The Captain was silent for a moment, looking only at the child in the prostitute’s arms.
“I concede that I am his father, but I do not and will not allow you to walk away. Who is hunting you?”
“I am unsure but I will be able to illude him easily enough. I am a woman of the night, and the night knows me. It will hide me away safely.”
As she finished talking, ten other guards jogged up and stood at attention. Each wore chainmail shirt, helmet, armor plated leather pants and boots, with a short sword attached to their hip and a small shield strapped to their back. The Captain smiled at their quick assembly and then pointed at the guards.
“Who hear has taken care of an infant before?” the Captain asked the group. One of the guards stepped forward. The Captain smiled again. The guard’s name was Osguud. He was of average height, younger than the rest of the Senior Guard members, and came from a family of eight.
“Osguud, take the infant for the evening. You may stay in my quarters until I return. If you need anything, ask Joren for assistance. Osguud removed his chainmail shirt, sword, shield and helmet and handed them to the guard at his left. He then walked up to Anna and held his arms in a cradle like pose. Carefully Anna transferred the infant into the guard’s arms, her tan, smooth skin brushing his. Osguud blushed from the contact, but focused on the task. He ensured that the infant’s head was supported and that he held the full weight of the child in his arms before moving away.
“You’re equipment will be placed in my quarters as well, for the time being. The rest of you will follow Anna, but not too closely. She claims that she is being hunted. Your task this evening is to find that hunter. If she is yet alive by day break, she will be let go and you will return here.”
“Yes sir,” the guards replied in unison. The baby cried from the sudden noise. Osguud shook his head, rocked the infant gently in his arms, walked into the Captain’s quarters and shut the door.
“He must never know of me,” Anna said, “for the moment he does, I fear that his life will end as well. Swear to me on your life and the life of your Guard that he will never know of me.” The Captain looked down at his quarters. The infant stopped crying.
“Swear to me,” Anna said again.
“I swear it,” the Captain said. Anna wrapped her shawl back around her face and turned to leave.
“Wait,” the Captain said. Anna stopped and the Captain walked up to her. He pulled a loose string from his shirt and handed it to her. “For safety,” he said. “What is his name?”
“Kosai.” Anna wrapped the string around her finger and held to it tightly. She didn’t say goodbye, but looked back once before disappearing into the night.
“Let’s go,” the Captain ordered. “And take Joren with you. I think it’s about time he understood what we do.”
Joren smiled, nodded, and jogged out of the Barracks behind the Guard. It was a moonless night. Light from small homes slightly illuminated the streets and Anna was no where to be seen. The Captain looked in all directions, searching for. The Guard split up, looking for any sign of the woman. Joren walked behind the stable and looked south, down Outer road. A few squares of light shone on the dusty road, but the road was empty. He looked north and saw Anna running towards the Gate.
Joren drew a large arrow in the dust with his foot pointing towards the Gate, gave a short, high pitched whistle and ran after her. The Guard was able to catch up to him quickly enough. Anna stopped at the Gate. Her arms flexed and then went rigid to her sides, as if she were coiled by a large serpent. A low dark cloud, carried by a cold wind, slowly rolled over the wall. Purple lightning flashed in the dark mass as it passed the Gate tower. Thunder boomed, shaking the walls and creating a wind of its own. Joren lifted his hand to protect his eyes.
The cloud descended into the street and surrounded the harlot. Lightning flashed again, followed by another boom of thunder. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the dark cloud lifted like old smoke into the night. Anna was gone.
Joren stared at the gate, unsure of what he had seen. He turned to run towards the Barracks, but stopped. The Captain stood behind him, his face without emotion as he stared at where Anna had once been.
“Sir, did you see that?” Joren asked.
“Yes,” the Captain said, almost in a whisper.
“What are you going to do?”
The Captain was silent. He looked up at the towers and a look of concern finally appeared on his face.
“Go to the Barracks, check on the child. Tell no one what you have seen. There’ll be an extra piece of silver for you in the morning if you keep your mouth shut.”
The boy nodded and ran back to the Barracks, but the Captain remained. The Captain looked up at the tower next to the gate. Shortly after, one of the senior guards walked up to the Captain.
“Your orders sir?”
“Hand me your sword and stand watch. I don’t want any civilians coming anywhere near the Gate.”
The Guard saluted and gave the Captain his sword. Shortly after, the guard started giving orders for each guard to set up a perimeter around the Gate. The Captain went through a small door next to the Gate and walked up a set of tight-spiraling, stone stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he pushed open a trap door and and pulled himself onto the viewing platform, and then drew his sword. His eyes widened with anger.
Blood was smeared across the floor and walls and the guard that was supposed to be on duty was missing. The Captain turned, examining the platform, searching for foot or hand prints, but only found his own. The dark cloud reappeared and settled around the tower.
“Captain of the Capital Guard,” a deep voice crackled.
“Show yourself,” the Captain hissed back. Suddenly, a black-hooded figure materialized from the shadows a few inches from the Captain’s face. The Captain stabbed the figure through with his blade, but the figure didn’t flinch.
