The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “The big guy is Weber and that’s all I can tell you,” Nicholas whispers when he believes the champion has had enough time to examine his enemy. The halfling puffs on his pipe and ignores the other man’s expectant stare. “Yes, I know a lot about him. It’s simply bad business to share the secrets of others. All I can reveal is that he has a personal interest in the next fight and that will be the best time to talk to your old crew. I’m sure Spider has already noticed you sitting here.”

  “His name is Scorpion,” Delvin replies, unable to hide his anger. He glances around the building to see how far away the bouncers are and wonders if he can pummel Weber before he is thrown into the street.

  “You’d get about two hits in before my guys are on you,” the businessman says, recognizing the expression on his guest’s face. “Just give me a few minutes. The twins will be done . . . right now. Wow. That put a dent in the wall. Anyway, stay here and make your move when the big guy shoves his way to the railing.”

  “Where’s Tavris?”

  “Around.”

  Nicholas knocks his pipe against an empty chair before heading to his pedestal to take bets for the next fight. Delvin immediately sees his missing friend’s name on the board, which does not surprise him since Tavris used to love earning extra money in the pit. A smile almost creeps onto his face, but the champion stops it from appearing as he continues to watch Weber and the trio. He catches brief glances from Gerdo and Pelo, the two men unknowingly scratching the sides of their noses at the same time.

  “The gods know how often I asked if those two were related,” Delvin whispers before finishing his coffee. All three of his former companions turn their backs on him as Weber goes to the pit’s railing, the large man leaning over to yell at someone inside. “Looks like it’s time for me to apologize. Though I’ve a feeling the real challenge hasn’t even shown its face yet. Thank the gods I have a few healing potions left.”

  Delvin makes his way along the edge of the crowd, noticing that the trio are moving away from him. At first he thinks it is nothing more than a coincidence, but they move into the thicker part of the mob when he gets with a few feet of Scorpion. Putting his sword and shield into his bottomless bag, the champion goes in the other direction and steals a hat from a drunken woman that slaps her neighbor for the theft. A fallen cloak and two empty mugs help him blend into the cheering crowd, everyone lifting their drinks when an impressive blow is struck. Delvin is within reach of Gerdo and Pelo when the tip of a dagger touches his back. The champion places his mugs on a table and slowly reaches into his pouch, his history with Scorpion the only reason the black-clothed man does not stab him. The others turn around as their former leader pulls an orange potion out of the bag and offers it to Gerdo.

  “You need to take this before that gangrene forces you to remove your head. Not that you ever use the damn thing,” Delvin says with a friendly smile. Pelo is the only one who laughs while his lanky companion takes the potion. “Can an apology help me here? Because I really am sorry for abandoning you guys. I-”

  “Look, boss, we know why you did it,” Gerdo interrupts as he finishes the potion and removes his bandages. The smell of decay fades away along with the ugly blotches, leaving his skin clean. “You made a big mistake and felt like you were no longer worthy of being in charge of us. We saw you getting bored with the life too. After hearing about all of your battles, we think you made the right decision. Among the mercenaries, you have always been one step away from Paladin levels of heroism. Hell, I’d say you were better than those stuffy blowhards and their shiny armor.”

  “What Gerdo means is that we are happy to see you,” Scorpion whispers before tucking the dagger into his sleeve. “I apologize for drawing steel on you.”

  “This makes it a lot easier to ask for a favor,” Delvin states while shaking their hands in turn. A quick peek across the pit assures him that Weber has not noticed the reunion, the man focused more on his fighter. “I’m going into the Yagervan Plains and I need help. Before you ask, I’m here because I need warriors instead of champions to back me up. You guys know about my past and are able to keep things subtle. At least more subtle than a crazy forest tracker, a playful gypsy, and a beautiful . . . Let’s just say my new friends would cause more problems than they’d solve.”

