“Too bad we don’t have any black paint,” Pelo says as he drools in anticipation of a meal.
“Or the natural equivalent,” Gerdo states with a chuckle. He slaps his companions on the back and turns on his heel to run in the opposite direction. “I have an idea. Meet up with all of you tonight.”
“I’m already pitying you two,” Scorpion admits before opening a slit in his mask to reveal the inner edge of his mouth. Delvin and Pelo clear their throats and shift uncomfortably in front of their smirking friend. “I’ll pay for the food and first round. Consider it an early apology for laughing at you in the near future.”
*****
Even though it is a warm night, the three barely clothed swordsmen shiver because of the cold mud and foul-smelling filth that coats their bodies. Scorpion is the only one who is not covered in Gerdo’s mixture and he makes sure to give his companions enough space to avoid their stench. Bare-footed and silent, they creep among the shadows of Roeth by weaving from one side of town to the other and back again. Instead of moving in a group, they go in pairs and cross paths several times. A few times they switch partners in case anyone is watching, but the painfully bright torches make it difficult for any observers to focus on the main road. Delvin and his friends retain their night vision thanks to the protective masks they are wearing. Whenever a distant guard glances in their direction, all four mercenaries stop on the opposite side of a torch and let the flickering shadows mask their presence.
Delvin waits around the corner of a market stall, which has closed for the night. Gerdo stands at his back and keeps watch down the alley as they wait for the others to reach the opposite side of the street. The brief glint of Pelo’s hand mirror is the signal to move away from each other and make a run for the gate. Scorpion throws a handful of paralytic darts at the three guards, but only two of the men go down. He is about to whistle a warning for his companions to stay hidden when the remaining soldier swings his arm. A burst of light hits the black-clothed man’s face, leaving him open to the sword hilt that slams into his gut. Pelo is only partially dazed by the unexpected spell, so he tries to dodge an incoming tackle. The tall and muscular soldier catches the warrior’s knees and slams him against the solid border wall.
“You four are filthy and reek of an unclean barnyard,” the armored guard says as Delvin and Gerdo approach. The mercenaries help their friends stand, none of them making a move to push through the gate. “Do you mind reviving the other guards? I’ll need help bringing you to the jail where you’ll wait until we hear from Queen Ionia.”
“How did you know we were coming?” Pelo groggily asks while he throws a handful of powder over the frozen soldiers. Their bodies relax and they slowly get to their feet, a tickling tremor running through their legs. “You used a flash stone on us, which meant you were aware of our masks. If you smelled us coming then I humbly request that you hit my friend over there since this gunk was his idea.”
“It would have worked if things didn’t go wrong,” Gerdo replies before sniffing his shoulder and shuddering. He is suddenly glad that he kept a few of his mixture’s ingredients a secret from his friends. “I guess somebody overheard us in the tavern and figured out our cunning codes. We didn’t give ourselves enough time for a perfect plan. How about we let this little incident fade into history and we’ll behave from now on?”
The guards share the mercenary’s charming smile before one of them says, “It’s only a first transgression and nobody of consequence was hurt. Though you four might need to go to the nearby lake to wash off.”
“Who really told you about our plan?” Delvin interrupts while he removes his mask and tosses it to Scorpion. The black-clothed man dodges the soiled fabric and makes no move to reclaim it. “Our code has never been broken in all the years we used it. Each of us uses a different version of it as we talk and it’s never the same combination in a row. You must have guards on the rooftops or some type of aerial scout like bats or birds.”
“I told them because I didn’t want my men to get hurt doing something stupid,” a deep voice growls from the nearest building. “I paid good money to get you out of retirement and gather your old men. Too bad the muscle didn’t come along, but I heard he was a stubborn ass and would only bring more trouble than he’s worth. The gods only know how much of a mess I’d have to clean up with him here.”
