by David Angelo
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Black-Tooth,” Fin said, “you’re never going to believe this…”
22
“WELL I’LL BE DAMNED,” Chok said, looking through a spyglass at the campsite. The small cluster of white-and-gold tents were arranged in a tight formation in the center of a large, open field, surrounded by a caravan of similarly colored carriages. Large, muscular horses grazed on the grass that carpeted the ground, while the entrance to the camp was marked with gold-and-white banners displaying images of the Elder stitched in shiny gold thread. Other than the moon, the only light came from torches placed next to the banners and the dim glow from a single blazing campfire in the center of the sea of tents, creating a show of shadows that danced off the fabric walls.
“What do you reckon about that?” Chok asked, handing the spyglass over to Rocklier. The team was perched on a hill above the campsite, lying on their stomachs so as not to attract attention.
“Gold and white,” Rocklier said, “the official colors of the church of the Elder. Only members of the church’s highest echelon can drive those wagons, members who have very close connections to his excellency, Darancho. And because Darancho’s inner circle doesn’t travel much without him, I would be surprised if the pontiff isn’t somewhere in that camp.”
Placing the spyglass beside him on the ground, Rocklier turned to Fin, who was positioned between him and Chok, and asked, “However did you know it was here?”
“I’m telling you guys,” Fin replied, “I don’t know. I walked outside after I told you about my vision, and I just knew it was here.”
Chinaw took the spyglass and looked through it. “We’re not even two miles away from the pub,” he said. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”
Black-Tooth got up and moved away from the hillside. “It matters little right now,” he said. “Fin has his orders, and we have ours.” He motioned for everyone to meet him at the spot where they’d left their horses and weapons.
“All right, here’s the plan,” Black-Tooth said. “We’re all going to split up, take different routes, and enter the camp from different sides under the cover of darkness. Afterward, we’re going to go from tent to tent until we find and kill Darancho. If any one of them threatens to blow your cover, you have my permission to make them shut up, permanently. They may be part of the church, but as Rocklier said, they’re also corrupt members of Darancho’s inner circle. Personally, I’d like us to get in and get out without causing a ruckus. But if we have to go loud, regroup in the center of the camp and hold them off as long as possible, or until we find our target is down. Now it’s time to split everyone up into groups. Rocklier, because you’re second-in-command, you’re coming with me. Fin, you’re going with Chok, while Kaw-Ki goes with Kyu. Chinaw, I know you work best alone, so I’m going to let you do that.”
“That’s very considerate of you,” Chinaw replied.
“And Kemp,” Black-Tooth continued, “we’re going to need you to keep watch. Hunker down near that ledge and survey the area with the spyglass, and if you see anything out of the ordinary, warn us telepathically.”
“Got it,” Kemp replied with a nod.
“Everyone else got the plan?” Black-Tooth asked, and received a resounding, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he replied. “Let’s give the pontiff a lesson in humility.”
The team each went and grabbed their respective weapons. Fin removed his claws of fate from his horse. Its blades were set in a pair of custom, four-pronged scabbards and clipped to a leather belt he wore around his waist. Fin also pulled on a pair of fingerless black leather gloves to prevent chafing against his hands and wrists and also to improve overall grip. Before he departed with the rest of his gang, Fin pondered whether to take his longbow, which he had crafted from yew in the final month of his training. While his archery skills had drastically improved since his first-ever round of target practice, Fin had a gut feeling that he would not need to use his bow on this assignment. Despite this Fin slung the bow over his shoulder and filled his quiver with a handful of arrows, just in case.
“All right,” Black-Tooth said when they were finished assembling their weapons, “Rocklier and I are going to head around and enter the camp through the left. Chok and Fin, you can go through the right. The Ks will enter through the back, and Chinaw, you’re going to enter through the front. Stay low, avoid detection, and don’t stray too far from your partner, except for you, Chinaw. Now let’s move.”
The team took off, with Fin and Chok crouching low among the shadows of the field. They stood far enough out of eyeshot so as not to be detected but were still able to see what was going on at the edge of the camp. A cool breeze washed over the field as they went about their course, bringing with it the hearty smell of woodsmoke from the campfire.
