The White Wolves

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This is another short stroy I started but never got around to finishing. It has to do with a mercenary outfit in a fantasy world. Hope you enjoy it...

A splinter of moonlight gleamed off a piece of uncovered steel, bathing a small portion of the alley in a soft, blue-white glow. “Cover that you fool, or you’ll kill us all!” The soft whisper carried no more than two feet, but was edged with a deadly intensity. It must have been Jasmine, since only she could put such venom into a few whispered words. I quickly covered the offending item, sent a silent “sorry” across to her as darkness again enveloped the alley where our little band waited.

How typical this was, four of us against one of the most powerful Dukes in the kingdom and whatever guards he decided to drag along. I would have preferred walking up to the pompous bastard and sticking a sword through his guts. But the Colonel wanted this done hush-hush. So we waited.

I looked around in the darkness at my companions who were nothing more than blobs of deeper black. Across from me crouched Jasmine. If she had another name no one knew what it was, an exotically beautiful, and extremely deadly woman from the Spice Isles that lay far to the south. Cat-like in her stealth, agility, and speed, rumor had it that she was once a member of the Saffron Serpent, the most feared cabal of assassins in all of western Istria. Personally, I didn’t believe that story, but I wanted to stay on her good side, so I kept my opinion to myself. She kept most of us, except the Colonel and a few others at a distance. Many of my comrades bear scars from her knives after trying to get a little friendlier than she liked.
Further ahead, near the mouth of the alley, is Damian Blackpoole, a sneaky little bastard from the slums of Kaiphur. Blackpoole was the most talented thief I’ve ever encountered. He could steal the wool off a sheep without it ever knowing, but was always dead broke. You’d think somebody with that much talent would be living high off the hog. Only once have I seen him heist anything of value, a jade bracelet cut to resemble a serpent eating its tail. I’ve noticed that there’s something about him that’s not quite right. He’s always talking to somebody named ‘Scaler’, and he keeps a deadly little pet snake named ‘Precious’. The guy is just plain creepy and he gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Farthest back was Grendal. Why the colonel sent him I’ll never know. Grendal is a walking mass of muscle. He stands six foot six and carries about 350 pounds of muscle who someone had wore out a couple of ugly sticks on. This is the same guy I’d once seen punch out a bull because it stepped on his foot. Not the kind of guy you want on a sneak but definitely one you want backing you up in a fight. He swings double-bladed battleaxes in each hand easier than I can swing my sword. As intimidating as he is, he’s a big softy when it comes to kids. Easiest way to piss him off is pick on some defenseless kid.
Then there’s me, Jared Marikaas, or as my comrades call me ‘hey a**hole’. At least most of them smile when they say it. The unwanted bastard son of a border baron, the only thing I ever got from him was a stay at a remote boarding school. He was such a dyed in the wool prick that I adopted my mother’s maiden name just to spite him. I doubt he ever noticed. There’s not much special about me except I swing a pretty mean sword and have an amazing tolerance for alcohol. Now that’s one helluva legacy to leave for my kids. There’s this damn stubborn white streak in my jet-black hair that sticks out like crazy. I try to keep it covered by wearing a hat or helmet most of the time. A gypsy fortune-teller once told me I was destined for something great; knowing my luck it’ll be the world’s greatest, chronic case of boils.

So here we are lurking around the back alleys of Maug-Anon, so-called jewel of the Takotan Empire. What a crock! If you ask me this place makes a cesspool look like a resort.
Well, enough bitching already, the Colonel will string us all up if we botch this. It had taken us weeks to set up this meeting and if it went off without trouble we could close this chapter and get the hell out of this dump. How we ever ended up working for a sleazebag like Duke Cyrus Jalpur I’ll never know. The Colonel wouldn’t tell us anything, only gave us detailed instructions. My guess was that Duke Jalpur had something over on the Colonel but I don’t get paid to guess, I get paid to swing a sword.

 

The sounds of a horse-drawn carriage pierced the silence, the squealing of its iron-rimmed wheels not quite drowning out the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone street. The carriage slowed to a stop in front of the Brass Flagon, a typical back street tavern about thirty feet from our hiding place. Six of the Duke’s private guard surrounded the carriage. The driver jumped to the ground, walked over to the door and flipped down the stairs. In the flickering light of the Flagon’s street torches I spotted the faint shadow of a figure moving in the interior of the coach.