Delvin and the others squint as a towering figure walks out of the small barracks and steps into the crackling torchlight. The chainmail wearing stranger has ebony hair that rolls down to his shoulders and a battered claymore is strapped to his side. A round shield is on his back and he carries a longbow that shows no sign of ever having been used. The man goes to shake Delvin’s hand, but stops to put on a leather glove before making contact with the filthy champion. The stranger runs his ungloved fingers through his hair, flicking out a few strands of strawberry blonde that can only be seen from up close.
“I’m sorry for causing trouble, Mr. Jubo,” Delvin says while putting his fist to his chest and bowing. A frown is on his old friend’s face, the idiotic name not appealing to him. “We thought you had already entered the plains and wished for us to keep your involvement a secret. After all, you left Fort Journeyman first and told us you weren’t going to be a part of this leg of the mission. I guess you couldn’t stay out of the fun.”
“I changed my mind pretty quickly and decided to call in a few traveling favors. Unlike a certain mercenary, I’m still friends with my ex-girlfriends,” the grinning warrior says as he pulls a scroll from his pocket. He scratches the back of his neck with the parchment, the smiling face of Queen Ionia captured in the wax seal. “Dear soldiers of Darkmill, I do apologize for my feisty bodyguards and hope they didn’t cause any damage. We’re on a tight schedule and should cross the border as soon as possible. As your captain requested, we won’t be taking horses, so I would really appreciate you letting us through now.”
“Can we get clean first, boss?” Pelo asks, the smell of his skin making him feel faint. “I don’t know how far we’ll get like this. The stench is sure to attract animals.”
“The predators of Yagervan have very sensitive noses, so we’re more likely to drive them away,” Delvin mentions, his eyes never leaving their employer. He notices the scroll and coughs, his finger subtly pointing at the parchment. “I assume that’s our pass. I thought we had to wait a while for something to be signed by Queen Ionia. They were going to have us stay in town for at least a week.”
Mr. Jubo growls and cracks his knuckles by making a fist, the noise startling one of the guards. “That would have been a payment-deducting problem, so you’re lucky I came along. We are hunting for a very elusive and time sensitive prey that might be halfway across the plains by now. I have all of the paperwork in order and I would prefer not to wake your captain. Who wants to check for the signature?”
None of the guards make a move for the scroll because they are unsure if they want to be held responsible for a possible breach. The document probably has a signature, but they would never know if it is a real or a fake. Even more nerve-wracking, the soldiers have been told to not disturb their captain due to the surprisingly hectic day. Several attempted crossings, four public fights, and a panicked trio of antelope running through Roeth’s main street had occurred between lunch and dinner. In light of those disasters, the possibility of a forged document seems oddly minor, but it is still something that none of them want to take the blame for.
“May I interject an opinion here?” Gerdo asks when he senses the guards’ understandable hesitation. He politely takes the scroll from his employer and taps at the seal, bringing everyone’s attention to the circle of wax. “You’re obviously worried that this situation will lead to you being fired or punished. I can put you at ease because you can plainly see that this is an official seal, which speaks more volumes than a signature. Now if you break this seal then you are going to be held responsible for everything that happens afterwards. Yet if you simply acknowledg
e the royal insignia, nobody can fault you for assuming the rest of the document is true. Am I making sense here or should I explain this again?”
“We understand and agree,” one of the guards says with a small yawn. His friends mimic the action and rub their eyes, a wave of fatigue briefly washing over them. “We’ll still get in a lot of trouble for letting you through. There’s something going on out there and we could be arrested if you make it worse.”
“Then it’s a shame you never saw us go over the border,” Scorpion claims before blowing two handfuls of dust into the guards’ faces. The three men collapse into the mud while the other mercenaries stare at their masked friend. “You said time was limited, Mr. Jubo. I thought it best not to wait any longer. Leave the fake scroll with them, you four go through the gate, and I’ll lock it behind you. This thing looks really easy to climb.”