“You sure you’re going to need that?” Fin whispered, gesturing to the ax cannon that was strapped over Chok’s back.
“Why not?” Chok whispered back. “It’s a good thing to have when everything goes down.”
“You want to be spotted,” Fin said, “don’t you?”
“You bet,” Chok said with a wicked grin. “I haven’t slaughtered no Cullidons in a long time, and I’m all up for a good ole-fashioned bloodbath.” As he spoke Chok unhooked one of his sickles from his belt and examined its curved blade.
“To think I once used these to clear fields like this one for my master,” he said.
Fin smiled. “You know,” he said, “six months ago, I would have thought this was suicide. Now, I kind of like sneaking around on a daring mission to gut a high-profile target. Rather exciting, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Chok said. “Your first taste of the drug known as danger is always the sweetest. We’ve all come to enjoy it in our own ways, some of us more than others.”
When they approached the edge of the camp, Fin and Chok crouched on their knees and eyed two identical white tents a few feet from them.
“I’ll search that one,” Fin said, pointing to a tent on the left.
“And I’ll take the one on the right,” Chok replied.
“When they’re cleared,” Fin said, “we’ll meet in between them. Deal?”
“Deal,” Chok said.
Through the cover of darkness, Fin and Chok quietly approached their chosen tents. They walked as softly as possible, the rustling of their feet in the grass blending with the wisp of evening wind. Reaching the flap of the white tent, Fin slowly unsheathed one of his claws. His heart pounding, Fin exhaled deeply, calmly parted the flaps, and walked inside. Thick wool carpeting met the bottom of Fin’s feet when he entered the pitch-black abode. The smell of incense permeated the fabric of the tent walls, mixing with the woodsmoke that crept through a second flap at the opposite end of the tent. Rays of light from the campfire shone through the crack of the flap, hitting Fin’s eyes and making it difficult for him to see what was in front of him. Fin started to hear a rattling sound, which was not coming from the fire but from somewhere inside the tent, like someone playing with the contents of a jewelry box. Fin knew that he should stop moving, turn away from the glare of the fire, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Yet the buildup of adrenaline caused him to make the amateur mistake of walking toward the noise to investigate its source. It was only when Fin was a few inches from the rattle that he discovered that the culprit was a Cullidon. He was crouched over a cot near the slit, rummaging through a small box that he held in one of his hands. His back was turned to Fin, and it would appear that he had not noticed the armed intruder. Fin froze in his tracks to avoid bumping into him. But despite Fin’s efforts, the Cullidon appeared to notice the presence lurking behind him, and the rattling stopped. Before Fin could react, the Cullidon spun around to address his attacker. He dropped his box in fear and stared at Fin through wide, bulging eyes. For a second the two stared silently at each other, both of them too afraid to make their move. The Cullidon seemed frozen to the spot, as though acting dumb would
be a good deterrent. All the while, Fin’s mind raced through his options, wondering which one had the least risk of blowing the operation. Either way, any decision Fin made now would automatically grant Chok his wish.
“Help!” the Cullidon shouted. Fin lunged for the Cullidon and stabbed him in the stomach. The prongs skewered the Cullidon and protruded out of his back. The Cullidon let out a painful wheeze and died on the spot, and Fin shoved him off. The Cullidon landed on his cot, the front of his white gown covered with blood. The Cullidon stared at the ceiling of the tent, his eyes glazing over in a fixed expression of fear and pain.
“Did you hear that?” someone outside said.
“Yeah, I did,” said another.
