“There is no honor in this,” said Vlarr. “Every second you wait shames my memory. Have you no honor? Kill me.”
Talon turned with shimmering eyes and nodded to Vlarr’s sword. “Do it yourself.”
Vlarr began to shake with fury. He stabbed at the ground and, screaming through the pain, pushed himself up onto his good leg. He began limping toward Talon leaving a trail of blood behind him.
“Stand your ground, boy!”
Talon drew his daggers.
The crowd cheered.
As Vlarr lifted his sword, Talon thrust both daggers into his neck.
The Agoran fell dead in the sand and the crowd went berserk. The chant of “Windwalker” echoed on and on. He turned a circle, taking in the spectacle of the venomous mob. The other Skomm gladiators were cheering him, and McGillus was clapping as well, a smug grin across his face.
The crowd seemed like animals to Talon then—wild beasts fighting over carrion scraps. They would have cheered his death all the same. They reveled in watching pain and suffering. He realized they were his enemy, each and every one.
“What is wrong with you people?” he bellowed. His words silenced the crowd as they echoed through the arena.
“You like to see pain? You like to see suffering?” He pointed at Vlarr. “Is this all we are to you?”
The thousands of people stared at him, mouths agape.
“Who do you think the Skomm see when they strike down your champions?” He pointed at the crowd as he turned. “They see you, their masters!”
As his words slowly died out, a lone voice cried out from somewhere in the audience. “Talon the Righteous!”
The cry was repeated, and soon the chant was taken up by all. Talon turned from them in disgust and went back to the gate. The other gladiators let him pass without a word, and the sound of clapping hands followed him down the tunnel.
The realization of what he had done began to set in. He turned the corner and stopped. McGillus and Grimald, along with four armed crewmen stood just beyond the threshold to the armory. The captain locked eyes on him and the men tensed.
Grimald stood with hands resting upon his sword hilts.
“Talon the Righteous,” McGillus said, taking a step forward.
Grimald paced him, watching and waiting.
“You said if I won—if I survived—you would let me see her,” said Talon.
McGillus smirked, gauging him. “I said nothing about a speech.”
Talon shrugged. “You had spoken so highly of me, Captain. Now they will not soon forget McGillus and his Skomm runt.”
Grimald glanced at his master and laid cold eyes back on Talon. The captain only stared; giving nothing away. Suddenly he gave a barking laugh that caused the crewmen to stir nervously. Talon realized they were all deathly afraid of him. The thought was enough to make him chuckle in turn.
McGillus smiled. “Do you think me a fool, boy?”
“I just want to see Akkeri. I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”
Grimald’s eyes never left him. He stood motionless, like a snow cat waiting for a hare to peek his head out just a little further…
“Tell me, those words you spoke,” said McGillus. “Do you really think they see their masters in their victims’ eyes? Is that what you see…your master? Do you want to strike me down?”
Grimald shifted slightly.
“I just want to see Akkeri,” Talon repeated.
The captain’s eyes spoke a hundred curses, but his smile never wavered.
“Come,” he said finally. “You shall see your precious Akkeri.”
Chapter 16
Gill and Gammond
A part of me hoped my dreams were wrong. Perhaps the Star Seer had made some miscalculation. I had seen star readings done before. It is an ancient practice which has become more of a novelty since the seers began using Orna Catorna. Possibly, the art is ignored because of people’s fear. Few truly want to know their fate. Everyone wants to think they are in control of their own destiny, for what is the point of choice if we are all simply playing out the ordinations of the stars? Should we be so bold as to think that our choices can defy the will of the gods? Is it not they who hold together reality? How can stars determine the course of our lives, if not divinely crafted? Perhaps they are simply a reflection of our choices after all. Perhaps we dictate what shape they might take. –Azzeal of Elladrindellia, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive, 4997.
