Beyond the Edge of Dawn (21 page)

Secret Meetings

Two days passed before there came a subtle knock. It was Mabane, come to take them up on their offer. His motivations were private. None of the knights questioned them. The pain of losing his family rippled through his drunken stupor to the point where he realized this was his only offer of redemption. He’d be a fool not to accept.

“So, I’m here,” he said with empty hands.

Kavan invited him in. The smell of vomit and alcohol drifted off his clothes as Mabane entered. Kavan spared a glance down the hall to ensure their guest wasn’t being followed before closing the door. Since their trip down to the smith district, he couldn’t shake the feeling that hidden eyes were on them. Pirneon had gone off on one of his random walks. He’d been gone for most of the last two days, making this meeting with Mabane easier.

Mabane watched Kavan suspiciously as he made introductions. “You don’t waste any time getting to business, do you?”

“There is no reason to,” Kavan countered. “You know why you’re here, and we know what we need from you.”

“What exactly are you supposed to be? Some sort of avenging angels come to set the world to rights?”

“Of a sort,” Aphere said. “Does it really matter?”

He shrugged indifferently. “Not to me, it doesn’t. Anyone here got a drink?”

“No,” Kavan told him. “We need you sober for this. No more alcohol until our task is complete.”

“Or we’re dead,” Geblin muttered from his perch in the window.

Mabane looked up at the sound. His eyes widened.

“And you need a bath,” Aphere added. Her face pinched in disgust.

Mabane gave her an indignant look. “I can leave just as easily as I walked in. Rantis is a big city. Go and find another guide.”

“We don’t want another guide. I chose you for a reason,” Kavan reminded.

“And I choose to have a drink!”

Kavan leaned menacingly close and snarled, “If you ever mention alcohol again, I’ll slit you from ear to ear. Now sit back, shut up, and stop being a pain in my ass.”

Looking hurt, Mabane did as instructed. It was going to be a long night.

Pirneon sat alone at a small corner table. The common room was mostly empty. An elderly couple sat in front of the gently cackling fireplace. A group of young men were opposite him, playing some sort of dice game. Empty chairs filled the rest of the tables. He ate a hearty meal of roast lamb and spring potatoes, finishing it with a mug of local ale. The taste was weak but didn’t stop him from ordering another.

“You look sad,” the serving girl said as she replaced his empty mug with a full one spilling foam over the sides.

“Most people are, in my experience,” he replied.

She flashed a grin. “Nonsense. Life is what we make it. You can’t live with regrets. They’ll only eat you up inside.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tamblin.”

He returned the smile. “I’m Pirneon, and it’s my pleasure to meet you.”

“Pirneon? I’ve heard that name before.”

His smile hardened. “It’s common enough where I come from.”

She shook her head. Blond curls whisked over her shoulders. “Not around here. There’s some kind of myth wrapped around your name. I just can’t remember. Some great warrior, or something. Oh well, I might remember before the end of the night.”

Tamblin walked away with the empty mug, leaving him in a better mood than he’d been in for a long time. He watched her leave. She was certainly attractive enough, if a tad plump. Her long hair was of the purest gold, outstanding against her pale blue dress. Her smile could melt ice. Pirneon found himself suddenly at ease. It was an odd feeling, to be sure, but one he was interested in developing. He decided to take the rest of his meals here rather than with his quarrelsome companions. At least in this place he was welcome.

Tamblin glanced over her shoulder once before slipping into the kitchen. She set the mug down by the washbasin and slipped out the back door without being seen. The alley was dark, inspiring an inkling of fear even though she’d walked it several times before. A hooded man emerged from the darkness, blocking her path.

“Well?” he asked.

She trembled slightly. “I got him interested, just like you said.”

“Will he return?”

“I think so. His face kind of lit up when I mentioned the ‘great warrior’ bit. He’ll be back,” she said.

Tamblin caught the small purse tossed at her.

