Path of Kings

by James Dale

  “Where are we going?” Cyran asked. “Certainly not back to the Two Fountains? Though if we could sneak back…” he added hopefully.

  “I don’t know,” Braedan admitted. Where would they be going? There options were limited with his sudden notoriety. He hoped Borg had a plan.

  A knock at the door announced the arrival of their supper. Hadar carried a flagon of wine and four plates of steaming roast chicken were balanced precariously on the outstretched arms of a frightening serving girl. “Will you be needing anything else, sir knight?” he asked, handing Cyran the wine and taking plates and placing them on the small table in the corner of the room.

  “That will be all,” Braedan replied, giving them both a silver Th’rakken, “except…would you see we are not disturbed? You can collect the plates in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Hedar nodded enthusiastically, exulting in his new responsibilities. “Just put them outside in the hall when ye are done. I’ll stand guard at the bottom of the stairs meself. You’ll not be troubled.”

  “Looks like your victory today has gained us a better fare at least,” Erlwin announced, eyeing the plates of chicken and new potatoes smothered in some brown gravy. “It’s almost a shame we can’t stick around longer. Almost.”

  Cyran stabbed a potato with a fork and popped it in his mouth. “It’s not improved that much,” he scowled.

  Cassaban arrived a few minutes later. “Eating when you should be packing?” he said dis-approvingly, but he skewered a piece of chicken with a knife and stuffed it in his mouth nonetheless.

  “Where’s Falan?” asked Braedan, setting aside his plate and gathering his small pack of possessions.

  “He’s out in the alley with the horses,” Cassaban replied, moving to the window facing the alley and sliding it open. “Get out of your armor, your grace,” he said, turning back to Jack. “You can’t go slipping off into unnoticed when everyone in the city is talking about the Blue Knight. Cyran, help him man! And be quick about it.”

  Though he’d only been a Golden Lion less than two days, Borg Cassaban had assumed leadership quickly when Kirk Vanar wasn’t around. Cyran rushed to help Braedan shed his metal skin. When everything was neatly bundled, Cassaban tossed their packs down to Falan waiting below as Jack changed back into his non-descript clothing. When they had his armor wrapped in a bed sheet, Cyran lowered it down as well. Cassaban tied more of the bed sheets together for rope and secured one end to bed post.

  “Ready gentlemen?” he asked. “Out we go, then.”

  “You first Erlwin,” Cyran grinned. “You’re probably an old hand at scrambling out a window from your days as a horse-thief.”

  ”Why don’t you show us how it’s done,” he countered. “You are the master sneak.”

  “Will someone flaming go!” Cassaban snapped. “Falan is down there with five horses and all our gear!”

  “I”ll go,” Jack said, throwing a leg out the window. “Shorter than the repel tower at Fort Campbell. No problem.”

  While Falan held the far end of the bed sheet, Braedan lowered himself down hand over hand. Erlwin came next, quickly followed by Cyran. Cassy pulled the sheet back through the window, the climbed out on the ledge. He lowered himself down, hanging by his fingers. After a second’s hesitation, he let go, dropping the ten or twelve feet to the ground. He landed with a painful grunt.

  “I’m getting to old for this,” he muttered, messaging an ankle as Braedan steadied him.

  “Where to now?” asked Jack.

  “The Mercenary Guild Hall,” Borg replied. “I thought we’d already talked about this?”

  “Might as well have stayed here,” Erlwin sighed.

  “Regular troops won’t come within a hundred yards of it,” Cassaban informed them. “Including Kiathan’s curs.”

  “It’s settled then,” Jack nodded, taking Eaudreuil’s reigns from the young Falan and climbing onto the saddle. “Okay Cassy, how are we going to get out of this ally without being seen?”

  “I paid the young stable boy and one of his friends to provide us with a…diversion,” Borg grinned. “It should be starting just about…now.”

  “What kind of diversion,” asked Jack, when he suddenly heard a loud argument erupt at the entrance to the Broken Arrow.

  “No you idiot!” he heard a young voice shout. “The Blue Knight is Doridanian. Didn’t you see the Val’anna he’s been riding?”

  “And I say he’s an outlaw elf!” another voice countered. “What else could he be with those flaming green eyes?”