About a minute later, Duke Jalpur emerged from inside the wagon and stepped down onto the street. Cyrus Jalpur, a former knight whose penchant for soft living had turned once lean muscle into unsightly fat, was puffing by the time his slipper-clad feet hit the street. “Twice-damned mercenaries”, the fat noble grumbled, “they could have at least picked a better tavern for this meeting, the food here is abominable, and the wine even worse.”

“Stay with the coach,” he wheezed at the driver, “the rest of you follow me!” The guards dismounted, tied off their horses and positioned themselves around the Duke as he waddled toward the door of the tavern.

The dark blob that was Blackpoole rose to his feet from behind a pile of garbage at the mouth of the alley. “Hey Jalpur you fat slob!” he called out, “screwed any geese lately?” He stood at the mouth of the alley in full view. Duke Jalpur and his guards stopped and turned toward the sound of the thief’s voice.

So much for a surprise attack, I started to rise and immediately felt Jasmine’s firm grip on my wrist. “Wait, let him play this out”, she whispered.

“He doesn’t stand a chance against those goons of Jalpur’s,” I hissed back.

“Don’t underestimate him”, she returned, “he’s very resourceful and can take care of himself”. I resumed my position behind a discarded crate and watched.

Blackpoole had his back against the corner of the building that made up the left side of the alley. He appeared completely at ease and was cleaning his nails with one of the numerous knives he carried.

Jalpur and his six guards approached Blackpoole, who continued cleaning his nails. Jalpur, wheezing slightly asked, “Who do you think you are you little miscreant, addressing me in such a manner?”

“Just call me the public conscience”, the little thief replied, a mischievous grin crossing his face. “Buggered any goats lately…or was that small boys?”

Jalpur’s face, had I been able to see it, must’ve been turning purple. “Why…you…you little worm”, the fat nobleman sputtered, “I’ll have you beaten within an inch of your life! No one insults Duke Cyrus Jalpur that way.” He waved to his guards. “Take him and have him flogged, then toss him in dankest cell in the constabulary until I design a more fitting punishment.”

As the Duke’s guards moved forward Jalpur stepped back to put them between himself and Blackpoole, but the little thief was already in motion. He threw the knife with which he had been cleaning his nails into the first guard’s throat. As that one fell gurgling, he dove between the second guard’s legs, driving his fist into the man’s groin. As that one doubled over and fell to his knees, Blackpoole quickly rolled to his feet placing himself in the midst of the four remaining guards.

“Get him you fools!” the Duke cried out. “There’s only one of him!” The remaining guards circled the still grinning thief, swords raised to attack.

“I think we better help him,” I urged Jasmine.

“Not yet,” she answered. “There’s more here than what appears. Let us wait.” I did notice that she shifted her weight slightly as though balancing herself on the balls of her feet.

I heard shuffling behind me, turned to see Grendal looming over me in the gloom of the alley. “What’s going on?” the big man rumbled, his voice like boulders tumbling downhill.
“Get down and be silent!” Jasmine hissed. Grendal winced slightly and then crouched down as best he could, a battleaxe clenched in one of his ham-like fists.

By now, the remaining guards were taking turns lunging at Blackpoole. The little thief, still wearing a ridiculous grin, easily parried each of the attacks with a combination of short sword and dagger.

“Idiots,” Jalpur was nearly screaming, “attack in concert, he can’t stop all of you at once!”

The guards now adjusted their tactics and Blackpoole became harder and harder pressed to defend himself. Another minute went by, Jalpur admonishing his guards to take their enemy down. Blackpoole’s foot slipped and he fell to his knees, barely managing to parry a lunge at his throat.

“You’ve got him!” the Duke blurted. “Finish him off! Skewer the little rodent!”

Across from me Jasmine rose and in one smooth motion sent two ‘serpent fangs’, her razor-sharp, throwing knives, slicing through the air. The knives hit their mark, hitting one of the guards in the back of the knee and in the neck, just above the shoulder blades. The guard crumpled.

 

“Now!” she hissed and leapt forward to engage one of the remaining guards.

I followed her as quickly as I could, pausing only to tell Grendal to hold back unless we got into trouble. The big oaf looked hurt that he would be missing the fight. By the time I reached the mouth of the alley Jasmine had already engaged two guards while Blackpoole slowly stalked the other.

Jalpur had his back against the door of the carriage, a small court sword held ready. “What are you fools doing?” he bellowed. “You’re losing! Kill them!”

As I moved to help Jasmine she shot me an icy glance that let me know she didn’t need my help. I checked the guards that were already down, making sure that’s where they’d stay.