Hearing rustling just beyond the tent flap, Fin dove for cover behind the cot and tried his hardest to melt into the darkness. Looking over the edge of the bed, Fin saw two Cullidon guards enter the tent, their hands on the hilts of their swords and their bodies clad in white cloaks, with shiny gold chest plates over top. They reminded Fin of the guards from Triticon, minus the hoods. In their place were gold helmets, smooth and round like the underside of a bowl, with sharp barbs on the very top. The guards stopped when the light from outside shone on the body of their fallen comrade. Before they could call for backup, a yellow hand reached around the side of one of the guard’s faces, grabbed his jaw, and pulled his head back, leaving his throat exposed. Then the blade of a sickle was dragged across the guard’s neck, causing a geyser of blood to erupt in its wake. When the second guard turned to address his friend, Fin sprang from his hiding place and stabbed the guard in the back, near the base of his spine. The guard gasped and held on to life for a few brief seconds before going limp and falling to the ground.
Fin looked up to see Chok throw the body of the guard aside. Looking at his blood-soaked sickle, Chok ran his tongue across the side of its curved blade. Normally, Fin would be disgusted, but he held his tongue, thankful that Chok had come to his rescue.
“So much for not causing a ruckus,” Chok said. “What was that all about?”
“It was a dumb mistake on my part,” Fin replied, “but I’m just glad you came in time.”
“Hey, you,” shouted a guard from outside the tent. “Don’t move a muscle!” The guard quickly advanced toward Fin and Chok, reaching for a pistol tucked in the back of his waist.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” replied Rocklier, leaping in front of the Cullidon, brandishing his two katanas. Swinging them in opposite directions, he slashed one blade low, slicing the area of the midsection under the chest plate, while the second blade went high, cutting though the neck and severing the spine.
There was a heavy thud as the guard’s helmeted head rolled off his shoulders and landed at Rocklier’s feet. But the body continued to stand, the fingers of its right hand still wrapped tightly around the handle of the pistol. When all feeling finally died, the fingers relinquished control of the gun, causing the hammer to accidentally strike the firing pan when it hit the ground and fire a shot. A single stray bullet was all that was needed to wake the camp, which responded with a blare of warning sirens emanating from an orchestra of conch shells.
“Your cover is blown,” Fin heard Kemp say. “Evasive maneuvers, quickly!”
“Damn it,” Fin hissed as the deep whine of the horns filled the night sky.
“It’s about time,” Chok replied, unslinging his ax cannon and pulling its hammer back. “I was wonderin’ when things was about to get interestin’.”
Plan B was now in effect, and Fin’s instincts took over. Chok, Rocklier, and Fin made a beeline for the heart of the camp, while the tents around them rustled with the sounds of rousing Cullidons scrambling for their weapons.
“Keep up, Fin,” Rocklier called as they ran through a nearly endless row of white tents toward the campfire. Despite their efforts, Fin and Chok could not keep up with Rocklier, who sprinted with the grace of a runner toward an imaginary finish line. Before they could catch up, a large, battle-ax-wielding guard dashed in front of Fin and Chok and cut them off. Fortunately for them, the guard had not noticed the ax cannon locked in Chok’s claws. When the guard heaved his weapon over his head, Chok pulled the trigger, creating a bang that nearly blew Fin’s eardrums out. Dropping his ax behind him, the guard looked down to see a large, gaping hole in his chest plate, a cascade of blood dripping from within.
“Come on,” Chok said, knocking the brute over with the butt of his gun. “We don’t want to be left behind.”
Fin pulled out his second claw and ran for the center of the camp. The fighting had already begun by the time Fin and Chok regrouped with the rest of the team. Months of training kicked in, and Fin found himself locking swords with guards of every tier of experience. Looking around him at the chaos that ensued, Fin saw his fellow teammates engaging enemies in their own unique ways. He saw Chok deflect the blade of a guard’s sword with the edge of his ax cannon before moving in low and slicing the assailant’s legs. Meanwhile, Rocklier caught the wrist of a dagger-toting guard with the blade of one of his swords, lopping off his hand, which still grasped the weapon as it fell to the ground. Fin saw Chinaw, armed with a pair of daggers with knuckles built into their handles. He engaged a guard, ducking and jumping out of the way of a barrage of sword strikes before delivering a punch to the groin. Chinaw then swung his arm in an arch, catching the guard’s cheek with the blade of his knife, and delivered an uppercut to his chin. The helmet flew off, landing at Kyu’s feet. She twirled a long, thin chain whip with two barbs on either end over her head. After disarming a nearby enemy by wrapping one end of her whip around the hilt of a sword and pulling it away, Kyu lashed the guard’s midsection with the second barb, causing him to keel over. She then came up behind and strangled her attacker with the slack of her whip. Kaw-Ki flew out of nowhere, bolting over the top of a tent and landing in the middle of the fray with a loaded bow at the ready. She let two arrows fly into two different enemies before jumping to her feet, whirling around, and gashing an approaching guard across the face with the bladed tip of her longbow. Black-Tooth, who crouched down at a low vantage point, took out guards one by one with his arm-mounted crossbow. Never standing still for a second, he rolled out of the way of a charging assailant, shot an arrow in his ass, and caused him to fall head over heels into the coals of the campfire.