  “He’s Doridanian!”

  “He’s an elf!”

  The sounds of a spirited scuffled could soon be heard, quickly drowned by hoots of laughter from the crowd still lingering outside the inn.

  “That should hold their attention for a few minutes,” Cassaban grinned. “Long enough for us to slip away at least.”

  As promised, when Jack peered cautiously around the corner, the crowd’s attention was fixed firmly upon the two youths wrestling in the street. Kiathan’s watcher had his attention drawn to the fight as well. Jack motioned for them to follow and no one noticed the five horsemen quietly emerge from the ally and ride away.

  They traveled quickly through almost deserted streets. Though the celebration of the first day of the Haelfest was still in full swing, most of the reveling was being carried out inside taverns and inns and they reached the guild hall without drawing any attention as far as they could tell. Cassaban dismounted before a large, Spartan building at least stories tall, with a stone wall twenty feet high surrounding it. Large double doors of stout oak were the only entrance to the street as far as Braedan could tell. Borg knocked loudly on the entrance as the rest of the party remained mounted. A small peep-hole opened at eye level and Cassaban whispered a single word.

  “Gauntlet.”

  The peep-hole closed quickly and sounds of a lock being released could be heard from within. One of the doors opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges and Borg motioned for them to follow.

  “Quickly now,” he said, as he guided his mount into the hall. Braedan and the others dismounted. When all five were inside, the door closed again and a pair of rough looking men appeared to take their mounts. For once, Eaudreuil offered no resistance at being handled by a stranger, sensing this wasn’t the time for his usual contrariness.

  They were in a large inner courtyard, open to the night sky. As the horses were led away, the man who had answered Borg’s knock eyed them curiously. “Who are these four? The password is only good for one.”

  “Friends,” he replied simply.

  When no further explanation was forthcoming, the man spat on the ground and rubbed his chin. “Wait here,” he ordered. “I will have to get Malik.”

  “Of course,” Cassaban nodded.

  “Who’s Malik?” asked Braedan.

  “General Malik Gamrin, Prefect of the Immer Chapter House,” Cassy replied. “At least since he was kicked out of Doridan. You’ll need to get his permission to stay. Shouldn’t be a problem once you introduce yourself. He hates Kiathan even more than you do.”

  “The same General Malik Gamrin who once commanded the Raashan Razorback?” Cyran asked.

  “Do you know of another?” Cassy snorted.

  “What is a Raashan Razorback?” Braedan asked.

  “A Raashan Razorback is not a what, but a who,” came an indignant reply. The speaker was a burly man in his early to mid-fifties, with close cropped gray hair and a swagger in his step that spoke of years of unquestioned command. “Who they are, is the meanest, deadliest, most depraved bunch of malcontents to ever swing a sword for pay. Who is this ignorant pup, Borg? And why the hell have you brought him into my house at this late hour?”

  “This…ignorant pup general,” Cassaban grinned. “Is Jack Braedan. My new boss.”

  “Braedan,” Malik mused, looking over Jack as if inspecting a trooper in formation. “The same Jack Braedan of the Brotherhood’s ship Seawolf? Captured last summ
er and sentenced to death in Dorshev?”

  “At your service, sir,” Jack bowed.

  “He also happens to be…” Cassy began, but was quickly interrupted by the general.

  “The new duke of Thonbor. I know. I know. Pardoned and ennobled by the Dragonslayer for rescuing Thain Arthol’s daughter,” Malik Gamrin replied. “Do you think I do nothing but swill wine since I’ve been out of work? I read the daily reports.”

  “I was about to say,” Cassy smiled. “He also happens to be the Disinherited Knight.”

  “Well now…” Malik replied, regarding Braedan in a new light. “My reports were leaning toward either Baranir Samil of Caer-Emn of maybe young Gain Ellgereth. So the Blue Knight is Jack Braedan the Pirate.”

  “Former pirate,” Braedan smiled.

  “And why pray thee, is the new Duke of Thonbor come knocking at my door?” asked Gamrin. “Was the Inn of Two Fountains not to your liking? Surely there are finer places in Immer to stay if Master Coreze has run out of wine?”

  “None where he would be out of reach of Kiathan Ellgaer,” Cassaban replied.

