Eventually, Jasper saw a house that caught his attention. It was a simple dwelling, much like the other buildings in the village, but there was one feature that made it stand out from the rest. Scrawled above the door in chipped red paint was a symbol that he immediately recognized. It was the seal that was stamped on the letter that bade him come to this miserable place, a stylized eye weeping three tears.
Reining up to the house, Jasper dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby hitching post. Passersby gave him a wide berth, eyeing nervously the curving swords strapped to his belt.
"Let's get this over with," Jasper muttered to himself as he made his way up to the house.
Without hesitation, he reached up and pulled on the latch, pushing the door open and striding inside. The interior of the house was musty and dark and it took him a minute for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw a wide cluttered room covered in a thick layer of dust. Heaps of junk covered the floor and shelves of old jars covered the walls, filled with a variety of unsavory things.
The whole place reeked of rat dung and cat piss.
As he picked his way through the refuse, his ears picked up the quiet sound of rasping steel. He spun, pulling out Vehemence and whirling to face a figure who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room.
"You shouldn't be here," the dark form growled. It was a man's voice, deep and powerful. "I was told stop any intruders from coming in."
There was no menace in words, but the threat was there. He did not make any move to attack Jasper.
"I am no intruder," Jasper responded irritably, though he did not put away his blade. "I came invited by a crazy old blind man. Perhaps you know him?" Jasper had no desire shed of this man's blood. He had had his fill of killing for the day while out on the road.
The dark figure hesitated, and in the shadows Jasper could see the dark glint of a long sword wavering uncertainly.
Finally, the guard put away his sword and stepped into the open, grunting in annoyance as he looked Jasper over. He was a large man with broad shoulders and a thick barrel chest. His features were blunt hard, as if they were carved from stone, and his long unkempt hair fell down his back in great, curling locks. He wore chain mail and leather armor, but wore no colors that showed his loyalties, nor did he wear a sigil from the town watch.
"So, the old man brought you here too?" he rumbled, framing it like a statement rather than a question.
"Too?" Jasper asked, genuinely astonished. "You were invited here as well?"
The mercenary hooked his thumb into his wide leather belt. "In a way," he replied cryptically. Then, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Is that surprising?"
Jasper shrugged and slid Vehemence back into its sheath. "Mildly," he answered nonchalantly. "I just find it odd that our mutual friend would go through so much trouble to bring me here only to lump me in with a common sellsword." After a pause, he added, “It's rather insulting, really."
The big man snorted. "What, are you supposed to be someone special or something?"
“But of course.” Smirking, Jasper cut a mocking bow. “I am Jasper Aurelio, the Blade of Valæcia and feared contract killer."
"Assassin," the man spat, his lips turning down in distaste.
Jasper rolled his eyes. "Oh, and you’re much better, are you? As much as I am loath to admit it, you and I are not so different."
"I am nothing like you," the mercenary responded, crossing his burly arms stubbornly.
"We both kill for money," Jasper quipped, picking up a bauble from a nearby pile and examining it with disinterest. “That’s the gist of what we do, anyway. Doesn’t seem so different to me.”
The guard was not moved. “When I kill a man, he is always armed. There is no honor in cutting throats or stabbing people in the back.”
“No honor,” Jasper conceded, “but quite a bit of gold.” He tossed the bauble aside and glanced around the filthy room with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Well, this has been a riviting conversation, my lord sellsword, but if the old bat isn’t here, then I must be on my way.” He gave the grim man another mocking bow then turned on his heel, only to be confronted by the leering visage of yellowed, rotting teeth.
Jasper nearly yelped in surprise, which caused the mercenary to let out a chuckle.
“Welcome, Jasper Aurelio. I am so pleased that you have arrived.” The old man’s voice was a dry rasp of hot, fetid breath. He wore a dirty, shapeless robe the color of ash and had a dark strip of cloth covering his eyes.
Jasper glared at the wretch and resisted the urge to kill him outright. He knew from experience that it would not do any good. “I wish I could say the same, old man." He spoke with open contempt, his voice dripping with dislike.
The old man merely smiled his ugly, discomforting grin, gazing at Jasper with eyes that were anything but natural. "You seem unhappy, Blade of Valæcia, and yet you chose to heed my message and come anyway. For this I am grateful."
"Not that I had much of a choice," Jasper muttered bitterly.
"There is always a choice," the old man replied, his wrinkled brow furrowing. "The only thing that we are unable to choose are the consequences for our action. This is something a lesson that I tried to teach you once."
Jasper's scowl deepened. He did not have the patience for word games. "At any rate," he said through clenched teeth, "I am here now. What do you want from me?"
Shuffling over to a chair resting between two piles of garbage, the old man sat down heavily, his movements kicking up a cloud of dust. "What does any man require of a famed assassin? I have need of your blades."
Jasper glanced about, noting the humble and disgusting way this man lived. "I don't think you can afford me."
This made the old man laugh. It sounded like dead leaves rustling through the woods. "You shall have payment enough, that I promise," he wheezed, his bent frame shuttering with mirth. After a moment, he straightened, his laughter subsiding. "There are events happening in the world that require certain professionals. Heroes, if you will."