“You cannot kill me,” it said, as it pushed the Captain away, the sword passing through the figure as if it were cutting air. The figure held a thin brown leather strap that was connected to a vial filled with black liquid. The vial dangled beneath the figures hand, swaying slightly. “I have a need of you and your Guard.”
“We serve only the people,” the Captain said.
“You will serve me in time. I will call on you again.”
As the figure turned, the Captain swung at the figure, but the figure vanished. The cloud lifted, and the Captain was left standing on the tower, overlooking Noiknaer.
CHAPTER 1
Sixteen years later…
Just inside the Gate of the capital city Noiknaer, teams of large, black scaled serpents snorted and chewed on metal bits with their flat, block like teeth. The bits were attached to steel harnesses that wrapped around their neck and shoulders and attached them to the wagons that they were about to pull across the desert sands. The lizards were twice as large as an ox, but as tame as a dog. They were called suon and were used in the country of Tessír as pack animals.
The wagons were like boats, ranging from twenty to thirty feet in length with four wooden wheels with an open top. A seat for the driver was towards the front. A two-foot-wide walkway extended from the front of the wagon to the back. There were two ladders in each wagon, one just behind the driver’s seat and another at the back. The back of the wagon opened downward to create a ramp when the wagons were being loaded and unloaded. The inside of the wagon looked much like a merchant’s shop whose shelves were too crowded.
Tessír bordered the ocean on its southern and eastern sides. To the north was Valrette. The seep that occurred sixteen years ago was still growing, but at a much slower pace. All but a few ares of tillable land remained, but were still too dangerous to farm. West of Varlette was the lost city of Olfstead, where many years before, another seep swallowed the town and surrounding area in a few moments.
Luckily, a seer at the School of the Faye scried into the future, searching for a
nother Seep. When the seep was spotted, there was ample time to evacuate the city and bring them to Noiknaer.
To the west were the nearly impassible mountains, The Broken Blades. The Broken Blades stretched down from the north and continued southward, forming an isthmus between Tessír and the country of Caite.
Caite exported corn, barley, wheat, oats and other agriculture products which were purchased from two groups within Tessír, the government and the Three Brothers Merchant Company, a syndicate of merchants that spread through the country like an army of ants. The government used gold and ores extracted from the mines of Linnouse, a city in the center of Tessír, to pay for the goods and then distributed them throughout the country, using much of what was considered excess to feed the poor and homeless.
The Three Brothers were much more efficient than the government caravans in transporting grains around the country and in much higher volumes. The Three Brothers also purchased iron ore from Linnouse and timber from Caite, shipping it quickly to places where it was most needed, and receiving the highest prices.
The suon stomped and shook their heads; the dark purple and green undertones of their scales shimmering in the sun. There were two caravans, consisting of thirty wagons, all filled with goods from the various schools of Noiknaer. Golden yellow and blue carafes, vases and bottles from the School of Pottery and Glass rattled as the suon moved the wagon forward slightly. Sharp and shining axe blades, hammers, nails, chisels and other tools from the Forge (a school for upcoming blacksmiths) and The Three Brothers’ Smith and Repair clinked together. The caravans also carried clothing, carpets, rugs and tapestries from weavers and artists.
Twelve of the wagons waved the two banners of Tessír. One banner bore a red hammer and anvil embroidered on a white flag. The other showed a white fist grasping two stems of wheat on a red flag. The other eighteen wagons bore the emblem of the Three Brothers. Their flag was red, with two golden serpents spiraling around each other, facing each other with an open mouth; long, curved fangs exposed.
At the front of the government caravan, one of the suon hissed and bit at his teammate. Scales crunched in his jaws, but no blood was drawn. The lead caravan driver dismounted from his seat and ran up to his beasts. He patted each of their necks. His touch seemed to calm the animals as they eased their breathing into slow, smooth, steady rhythms.
“Seems your suon is nervous about the journey today,” called a driver from the Three Brothers. “Perhaps you should listen to him and stay home.” The government driver said nothing, but let out long, low tones next to the lizard’s eye.
“Did you hear me driver? Stay home. You won’t make it. Leave the trading to real professionals,” the syndicate driver called. Other drivers of his company started laughing.
“Hold your tongues!” someone called in a sharp voice. A band of six guards approached the government caravan, setting the giant lizards on edge a second time. Five were dressed in a white tunic and light chainmail. White cloth covered their faces, with a small slit for their eyes. Each carried a short saber at their hip and a shield tied to their back. The sixth sat upon a white horse and was also dressed in a white tunic, light-mail, plated armor, and wore a light grey hooded cape over his battle dress. He didn’t carry a shield. His hood was up and a white mask covered the lower part of his face, shielding his nose and mouth. A solid red mark was painted on the left cheek of his mask. It looked like two fangs drenched in blood with a blade resting on the top of them. A cutlass was sheathed on each hip.
“What authority does the Guard have over us?” the driver from the Three Brothers asked. He wore a red shirt with gold buttons up the front. His hands were decorated with gemmed rings. The sunlight glared off of his black polished boots. Silver rimmed goggles were attached to a leather strap that wrapped around his neck. The guard on the horse pulled up to the syndicate wagon and looked up at the driver.