  “You will not speak his name in this house!” Gamrin barked angrily, “Or I’ll toss you out on your ear. Guildsman or not! So…” he continued more calmly. “What quarrel have you with the Dog of Raashan?”

  “Besides him wanting to nail me to a cross?” Braedan asked.

  “Yes,” Malik nodded. “Yes, I can see why you might want to avoid that fate. Very well, you are welcome to stay. These others…”

  “Are my men, sir,” Jack replied. “Whom Kiathan wouldn’t hesitate to harm if he could lay hands on them, only to punish me.”

  “You do not have to tell me,” Malik retorted. “I am well aware of what he is capable.”

  “They are all honorable men from Brythond as well, like Borg. Loyal legionnaires except for young Falan. Who would have been if I hadn’t snatched him out of Marten du’Gail’s clutches. ” Jack added.

  “I’ve never had a quarrel with the Dragonslayer,” Gamrin nodded. “He’s even hired a few good companies on occasion to hunt grim’Hiru in the north. They can stay as well then.”

  “My thanks, general. Wait,” Jack said, suddenly making the connection. “The Raashan Razorbacks? So, what is your quarrel with Duke of…”

  “With the Dog of Raashan?” Malik muttered. “Aside from him wanting to nail me to cross as well? Would you tell him, Cassy? The subject is still too painful for me.”

  “Of course, sir,” Borg nodded. “The Duke…

  “The Dog of Raashan,” Malik insisted. “Since we must speak of him it seems, it will be his title in this house.”

  “The Dog of Raashan,” Borg corrected, “decided two winters ago mercenary companies were no longer necessary for the defense of Doridan, and ordered them disbanded. For fear of the…Dog, most quickly complied. There was one notable exception. General Garmin’s Raashan Razorbacks.”

  “The Razorbacks have been fighting along side the King of Doridan for the last eight hundred years,” Gamrin snorted. “They fought at the Siege of Dorshev. At the Battle of the Bergeweld. They were at the fall of the Iron Tower. Ever battle where the standard of a House Ellgereth has been raised, we were there. Yet he sought to cast us aside like yesterdays’ bath water.”

  “The good General, refused to lay down his arms and quietly fade away into history, of course,” Cassaban explained. “So Kia…the Dog of Raashan…”

  “Thanks Cassy,” Malik nodded.

  “So…the Dog of Raashan surrounded their headquarters with his troops and laid siege to their Guild Hall,” Borg said. “Much the same way he is currently attempting to deal with the Knights of the White Horse.”

  “What happened?” asked Braedan. Obviously, it had not gone well for the Razorbacks, seeing they were now in Immer.

  “If it had not been for Princess Annawyn,” replied Malik, “we would have died to the last man. She negotiated a truce and we were allowed to leave Raashan with our arms and our dignity intact. At her urging, the Steward of Immer offered the Razorbacks sanctuary here until we could find another employer. There were only fifty-seven of us left when the siege was lifted. She’s a treasure that one. Pity old King Ellgenn couldn’t find her a better suitor than…well, it’s a pity.”

  “Then it should please you General Gamrin,” Cyran smiled. “To learn it is the goal our lord Duke, to disrupt the Dog of Raashan’s wedding plans after he defeats him on the field of Ljmarn Haelfest.”

  “Disrupt how?” Malik asked, now captivated.

  “By naming him a traitor before the Kings of the Whesguard, in league with Gorthiel,” Jack replied.

  “How can I help?” the general asked eagerly, the light of revenge burning in his eyes.

  “Just allowing us to stay here,” Braedan replied. “Where he cannot trouble us until I have had a chance to face him on the field, is help beyond measure.”

  “Can I do nothing more?” Malik inquired. “I know I said we number but fifty-seven men now, but I made no idle boast when I described them. For a chance to keep him from the Ivory Throne? To see him brought low? There would be no task the Razorbacks would refuse.”

  “Really sir,” Braedan insisted. “Letting us stay here…”

  “Perhaps there is something you can do, General,” Cassaban interrupted.

  “Name it,” Malik commanded.