As the guard’s robes caught fire, causing him to writhe on the ground, Black-Tooth calmly loaded another arrow into his crossbow and called out to Kemp, “Do you by any chance see Darancho anywhere, or someone who looks like him?”
“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” Kemp replied, her frustrated voice echoing in everyone’s mind. “You know that all Cullidons look the same.”
“You’ll know it when you see him,” Rocklier said. “He’ll have on an ornate robe with red and gold markings, and he’ll be accompanied by bodyguards.”
“In other words,” Chinaw said, “the guards are just an appetizer, and Darancho is the main course.”
“I like your thinkin’, Chinaw,” Chok replied.
Just as Fin was about to add a remark to the conversation, a strange tingling sensation arose in his right palm. It only occurred, however, when Fin faced a certain direction, at which point he noticed a Cullidon clothed in a robe similar to Rocklier’s description making his way toward a nearby carriage with two guards on either side.
“You’re mine, Darancho!” Fin called. He took off after his target, knocking a few enemies out of the way with his claws. Fin came to a clearing in front of the carriage with a pair of horses at the ready and a driver at the stirrups. Looking back at their pursuer, the bodyguards motioned for Darancho to go on without them before turning their attention to Fin and deploying their swords. Fin dispatched them quickly, slashing one and stabbing the other. Just as Darancho was about to climb aboard his waiting coach, Fin put his claws back in their scabbards, took out his bow, pulled an arrow back, and shot the driver through the waist.
“Hands up, Yo
ur Excellency,” Fin said. Darancho did as he was told and slowly backed away from his coach. Fin never took his eyes off him, keeping his arrow trained on a gold falcon sewn onto the chest of Darancho’s robe. It was the symbol of the Church of the Elder, used to identify the pontiff of Sebeth.
“Blasphemy,” Darancho hissed. “What makes you think that you, a lowly Faranchie, could ever challenge me, a man chosen by the very one who made all of us?”
“Oh, shut up!” Fin barked. “The very one that made you and me also sent me to dispose of you. You pissed her off big-time, and now she wants you dead.”
“Why should I believe the baseless ramblings of someone of your ilk?” Darancho said. “Have you forgotten your place in society? Do you know what you’re doing is going against the Elder’s rules for your people? Do you have any idea what the repercussions of this will be?”
“Those rules are irrelevant,” Fin replied. “Pointless drivel, penned by a band of rich, fat Cullidons who enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices. Do you have any idea what kind of repercussions you’ll face when the Elder looks you in the eye and asks you to account for all the pain and suffering you and your cronies have caused?”
“I take it I’m about to find out,” Darancho replied.
Fin let go of the bow and aimed it at the gold falcon. But before he could let it loose, Darancho ducked and lunged toward Fin, and before he had a chance to react, Darancho tackled him and knocked his bow out of his hand. Standing defiantly over Fin, Darancho brushed himself off, reached up one of his white sleeves, and withdrew a katana. It was shorter than the two that Rocklier used but just as sharp.
“You underestimate my ability to look after myself,” Darancho said, placing the tip of the blade under Fin’s chin and forcing him to look up. “I always keep this on me, in case a blasphemer like yourself wants to challenge my authority. Now, my young friend, may you find forgiveness for your insubordination at the feet of the Elder.”
