Kargaroth

by Mark B Frost

  His second-in-command had just informed him that they had a visitor. It had been some time since Barkus had taken a commission. Kalema was uncertain how anxious he was to get involved in another war, but before everything Barkus was a business. If the offer was rich enough they would take it, regardless of the task.

  Two guards entered through the door across the dimly lit hall, walking down the lush red carpet that led to the throne. A shadow followed behind them, but Kalema could tell nothing of it. He was only barely able to pick out the movement. He realized that had this man wanted to make his way in undetected, he could have easily done so.

  The two guards reached the foot of the throne and bowed, then moved to the sides of the room. The dark man stood boldly in the center of the chamber, offering no signs of acquiescence. Kalema looked him over. He was dressed entirely in black, complete with cape and cowl. A few light tints of purple could be seen here and there, but for the most part he was devoid of color. The one glaring exception to his subtle appearance was two dark blue flames that hovered over his face, covering his eyes and creating an ominous visage.

  The Lord of the Barki waited a moment, then bellowed out, using the echoes of the room to enhance his presence. “Speak! You are the one who came here. State your business or return home.”

  The slim visitor hissed. “Such brashness from the lord of thieves.” Kalema’s hazel eyes flashed dangerously, and he nearly rose from his seat. “It is no matter. We do have business for you.”

  The king scowled. “I have decided that I have no business with you. You may take your leave, or I will offer it to you forcibly.”

  The man continued, ignoring the threat. “Some men will be approaching you soon for another business transaction. I am unsure when, but I am assured they will come. A man with red hair and attire, of average height, and a large dark man, tall and dangerous. The one in red is brilliant and calm, and the dark one quiet but violent. They are both of extraordinary fighting ability. When they come, they may come alone or they may bring others with them. They are soldiers of Felthespar. Perhaps you remember them as Onion Knights?”

  “I do not. As I told you, I’m not interested in your proposition. Get out of my home.”

  The shrouded figure took a step forward and clapped his hands once. Four men emerged from the shadows, dressed in the same black apparel as the first. The king tightened his grip on his war club in anticipation of an ambush, but instead the men stepped slowly toward the throne, each carrying a massive chest. They set the chests down and opened them. Each was filled with precious ore and gems. Kalema’s eyes flashed again, this time with a touch of greed.

  He sat back in his throne. “The least I can do is hear you out.”

  “These two men will come to you asking for a commission. Most likely they will ask for an entourage of your men to help them conquer an enemy country. I want you to take their commission and fulfill it. Then, before you part paths, incapacitate the man in red. I care not how you do it, as long as you make certain that he is unable to fight again for many years.”

  Kalema raised an eyebrow. With as much money as he was being offered he was not eager to question his task, but he could not restrain himself. “What about the other man? The large one?”

  His client shook his head. “The large man is merely a soldier. The red haired one is the leader. As long as he is in charge of his country, our seers say they are unbeatable.”

  The king knew little of seers or mystical phenomena, so he decided not to address the issue. “If this fellow is such a threat, why don’t I have my men kill him as soon as he steps into our territory?”

  For the first time the dark man showed emotion. A hint of desperation crept into his voice. “You must not! They cannot be dealt with in such a manner! Your soldiers are not fit to confront these two. You must do as I say. You must betray them once you have earned their trust. This is the only way in which they can be overcome.”

  He scratched at his thick mustache for a moment of thought. “You realize that Barkus is not of the habit of betraying contracts.”

  “Of this I am aware. That is why I proposed for you to complete your contract with them, then betray them. In that way, your honor is not impugned upon.”

  He stared at the man a while longer. Then his eyes wandered over to the chests of gems. “Deal.” He reached behind his throne and drew forth some paperwork. “Allow me to draw up the contracts. Once you have signed those, you can be on your way. What is your name?”

  “My name is Derris. Derris Phare.”

  Chapter 18.