  Pelo scratches his long nose, his fingers coming dangerously close to slipping inside his nostrils. “We’d love to help, but we’re in a tough spot. Our new boss has us under contracts and you know how serious our trade takes those. We work for him until we pay off our debt, which may take a few years. Unless you have ten thousand diamond spheres, we can’t go along for another adventure. Gods know I really wish we could. These small time jobs that Weber has us doing are so boring. Right, cousin brother?”

  “Pathetic is the word I would use, uncle,” Gerdo replies, smirking at the glare they get from their old friend. “Thought you were so close to figuring out our relation, huh? I really did miss pulling your leg on that one.”

  “I don’t have much time before that match is over,” Delvin whispers, noticing that the cheering crowd is getting louder. He hopes that Tavris is putting on a show and drawing out the suspense, but he senses that the fight is nearing its end. “Will you help me if I can get you guys out of your contracts? Tell me how you got into them and I can find a loophole. I was always good at thinking us out of those types of problems.”

  The three men huddle to discuss their options before Pelo breaks away to put an arm around the Mercenary Prince. “If you get us away from Weber then the Frozen Blades will unite once more. Don’t get your hopes up just yet, Cunningham. After leaving the Salamander Army, we came to Fort Journeyman to earn some money. Tavris decided to push for pit champion of the house and that’s when we ran into Weber, who managed another fighter. They made a challenge for a title fight and one thousand diamond spheres. Well, there was a stipulation in the contract that Tavris would work for Weber and owe him ten thousand if he killed his opponent. None of us know how it happened since he was fighting a pretty big orc, but he delivered a punch within the first five minutes and the other guy’s chest collapsed. No blood or exposed bone, but the entire torso seemed to crumple like paper.”

  “That’s obviously a trick, but the body was probably disposed of before it could be checked. Means no evidence to prove the situation,” Delvin hisses, turning to see that Tavris is out of the pit and standing next to Weber. The strawberry blonde warrior is covered in bruises and dirt, his simple pants shredded at the knees. “So you guys signed the contract to make sure Tavris didn’t suffer alone. I would have done the same thing. Now all we have to do is get Weber to admit he rigged the fight. Easy to do even though I might have to adopt a more hands on tactic.”

  “Taking pointers from your barbarian friend?” Gerdo asks with a grin.

  “Nope. I’m going to use the strategy of a pretty, little caster.”

  Delvin pushes his way through the drunken crowd as they place their bets for the next match. Tavris sees him coming before Weber, the towering warrior stepping between his new boss and his old friend. The heavyset man in robes does not pay any attention to the advancing champion even though he seems aware of the looming confrontation. Scorpion tries to catch up to Delvin and catch him by the arm, but the excited crowd surges forward to cut him off from the other warrior. Everyone goes silent when Tavris punches his old friend in the face and tosses him into the pit. The current fighters stop, their faces looking at Nicholas who motions for them to go back to their corners.

  “Whatever you’re going to say, the answer is no!” Tavris bellows before following Weber to the exit. The others trail behind their friend, but Gerdo tosses a rope over the railing.

  “I’m helping your stubborn ass whether you like it or not,” Delvin growls as he scrambles out of the pit and shoves his way through the crowd.

  *****

  The kick to the back of Tavris’s knee sends him sprawling into the mud and the smack to the back of his head is
hard enough to daze him. The others help the big man to his feet, but refuse to let go because they do not want him to interrupt Delvin. The champion practically marches over to Weber, who is grinning and leaning on his staff. Due to his massive frame, the angry jabs of the other man’s finger make him chuckle. With a strong thrust of his weapon, the robed mercenary shoves the other warrior back a few steps.

  “You scammed my friends,” Delvin hisses, retrieving his bastard sword and shield out of his bag. He puts them in their proper places, but makes no move to draw steel on his grinning adversary. “I’m going to ask you to relieve them of their contract. That’s me being polite, which ends with that single request.”

  “The great Mercenary Prince Champion,” Weber says in a voice that is surprisingly high-pitched. He waves to the gathering crowd that is braving the rain for a chance to see the possible fight. “I have to say that I am very impressed. Not with your appearance or threat, but that such a celebrity would worry about his former underlings. Guess you heard that your children are lost without their wise daddy.”