I moved to the nearest prone guard, the one Jasmine had hit with her serpent fangs. He was alive, but paralyzed. I gave him my best evil grin and said, “I’ll be right back, don’t go away.” Continuing on, the next one I found had Blackpoole’s knife in his throat. He was dead. The third guard was struggling to get back to his feet. I tapped him on the shoulder with the blade of my sword. As he turned, I thrust my sword into his heart. I watched him stiffen before kicking him off the blade. “It seems like you and your buddies are having a bad night,” I said talking down to the lifeless form.

By this time Jasmine had downed the two guards facing her. She stood motionless over the bodies, her twin swords glistening bright red in the flickering torchlight. The lone remaining guard, still being stalked by Blackpoole, took in the situation, and bolted down the street. The little thief stopped drew a dagger from his belt and began whispering to it. The only words I could make out were ‘Scaler’ and ‘seek’. In one quick motion he flung the dagger at the fleeing guard, now merely a shadow in the distance. There was a distinctive sound as the dagger flew, like that of a snake slithering across a rock, followed by a short scream. Blackpoole began trotting down the street throwing a muffled “I’ll be back” over his shoulder as he went.

Jasmine and I advanced on Jalpur who was blubbering. “Pl...plea...please I can...can give you almost anything, just don’t kill me. What do you want? I have gold, jewels… I’ll give you anything.”

“How ‘bout your head on a platter?” I offered. Jasmine smiled at the Duke, that smile could melt steel. She stood before the Duke and lightly patted him on the cheek with one of her sword blades, leaving a sticky red line.

“Can you return the honor you stole?” she asked.
Jalpur appeared confused, “What do you mean?” he asked tremulously.

“You have caused an associate of ours some unnecessary difficulties, compromised his integrity and his honor…that is unacceptable!” Her last statement was said with such vehemence that Jalpur visibly winced, his face whitening with terror. “That alone is reason enough for me to end your sorry existence right here and now…but, I said I would bring you to him, so I will.”

Jalpur was still trembling and sputtering. “Who..who is this per…person that I offended?”

“You will meet him soon enough,” Jasmine replied. She disarmed the Duke then looked to me. “Tie up this worthless dog.”

I sheathed my sword and pulled some cord and old rags out of my pack. I wadded the rags and stuffed them into the Duke’s mouth and began to bind his hands. Knowing my luck, the fat slob would swallow the rags and start to yell. Luck was with me for a change and he only mumbled curses at us around the rags.

As I continued to bind the Duke’s arms, Jasmine spun quickly toward a scraping sound emanating from further down the street, her swords at the ready. It was Blackpoole, struggling to drag the last guard’s body back toward the carriage. There was a strange emerald gleam in his eyes that quickly faded in the torchlight.

“Well that’s a wrap,” the little thief quipped.
I spun Jalpur around, checked his bonds one more time then shoved him toward Blackpoole. “Here, you watch the fat bastard; I’ll go get the big guy.” The Duke stumbled toward the thief who caught him by the shoulder.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” his reply nearly oozing from his lips.

As I began to walk toward the mouth of the alley, Jasmine grabbed my arm, eyes wide. “The driver! What happened to the driver?”

“Relax,” I replied, “he couldn’t have gotten far.”
As Jasmine moved toward the back of the carriage, I went to the front and began climbing to the driver's box. I got halfway up the ladder only to be surprised by a boot in the face, knocking me to the ground and driving the wind out of me. When I looked up, it wasn’t the driver I saw but a short, malformed dwarf dressed in black standing on the driver’s seat. Already his hands were surrounded by a faint sickly green glow. A mage! I tried to call out to the others but managed only a wheeze and a grunt. By then it was too late, the glow from his hands shot out in green tendrils and quickly immobilized my companions, knocking them unconscious.

The dwarf leapt to the ground, nearly landing on my head. The green glow began slowly fading from his hands. “Tsk Tsk, very sloppy.” His voice warbled and cracked like a boy in the midst of puberty. He kicked me in the ribs and I winced in pain as a couple of them cracked. “I really could care less about the Duke over there, but he does pay me well.”

The dwarf waddled over to Jalpur and pulled the rags from his mouth. Jalpur whined, “Relnor, what took you so long? They nearly killed me!”
“Cyrus do shut up before I stuff these rags back in your mouth,” the deformed mage retorted. “You were in no danger… When did you turn into such a coward?”

