by David Combs
Nestor moved with surprising speed for a man of his size. He hauled Galen to his feet, slamming the young thief against the stone wall. Galen’s teeth rattled from the jarring impact. “Don’t mock me, boy. No one treats me as a fool. No one living, anyway.”
“Well, if the boot fits,” Galen quipped. He squeezed his eyes shut as Nestor’s fist drew back to pound the thief into the wall of the cell. A slender, but strong, hand firmly grabbed the barbarian’s wrist. Nestor turned his head and locked stares with the mismatched eyes of the mage.
“You started this quarrel, Redbeard,” said Tyrell. “We’ve all had a rough night, and tomorrow isn’t looking any better.”
“You may not last even that long,” growled the big man. He dropped Galen to the floor and shoved Tyrell back. “Come along then, and take your share if you think you can stand it.”
Tyrell whispered some words in the strange language of magic that caused his eyes to glow with illusory flames. Nestor, superstitious as the barbarian people were inclined to be, gasped, and reflexively stepped back from the mage. He tripped over Galen who had crawled behind the distracted barbarian. Nestor windmilled his arms in an attempt to keep his balance, but Tyrell charged forward, driving his shoulder into the warrior’s stomach. They both crashed into the wall beyond.
Nestor, however, was a warrior born and bred and he recovered quickly. His stomach was nearly as hard as the stone wall at his back, and easily absorbed the wizard’s blow. He grabbed a handful of Tyrell’s hair, yanked the man’s head back, and slammed his fist into the wizard’s throat. The mage fell to his knees, gasping as he struggled to draw breath.
Nestor whirled around, facing off with the young rogue. “Time for yours now, boy!”
Galen had nimbly regained his feet after he had tripped the warrior but now faced the enraged barbarian alone. He knew that he would only get pulverized in a contest of strength against the barbarian, but the thief hoped his speed and agility would keep him out of reach long enough for Tyrell to recover. Only together did they stand a chance of subduing their furious cellmate.
The barbarian launched a barrage of attacks at him, but the nimble young burglar was always a step ahead of each punch. He sidestepped, dodged, and scampered all around the tiny cell. Nestor began to get frustrated but refused to let up. He feigned an attack, as he swung high with his left hand while he readied his right for the real strike. Galen was less trained in the art of fighting and completely missed the ruse. He leaned right into the path of the real punch and staggered as his jaw exploded with pain.
Nestor grabbed the boy by his shirt and kneed the young man in the groin. Then he threw the thief against the wall again. He smiled with satisfaction as Galen’s head cracked against the stone, and the younger man’s air whooshed from his lungs. The warrior chuckled as he raised his fist. All of the frustration from this night flowed through him. All of his rage channeled into one punch that would pound the younger man’s head into the next cell. With a howl of triumph, Nestor let his fist fly.
Galen ducked.
The howl of triumph changed into a howl of pain as the barbarian’s hand thudded against the rock wall with a crunch of bone. Galen tried to dive past him, but Nestor brought his good hand down out of pure instinct, clubbing the back of the thief’s head. Galen was knocked into the filth and grime on the cell floor. His newly healed ribs screamed out again as Nestor kicked him for good measure.
“You’re not finished with me yet, Redbeard,” called Tyrell’s voice from across the cell. Nestor turned to see the mage standing near the back wall with his arms casually folded across his chest. “If you’re through playing around, perhaps you’d like to tackle a foe more your speed.”
“I only need one hand for the likes of a dandy like you,” snarled the warrior. Tyrell smiled. Nestor fell into a fighting crouch, watching the mage’s body language for telltale signs of a dodge. The wizard gave no such indications as he simply stood with arms crossed, and waited for the barbarian to attack. Nestor roared, propelling himself forward into a diving tackle with his powerful legs.
The attack carried him through the illusory wizard, and headfirst into the wall beyond. Nestor crumpled to the floor. He felt as though all of the miners of the Marble Hills hammered away inside of his skull. The room spun and twisted as the warrior tried to correct his vision. His blood roared in his ears with more noise than the great Tieron Falls.