Now, it was Jasper's turn to laugh. "Not sure I've ever been called a hero," he remarked scornfully.
"There are many definitions of a hero," he countered, raising a bony finger. "To some, a hero is merely someone who has the stomach to do what would make other men cower in fright.
"So, you're talking about a job?"
"Of a sort," the old man said, lowering his hand. "I have a task that only the most exceptional individuals will be able to complete. Riches and glory await you should you choose to accept."
Jasper stroked his chin, suddenly intrigued. "You can keep your glory," he said a wry smile forming on his lips. "I am more interested in the riches."
"Indeed," the old man responded, his expression thoughtful. "However, before I can expound on the details of this plan, I shall require one thing from you."
"Naturally," Jasper said sarcastically.
The old man pretended not to hear him. "A traveler comes from the east. She will be arriving sometime tonight and will require your help in coming to me. The two of you will escort her into town and when we are all together, I shall explain what your task will be."
Jasper arched an eyebrow. "The two of us?"
The muscular guard stepped forward from the shadows, coming to stand right beside the Jasper. His stony face cracked to reveal a knowing smile.
"I believe you've already become acquainted with Camdyn Taurus," the old man rasped. "He is a warrior without equal in the western kingdoms."
“Yes,” Jasper muttered, narrowing his eyes at the man named Camdyn. “We’ve been acquainted.”
Grinning, the old man went on. “The two of you will come to know each other well over the course of this adventure, I expect. The same goes for the other as well. It is imperative that you meet her tonight on the road that leads east. With her, the party will be complete, and you will be ready to begin.”
“How will we know who she is?” Camdyn asked, tone serious.
&
nbsp; “Know many maidens who like to travel the roads at night, sellsword?” The big man shot a look at Jasper, who merely smirked.
“You will know her when you see her,” the old man confirmed solemnly.
A silence filled the room as the assassin and the mercenary thought on his words, considering the things the stranger had said.
“Well, there are still a few hours before sundown,” Jasper said abruptly, turning his back on the two and striding from the room. “I plan to find myself a tavern in this dung heap of a town and drown my sorrows with whatever swill they have on tap.” When he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder at them. “This is the strangest thing I have ever agreed to in my life. I want to kill you, old man, but some strange power protects you and compels me to do what you say. Know this – on the day your power fails you, I will be there with a blade in my hand. I will gladly end your life and continue on my merry way. This I swear.”
The blind old man grinned and nodded his wizened head, as if he expected nothing less from the assassin.
Annoyed, Jasper pushed open the door and stepped back out into the muddy streets.
Chapter Three
When the moon had finally risen, Jasper made his way to the gates of the town, leading his horse by the reins. Most of the denizens of Old Barrow had gone to bed, the whole mud-stained village quiet and still. Aside from the clopping hooves, the only sounds that could be heard was the distant braying of hounds and the insistent call of the wind.
Camdyn was waiting for him at the gates, sitting astride a dappled brown gelding and wearing a heavy cloak to ward off the chill. His sword was strapped to his back and in the light of the moon, Jasper could see that he was wearing his armor beneath the thick wool.
"Took you long enough," Camdyn said gruffly, eyeing Jasper suspiciously as he approached.
"From one professional to another," Jasper said, giving the word a contemptuous twist, "it always pays to get a lay of the land before starting a job."
Camdyn snorted and spat over the side of his horse. "I already have a lay of the land," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "I've been here for over a month."
Jasper started. "A month?" he asked, his voice heavy with incredulity.
Camdyn nodded.
"Damn," he replied, shaking his head. "I'd probably fall on my own sword if I had to stay here for more than a week.”
This made Camdyn chuckle. “It's not so bad," he said, shrugging his great shoulders. “Folk here are nice."
"They could be the kindest people in all Thel’Varden," Jasper grunted, pulling himself up into the saddle. "This backwater would still be too boring for me for my tastes."
Together, they rode their horses up to the guard post, motioning for the armed bumpkins to let them through. They protested at first, but a fierce look from Jasper and a glance at Camdyn’s sword made them more cooperative. They opened the gates and the two of them rode into the wilderness soon after.
The frontier looked much more sinister at night. The mountains loomed like jagged teeth in the distance, and the overgrown forest seemed to be a living thing, groaning and swaying with every gust of the wind. It was a cloudless night, and so the stars shone down from the sky like ghostly candles, illuminating their way with a soft silvery light.
For a time, they rode in silence, taking the eastern road out towards the mountains. After a while, though, Jasper grew bored, and sought to pass the time by learning more of his brutish companion.
"So, tell me, mercenary," he asked. "Where do you hail from?"
"Why do you care?" Camdyn replied bluntly.
Jasper shrugged, leather armor creaking. "I like to learn as much as I can about those I do business with. I’ve found that it helps keep me alive."
After a moment, Camdyn reluctantly said, "Thaynia."
"I guessed as much by your accent," Jasper responded dryly. "I meant more specifically."
The sellsword hesitated. "I come from a small farming village outside of the city of Thay. It’s so small, it doesnt even have a name."
Jasper nodded. "And a military man too, if I don't miss my guess."
Camdyn did not respond.