Exasperated Jalpur sputtered, “You deformed little beast! What gives you the right to speak to me in such a manner? After all I’ve done for you!”
“I gave myself the right! You are a self-serving, greedy, obnoxious pig. Yes, I am…was grateful to you for rescuing me from those goblins. But I have repaid that favor many times over. For the past five years I have done nothing but your scut work and received nothing but your contempt. 'Relnor do this or Relnor do that.' Well no more!” Relnor’s eyes flashed with power and flecks of foam were gathering at the corners of his mouth.
Jalpur nearly screamed in terror. “Get into the carriage, Cyrus”, the little mage ordered. The Duke, a look of despair on his face, shuffled over to the carriage as Relnor opened the door and shoved the still bound nobleman inside.

By now I had gotten much of my breath back and managed to get to my hands and knees. I was reaching for my sword when a booted foot stomped on my wrist. “Not today my friend,” the mage said. “I have plans for the good Duke and you do not fit in them.” He kicked me in the ribs again and then kicked my sword across the cobblestones. I crumpled to the street in pain.

He moved to where Jasmine lay and peered down at her. “Ah, but this one…I think I can make allowances for such a beauty, and so talented too!” I could tell by the look in Relnor’s eyes that the talents he was referring to had nothing to do with Jasmine’s weapon skills. With surprising strength Relnor picked up Jasmine, carried her inside and laid her on one of the empty seats.
He exited the carriage and dragged the limp form of Blackpoole over to lie next to me. I noticed that the little thief was awake, he just couldn’t move. “Now, what to do with the two of you? Perhaps I leave you to the mercies of ‘Tylac’s Burning Worms’ or maybe ‘Zoric’s Blood to Acid Transfer’? I must come up with a suitable punishment.”

“How about Scaler’s Screaming Death?” Blackpoole grunted. Relnor seemed unsurprised that the thief was coherent. “Huh? What’s that? Wait… you’re no mage. I can sense you have no gift for the mystical, however…there is something.” The mage peered closer at Blackpoole then his eyes widened. “Aha! What have we here?”
The mage pulled a beautifully crafted dagger from Blackpoole’s belt. The blade had a greenish tinge to the metal and the hilt and pommel were crafted in the shape of a serpent with emeralds inset for the eyes. “An enchanted dagger, and quite exquisite craftsmanship too.”

Blackpoole answered, “I’d be careful with that you side-show freak, it bites!”

“Bah!” Relnor retorted, “I have nothing to fear from such puny magic as this possesses. Now, where was I? Oh yes, your punishments, since I am in a bit of hurry I’ll have to make this quick.” Relnor straightened, closed his eyes and calmed himself. “Oh by the way,” he said softly, “this is going to be very painful.”

He began to make strange movements with his hands, speaking in the nonsensical, gobbledy-gook that mages always seem to use. His hands began to glow a soft yellow, which slowly changed to orange, then to red. The glow intensified and small, red sparks began to fall to the street. Relnor spoke, his voice cracking. “Now you shall pay the ultimate price!” As he raised his hands, tendrils of red energy wormed around his hands then his head exploded as a battleaxe split it like a melon.
Blackpoole and I, now covered with bits of brain and bone, looked up and found ourselves staring into Grendal’s stupidly grinning face.

 

“What the hell are you staring at, you big goof! And where the hell have you been!” I croaked. His grin disappeared only to be replaced by a forlorn, lost puppy dog look. Grendal rumbled, “Jared you told me to wait until it looked like you were in trouble, so that’s what I did”.

“Next time I say something that sounds stupid, ignore it,” I replied. Grendal extended his hands and pulled the two of us to our feet. “But thanks,” I added, patting him on the shoulder. The puppy dog look disappeared as he asked, “Where’s Jasmine?”
“She’s in the carriage,” Blackpoole said wiping brain matter from his cheek. “Why don’t you go get her? She probably wouldn’t want to be awakened by us.”
Grendal smiled then lumbered toward the carriage, stopping only to pick up his axe and wipe it off on the dead mage’s clothing.

I continued to wipe the gore from my face then searched around for and picked up my sword. I said to Blackpoole, “We need to get this mess cleaned up and disappear before the watch gets here”.
“We could just leave them and go,” the small thief replied as he retrieved his knife from the throat of the dead guard.

“You gonna tell the old man that’s the way we left things?” I asked. “You’ll be cleaning latrines for a month with your tongue.”

Blackpoole’s face greened slightly as he replied. “You’re right we should clean this mess up.”
By then Grendal had retrieved Jasmine from the carriage, set her on the steps and was gently patting her on the cheek to wake her up. She groaned slightly then grabbed his huge hand in both of hers. “Enough Grendal I’m awake!” The big guy backed away then turned to help Blackpoole with the corpses. The huge man threw a corpse over each shoulder and lumbered off toward the alley.
Based on the look on her face, Jasmine took it as a personal affront to have been knocked out. She stood, made sure of her balance, and calmly walked to where her swords lay on the pavement. She cleaned and inspected each one before returning it to its sheath. Jasmine cared for those swords as if they were children, constantly inspecting them for nicks and razor sharpness.