“Trust a barbarian to lead with his head,” said Tyrell, as he knelt down beside Galen to check on the thief. Suddenly the cell door burst open as jailers wielding stout clubs filled the tiny cell. “Nice of you gentlemen to arrive,” the mage said dryly. One of the guards shrugged as his fellows grabbed Nestor, and hoisted him up.
“Best betting action we’ve had down here in a long time. I lost ten silvers on the barbarian. What was that little trick you did?”
“Image shift. Made myself appear to be where I wasn’t.”
“Nice touch,” said the guard.
“Thanks.” Galen groaned as the mage helped him to sit up. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Only until tomorrow,” slurred the barbarian as he shook his head to clear it. Nestor was standing but leaned heavily on the door frame. His eyes were glassy, and he was probably seeing double. “As for you, wizard,” he spat, “pray that the hangman takes you before I get another chance to play. I won’t prove nearly as friendly as he will.” A guard shoved Nestor out of the room, and into the hallway beyond. A second jailer helped Galen to his feet and eventually led the young thief out of the cell. The door slammed shut, plunging the chamber into dismal gloom once again.
As the boom of the closed door echoed in the tiny room, Tyrell couldn’t help but wonder if the closing of his crypt door would sound any different.
***
Tyrell opened his eyes as he rolled over in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position on the cold and slimy stone floor. His entire body ached from tossing and turning on the filthy cobbles. He swallowed what spittle he had to try to slake his thirst only to wince from the leftover bruising from Nestor’s punch. He thought briefly about the fate of the other two men. He imagined he would be seeing them soon enough at the gallows. A pity, he thought. I never want to see that red-bearded son of a bitch ever again, even if he is swinging from the end of a rope.
The mage wondered how much time he had left. Would they give him a last meal, or did the city consider that to be a wasted expense on a condemned man? Suddenly, a key rattled in the lock and broke his daydreaming. Tyrell shielded his eyes as a lantern hood was thrown open, and light assaulted the darkness. A large blur blocked the doorway.
“On your feet, Amalcheal,” said a gruff voice. Meaty fingers dug into the wizard’s arm. Tyrell was pulled to his feet and dragged out of the cell. The torchlight revealed the soldier as a large man, once heavily muscled but now thickening in the middle. The man’s close-cropped white hair was slick with sweat, and his stubbly face was creased with lines that hinted to years of duty that bore heavily on this man’s shoulders.
A captain’s insignia adorned the man’s sleeve. The uniform itself looked as though it was the same one that the man had been issued for his first day of duty. Threadbare as it may have been, and straining at the buttons, the soldier’s clothing was meticulously clean and implied that this was a man who took his responsibility seriously.
“Is it time already?”
“There seems to have been a slight change of plans,” said the Captain. He roughly shoved Tyrell down the hallway, paying no mind that he occasionally bounced the wizard off of the walls. “All I know is that some of the higher-ups aren’t pleased about circumstances at all. Someone’s orders have spoiled this morning’s fun so you get to stay alive for another day. Now shut up, and move.”
He led Tyrell up the stone stairs that led from the dungeon to a thick iron door. His escort pounded on the dull metal which was quickly opened by a young soldier who promptly snapped to a
ttention. The mage was ushered down a series of twisting corridors, and then finally outside.
The wizard was surprised to see that it was early evening. Rain fell heavily and obscured vision to just a few dozen feet. The officer half led, half dragged Tyrell through the downpour to a finely polished black coach that waited near the building.
“Get in, “growled the officer.
“Where are we going?”
“Just get in. This business would have been over if you three hadn’t caused such a fuss last night. We had to move you all one at a time so you wouldn’t kill each other along the way. I ought to be out hunting down the Dockside Slayer, but instead, I get to babysit three scoundrels who should’ve been stretched this morning.”