“Good. Keep doing as I say, and there’s more in it for you.”

Tamblin smiled greedily, forgetting her anxiety, and went back to work. She left Corso plotting his next move in the shadows. The hour was getting late, and he still had to find the key. Black robes whirling, he stalked back into the tunnels and his chamber beyond. There was still much to be done.

“I’m not saying another word until I get a drink,” Mabane threatened.

Kavan dropped a hand to his dagger. Aphere mildly suggested he let her deal with the problem. He was more than happy to let her.

“Mabane,” she said softly. “You answer the questions we have right now, and we’ll buy your drinks. Deal?”

He nodded. “But no funny business. A man is only as good as his word, after all. Or a woman, for that matter.”

She glanced at Kavan. “There, you see? He just needed the proper sort of persuasion.”

Kavan frowned but remained quiet as he went to join Geblin by the window.

Aphere continued, “How many different avenues of access are in the ruins?”

“Only one so far as I know.”

“Just one?”

“Yes. They’re mostly underground, you know? There’s a few collapsed columns up top and a ruined building or two, but the rest of the city is buried in a huge cavern.”

“Why would anyone build in such a place?” Barum asked.

“Who said it was people that did it? Could have been Dwarves or Goblins. The place is so old, no one really knows for sure,” Mabane said. “All we do know is that folks go down and mostly don’t return. It’s like the darkness swallows any trace.”

“That’s awful.”

“True, but the survivors suffer worse.” He held up his stump. “I’m one of the lucky ones. Least I can still walk and see. A lot of people around here can’t say that.”

“Why haven’t the ruins been sealed back up if it’s so dangerous? You’d think the king would show more concern.”

Mabane offered a cruel laugh. “King Eglios isn’t a fighting man. We might have taken over Barduk, but he never left Rantis during the campaign. General Moncrieff was the force behind that, him and the royal advisor. They do most of the dirty work. I guess that helps Eglios sleep better at night.”

Aphere said, “But we’ve heard rumors of his lust for power.”

“That part is true,” Mabane admitted. “But Eglios is nothing without those two. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole army revolted without them around. This is a dangerous kingdom you’ve come to.”

Kavan got up, feeling irritated. “We’re getting off track. Is there any type of garrison at the cavern mouth?”

“Slightly less than a company of lancers. It’s more of a token force than anything substantial. Moncrieff’s a crafty one. He makes it look good by having soldiers in the nearby village. They go and light watch fires along the road leading up to the ruins and make random patrols throughout the general area. It gives people hope. The lancers couldn’t stop the monsters any more than the hunts, but folks feel safe so long as they see an armed presence.”

Kavan shook his head. None of this made sense. “There has to be more going on than we know. Think about it. A king who’s only task is the welfare and continuation of his people, and he’s doing next to nothing to keep them from being slaughtered? Why?”

“Who can speak for the mind of a king? Not me. Eglios does what he does for whatever his reasons.”

“How many villagers have been killed by the werebeasts?” Aphere asked.

Mabane trembled. “Werebeasts? The demons of the underworld? We’re not going to survive this.”

“Leave that to us,” Kavan told him. “Answer the question.”

The drunk took a moment to get past the sudden revelation. Until now, the beast that had stolen his arm had been nameless, an abomination bereft of personality. “I’d venture hundreds, though the real number must be close to a thousand. They come and they kill and kill and kill. So much blood.”

“Have any of the monsters been killed?”

“Some, but it takes many men to do so. Once one gets the taste for blood, it becomes nigh impossible to stop.”

Mabane was on the verge of tears. They were about to lose him but still had many unanswered questions. Aphere took control, placing a tender hand on his shoulder. “Mabane, we’ve all killed one or more of these werebeasts before. Some not longer than a handful of nights ago.”

His eyes lit up in wonder. Hope sparked. “How is this possible? Are you gods?”

She smiled sadly. “No, not gods. Just ordinary people trying to make a difference. We come from the land of Gaimos.”