Upon noticing my attention she glared at me, shooting daggers from her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be helping those two?” She gestured towards Blackpoole and Grendal. I threw up my hands defensively, “OK...OK, just making sure you were all right.”

I grabbed the nearest guard’s corpse beneath the arms and started dragging it towards the alley. I followed the other two about thirty feet into the alley where they were arranging the bodies and covering them with garbage. “Did you search them first?” I asked.

Even though it was dark I could tell Blackpoole had a grin on his face when he answered, “What, me rifle a body?”

He said it with such unabridged sarcasm that I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Perish the thought! Make sure you strip off any signs of who they worked for.”

“OK boss!” He flipped me a single-finger salute, which I emphatically returned. As we returned to the street, Grendal and Blackpoole grabbed the last two corpses. I walked over to the paralyzed guard where Jasmine was crouched, retrieving her ‘serpent fangs’. “What do you want to do with him?” I asked.

“Dump him in the alley with the others,” she said with disdain. “He’s useless. We have Jalpur, that’s all we really need.” She moved away from her victim and climbed back into the carriage to check on our captive.

I shrugged, mumbled about cold-hearted bitches and started dragging the paralyzed guard toward the alley passing Blackpoole and Grendal at the entrance.

Even in this business there are some things you just don’t do. Call me soft hearted, but I couldn’t leave the guy lying there defenseless to die. Once I had stripped away any remaining links to Jalpur or anything useful at all, I smothered him.

By the time I rejoined Grendal and Blackpoole, they were dumping our loot into an empty box salvaged from the alley.

“Anything good?” I asked.

“Nothing great,” Blackpoole said. “Half a dozen swords and daggers, couple of knives, the good Duke’s little pig sticker, ‘bout 30 mixed coins. At least the swords are quality work. I haven’t checked the Duke or the rest of the luggage though.”

“We can do that later. Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Grendal, you drive. Blackpoole, round up the guards’ horses.”

“And what are you going to do?” Blackpoole asked.
“Me?” Pointing to myself as I answered, “I’m gonna ride in the carriage.”

Blackpoole looked at Grendal and snickered, “I think he’s gonna try and make a move on Jasmine”.
“Not on your life,” I replied. “I got more sense than that.” A strange look crossed the big guy’s face and he turned away. “Aha! Methinks Grendal feels more than just comradeship toward our little Jasmine. Boy is he in for the granddaddy of all heartbreaks!”

As I turned to open the carriage door, Jasmine poked her head out. “Are one of you geniuses going to dispose of the mage’s body or leave it there for the watch to find?”

I turned and looked. Sure enough, Relnor’s body still lay where it had fallen after Grendal’s axe had split open his head. “I’ll take care of it,” I said, a look of embarrassment crossing my face as I backed away from the carriage door.

“See that you do. And make sure you throw some water on that mess,” Jasmine said icily as her head retreated back into the carriage.

I grabbed the corpse by the feet and began dragging it toward the alley. Gods, the little bastard was heavy! A trail of blood and gore followed me into the alley. I dragged the body beyond where we had left the guards. A cursory search found a small purse of gold coins, a slim, silver-inlaid rod, and a shard of some kind of crystal.
Upon returning to the street, Grendal was already sluicing away all the blood. Surprisingly, no one had come out to investigate the noise during the fight. I sent a quick ‘thank you’ to Ghart, the God of Luck and got into the carriage. I added the mage’s stash to the box with the other loot. Blackpoole was already leading the horses away from the scene of the fight. Once he finished washing away the evidence, Grendal climbed into the driver’s seat and got the carriage moving.

 

Jasmine was seated across from Jalpur, who was blindfolded. The look on her face clearly said she didn’t want to share bench space, so I sat down next to the captive nobleman.

“Where are you taking me?” Jalpur mumbled around the rags that were still in his mouth. “Be silent!” Jasmine hissed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’d listen to the lady, Jalpur, she’d as soon slit your throat as look at you,” I warned. Jalpur had sense enough to keep quiet after that.