“Your silence says all,” Jasper observed, his voice carrying through the trees. “Now, why does a former soldier turned mercenary find himself on the far edge of his homeland, working for a mad sorcerer on gods only know what?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Camdyn responded coldly. “Valæcia is a long way from here.”
“It’s simple, really,” Jasper answered without hesitation. “The old man has been toying with me for some time now. He’s meddled in my affairs and all but threatened me into his service with magic.” His tone darkened. “I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“In that, you and I agree, assassin.” Camdyn gazed thoughtfully into the trees. After a moment he continued. “I left the service some time ago and made my way north to find work. After I recovered a certain artifact for the old man, he offered me a job.” He rested his hand on the pommel of his saddle. “Not much else to it.”
I wonder what artifact he’s talking about, Jasper thought to himself, suddenly intrigued. Aloud, he asked. “So, I take it you don’t know his name, either?”
Camdyn shook his head. “He merely calls himself, ‘The Wanderer’. Strange man. But he put me up in the local inn and pays for all my meals and drink, so that’s better than nothing.”
“I suppose,” Jasper murmured.
They fell into an uneasy silence, both men brooding as they rode their mounts slowly up the road. It was a cold night, the sort that made Jasper long for the warmer climate of his home. Still, his thoughts kept him occupied as they searched aimlessly for the woman they were to find. I hope she’s pretty, Jasper thought to himself with a sly smile. I could use a lass to warm my bed on a night like tonight.
Distantly, an owl hooted, its throaty calls echoing through the forbidding woods.
Jasper shook his head, wondering why fate had brought him to this dismal place. None of the comforts he was accustomed to existed in this part of the world. Surely, if the gods were real, they would not be so cruel.
Finally, after more than an hour of riding, they came to a stop before a cairn of stones piled on an earthen berm. Narrow game trails stretched into to the forest from the spot, spreading like tree branches in all directions away from the hard-packed road.
Camdyn dismounted from his horse and began tying the reins off on a low-hanging bough. “Old man said to stop at the crossroads,” he said gruffly. “I suppose she’s going to meet us here.”
Jasper glanced doubtfully around. “Not much of a crossing,” he remarked.
“Not many roads around these parts,” Camdyn replied simply. “Every hunter in the area knows these game trails. They’ll take you just about anywhere in the forest.”
Jasper got out of the saddle and tied up his horse as well, stifling a yawn and trying to force away his fatigue. It had been a long journey coming here, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into a drunken stupor and sleep for days on end.
They began their long wait, with Jasper pacing up and down the road and Camdyn standing as still as a sentinel, his eyes scanning the tree line. It was dull and uneventful, and neither man wanted to converse much with the other. There was mutual dislike between the two of them, with very little in common for them to build upon.
With any luck, this fool’s quest will be short-lived, Jasper thought to himself as he passed the cairn for the hundredth time.
Suddenly, he cocked his head to the side, his ears picking up a sound from somewhere in the forest.
“What is it?” Camdyn asked, reaching for his sword.
“Shh!” Jasper hissed, straining to hear the noise. It sounded like footsteps bounding quickly through the brush. They were getting closer, twigs snapping and leaves crunching beneath the panicked footfalls. “Something’s coming.”
They both drew their weapons as a figure came crashing through the unde
rbrush. At first, Jasper thought it was some beast come to attack them, but as the figure drew closer, he saw that it was a young woman in plain homespun robes and riding breeches. In the light of the moon, he could see black hair and tan skin, as well as a pair of large dark eyes that were wide with fear.
She stumbled onto the road and stopped before them, her breath coming to her in great heaving gasps. "They are coming!" She said, her accent strange and exotic. "There are twenty of them, I think, but I cannot be sure."
Jasper and Camdyn looked at each other in confusion, both of them at a loss for words. Then, in unison, they drew their weapons, steel coming free with a switch.
In the woods, more noises could be heard. Crashing sounds like the clumsy stamping of many feet came hurtling through the trees.
The woman, still breathing heavily, raised both of her sleeves to reveal coppery bracers strapped to both of her forearms. They glinted softly in the low light, and when she crossed her arms in front of her, they began to glow with a soft white light.
Great, Jasper thought to himself sourly. Just what I need. Another magic user.
Within seconds, more dark figures began to emerge from the forest, only these ones were more bestial in nature. Even without seeing the hunched, deformed bodies of the creatures, Jasper could tell from the overpowering stench what they were dealing with.
"Gron!" He shouted, falling into a fighting stance with his twin blades at the ready.
The monsters arrived at the road in a great howling swarm, their piggish faces twisted in rage as they raised their crude weapons to attack them.
Jasper drew first blood, whirling Vitriol around and slicing off the head of one of the creatures. Camdyn followed soon after, ramming his bastard sword straight into the chest of another.
There seemed to be more than twenty, the ugly brutes circling around their position in an attempt to overwhelm them.
Crackling white energy surged from the woman's bracers, shooting like a bolt of lightning at one of the gron and blasting it into a dozen pieces. This seemed to give most of the monsters pause, and so many of them backed off and focus their attention on Jasper and Camdyn.
Tears of Eternity Page 2