  The Mercenary Guild of Barkus

  Atheme sat on a rock, eating snacks from Jegan and watching Abaddon sharpen his Morabet. The enchanted weapon never dulled, but the big man regularly ignored that fact. Atheme rolled his eyes at the sight, but as he had only recently convinced his friend to carry a weapon other than the Dual Blade, he resisted pressing a fresh argument. Clearly the man was working his own nerves more than the steel itself.

  It was early afternoon and the knights sat at the peak of a small hill. The entrance to the underground city of Barkus was only a hundred yards away, but the Lord Councilor showed no interest in moving closer. If he wished to make a good impression with Barkus, they had to come to him. Two guards sat by the front entrance watching them intently. Atheme knew this standoff was meant to make them uncomfortable and gauge their reactions. It was about to get a reaction they would regret.

  “I’m sick of this,” Abaddon announced as he sheathed the Morabet. “Let me talk to them. They’ll let us in, alright.”

  “Relax, Ab. We don’t have enough money with us to buy Barkus’ services outright, so these are going to be delicate negotiations. I can’t have them start out with your murdering their guards.”

  He grimaced. “What if I maim them?”

  “Be still and sit tight. The game’s nearly over.”

  As he spoke, a third member of Barkus emerged from the cave and headed up the hill. Abaddon started to stand, but Atheme made a swift motion and he settled back down. The newcomer was a tall, lanky man dressed in formal black and brown attire, with a rough shock of white hair coming out of a red bandanna. Atheme surmised that he was a Clan Voice.

  Barkus had strange customs. If Atheme handled himself properly, he would be taken straight to Kalema Dijar. If not, he would be forced to fill out a form for “Request for Transaction”, and would wait weeks for Barkus to contact him. He was not a master of the guild’s traditions, but he had been here with Calvin once, and intended to model his behavior on what he had seen then.

  The Barki reached the top of the hill and inspected the two visitors. Neither of made eye contact—Atheme as part of his ruse, Abaddon because he was fuming. The thin man asked, “Which of you is the spokesman?” There was no response. “Do you have business with Barkus?” Still no response. “You are on private territory. If you do not have business with us, vacate this area at once.”

  Atheme stood and faced the man. “I will speak with Kalema Dijar,” he said in his most authoritative voice. A quiver of doubt crept into his mind as he realized he did not possess the intimidating presence of Calvin. He hoped this was not crucial to the protocol.

  The man waited for a moment, then bowed slightly. “Follow me. Your friend can wait here.”

  Atheme had to repress a smile. This was the answer he had expected. He was about to give the appropriate response, when Abaddon stood and shot a menacing glare in the man’s direction, his anger echoing across the ether currents. A wall of the Daemon’s rage slammed into the man, and he fell a step back as if he had been struck.

  He froze where he stood, eyeing Abaddon with a slight quiver in his hands. “I see you are both men of strong will. Kalema will see you. If you’ll follow me...” He turned and headed toward the cave. Atheme sighed in relief as they moved to follow.

  The entrance tunnel led into massive underground chambers and hallways. Drawing out schematics for the structure in his mind, the Lord Cou
ncilor wondered how the place had been carved. Soon they entered the master chamber of Kalema Dijar and were led to the foot of the throne. Hundreds of clan members were gathered, and it looked to Atheme as if games were being held. Kalema sat on his throne, stroking his whiskers and looking over his guests. The thin man who had led them bowed to his king, then moved off to the side of the chamber. The three exchanged stares for a moment, then Kalema opened negotiations.

  “You,” he said pointing to Atheme. “You look familiar to me. Is there a reason for this?”

  He bowed before answering. “I came here long ago with Lord Calvin Darmani, Knight of the Heavens.”

  The mercenary king stood and slapped his own chest. He was tall, nearly six and a half feet with a sinewy, athletic build. He did not possess the same intimidating bulk as Abaddon, but he had the look of a man who could hold his own against anyone. “You’re the young lad with the Onion Lord!”

  Atheme raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

  He laughed heartily and stepped from his podium to shake his guest’s hand. “Calvin, Lord Councilor of Onion Knights. I called him ‘Onion Lord’. He had a good sense of humor about him. He was an ally for many years. And you, young squire—where did your journeys take you? How is old Calvin?”