Talon and the other gladiators followed McGillus back to the docks, leaving the coliseum and its raucous crowds behind. His anticipation of seeing Akkeri grew with every stride, though he knew McGillus wasn’t going to lift his debt and just let them leave. By winning in the arena, Talon had proven himself to both the captain and the other gladiators. McGillus would likely make him fight until he was dead, and squeeze every last coin out of him in the process.
But Talon had Chief and the ring. He needed only to find out where Akkeri was being kept and then formulate an escape.
When they had arrived at the Sea Queen, McGillus told Talon to follow him. He produced a ring of keys and smiled devilishly. “This way,” he said, and headed below deck.
Talon followed the captain down the stairs, with Grimald close behind. At the landing, they turned down a hallway he had never ventured and went down another flight of stairs into the dark underbelly of the slaver. The smell of sweat and human waste wafted up through the stairwell. They turned right, down a dark narrow corridor lined with iron doors—obviously holding cells of some sort. Each had a small square window set at eye level, and it was clear the inhabitants spent most of their time in complete and utter darkness.
“Just down a ways,” said McGillus, lighting a lantern which hung on the wall.
They moved down the now dimly lit hallway, and faces began to peer out from many of the cell windows. Groans of pain or soft whimpers issued from some of the others.
Finally, the captain stopped and inserted a key. Talon’s heart leapt. He waited impatiently as the bolt was disengaged. Soon he would see her beautiful face.
McGillus pulled the door open and stood aside.
“Akkeri?” said Talon.
The glare from McGillus’ lantern kept the cell cloaked in shadow.
“Talon?” a weak voice answered.
His heart skipped a beat. “Akkeri,” he yelled, and ran into the cell.
The big iron doors slammed shut and locked behind him.
Talon ignored the deceit and groped in the darkness for his lost love.
“Akkeri, I’m here. Where are you?”
He stepped on something alive and felt a sharp pain in his calf as it bit him. Startled, he jumped back and was bitten again. “What is this!” he cried, slamming into the cell door.
McGillus regarded him with disappointment through the window.
Talon began to feel sick.
McGillus lifted the lantern, filling the cell with a soft orange glow, and Talon watched in horror as the shadows fled. The floor was littered with snakes. He screamed and began kicking them away. His heart began to beat frantically as he felt the venom boiling in his veins.
The voice in the cell gave a crackling laugh. “Come to me, Talon.
He jerked his head around and found a ragged looking old women chained high on the wall.
“Talon my love, save me…save me!” she cackled, eyes deranged.
The lantern receded and Talon banged on the door again.
“They are called fire vipers,” said McGillus.
Talon felt a pain in his chest that nearly dropped him, and clung to the small window to steady himself.
“Their venom paralyzes its victims quickly. Within ten minutes they are dead…unless an antidote is administered.”
Talon’s head spun as the poison coursed through his veins. He felt himself slipping. He fumbled in his pocket for the timber wolf trinket but his hands wouldn’t work right. The room suddenly shifted, and he began floating down toward the floor. He lay there twitchi
ng and foaming at the mouth, the call to Chief halted by his contorted lips. The cell door opened, and lantern glow filled the room with swirling patterns as it passed over the fire vipers’ scales and markings. Try as he might he couldn’t move. The poison would soon kill him.
Cold water splashed Talon’s face and someone slapped him in quick repetition. His heavy eyes opened slowly. The room was a blur of shadowed figures and shooting beams of light. A voice spoke in his ear but the words made no sense. Rough fingers pried his eyes opened and lantern light blinded him. Tight shackles bit into his wrists and ankles, holding him aloft. Slowly, the murmured voices came clear.
“He’ll live. Though I’ve no idea how in the hells that’s possible,” said Demoore.
“Good, that will be all,” said McGillus.
Talon fought to clear his head and squinted against the blinding light. Grimald came into view, staring at him with a content smile. Demoore packed up his things and turned to leave.
“Demoore…please,” Talon croaked.
The old healer stopped at the threshold and lingered for but a moment before disappearing.
McGillus grabbed Talon by the hair and lifted his head to peer in his eyes. “I’m disappointed in you, lad.”
