Stolen Dagger

by Shawn Wickersheim

  “Mostly Gyunwarians . . .” Lumist lamented.

  Ian nodded and stared out the window lost in thought. Over the past year or so, he had noticed more criminal cases brought before the courts involving his countrymen. He had tried to show some leniency, but only a few Gyunwarian lords or ladies served as judges and often the penalties he suggested were overruled by stricter Yordicians on the panel.

  “I suppose I will soon join them,” Lumist added. “I cannot afford to maintain my keep.”

  “I still plan to repay your debt to Bolodenko.” Ian glanced over at his friend. “And trust me; you will not join the homeless, not as long as I am around.”

  Lumist brooded in silence. Ian sat on the edge of his seat and waited impatiently for the bumpy ride to be over. He had intended on helping not only Lumist, but also Lord Glavinas Roth and Lady Cuci Kindacaid, two friends with similar financial problems. Both were victims of the Thief of Belyne as well, but if his cargo was truly missing, his benevolent plans would suffer a serious setback. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at the knotted muscles in his neck. If he wanted to save them all, he would need that cargo.

  He smelled the docks long before they came into view. The wide, wooden boardwalk stretched along the crescent bay from the far northern tip of the city south to where the Annachie River met the sea. Pier forty-seven was on the northern side of the city and in the middle of what was generally known as the Bloody Fist’s territory, but as the carriage drew near their destination, Ian saw no sign of the Fists, or of their leader, Hans Mesbone. Kylpin’s transport ship, the Serenity, however was moored at the end of the pier.

  “Driver, stop here, please!”

  Ian jumped down and tossed the driver a handful of coins. Lumist followed. “Do you see him?” the old knight asked. He glanced up and down the pier. “Do you see the fire mage?”

  Ian shielded his eyes and searched the surrounding buildings and their rooftops. “No. Not yet. Maybe we beat him here. Or maybe I’m being paranoid and he’s not even coming. But stay alert. His eyes were aglow.” Kylpin Caleachey was striding down the gangplank toward them. “He’ll have to release the fire within him soon.” He waved, but Kylpin’s bronze face remained impassive.

  “We’ve unloaded the bulk of the cargo already, my friend,” Kylpin shouted in his thick Seneician accent. “But there is much we need to discuss. The-”

  “The cargo,” Ian cut him off. “Where was it taken?”

  Kylpin’s dark, almost black eyes narrowed. “To your warehouse, of course. Two of your guards claimed the shipment a couple of hours ago with all the proper paperwork.” He gestured toward the sea crane. “We’re unloading the items for your personal vault now, my friend.”

  “Have you seen any of the Bloody Fists?”

  Kylpin nodded. “Some. They were with your guards. Why? What is wrong?” He glanced down at Ian’s charred and disheveled clothes. “And what happened to you, my friend?”

  “A fire mage torched his warehouse,” Lumist offered. “And Ian thinks he may be coming here next.”

  Kylpin glanced back at Ian. “Are you certain?”

  Ian quickly told him everything he knew. “And the last I saw of the fire mage, he was running east from the warehouse. Perhaps it is nothing, but I thought it wiser to be safe rather than sorry.”

  Kylpin scratched his bearded chin. “I am sorry to hear about Sir Nelson, he was a good man. If he claims the cargo was not from my ship, then I think someone has pulled a switch.” He met Ian’s gaze. “I swear to you, my friend, I was only following the orders I was given by your guards.”

  “I know. Zerick and Mason are responsible for this trickery, not you.”

  “Well, I hate to burden you with more bad news,” Kylpin said as he reached into a leather pouch attached to his bandolier, “but these were not accepted at the jungle outpost.” He handed over a roll of papers.

  “I don’t understand. These are signed notes drawn on the royal bank.”

  A look of embarrassment passed over Kylpin’s face. “My friend . . .” He hesitated. “Things have changed in Scylthia. Another lord has usurped control.”

  Ian stepped back, stunned by Kylpin’s words. The jungle nation of Scylthia had been discovered by his grandfather, Lord Alan, during an exploration of the northern seas. The small outpost city belonged to his family.