  Atheme was surprised the man did not recall fighting him in the past, but decided now was not the time to bring it up. “Calvin has passed. I now serve as Lord Councilor.”

  Kalema scratched the back of his head with a melancholy grin. “I never imagined I’d outlive him.” After a moment of silent thought, he continued. “So you’re the new Onion Lord? Then welcome to my domain. You are always welcome in the halls of Barkus.” He snapped a finger, and the people gathered in the chamber raised their hands and cheered. “What business have you with my clan?”

  The Lord Councilor told the tale of Revian and the massacre in the gorge, then of Corsair DeMorgan and his warship. “That’s where you come in. I’d like to requisition some of your soldiers to help in this battle.”

  Kalema rubbed his chin and wandered back over to his throne. “You want to ambush the ambushers before they know it’s happening. You probably can’t fit an army much larger than five hundred into a boat, which may not be enough to take a city. It is a risky venture. It might be nothing more than a waste of manpower.” He paused for thought. “I propose a modified plan. I can supply you with an army for your boat for the surprise attack, but I will send another army to Revian by another route. You say the gorge is watched? My Barki will climb through the mountains. It will be slow going, but the ship will also suffer a long trip. We can coordinate our journeys and strike Revian simultaneously from two fronts. What say you?”

  Atheme smiled, as he had intended to propose the second strike as negotiations went deeper. With the Barki king beating him to the suggestion, he had one less diplomatic battle to win. “It’s a better plan than I dared ask for. But I can assure you that the ship I have procured will be able to hold a thousand soldiers. I say we take that number, in case something goes awry for the thousand on foot.”

  Kalema’s brow raised. “You’re asking for two thousand soldiers from Barkus? That’s nearly half a legion. What price are you offering?”

  “Are we negotiating?”

  “Depends on your answer,” he responded as he sat.

  “We have no funds on us at this time, but if you allow us to pay when the venture begins we can easily round up a few coffers of silver and gold from Felthespar’s vaults. Or perhaps we can cut some other type of deal. Felthespari weapons are the best on the continent, or we could offer premium foods or fine wines.”

  The man stared at the Lord Councilor hard, then answered, “No deal, Onion Lord.” Atheme’s shoulders sank. “Barkus must receive payment at the signing of a contract. Yet, perhaps we can make a special arrangement. I owe Calvin a debt, and perhaps I could repay it to you. Gold and jewels I have in abundance. What I lack is entertainment. Long it has been since I saw a good fight. To repay my debt to Calvin, I will give you the soldiers you need for the price of only a single battle.”

  “That’s it? All you ask for is a fight?”

  Beneath his mustache, he smiled wickedly. “You could put it that way. Jonath, get ready to release our pet.”

  * * * * *

  The Tower of Halariu shimmered in the light of the midday sun. Relm stepped out of the front entrance, at last released from her studies. Kinguin was an unforgiving teacher, expecting no flaw from his student. Relm was sharp enough to keep up and had only rarely let him down, but still, she was exhausted. She wished she could relax with Atheme, but her Lord Councilor was gone once more. She missed and worried over him, but knew he had important matters to handle, and she could not expect to have him all to herself.

  She had found a kindred spirit in Jessandra Emle, whose husband was often out on missions. They had spent their free time together for the last few days, and Relm felt she had already grown close to the spirited woman. Jessandra used her nobility to her advantage, and when they were not out shopping or dining somewhere expensive, she dragged Relm along to play pranks and steal things from the soldiers in their barracks. The young herald felt some guilt knowing that Atheme would disapprove, but she was having too much fun to let it stop her.

  Today Jessandra had appointments with Emle tenants, so Relm had a few hours to herself. She wandered the city for a while, browsing the marketplace, stopping in a few restaurants and bars to see if anyone she knew was around, then heading to the Church for a moment of prayer. After that she decided to leave Felthespar and take a walk in the woods. If a war was going to start soon, she knew she may soon become confined to the city indefinitely.

