with amusement; his mouth set in what Victory was sure was a permanent smirk. He was known to be dangerous and unpredictable. It was rumored he was the reason Kithvaryn had no other surviving sons, and from the stories, Victory tended to believe those rumors. We should lock him and Havoc in a room together and see who comes out, he mused to himself, and had to suppress a smile. Kithkanon was one of the top swordsmen in the prison, but if it came down to a bet, his money would be on Havoc. He had seen the Firym survive things that would have killed most others.
“You owe me a gate,” Graves said in greeting
, his tone light with no trace of anger.
“You shouldn’t hide your gates if you don’t want them destroyed,” Havoc replied as he leaned back against the balcony and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were more on Kithkanon than they were Graves.
“I hide my gates so only invited guests can find them. You were not invited,” Graves pointed out mildly.
“Should hide them better then, in that case. I found it,” Havoc countered
“We were sent here by Caspian. I’m sorry that we hadn’t the chance to send word ahead of our coming,” Victory cut in before Havoc could rouse the mercenary lord’s anger.
“As I have heard,” Graves agreed. “Kithkanon tells me you have sent people to his father, as well. How perfectly interesting.”
Victory nodded and tried to ignore the growing dizziness the shackles were creating. He needed his mind clear now not muddled by weakness. If the talking were left to Havoc, they would be at war within the hour. “Caspian wishes to arrange a contract and we are here to negotiate the terms,” he explained.
“Mmm…this I have heard, as well. Caspian wishes to pay me to do nothing.” Graves gave a short laugh and leaned forward on the table. With casual ease, he took a sip from his wine and eyed the two of them. “Jenna, remove those shackles before you kill the Faydwer,” he said as he sat the wine goblet back down. Jenna rushed to her father’s command, and Victory let out a sigh of relief as the hated metal was removed.
He gave Graves a grateful smile and rubbed some feeling back into his wrists. “Thank you, Milord.”
Graves snorted in amusement. “Do I look a lord to you, boy?” he asked. He glanced at Havoc and then to Jenna. “Tell me, Jenna, why did you shackle one and leave the other unbound? Do you find the Faydwer frightening?” he asked.
Jenna frowned and looked away, obviously not wanting to answer. “Havoc is difficult, and I thought the effort of shackling him would be too great,” she answered at last.
Graves gave a short nod and raised an eyebrow. “So you shackle the peaceful diplomatic one, and leave the dangerous unpredictable one loose.” He clicked his tongue in a chiding way and shook his head. “We will talk of tactics later. Obviously you need a refresher.” Jenna nodded and stared at the wall opposite her, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“I’ve a question for you two,” Kithkanon said as he dropped his legs back to the floor. He leaned forward, his chain mail rattling faintly with his movements. He seemed almost ghostly pale seated next to the darker Graves, but was easily the bigger of the two men. Graves was slight more a rogue in build than a warrior. Kithkanon, however, was thick in the shoulders, with arms that were corded with muscle. There was no doubt of his profession. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and by the scars lacing his pale skin, one could tell at a glance, Kithkanon lived by the sword. His long dark hair fell down over his face as he leaned forward, and he casually brushed it away. “Why would Caspian want us to sit on our hands and do nothing?” he asked
Graves nodded. “I’d like that answer as well.”
“There will be a change in politics soon, and Caspian wants it done bloodlessly,” Victory answered, giving as little away as he possibly could. Although he knew well enough, once things began to take shape in the world above, both of these men would know.
“Bloodlessly?” Kithkanon seemed to taste the word as if it were an unfamiliar thing. “Why on earth would we ever agree to such a thing?” he asked.
Graves raised his glass again for more wine, apparently content to let Kithkanon ask the questions for now.
“Seems to me, it doesn’t matter if you agree or not, Kithkanon. As I recall, you hold no power in your father’s army. You are what? A captain at best? This is a choice for Graves and Kithvaryn. What you think hardly matters,” Havoc said with a smile.
Kithkanon fell silent and glared at Havoc with hatred clear on his face. His position in the army was a well-known sore point, and Havoc had just poked an open wound. “Mercenaries depend on blood to survive,” he growled.
“Suppose, if they say yes, then you had better consider a new career. A nice stout lad like you should be able to find work on any dock in the land and they won’t even mind your bad attitude if you unload the ships quickly,” Havoc replied.
“I’m not sure what their long-term plan is Graves. I know only that they wish to buy your acceptance for a time,” Victory cut in. Kithkanon looked ready to launch from his chair, and whether Havoc cared to remember it or not, he was unarmed and the man he was provoking was fully armed.
Graves looked between Havoc and Kithkanon and then to Victory. “Such hot tempers,” he said with a sigh, and shook his head in dismissal. “Kithkanon does bear a valid point, Victory. If you buy my peace for now, and lasting peace is the result of it, where does that leave me?” he asked.