Little was said during the three quarters of an hour it took us to reach the warehouse we used as our real headquarters. We chose it over the suite of offices Jalpur prepared for the Colonel inside the palace. Enough went on there to keep the Duke’s spies occupied, but all the real work got done here.
We passed several sentries who returned the proper call signs and entered the warehouse. Blackpoole led the captured horses to a stable down the street where we would have the brands altered.

The duty sergeant, a tough-looking guy named Torasin, directed us toward the back of the warehouse. “Everything’s all set downstairs,” he said as he pointed to a set of stairs going below ground.

“I certainly hope so,” I said. “Have the carriage unloaded then do something to disguise it.”
“Will do,” Torasin replied. He waved at two bored looking men lounging by the doors. “You two get your dicks out of your hands and get this carriage unloaded!”

Jasmine motioned for me to follow her to the basement. I grabbed Jalpur by the shoulder and guided him to the stairs. “Careful your Grace, these stairs can be tricky.”


As I guided the Duke down the stairs, I resisted the urge to give him a good hard shove. To think that this simpering slob had once been one of the most feared swordsman in the entire empire.

A sentry opened a door at the foot of the stairs, nodding to me and leered hungrily at Jasmine. An icy glance from her was enough to change the look to one of almost sheer terror. As she entered the warehouse’s basement I heard Jasmine mutter, “Idiots. Why are men such idiots?”
I physically turned the Duke toward the opening and gave him a good shove in the ass with my boot. He stumbled, only to be caught by two evil-looking soldiers waiting in the room. One of them, Krago, a one-time bandit shook the Duke slightly. “So this is the piece of **** that’s causing the old man so much trouble. He don’t look like much.”

“Appearances aren’t everything,” I replied.

“The old man wants to see you two right away.” Krago gestured toward Jasmine and me. “He’s waiting in his office.”

“Oh joy!” I said. “Don’t treat him too rough, the old man doesn’t want him bruised,” I shot over my shoulder as I turned to follow Jasmine out of the room. Krago and his buddy led the Duke through a door opposite the one we had entered. They were taking him to a large room we used as a meeting hall the old man had especially prepared for this occasion.

I followed Jasmine down a dimly lit hallway; admiring the sinuous swaying of her body as she walked, while passing several closed doors. We stopped at the end of the hall at a heavy, iron-bound oak door. Randle, a long-time friend stood guard at the door. He knocked then opened the door for us to enter. As I passed he whispered, “Careful in there, the old man’s in a bit of a foul mood.” I nodded and entered, hearing Randle close the door behind me.

The old man’s office was a bit of a mess. Maps covered the wall; various reports were piled precariously across the desk. In the far left corner was a stack of chests, the old man’s personal belongings. In the far right corner was the old man’s cot, the blankets rumpled as though someone had just crawled out from beneath them. A sturdy table was pushed against the wall to my left, piled with various pieces of armor, weapons, and the slightly moldy remains of several meals. A half dozen chairs and stools, two of which were occupied by our resident wizard and one of our priests, were scattered about the right side of the desk.

Colonel Willmore Winterheart, affectionately known to us as ‘the old man’, sat behind his desk with his feet propped up. A hearty man in his early-middle years, he wore his black streaked, iron-gray hair cropped short. His square, granite-chiseled chin was covered with a light growth of beard beneath a hawk-nose and piercing gray-blue eyes that sparkled from beneath brows the same color as his hair.

He wore a simple white shirt, black leather vest and pants, and high quality cavalry boots the color of a roan horse. Around his neck an ivory carving of a wolf’s head hung from a silver chain. A large broadsword leaned against the arm of his chair, the pommel carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf’s head.

The colonel glanced at Jasmine and I, motioned to a couple of chairs and settled back in his chair. “So, I hear you were successful. Is that correct?” His voice had the power of a rabid wolf’s bite and he could use it like a weapon when he chose. I’ve seen many a hardened soldier visibly wince beneath the power of that voice. “Yessir,” I replied, “Jalpur was taken to the meeting hall per your orders.”

“And did you keep the whole thing quiet?” That question had an icy bite to it, as though he already knew the answer.

“Well sir, there were some casualties. We had to take out the Duke’s guards and his pet wizard. But I saw no indication that anyone took an interest in the whole thing.” At the mention of the wizard, Father Flaherty and the wizard, Baradakus leaned forward in interest.

“What about your team? Were any of you injured?”
I glanced at Jasmine, but she was staring straight ahead. “Well sir, I believe I may have some cracked ribs, they may even be broken,” I said. “Other than that the only thing injured was our pride, sir.”
The old man looked to Jasmine, “Do you agree with Jared’s assessment?”