  “Here’s how this is going to work, big boy,” the other warrior states while cracking his knuckles. He frowns when he sees that his schoolyard barb has no effect. “You’re going to announce how you scammed Tavris, which frees my friends from the contract. As an act of apology, you’re going to give us horses and enough supplies to make it to Freedom. Then the two of us will never cross paths again unless it’s an accident or I hear you’re up to something that relates to me.”

  Weber picks at his teeth with his finger and wipes the dislodged food on his sleeve. “It isn’t my fault that the brute is stronger than he realizes. Now I know your reputation and the only way you can get me to admit to cheating is beyond your ability. So I plan on retiring for the night. I need to have our mutual acquaintances handle a little ogre problem in the lower mountains. That should put them in their place.”

  For his heavyset figure, Weber dodges quicker than Delvin could have predicted so the blow only grazes his enemy’s cheek. A twinkling of magic can be seen under the mercenary’s robes whenever he moves, telling the sharp-eyed champion that the bizarre agility is nothing more than an enchantment. Knowing he has to keep the other man alive and conscious, Delvin drops his shield in the mud and tosses his sword to Pelo. The brief distraction leaves him open and he barely avoids a kick to his side. Spinning his weapon over his head, Weber releases a dangerous heat from the enchanted metal that evaporates every raindrop that it touches. Seeing that the top and bottom of the staff are not covered in a faint haze, the Mercenary Prince catches the attack with his bare hand. Using only his palm, he shoves the weapon hard enough to pop the bigger man in the face.

  “I’m in a rush, big man,” Delvin states as he gets closer to his crouching enemy. He delivers a sharp heel stomp to the man’s broken nose, causing many in the crowd to cringe. “Tell everyone the truth.”

  “Guess being a champion has driven you insane.”

  “I might not be able to set you on fire, but I can make you hurt. How many joints do you think I can break before you cry?”

  “Go ahead and break my knees, Mercenary Prince. I’m not talking.”

  Delvin grabs Weber’s left hand and taps at the knuckles, causing the robed man’s hazel eyes to widen in fear. He can feel the scared warrior attempt to pull away as he grabs the tip of his middle finger and gently pushes it backwards. The hold is broken when the metal staff strikes his hip and the mercenary rolls out of reach. Covered in mud, Weber effortlessly leaps to the other side of the street to catch his breath.

  “This is an assault, Cunningham!” the man shouts while touching his shattered nose. “I will have the guards arrest you. Let’s see how much of a rush you’re in after you spend some time in the local jail.”

  “All of this is justified if I prove your crime,” Delvin replies as he sees some of the guards arrive. The armored swordsmen stop their advance and relax, all of them curious to see how the fight plays out. “At the very least, our crimes will offset each other. I might not get those supplies and horses, but I’ll free my friends from your contract.”

  “You need to catch me first.”

  “Are you a mercenary or a rabbit? I’ve seen more courage from toddlers and kittens.”

  “I’m not a coward. I’m a tactical genius.”

  “Cheater. Bastard. Bloated windbag. Those I can believe, but tactical genius is so far from the truth.”

  Weber charges for a few yards before driving his staff into the ground and vaulting over Delvin. With a wide sweep of the long weapon, he knocks the champion into the mud and stomps on his stomach. The larger combatant spits in his enemy’s face before hunkering down to return the gift of a broken nose. Weber laughs when Delvin’s hands grip his beard and the man’s left forearm weakly presses against his neck. A solid and unexpected blow strikes the back of the mercenary’s head as two leather straps wrap around the champion’s arm, tightly pressing the limb to his throat.