The reference to the investigation was not lost on the wizard. “You are Captain Knarya, I presume.” The fat officer just nodded as the coach started rolling. Weary eyes coolly regarded the mage, and Tyrell suspected that this was but one of many long nights that the Captain had recently endured. Knarya’s reputation was spotless. He was a man beyond bribery and was well regarded by the aristocracy whom Tyrell associated with. Despite his predicament, the wizard couldn’t help but respect the soldier.
“The others are already at our destination,” Tyrell asked as he sank back into the soft cushions of the carriage. The elegance of the vehicle made it obvious that his liberator was someone of means, but it bore no crests to identify to whom it belonged. Tyrell figured that his benefactor was a newcomer to the city.
Knarya nodded again. “We had to rearrange the watch schedule to accommodate this foolishness,” he growled. He pulled a flask from his a pocket and took a quick sip. “I had to leave a few of my men with your friends just to make sure that they didn’t destroy his lordship’s home. If you ask me, they should’ve just hung the lot of you, and been done with it all. Would have saved everybody a lot of time and trouble, and the City Watch could be attending to more important matters.” He took another drink from the flask, then sank into a moody silence.
Tyrell listened to the carriage wheels grate along the streets, studying the fronts of the houses as they rolled by. As the faces of each edifice gradually increased in opulence, he realized that they were moving into what was known as the Jewel Quarter. The ornate gates of homes he had performed in for Tarnath’s elite scrolled by the window. It was this section of the city that Tyrell had made his living for some time.
Who would want me out of prison, he thought. And why? Surely not Kandlemeer. He had to have been disgraced by the fact that such a crime had allegedly been committed by one of his own servants. The nobleman had likely confiscated all of Tyrell’s possessions as a breach of contract and settlement for Lord Tessarin.
Furthermore, what roles do Galen Thale and Nestor Canaith play in all of this? Someone was going to a lot of trouble to make sure that all three men were brought together for this clandestine meeting. Tyrell shuddered despite himself.
The carriage finally rolled to a stop before a large townhouse that the mage recognized as a temporary estate leased out to visiting nobility. So very unlikely then that my liberator is a native of Tarnath, he mused. Tyrell tried to recall if he had ever entertained any foreign dignitaries well enough to have such a person save his life. None came to mind.
The carriage door opened, and Tyrell was dragged out by two soaked city guards. The soldiers shoved the mage roughly up the stairs to the main door. One man held the mage by the arm while the other pounded loudly on the portal with his fist. The door swung open revealing yet another guard who escorted Tyrell and Knarya into a grand hallway. On either side of the broad chamber, a massive staircase wound up the back wall. Archways beneath the risers on the side walls opened into lavishly decorated chambers, while the rear wall held access doors that provided the house servants to quickly see to a host’s needs.
Tyrell was at a loss for what he was expected to do so he waited while Captain Knarya finished giving orders to his soldiers. “Keep two men inside the doors of the foyer, and tell the rest to get back to their watches. I don’t imagine that these idiots will cause any more trouble.” He turned back to the wizard. “As for us, we wait right here until we are called for, although that shouldn’t take long. Ah, here she comes now.” Tyrell turned and saw a beautiful, young woman emerge from the archway to his left. Long, coppery curls fell around her shoulders. A modest, yet complimentary gown of deep blue hugged a statuesque frame. Her deep blue eyes twinkled merrily as she approached the wizard.
“You must be the last of them,” she said with a welcoming smile. Her voice was musical and alluring.
Tyrell almost felt hypnotized by her beauty. He bowed low before her. “Tyrell Amalcheal, at your ser-.” Knarya cuffed the wizard on the back of the head and scowled.
“She knows too well who you are, thief. You’re here for business, not pleasure.” The officer fired off an angry glare to the two chuckling soldiers who stood at the doorway. “And the two of you may now resume the rest of your post on the other side of those doors. Maybe the rain washing over your heads will clear out some of those vile thoughts.” The soldiers saluted dutifully and went to their new assignments.