Gaimos. The name clicked in his mind, conjuring images of his father’s time and the tales of war and bloodshed. Most of Malweir thought them cruel, malicious. The harbingers of death. That’s why so many kingdom hads banded together. He suddenly found himself wondering if the world had been wrong all along.

“Gaimosians,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“We go where we please.”

“No, you don’t understand. If word gets out about you, there will be trouble.”

Aphere asked, “What makes you say that?”

“It is the same every time one of you arrives,” he answered.

She stared back in shock. “Others have been here?”

“Several.”

This was unexpected news. None of the four sensed another Gaimosian anywhere close. If there were others in Aradain, they’d learned to mask their presence.

“Where are they now? Tell us what you know,” Kavan pressed.

“Gone. They came here just like you. Fools all, to think they could end the problems in the ruins. The king had big banquets and ceremonies. There was a parade the day before the Gaimosians headed north. What happened once they went down into the caverns, no one knows. Not a one was seen again. Not a one.”

Kavan and Aphere exchanged worried looks. More was going on in Aradain than they had previously guessed.

“Thank you for answering our questions, Mabane,” Aphere said as she paid him. “Please come back later. There is still much more we’d like to ask.”

Mabane shamelessly accepted his payment and scuffled towards the door. Almost as an afterthought, he asked, “Just what do you have in mind?”

Aphere’s look was resolute. “We’re going to end the threat in the ruins.”

“Then I’ll be using this to pay for your funerals,” he held up the purse.

The door clicked shut. Geblin closed his eyes and wished for home.

Allies No Longer

The ebony tower twitched ever so slightly under the raging winds. The night had an electric touch, as if the world knew what was coming next. Corso climbed the stairs. His mind was racing faster than he had the ability to process. Events were finally drawing to a close. He felt it riding the storms as the days crept slowly towards their extinction. The power of the dark gods strengthened. He’d never been so strong in his long, degenerated lifetime.

He wanted to smile but couldn’t. There was still too much in need of doing. Foremost in his thoughts was the Fist. Pharanx Gorg and his band of cutthroat mercenaries had done their part, though it would have been better if they’d managed to eliminate some of the Gaimosians. As it were, Corso had much to dwell on. The Fist had become a problem and more trouble than they were worth.

Corso gained the upper level and paused.

“We don’t like being kept waiting,” Pharanx snarled.

A pair of guards flanked him. One was an Elf of extremely dark, almost grey, complexion dressed in purple and black. He wore a bandolier of throwing knives and had crossed swords on his back. The black moustache gave him an unsavory look. His sneer told Corso his inner thoughts. Dark Elf or not, he was no match for Corso’s raw power. The second guard was just a man, probably from one of the northern kingdoms. The morning star hanging from his belt suggested arrogance all too common amongst the mercenary corps.

Corso looked up from his cowl. “I don’t like wasting my time or money.”

“We did what we could. Too many of my men were killed in this gambit,” Pharanx pressed. His right hand rested dangerously close to his rapier.

Corso silently wished he’d draw. It would make his next task much easier.

“The losses are not worth what you are paying us.”

“Don’t over-inflate your importance in this matter. You were paid to bring me results. Results I have yet to see,” Corso replied.

Anger flared in Pharanx’s face. “My men died for nothing! The Gaimosians are too powerful. Then there were those beasts.”

“What beasts?” Corso asked innocently.

“We were attacked outside of the Gnome city by some kind of predator. They were fast and ruthless. My men stood no chance.”

“So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?” Pharanx asked.

“Nothing.”

“Tell us, or I’ll bleed you out on your fancy marble tiles.”

Corso clenched a fist. It took all of his might to restrain himself. “Very well. There have been tales of strange creatures coming from a site of unearthed ruins to the north. I’d thought these stories to be mere foolishness, but you confirm otherwise.”