“Yessir,” she said. “The wizard, who had been disguised as the coach’s driver, managed to incapacitate three of us after we had removed the guards. Grendal, who had remained in the alley as backup, split the wizard’s skull with an axe.”
‘Removed?’ I thought to myself, that’s an interesting way to put it. She has an unusual view on death and killing.

The colonel pulled his feet from the desk and dropped them to the floor. He rested his elbows on the desk, ran his fingers through his hair, and breathed out sharply.

“OK, good. The sooner we get this Jalpur business done the sooner we can get out of Takota. Jared, have Father Flaherty check those ribs. Jasmine, you and Baradakus come with me. Let’s finish this!”
The Colonel stood, picked up and buckled on his sword, then strode out of the room. Jasmine and Baradakus followed.

I turned to Father Flaherty. He looked like your typical fat village priest, but I had seen him bash heads with the best of us. “Well Father, is the old man as worn-out as he appears?”

“More than you’ll ever know, me boyo,” the priest’s voice gave him away as hailing from the Vyranian highlands. “That man has a heavy weight on his shoulders and it’s draggin’ him down.”

“But won’t settling whatever this is with Jalpur take off some of the load?”

“It might lad, it might.” But let’s see what we can do about those ribs of yours. Follow me to the infirmary.”

After being diagnosed and treated for three broken and two cracked ribs, I realized that I had missed what occurred in the meeting hall.

 

Duke Cyrus Jalpur sat in the inky darkness straining his hearing to catch the slightest noise. Nothing, not a muffled voice, creaking board, or even the scurrying of mice or rats, the silence was overwhelming. Never in his life had he felt so utterly alone. He remained blindfolded and gagged, his arms and legs bound to the heavy chair in which he sat. How long had he been here?

The cretins who had brought him to this room bantered crude jokes back and forth as they bound him to the chair. What were they going to do to him? Why was he here? Who was this person he had supposedly wronged? What about the four mercenaries who had captured him and slain his guards? That bitch from the Spice Islands had said something about compromising someone’s integrity and honor. Who could it be? Certainly he had his enemies, but none of them were capable of anything like this, or were they?

His mind raced, tumbling over various plots and schemes he had hatched throughout the years. Searching for that single incident, the one small factor he had overlooked. He was careful in his plotting, almost to the point of being obsessive. Making sure all possibilities were covered, that no scenario was ignored. He had carefully destroyed several of his rivals, using their downfall to raise his position in the Empire. None of his predecessors, not even his own father, had risen to such heights. Now everything was at risk, there must be a way out!

He must stay calm, not panic as he had in the street before his capture. Suddenly and somewhat surprisingly a ‘prayer’ taught to him by his long-dead swords-master rippled through his brain;

I shall confront my fear, not flee from it
I shall conquer my fear, not be conquered by it
I shall consume my fear, not be consumed by it
When my fear is gone, only I shall remain

The invocation still retained its calming effect, putting him into a more focused state. Again he shuffled through the plots he had hatched, concentrating on those whose targets were still some sort of threat.

This exercise went on for sometime, the almost complete solitude he currently endured working to help him funnel his concentration. Nothing! He could find nothing he had overlooked, every plot and twist occurring exactly as he had planned. There had to be something, but what? Perhaps a new player had entered the game. That must be it! There had to be a new faction or cabal, but who could it be?

Then something else intruded into his awareness. What was that, a noise? He strained his hearing again. Faint noises came from what he thought was directly in front of him. He strained his hearing once more. The sounds were definitely getting louder. A soft murmuring touched his ears, similar to listening to a whispered conversation through a stout door. The longer he listened the more distinct the sound became, it was no longer a murmuring but more of a soft, sibilant hissing like that of a serpent. But now the sound had altered, it no longer came from in front of him. It surrounded him now. He felt a slight caress on his left cheek, the faintest of touches. The hissing grew slightly louder. Again the caress, this time his right cheek, but this one more pronounced. He could feel the roughness, similar to the tongue of a cat. What was all this? Did they think to drive him mad? He recited the old sword-masters prayer again, but the incessant hissing and subtle caresses on various parts of his face kept distracting him. Then the hissing stopped.

He waited. It seemed like hours passed although it was likely it was but a few seconds. The hissing did not renew, nor did the facial caresses. Then just at the edge of his hearing, “Cyyyrrrruuussssss,” the last syllable drawn out to a hiss. “Cyyyrrrruuussssss,” he was sure the voice was calling to him now, but why? The voice continued to call his name time and again. It came from all around him, once it even sounded as though it was under the chair. For what seemed an eternity the voice kept calling his name, over and over until it echoed inside of his head.