“In a better world,” Victory answered simply.
Graves laughed and gave him a smile. “Ahh…but my people thrive from war, in a better world we would starve,” he said.
“Hardly, I think, for your people have thrived since the raising of the Barrier, and I sincerely doubt you have squandered that wealth. I think your people are well provisioned and that you are a versatile enough leader that you could find ways other than war, to profit,” Victory replied with a matching smile.
“While that may be true, what makes you think we wish to?” Kithkanon asked, his glare turning to Victory.
“Hush boy, the big people are talking,” Havoc said, his voice thick with contempt.
Kithkanon rose from his seat and his hands went to his hilts. “One more word, Firym, and I’ll feed you your own tongue,” he warned.
Victory sighed and wished he had his own swords. Graves, he felt, he could work with easily, but Kithkanon was another matter entirely. There were so few ways this day could end well he decided.
Havoc stuck his tongue out and squeezed it a few times with his fingers as if testing the tenderness. With a slight shake of his head, he pushed off the balcony railing and rolled his shoulders. It was a move Victory had witnessed too many times. It was the first sign of impending idiocy.
“Havoc, please don’t,” Victory pleaded. Havoc met his eyes and grinned. It was perhaps the least reassuring thing he could have done. Victory let out a long sigh and mentally calculated how much magic he had lost to the shackles. It had been rebuilding slowly, once the metal had been removed, but even so, he barely had enough for a few minor spells, and without his swords he was virtually helpless. He had been trained as a knight and in magic, not in brawling.
“These are my halls, Kithkanon, and you are a guest here. Do not presume to harm another here without my permission,” Graves broke in. Kithkanon stiffened noticeably, but Graves ignored it. He turned his attention to Havoc. “Many do not understand the Firym, but I do. I know your father well, and while it may seem all temper and chaos to others, I know your people always have a strategy to their actions, no matter how convoluted it might be. So tell me young man, why are you provoking Kithkanon?”
“Because I want your full attention on Victory, not the braying of that ass. I want Victory to succeed here, and if Kithkanon has his way he won’t. That is doubtless the reason Kithvaryn chose to send him as a messenger boy here, so he could actually listen to Solace speak. If he attacks me, I’ll silence him, and Victory will be the only voice left to listen to,” Havoc replied.
Graves snorted and gave a slight nod. “That would be an excellent example of Firym logic. Have you forgotten you are unarmed, and Kithkanon is a very dangerous opponent? What if he silences you instead?”
“While that is highly unlikely, if he did actually manage to silence me, this would no longer be a concern of mine, now would it,” Havoc answered.
Graves grinned and looked to Victory. “You have a good friend here, Faydwer. Though I know from my own experiences with their people, it can be hard to see at times. Relax, you are safe in my halls. There will be no bloodshed unless I will it.” He took anothe
r sip of wine, his smile still showing. “I have always liked the Firym. They are so very entertaining.”
“That is hardly the word I would choose.” Victory sighed and let himself relax. While the mercenary lord did have a rather infamous reputation on the battlefield, he was known for his honor in times of peace. If he said they were safe here, it was likely true. Kithkanon slowly sat back down, his anger still obvious. There would be retribution for this later on, of that Victory was certain. Nothing to be done for it, though. In Havoc’s own twisted little way, he had been trying to help.
“Not too sure if I like the term entertaining either but I’ll accept it,” Havoc smiled. “I’m going to grab a beer, want one Vic?” he asked, as he headed for the stairs, apparently choosing to ignore the fact that neither Jenna nor her father had officially altered their position as prisoners. He continued down the stairs, not waiting for an answer, and Victory had to smother a laugh at the indecisive looks on the guard’s faces. They were clearly not sure if they should stop him or follow him.
Graves gave another chuckle and motioned Victory to a seat. Taking this as a very good sign, Victory chose the seat farthest from Kithkanon, and kept his attention focused on Graves.
“I’ll tell you what I will do, Victory, and then you can see if this meets your acceptance. If you agree to my terms, we will negotiate a price. Fair enough?” Graves asked.
“More than fair,” Victory agreed.
“I will agree to stay out of political wars. I will remain neutral among the High Houses, but that is the limit to the peace I will offer. I will still accept contracts from the other territories. There are times when my men hire out to defend the unguarded lands, and this I will not stop. I will also accept contracts from the High Lords that deal with their own lands. There are times when they hire my men to root out bandits and the like, or to deal with a Genji hive. It’s not glamorous work, and certainly doesn’t have the glory of war, but it keeps my men paid without digging into my coffers,” he finished, and leaned back, watching Victory’s expression.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey Page 14