“I would ask on behalf of the lord of the manor, Captain, that you treat his guests with courtesy and respect. He would take it as a personal affront if this man were to be injured in his home, and I can assure you that he is not the sort of man you wish to offend.” She looked to Tyrell. “In fact, I understand that is something of the reason he has asked for you tonight.” Knarya mumbled a quick apology and bowed to the lady.
“Thank you for your consideration, Lady....” Tyrell looked at her blankly, which caused her to laugh, and grace him again with her warm smile.
“Lorelei. Lorelei Riadyn, but I am not the Lady of this manor. I must admit that I am merely a servant for His Lordship. Your formality is kind but unnecessary.” She looked him over quickly. “You don’t appear to be as banged up as the other two were, but a sip of this should ease you a bit.” She offered him a small glass with a blue-green liquid. Tyrell recognized the healing elixir immediately and gratefully drank it down. He could feel his aches and pains fade in the potion’s restorative warmth.
“I assumed a woman of such grace and elegance to be the lady of the estate. Your master is gracious indeed to provide so well for his servants.” He nodded his head in gratitude.
Lorelei took Tyrell by the arm, leading him through the archway into a massive dining room. A long table was filled with dishes and delicacies that made the hungry wizard’s mouth water. At one end of the table, Nestor and Galen sat and glared at one another. When Lorelei led the mage in, Galen got to his feet and bowed to her. He winked to Tyrell.
The wizard almost laughed. The three of them were likely living on borrowed time, yet the young thief was trying to impress their hostess. Tyrell allowed Galen to pull out the girl’s chair, and he shook hands with the younger man. Nestor simply scowled at the wizard who, as luck would have it, was seated right beside him.
“All right,” said Knarya. “Here’s the last of them, so let’s eat.” The officer rubbed his meaty palms together as he tried to decide what to sample first.
“Anxious to get away from barracks food, Captain,” asked Lorelei as she spread a cloth napkin over her lap.
“Actually, Lady, I’m anxious only to quit playing nursemaid to this pack of rogues so that I may get on with my other duties.”
“Protecting innocent pantries,” quipped Galen. The thief ignored the officer’s glare and looked at the wizard. “Nice to see you again, Tyrell. How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have a right to, I suppose. At least I’m still alive.” He glanced over at Nestor who was busily tearing at a piece of roast.
“For the moment, wizard. Our game hasn’t finished,” said the warrior without looking away from his meal.
The mage ignored the threat. “What of our host, lady,” asked Tyrell. “Should we not wait for his arrival, or won’t he be joining u
s?”
“My lord will join us soon. He regrets that he had some other arrangements concerning the release of the three of you that demanded his immediate attention. He sends his apologies but insists that you relax and enjoy his hospitality. To be honest, even I don’t see him that much. I arrive in the early evenings, take a tray to his study, chat with him, and then do some cleaning around the house. I feel somewhat guilty over how well he cares for me considering the truly small amount of work that I do for him. However, to a girl who grew up in the streets, and earned her bread by doing whatever chores she could find within the friendlier taverns, I consider myself very lucky.”
“Your master is the lucky one to have made such a fine choice,” said Tyrell as he raised his glass to her.
“Here, here,” added Galen. He smiled as Lorelei blushed, and lowered her eyes.
“My, isn’t this cozy,” growled Nestor. “Can we dispense with the courtesies, and get down to why we were all brought here? I have some unfinished business I’d like to take care of.” The warrior glared at Tyrell while he pointedly twirled a carving knife through his fingers.
“Don’t presume that I’m content to allow you to bully me all evening, Canaith. I assure you I’m not in the mood.”
“Well, perhaps I am.”
“By the way, how’s your head,” asked Tyrell in a not so subtle reminder of the outcome of their last fight.
“Besides thick, of course,” added Galen. Too late, the young thief realized that he had provoked a situation that was quickly becoming explosive. Nestor stood, kicking his chair away as he appeared ready to leap over the table to get to the cutpurse. Knarya’s eyes darted back and forth to the men, realizing that his own men were too far away and out of earshot to help if needed. The captain had seen enough barroom brawls to know that all Hell was about to break loose, and there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do to stop it.