  “The Golden Lions are but seven men and only four of us here. Another squad or two of the Razorbacks, discreetly following the Blue Knight to and from the coliseum?” Borg asked. “They would insure the Dog of Raashan or his troop do nothing to hinder my Lord’s rightful participation in the Haelfest.”

  “Done!” Malik agreed quickly. “The Dog’s red shirts will not get close enough to him to even fart in his general direction. A simple task for my Razorbacks. Is there nothing more?”

  “Since you are offering…” Jack hesitated.

  “I am!” Malik insisted.

  “A messenger perhaps?” Braedan asked. “Most of my men are known to…him. I need to send word to Count Arthol where we are staying.”

  “Done and done,” the general replied, laying a comradely hand on Braedan’s shoulder. “You are an easy man to please Duke Thonbor. Come, let me show you and your men to rooms.”

  The general personally led Jack and the rest of his Lions to quarters within the guild hall. They were smaller than the rooms at the Broken Arrow, but they were cleaner by far, and private. They would not be quartered like ordinary mercenaries in the open bays of the barracks. Cassy and Falan were given a room together, as were Cyran and Erlwin. Braedan was taken to his own private room, equipped with his on privy. This luxury was more likely due to his position as commander of troops than to him being the Duke of Thonbor. Braedan suspected General Malik harbored little respect for noble titles. Not after how he and his men had been treated by Kiathan.

  “Would you care for anything before you retire?” Malik asked, before departing. “A drink perhaps to ease you off to sleep?”

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” Jack replied. “Could you send your messenger to Count Arthol at the Inn of Two Fountains? I know the hour is late but…”

  “I’ll send someone right away,” the general assured him.

  “I am in your debt,” Braedan bowed.

  “Think nothing of it,” Malik waved. “I have been looking for a way to pay back the Dog of Raashan since he murdered my men and kicked me out of Doridan. Anything the Razorbacks can do for you, do not hesitate to ask. Fate has brought you to me, Jack Braedan. Two men such as us with a hatred for the Dog of Raashan? He will not survive the month.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second, sir,” Braedan smiled. “Fate and I have been keeping close company of late.”

  “I bid you good rest, Blue Knight,” Malik bowed, closing the door behind him.

  Braedan removed his cloak and sword, and cleaned up quickly in the sink, then removed his boots and lay down on the room’s bunk. It was surprisingly comfortable
. In the darkness of his new quarters inside the Guild Hall, he soon drifted off to sleep, feeling safer than he had at any time since leaving Ail’itharain.

  With sunrise the next morning however, his feeling of safety was shattered as Erlwin burst into his room, breathless and distraught. “My Lord!” he cried.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jack, throwing off his blanket and reaching for Grimrorr.

  “There has been a fire at the Broken Arrow,” Erlwin said, catching his breath.

  “What? When?”

  “It is raging as we speak!” the guardsman informed him. “It is totally engulfed.”

  “It is burning to the ground,” Cassaban confirmed, appearing at Erlwin’s side. “I have just returned.”

  “Did anyone escape,” asked Jack, alarmed, thinking of the poor stable boy.

  “It happened too fast,” Cassy informed him. “So say the bystanders. And…the exits were blocked. The fire brigade captain said you could hear those trapped screaming for help, but the flames were already too hot to reach them. It does not sound like an unfortunate tragedy to me, Jack.” He finished darkly.

  “Kiathan!” Braedan snarled.

  “That would be my guess,” General Malik said, joining them. “Couple with the other news I just received.”

  “What news?” asked Braedan.

  “Come,” Malik said, “this room is getting crowded. Let us go to the dining hall and I will fill you in.”

  The dining hall of the Guild of Mercenaries was as Spartan as the rest of the building, simple hard wood tables which could seat twenty or more, high windows to let in light, and a kitchen where men could file through to be served by a jesting, apron clad cook. There were perhaps half a dozen men already gathered at this early hour, most sipping the hot drink that passed for coffee in Aralon, but a few were already breaking their fast with a variety of foods. All of them nodded respectfully to Malik as he entered.

  “What news?” Braedan asked again as they were seated.

  “There were two more deaths in Immer last night,” Malik replied grimly. “Unrelated by all accounts except for one important detail. Both were contestants in the competition of the Sword. Both, coincidentally, were also…”