Pharanx spat on the floor. “Ruins and monsters are not my concern. We were supposed to be paid for rogue Gaimosians seeking to kill the king. You endangered my command recklessly. We demand double payment, and this contract is terminated.”

“Choose your next words carefully, mercenary scum,” Corso warned. “You’re making me angry.”

Pharanx and his men broke out in laughter. None of them viewed the crippled, hobbled old man as a threat. “Save your words for weaker men. We want what’s coming to us.”

Corso half whispered, “As you wish.”

He flung his arms out. The world slowed to a sliver of normal time. A wave of impenetrable darkness pulsed from his palms even as the mercenaries rocked back on their heels, fumbling for their weapons. Eyes wide in shock, they watched helplessly as the black miasma washed over them with crushing force.

A thunderclap shook the world, and the blackness receded. Pharanx stood between twin piles of mangled flesh, blood, and bone. Steam rose from what remained of the corpses, drifting away into the chill spring evening. Pharanx, however, didn’t suffer a scratch. Corso flung a bag of gold coins at his feet.

“Take your payment, and leave this kingdom. Your kind is no longer appreciated here,” Corso commanded.

“Those…those were my best men,” Pharanx stammered.

Corso cast a wicked glare on the man. “Then you need better men.”

“Sire, Minister Corso is here to see you,” the page announced from the doorway.

Eglios continued rubbing his chin for a moment. He toyed with the notion of sending the page away without response. Corse was spending too much time in his presence lately, and it disturbed the king to great ends. Even so, it was difficult to tell the man no.

“Send him in,” Eglios said with a dismissive tone.

Corso entered with his usual flourish. His crimson robes enhanced his disarming smile. Eglios rarely trusted a man who smiled at another. They either wanted something or were scheming. He figured it was a bit of both in Corso’s case.

“What news this day?” Eglios asked.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid, sire.”

His pained expression left doubts in the king.

“What now?”

“The Fist has failed. The Gaimosians are inside the city.”

His one good eye narrowed. “What? How can this be?”

“The knights of Gaimos are renowned for their expertise in battle and subversive actions. They were simply too much for the mercenaries to handle.”

The king raged. “You expect me to believe that a five hundred-man company couldn’t stop five knights?”

“Sire, I —”

“We’ve been betrayed! I want heads, Corso. Pile them before my throne, and you’ll be rewarded.”

Smiling to himself, Corso bowed. This was almost too easy.

“We must see to the Gaimosians first. I feel they are the greater threat. They could very well be planning on attacking the castle tonight. Your life is in jeopardy.”

“They wouldn’t dare. Not even a Gaimosian is dumb enough to kill a king in his own bed,” Eglios scowled.

“These are ruthless devils,” Corso countered.

“That may be, but they are not assassins.”

“Are you willing to risk your throne on it?” Corso asked. “Remember, you have no heirs. The throne will fall to a nameless house and lead Aradain to ruin. All that you have fought and struggled for will vanish without so much as a monument in your name.”

Eglios slumped back into his throne. Defeat glistened in his eyes. “What should I do? I’ve worked too hard to let it end now.”

“I suggest we take a different approach. These knights obviously know we are seeking them. We can use that to our advantage. Invite them in. Make them feel welcome, and encourage them to become honorary champions of the hunt.”

“And the creatures in the ruins will destroy them,” Eglios concluded. “It might work, but how can we be sure they’ll fall for it?”

“Their sense of honor, sire. Use it against them. Surely, they have heard the stories of how many innocent lives have been lost. Their vanity and arrogance practically demand they go.”

“What of the Fist?”

Corso replied, “Brand them traitors and put a price on their heads.”

The one eyed king grinned savagely. “Make it so. I’m glad you work for me, Corso. You’d make a vicious enemy.”

Corso bowed again and excused himself.
At last
, he sighed inwardly. The wheels were finally in motion. The dawn of the dark gods was quickly approaching, and he was about to reap the rewards from a thousand years of faithful service.