“Enough! What is it you want of me?” No answer, just the serpentine hissing of his name again and again. “You seek to drive me mad. Do you not realize who you are dealing with? I am Duke Cyrus Jalpur!” His voice had a frenzied edge to it, the slight cracking that occurred when he was overly excited. He forced himself to remain calm and repeat the sword prayer again.

“I shall confront my fear, not flee from it, I shall conquer my fear, not be conquered by it, I shall cons…”

“Cyyyrrrruuussssss, that ancient prayer cannot help you,” again the soft, sibilant voice jarred his concentration.

“You are mine, your fear issssss mine, everything that you are issssss mine!” The volume of the voice had raised several fold, now echoing in his ears. He felt the caress again, though this time across the back of his neck, but it was more sustained now, almost constant.

“What do you want from me?” His voice trembled, his fear building. If he did not find a way out of this he knew he would succumb.

“I want your ssssssoul, Cyyyrrrruuussssss, and in time you will offer it willingly. You will beg me to take it!” The serpentine voice seemed different now, almost excited.

“Wh..Wh..Why m…m…me?” he stammered.
A period of near silence enveloped him, the only sound the subtle hiss of whatever slithered across his neck and face.

“Why you assssssk? Becausssssse you interest me Cyyyrrrruuussssss. You have gone to great lengthssssss to raise your position within the empire. You are a ssssssneaky, weasel of a man. A former hero who hassssss compromised himself for material gains at great expensssssse to otherssssss.”

“Com…compromised? What do you mean? I merely took advantage of my standing to further myself and my station. So what if I trampled others who stood in my way? They were weak. I have made the Duke of Jalpur a position to be envied, respected and feared!”

“Ssssssilence!” the sibilant voice thundered, “You are a disgrace, a once proud and revered knight hassssss become a bloated shadow of what he once wassssss. But now Cyyyrrrruuussssss, you are mine!” This last statement came out with such malevolence that the duke lost control of his bowels and soiled himself.

“I misspoke earlier,” the voice hissed, “you no longer interesssssst me, you disgusssssst me! I shall strip your soul from your body and torture you throughout eternity!”

“Nooooooo!” the duke screamed, then an odd calmness overtook him and he spoke calmly as he often did at court. “If I am to die today than at least give me the dignity to see the instrument of my demise.”

“Very well,” the voice replied, “a reassssonable request.” With that last statement the blindfold was stripped from his eyes. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness then they focused on a pair of malevolent green, serpentine eyes staring at him.

“Look Cyyyrrrruuussssss, look into the eyessssss of your doom….” The voice faded to a barely heard whisper. Then they green eyes disappeared.

 

Lights flared, the sudden brightness temporarily blinding the still securely bound nobleman. He winced, immediately shutting his eyes to give them time to adjust to the sudden change. He could hear movement in the room now, but was unwilling to open his eyes. The stench from his soiled clothes assaulted his nostrils. He listened intently, if he was correct there were at least four other people in the room with him now.

Gradually the painful brightness lessened and he was able to open his eyes again. The light remained very bright but he could make out the light sources, globes of white backed by what appeared to be mirrors to help reflect the light toward the center of the room. He could just barely see the outline of figures moving beyond the mirrors.
After several minutes had passed he distinctly heard someone approaching him from behind, heavy footfalls of boots echoing throughout the room. He turned his head side to side in a fruitless attempt to see who it was, but they remained just out of his sight. A figure covered in a dark, heavy cloak with a deep hood passed to his right carrying a stool. The figure set the stool on the floor a couple of feet in front of him and perched itself on the stool its back to the lights and mirrors.

“Well Cyrus, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?” The figure’s voice a steely rasp as if the throat had been damaged.

“Wha..What are talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me Jalpur! You know what you’ve done as well as I. Every sneaky, back-handed ploy and scheme you’ve used to strengthen your position and otherwise screw others.” The raspy voice had a hard edge to it.

“You’re insane! I haven’t done anything but take advantage of opportunities I was presented, if some suffered because of it too bad for them. I regret nothing that I have done to achieve my present position.” He felt slightly more confident now and was beginning to believe he could possibly talk his way out of this mess.

“Suffering? What do you know of suffering?” the figure asked. “When have you ever lacked for anything in your entire miserable existence? The only thing you ever worked for was your knighthood, and you threw that away!”


Well that's as far as I took it...for those of you who have read this far I hope you enjoyed it.

 

Please don't stop!!!!! I love it.... I gotta know what happens next