Talon glanced down toward the pocket he kept the trinket in, but realized instantly it was gone.
McGillus followed his eyes. “Ah, yes…your talisman,” he said, holding it out before Talon. “It looks surprisingly similar to that elusive wolf of yours.”
Talon said nothing. Though his vision had returned to normal, the fire still burned in his veins, and he clenched his teeth against the pain.
McGillus waited patiently. “Tell me how it works,” he said finally.
Talon groaned. “It’s just a figurine.”
“Really? Then I can dispose of it? Throw it in a fire, or perhaps the ocean?”
Talon’s face gave away his concern.
The captain grinned knowingly. “Grimald saw the most curious thing the other night. He told me the specter of a wolf had been haunting the lower levels of the ship. Tell me how it works, or you will never see the girl again.”
“You don’t have her. You’re a feikin liar!”
McGillus grinned and began pacing the cell. “I received word that two Skomm had escaped Volnoss. Chiefson Fylkin’s bounty on both of your heads is a small fortune. It seems he is keen on getting you back…alive. Well, you can imagine my delight when we found a shipwrecked keipr with a red-haired Skomm girl hiding in a cave nearby.”
Talon wondered if McGillus and his men had seen the murals.
“I thought to sell her back to Fylkin when we next returned to Volnoss for another batch of slaves…but then you killed one of my men and freed those other Skomm. By the villagers’ descriptions I deduced who you were. Can you imagine my excitement when I got wind of your trail? But then I saw how you killed my men when we tried to capture you, and I said to myself, ‘McGillus, old boy, now there’s a fighter that’ll bring some fine coin’. And here we are.
“Now, I can get back what you owe me by handing you and your whore over to Fylkin, or we can continue the arrangement we had before your little speech. The choice is yours.”
McGillus strode over and bent to look Talon in the eye. “How does the trinket work?”
Talon shook his head. “When I see Akkeri, I’ll tell you.”
On McGillus’s cue, Grimald punched Talon in the face, snapping his head to the side. Another blow came, followed by an uppercut to the chin.
The captain bent down low again. “How does it work?”
Talon suddenly made an effort to break out of the shackles, but to no avail. They hadn’t thought to take Kyrr from him, but the effects of the venom were too much to overcome, regardless.
“Grimald!” McGillus called.
McGillus had Grimald work him over for a few minutes, and Talon took the beating like he had the hundred before—silently.
Again the captain came into view. “Grimald says I should let him kill you,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I suspect he wants the girl for himself. He has these…odd habits. It’s strange really—whips, chains, clamps, and other such items of depravity. You met one of his ladies in the cell with the snakes.”
The captain looked over his shoulder and then leaned in closer. “Now, I can only argue his council for so long. He has proven quite accurate in these regards. He says you are nothing but trouble; that I should cut my losses now and be done with it. A fool turns a blind ear on the advice of the wise…and I’m no fool. But gods be damned if I don’t see something in you, boy—a fire I ain’t seen but in the mirror. Show me that I’m not wrong about you. Fight for me, win for me, and maybe Akkeri can avoid Grimald’s…affections. If I could show you the girl and quench your doubts, I would, but I must admit she is not being kept on this ship.”
Talon perked up and regarded the captain through swollen eyes.
McGillus let his words linger for a moment. “She is safe, I assure you. One does not leave a fruit such as hers out to spoil in the sun. She is safe, and will remain so as long as you cooperate. Do you understand?”
Talon nodded.
“Good. Now, how does your wolf talisman work?” said McGillus.
“He must be summoned,” said Talon.
“How do you summon him?”
“I call…call his name.”
McGillus’s patience was starting to wear thin. “What is the wolf’s name?”
Talon tried to act as though he were drifting out of consciousness. The sound of McGillus shuffling around made him curious, but he dared not give himself away. Two fingers were suddenly shoved into his nose, and his sinuses exploded. His eyes shot wide open as he was forced to draw in a deep breath.