“This is a real border crossing pass, you idiot,” Tavris says while he wipes some of the fresh paint from his hair. Waggling the scroll in his friend’s face, he drops the document on one of the guards. “My ex gave it to me since she has permission to go into Yagervan. All we have to do is bring back a list of roots and leaves that her company sells. This is exactly why we always get in trouble. Whenever I try to take the lead on a plan, one of you guys gets impatient.”
“Well your plans are always so long and confusing,” Pelo complains as he searches the soldiers for the keys. “What are we going to do about this smell?”
“I asked around and there’s a pond a few miles in,” Delvin explains while he gives weapons and gear back to his muck-covered friends. He takes a steady breath, knowing that he has reached a point where he cannot turn back. “Our stench should help us reach the water without a problem, but Scorpion and Tavris will have to stay close to avoid getting pounced on by a hooded lion or worse. After tonight, nighttime will be too dangerous for traveling because of the predators. They stay in the grasses, underground, or even in the water. So we’ll have to make camp on the high stones that are scattered about the region and keep a strict watch. This means we always have to stop before the sun goes down, which won’t be too bad since the endless tall grass is going to make this an exhausting journey. I made a predator deterrent and I have enough for maybe three uses, but I want to keep it for emergencies like letting us wash this junk off our bodies. At least that’s the plan I’d make if I was in charge, Mr. Jubo.”
Tavris grins and pushes the heavy doors open to reveal the open landscape of the Yagervan Plains. Bathed in crimson light, the expanse of tall grass seems desolate and alien to those who grew up among the hills and forests of Serab. A single thin-leafed tree can be seen in the distance and it cannot be more than a few feet taller than Tavris. A collection of boulders can be seen in another direction, but the mercenaries notice that there are shadows moving across the top. The creatures with yellow eyes are already looking at the men as they step through the doors and listen to Scorpion locking them from the other side. They wait for their companion to clamber over the wall and silently drop to the ground where he disturbs a snake that rears back to threaten the intruder. The frilled reptile hisses and shows its fangs before slithering into a nearby hole, the sudden sound of a shrieking rodent making the warriors cautiously move further into the wilderness.
“I’m glad you came back,” Delvin whispers to Tavris.
“You guys needed me and I had enough time to cool off.”
“That was a good a plan you made to save us.”
“It was a great plan. Though you’re getting predictable in your old age, boss.”
“I wasn’t really trying.”
“Well I hope you get back to your old self out here.”
“Ever think that we’re too smart to be mercenaries?”
“All the time, which is why I stay in the business,” Tavris replies with a chuckle. “Among the fools of our trade, I’m one of the princes. Though I’d enjoy being the real prince. If you know what I mean.”
Delvin shoots his old friend a sideways glance and sighs. “Very subtle, big guy. Let’s see what the future holds after we get home. I’m sure there are plenty of people who want my title and that’s just in Fort Journeyman. The competition for the Mercenary Prince is going to be very steep.”
*****
The warm rain helps Trinity relax as she slumps against the shattered wall that was once part of the House of Broken Bones. Two mismatched legs dangle out of the hole above her head and she is certain they are no longer attached to their owners. Everywhere the chaos elf looks are body parts and blood that soaks into the muddy earth. A fire on the far side of Fort Journeyman fills the sky with smoke and carries the smell of cooking meat through the streets. Two houses within view have been destroyed and their residents’ remains are sticking out of the wreckage like horrifying decorations. A few voices can be heard in the shadows, but Trinity is sure they will not get very far before her companion litters the ground with their organs. As if reading her mind, the unseen people scream and a blast of gore erupts from the alley to her left.
Stephen walks into the street with a blood-covered blonde dragging behind him, her hair wrapped around his hand. The madman licks at his lips as he swings Belle like a flail and slams her against a wall, which splinters beneath the impact. The Mercenary Princess struggles even though her vision is fringed with darkness that she fears will be eternal if it consumes her entirely. A swift kick to her attacker’s side earns her a punch to the face that sends a few teeth tumbling into her throat. Stephen chuckles as she hacks and coughs them up, but he gets angry when one of the incisors hits him in the eye. With a roar, the ancient nobleman repeatedly snaps and repairs Belle’s arms, making sure the pain of each injury combines into a flood of agony that would make a troll cry.