The horse carried his head high and the rider sat straight and tall in the saddle, his gray cloak flapping behind him in the wind. The guard pulled the sword on his right hip partially out of its sheath, showing a portion of the blade. He twisted it in the sun, showing its slight red tint.
“I command my blade to cut and it obeys,” he said quietly, then re-sheathed his sword. “Your tongue would do well to remember that.” He turned away and the caravan of the Three Brothers moved towards the gate. The gatekeeper to the south of the gate flung his whip into the air, the loud crack carrying across the wind.
On each side of the gate was metal gear with long metal bars sticking out of it. There wasn’t a bare spot of metal showing as prisoners, chained together and to the center of the cog, placed their hand on the steel rods. People were sent to the gate for theft, murder, blackmail, debt, and occasionally counterfeiting. As the prisoners pushed the gear, the gear pulled a chain connected to the Gate. The south side opened slowly, grinding against the stony ground.
The criminals would be locked into the gears, forced to stand all day. At night, the criminals were shackled to walls inside the Gate house and given a square of hard bread and water, which was more than they could get in the streets. It was because of this promise of food that the gears were full, and why when the gatekeeper cracked his whip again, the gate opened with seemingly minimal effort.
The drivers of the government caravan were completely covered in a grey, mesh-like cloth. Each had a set of dark goggles that was strapped with leather, and rested around their necks. The lead driver pulled away from his beasts and approached the guards.
“Only six of you? This caravan is twelve long!” the caravan driver said.
Nomads survived in the desert by wandering in search of water and food. The nomads raided what the caravans carried and killed the slow moving suon for food. It was because of the nomadic attacks that the poor starved in the cities and resorted to crime.
“Our numbers are few, but you will be safe,” said one of the guards on foot. “Kosai, senior student, Wolf of the Capital Barracks is with us, as are the prayers of the city.” He pulled a pouch from his belt filled with short strands of string. The caravan driver looked at Kosai, and stepped closer to the guard with the pouch of string.
“Are what they say about him true, that he killed more nomads than any other guard in history? Has he defeated a band without unsheathing his sword?” he whispered.
“No,” the guard said. The caravan driver sighed and lowered his head. Then the guard continued. “He has done worse. His swords, when unsheathed, reflect a red tint from the permanent stain of innards. Though he is a student, without the Wolf, many of us would not be here. He has saved us when the odds have seemed insurmountable. Be of good cheer, your caravan is in good hands.” The caravan driver looked up at Kosai one last time and then turned to his caravan. He whistled sharply, raised his hand above his head, swung it in a circle, and then took his seat in the lead wagon. The caravan moved out into the early morning with the five guards on their right and Kosai on their left.
As the sun broke over the horizon, ground seemed to evaporate around them. Every few minutes the group stopped and drank from the water barrels that the caravan carried. They journeyed in silence as the sun passed slowly overhead.
In the distance, the horizon disappeared in a watery haze. Sand peeled off of sand dunes and rolled in the wind. A cold wind shifted towards them, stirring more sand into a brown and red cloud.
“Cover up, sandstorm ahead!” the lead caravan driver yelled. The caravan halted and the drivers jumped down from their seats. Each pulled out a thick canvass from under the wagons. The guards helped throw the canvass over the wagon and tie it to the other side. After ensuring that all the corners of the canvass were tied and secured, the drivers released the suon.
“What are you doing?” one of the guards asked.
“In case there is something else in the storm, I wish for my animals to be able to defend themselves. Their thrashing will destroy the wagons and they could easily become tangled in the
ropes,” the caravan driver said.
Kosai got off the horse, led the animal between the first two wagons, helped the horse lay down and placed his head inside the protective canvass covering. One of the drivers slid inside and patted the horse’s neck. The five guards stood in a staggered line and looked at the storm. Satisfied with the horse, Kosai walked up to them and stood in the middle of the group. He took a step towards the growing storm. His two swords swayed and bumped his sides as the wind increased in speed.
“Kosai, what do you see?” asked one of the guards. The sand storm continued towards them and then stopped a few paces away from the line of guards. Flecks of sand pelted them while the wind roared past. The red sand on the edge of the storm swirled and moved from right to left, forming a moving wall.
“Stay with the caravan. This storm isn’t normal,” Kosai said.
“Kosai, mind your place,” one of the guards said. “You are still a student. You and I will go into the storm, but only briefly. The rest of you keep watch.”
“Aye sir,” the guards said in unison.
Kosai was the Captain’s son and often took the lead in skirmishes against nomadic tribes. While he didn’t hold an official rank within the Guard, his courage, strength and skill were respected.
Kosai drew his swords and entered the storm with the commanding guard following him. The inside of the storm was like a dense fog. Kosai could only see a few feet in front of him at a time. He tried to listen to his surroundings but heard only the high pitched wind screaming around him. The red sand clung to his moist body, mixing with the sweat that covered his back, neck, and arms. He didn’t travel far into the storm before he found a boulder that was half as tall as he was and half covered in sand.
“I found high ground!” Kosai called to the guard. Hearing nothing he turned to find him, but the guard was out of sight. Kosai climbed it and stood on the top and searched for him.
Emblems of Power Page 2