McGillus returned the smelling salt to the table and turned back to him. “What is the wolf’s name?”
“His name…his name is Claw,” said Talon, as if finally defeated.
“Claw,” McGillus hummed to himself. He took the trinket in hand and rubbed his thumb across the back, pondering. “Does he obey the bearer of the trinket, or just you?”
“I don’t know…I’ve never seen…someone else summon…summon him.”
McGillus nodded approvingly. After whispering something to Grimald, he left the cell.
Grimald grabbed Talon by the throat and glared at him. “I hope you were lying. All he needs is one good reason, and I’ll have her on my table.”
He released Talon and laughed to himself as he too left the cell. Talon hung from his shackles worrying about Akkeri and hoping he hadn’t gone too far. But he had no choice—he couldn’t tell McGillus Chief’s real name. Though he had bought himself some time, the captain would soon learn of his deception.
He was left with his thoughts and fears in the pitch dark of the cell. The only sounds were the random creaking of the ship, and the groans and whimpers of his fellow prisoners. He had lost Chief and was no closer to finding Akkeri.
In his despair, Talon began to cry. How could he have been so stupid? He had walked right into McGillus’s trap.
He wondered about Grimald then. The strange, hooded man had an air about him, and Talon didn’t doubt he was in possession of some sort of magic—the captain too, for that matter. McGillus wouldn’t keep such a dangerous man as his second without having something over him.
Maybe McGillus saved his life at one time, Talon wondered.
No, Grimald didn’t seem the type to give a shyte about honor or loyalty. Perhaps he just liked working for a powerful man. Talon guessed it was simply because he was a sadistic murderer, and McGillus offered him a way to profit greatly while enjoying a bounty of victims to toy with.
“That girl is gonna get you killed,” came a raspy, rather odd sounding voice. It sounded to be coming from a man in the opposite cell.
Talon realized he had been half asleep. He cleared his throat and asked, “Who’s that? Who are you?”
The man chuckled. “Just a rat in a cage is all,�
� he said. “Do you have any cheese? This rat ain’t seen no cheese. He’s hungry!”
“You mentioned a girl,” said Talon. “What do you know of her? Have you seen her?”
“Who cares about the ponderings of rats?” the man asked.
“Answer the poor lad’s question Gammond,” said another prisoner, his voice calm and clear.
“Awe, shut up! Go back to sleep, Gill,” said Gammond.
“If I sleep, you’ll try to scratch out our eyes again,” Gill argued.
A shiver ran down Talon’s back as he suddenly realized the two voices came from the same man. The girl ‘Gammond’ mentioned was more likely some ghost from his past than Akkeri, but Talon had to be sure.
“Please…Gill, what was Gammond saying about a girl?” he asked.
Gammond chuckled. “What does a rat want with a girl, eh?”
“I apologize for my friend,” said Gill. “He is thoroughly insane.”
“What about the girl?” Talon urged.
“Make the rat shut his feikin mouth, for Thodin’s sake” Gammond screamed.
“You’re Skomm!” said Talon, hoping to break through to…one of him. “What tribe are you from?”
“Tribe?” Gill asked. “I am from no tribe, good lad. I am Lord Gillian McMillus of Altuar.”
“You’re a feikin lunatic is what you are!” Gammond chided.
The two voices began to argue, changing so rapidly that, for a terrifying moment, it seemed as though two people really were bickering in the darkness.
Talon wanted Chief with him more than ever.
“Gammond? Gammond!” Talon called out.
“The rat wants to talk to me, not you! Hear it squeaking for me?” said Gammond. “Now shut your noble gruel hole before I stuff it with shyte!”
Gill fell silent.
“What does the rat want to know, eh? About the girl?”
“Yes, the girl,” said Talon. “What of her? Have you seen her?”
“I know nothing about no girl!” Gammond screamed, startling Talon. “Give ‘em what they want, they kill you right dead. The only thing a rat can survive on besides cheese…is secrets.”
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