  With some difficulty she convinced the guards to open the front gate for her, then headed out. She wandered in the forest for a couple of hours and eventually found herself on military training grounds. She walked to where she heard sounds of a scuffle, and saw an imposing woman roughing up some trainees.

  A dozen soldiers surrounded Karice Contel, but she was by no means at a disadvantage. She held her broadsword gracefully in both hands and her feet seemed to only barely touch the ground. Two soldiers rushed her from the front, both fighting with the much faster Moragam, the slim katana that was standard issue for war mages. Karice gave a rapid step forward, sliding between the two and stabbing her sword into the ground in front of her. She launched her body backward and elbowed them in the back of their heads, sending them to the ground. Three soldiers tried to reach her before she could retrieve her sword, to no avail. She freed it from the ground and disarmed the three of them in a fierce swoop. Another soldier aimed to take her head on, but she delivered a powerful blow to his head with the hilt of her sword.

  Relm watched amazed as one by one the soldiers fell helplessly to the ground. Soon only one challenger was left. The smallest of the trainees, a young woman dressed in blue and black—matching her deep blue eyes and short black hair—with her Morabet still sheathed. Karice adjusted her stance and turned to face this final opponent, her sword carefully balanced forward.

  “Aren’t you going to fight, Fujia?”

  She looked up at the Lord of Aithr with a cold gaze. “I was waiting until there would be no interruptions.” She drew her sword and dashed in quickly.

  The veteran spun on her right foot and swung her sword around in her left hand for an unexpected attack. Fujia caught the swing with a swiftly drawn dagger and made a quick stab at her commander’s face with the broadsword. Karice moved her head back slightly to dodge, then reached up with her free hand and grabbed the blade. She jerked forward on the sword and twisted her left elbow into the trainee’s stomach. As Fujia gasped for air, Karice slammed her forehead into the girl’s face and she collapsed to the ground.

  Relm applauded the finale. She was not normally a fan of such fights, but she was thrilled by this display of effortless mastery. Karice looked to her in surprise, then gave a bow and a smile. She turned and helped Fujia to her feet.

>   “You did good, rookie. I am impressed.”

  The young woman spat and grimaced. “How can you say that? You defeated me as easily as the others.”

  “I don’t see what you are, I see what you could be. You do not fixate on a single weapon, but you rely on all resources at your disposal. You fight with both your body and your mind totally dedicated to the next move, trying to respond to your opponent and anticipate their openings and weaknesses. This is the difference in a good fighter and a great one. Stay attentive, and you will be great someday.”

  Fujia blushed, then left. The other trainees hobbled to their feet and off to another training exercise. When they were gone their trainer moved to Relm, straightening her hair as she talked.

  “Greetings, Madam Herald. You enjoyed the show?”

  “Oh yes, especially the first bit. I mean, it’s refreshing to see so many men outclassed by a woman.”

  “Once you lift a sword, gender means nothing. Skill and experience make the difference, and I have both. But I thank you for the compliment, in any case. How go affairs at the Arcanum?”

  “About the same as always,” she answered jovially. “Dark and secretive. I’m not nearly high enough rank to be let in on all of the ‘secret experiments’ they’ve got going on.”

  Karice laughed. “No doubt.”

  Relm’s face turned serious. “But everyone does seem to be taking this war thing seriously. There’s a bunch of talk about what we’re going to do when the attack comes.”

  “It’s much the same here. Rumor has it that Lords Atheme and Abaddon are trying to buy our country time. But I know not what in truth they are doing. There are secrets everywhere nowadays.”

  “Even I don’t know where Atheme has gone.”

  “I am certain that they have gone to do what they think is most beneficial to our cause.” She smiled despondently. “I often wish I could travel with them. They are the mightiest warriors in Felthespar. I bet their adventures are marvelous ones indeed. But I am not yet powerful enough to match those two. Even Lord Kulara cannot measure up with them.”