“I asked one simple question to that guard and he denied me an answer,” Stephen says as he breaks her limb a final time. Not happy with the way it looks, he twists the arm until it looks perfectly gruesome. “All I wanted to know was where Delvin Cunningham is going. The others, including my Nyx, must be with him. Give me the answer and I’ll be kind enough to bury you and your people instead of leaving you for scavengers.”
“If you’re going to kill me anyway then it isn’t worth talking,” Belle whispers, her voice barely louder than the pelting rain. She taps at the jagged bone that has pushed through her skin as if it is nothing more than a minor wound. “Most of us are loyal to each other. We may fight amongst ourselves for jobs and hold grudges that can result in some bickering. Maybe even a brutal murder or two every year. Yet that’s all within the mercenary family. You’re an outsider, so the only question I have to answer is where to stick that oversized toothpick on your hip. Personally, I’d tell you to aim for the smallest hole on your body and I’d put some hot sauce on the blade first.”
“How colorful and amusing. I will have to remember that punishment for when I get my hands on your old friend.”
“Delvin won’t-”
Belle’s words are cut off by Stephen snapping her neck by casually flicking her chin with his thumb. She is still alive and her eyes can move, but the rest of her body is unresponsive when she tries to move. The madman runs a finger along her body and carves a bloody line down her flesh. He allows her to feel the pain, which makes her growl in anguish because she cannot satisfy her urge to fight back. The helpless mercenary can only grind her teeth and stop herself from screaming as she is meticulously cut apart. Belle is about to lose control and shriek when a burst of flame strikes her from the side. She whispers a thank you as the magical fires swiftly envelope her body and turn her to ashes.
“You ruined my fun!” Stephen shouts at Trinity whose hand is still smoking from the spell. He tugs at the tether between them, sending the chaos elf sprawling into the mud. “I warned you not to get in my way! Yet here you are destroying my hostage before I can get any information out of her. How am I supposed to find our enemies now?”
“First of all, she wasn’t going to talk and you were o
nly going to waste time making her suffer. So you’re welcome for helping you refocus your attention,” Trinity argues as she drags herself to her feet. She wipes the mud off her clothes and sends the muck into the House of Broken Bones, which has caught on fire from her attack. “We only know that Delvin was here, so stop asking about the other champions. Besides, I’m sure they’re on their way to another temple, which means one of three locations. Two if the rumors are true that one of them will only be awakened when the other five are purified. Do you have any idea which temple is next or should we split up?”
“Yes I know, but I’m not going there,” the bare-chested man states while he lets the rain cleanse his body of the layers of gore. “My luck has been terrible with those places, so I need to find someone who has information. Delvin came here for a reason and that will lead me to my dearest Nyx. Not that you aren’t dear to me too, but I no longer have the joy of the hunt when it comes to you.”
“Release me from the aura chain and I’ll give you a hunt.”
“I’m so happy that your defiance is back. Maybe we should . . . relax.”
“In a city full of dead bodies?”
“That means we can be as loud as we want.”
Giving in to her nausea, Trinity doubles over to vomit and gasps for air. “That’s what I have to say about that, little warlord.”
A bucket falling onto the floor of a nearby house takes Stephen’s attention away from the sneering chaos elf. His head cocks to the side as he stares at the damaged building, a bloated shadow darting past the window. The sound of a table falling over and dishes shattering on the floor makes the immortal grin at his prey’s clumsiness. Driven by the fear in the breeze, Stephen approaches the broken structure and silently waits for the hazy figure to reveal itself again. All he can sense is a stuttering heartbeat, the potential victim no longer willing to move. Pinpointing his target’s position, the ancient predator drives his arms through the solid wall and grabs the collar of a soft robe. He yanks the shrieking man into the rain and slams the heavyset man into the mud and gore, which sloughs over the whimpering victim.
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 12