  “I’m finding all sorts of fun tricks with this gift,” Delvin says, delivering a kick to Weber’s stomach and flipping him onto his back. They remain connected by the enchanted shield, which helps the champion occasionally slam his opponent’s head against the muddy ground. “I really shouldn’t have to ask again. By the way, do you happen to keep expense records like most mercenary leaders? Detailed ones I’m sure, which will be looked at if someone was to murder you in the street. That would probably free my friends and make my punishment less severe if one of my powerful allies doesn’t get me out of trouble first. Though those things . . . don’t pass out on me, big man.” The warrior smacks Weber across the face a few times, briefly easing the pressure of the shield. “Basically, you’ll be dead and I’m sure you don’t want anything like that to happen.”

  The gasping mercenary slaps at Delvin’s arm until the force against his throat relaxes enough for him to talk. “Fine! I hired a caster to create an empty golem that looked exactly like my best fighter. Then I got one of my halflings to control the shell from the rafters and use a ventriloquism spell to throw her voice. She was invisible too, which is why Nicholas never saw her. The real fighter has been doing jobs for me in Gaia and he dresses as a fireskin whenever he comes back to Fort Journeyman. The reason is because I knew of your boys’ reputations and wanted them in my stable. Now let me go and the contract will be destroyed. I can do it right now since it’s in my right breast pocket.”

  “I’ll make sure of that,” Tavris announces as he walks over and tears a hole in his boss’s robes. He pulls out a scroll and reads it to make sure it is the real contract. “This is it. You can let him go, Cunningham.”

  Delvin slips his arm from the shield straps and stands, refusing to help Weber out of the thick mud. He watches Tavris rip the papers in half and hand the soaked remains to the nearest guard. Everyone is waiting for the towering mercenary to attack the injured crook, but he quietly walks under the nearest awning. The others follow, none of them signaling for Delvin to join them, which makes him confused on what to do next. The drawing of a dagger catches his attention, so he rolls his eyes and cripples Weber with a brutal kick to the groin. He is tempted to take the man’s enchanted armor, but decides the poor bastard will need as much protection as he can get now that his reputation is ruined. Sure that he has wasted enough time, the champion approaches his old friends and gladly accepts the cup of coffee that Gerdo offers him.

  “When did you get this?” Delvin asks, forgetting the real reason he went looking for the four men “It’s still hot too.”

  “Nicholas handed the cups to us through the window,” Gerdo states, nodding his head at the building. The swordsman chuckles at his companion’s sheepish smile, the champion having not realized that they are back to the House of Broken Bones. “The cunning halfling just made a lot of money on you. Not that you would win, which was expected. It was that you would let him live. Seems you put on a good show for the masses, boss.”

  “I’m not your
boss this time. We’re friends and I’m asking for a favor,” Delvin says while enjoying the warm drink. He glances around the water-logged street, hoping to see a vacancy sign on any of the nearby inns. “I plan on leaving after a night’s rest and I’d like for you four to join me. I’m heading for the Yagervan Plains to face my past and let my birth parents know that I’m still alive. I disappeared when I was eight, so I doubt I can do this by myself. I want those who have known me for a while to be by my side both for comfort and support. I’m sorry that I never told you any of this, but it’s not something I reveal to a lot of people.”

  “Did you tell your new friends?” Scorpion asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice.

  “They got it out of me when the information was needed, but I really only told Nyx out of . . . I don’t even know why I told her.”

  Pelo snickers and slaps the champion on the shoulder, making the other man wince. “I’m going to go with pretty eyes. Those always seem to get the truth out of you and I remember seeing this Nyx in Hero’s Gate. Not my type, but I can’t say I’m surprised you’d spill your guts to someone like her. Tough, pretty, confident, and violet peepers? You didn’t stand a chance, old friend. Anyway, I’m in as long as I can claim whatever loose change we find along the way. A man has to earn a living.”

  “I get first choice of daggers,” the masked warrior states, the hint of a smile outlined in his tight mask.

  “Just make sure I don’t have to pay for my own meals,” Gerdo adds while pulling a room key out of his shirt pocket. Leaning on an awning pole, the swordsman juggles the metal piece along his knuckles. “We have a place a few blocks over. Weber made us pay for our own lodging and refused to give us lockers like his prized employees, so all of our stuff is there. You might as well save some money for the road, right?”