  “It was Lord Orrington, wasn’t it?” Ian finally said. “That pompous lord stole-”

  “No. The banner flying above the walls belonged to Lord Ragget.”

  “Lord Ragget? The Chief Inquisitor?” Ian shook his head. “No, that can’t be right. You must be mistaken. Lord Orrington’s banner is-”

  “I know what their banners look like and I tell you, my friend, it was Ragget’s,” Kylpin insisted. “According to a few natives, a small army of men loyal to Ragget attacked the outpost city during the mid-year celebration. The small contingency loyal to you was easily dispatched, and by the time I arrived in port a few weeks later, Ragget’s men were already firmly entrenched. I used my own funds to secure your cargo. It wasn’t everything you had requested . . .” He nodded toward the roll of parchment in Ian’s hands. “. . . but that is what remained after I refunded myself.”

  Lumist snorted. “I’m not surprised by this, nor should you be Ian. Lord Ragget is a Gyunwarian-hater. I’ve always said so.” He abandoned his search for the fire mage and faced Ian. “You saw what he’s done to our people on the ride here. Booting them out of their homes and forcing them to live in the streets. He is only-”

  Ian held up a hand. Lumist trailed off. Last year, Lord Devin Ragget had approached him with an offer to purchase the entire outpost city, the buildings, the land, everything. He had refused. The Yordician lord had let the matter drop without another word. Or so he thought.

  “Summon an army, my friend,” Kylpin suggested. “We can set sail in a few days’ time and reclaim your outpost by the end of the year. It will make for a splendid mid-summer celebration.”

  Ian shook his head. “I will speak to the King first.”

  “What good will that do, Ian?” Lumist asked sharply. “Do you think the king will convince Ragget to return the outpost to you? Or perhaps he can convince your missing guards to return the stolen cargo, should it or they ever be found!” Lumist shook his head. “If you want your outpost back, you’re going to have to take matters into your own hands and fight for it.”

  Ian turned away from both men. He knew they meant well, but the last thing he wanted to do was start a skirmish between Lord Ragget and himself. He was the Gyunwarian ambassador, entrusted by his people to maintain the peace. If he jumped headlong into a battle without trying some form of negotiations first, it would only be a matter of time before the tenuous relationship between their two countries failed.

  And too many brutal wars had been fought in the recent past over lesser infractions.

  Ian turned back and found his friends staring at him, waiting.

  “I have much to think about,” he began slowly, unsure how to proceed, “but I will consider your suggestions.” He peeled the outermost sheet of paper free from the roll of bank notes and handed it to Kylpin. “Thank you for everything. And just to be safe, perhaps you should sail Serenity out into the bay and lay anchor offshore. At least until we’re sure of this fire mage’s intentions. I pray it is only my imagination at work.”

  Kylpin looked down at the bank note in his hands. “I cannot accept this, my friend. You have lost much, and it wouldn’t be right.” He glanced up and his eyes suddenly widened. Ian frowned. Rarely had he seen his stalwart friend show any sign of fear, but then he noticed a strange, orange light reflected in Kylpin’s black eyes.

  “What is it?” Ian asked, but as the words left his mouth a heavy mantle of dread settled over him. He knew.

  The fire mage had arrived.

  Chapter 18

  During the carriage ride down to the docks, Josephine listened as Lipscombe explained what he wanted her to do. It
sounded like an easy enough task to perform, perhaps a bit too easy. From time to time, he’d stop talking and stare into the communication mirror and finally he ordered the driver to pull over and stop. “’nd now we wait. Got t’ make sure things go as planned.”

  “And that is all I have to do?” she asked for the third or fourth time.

  “If ye keep askin’ I might just come up wit’ a wee bit more.”

  “And when this is done, you’ll return my family?”

  Lipscombe chuckled and handed her a small wooden box. “Just keep ye thoughts on th’ task at hand, y’understand?”

  Josephine nodded. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she also didn’t want to aggravate him by asking too many questions. He seemed almost calm now, though she wasn’t sure which of his moods were scarier.

  “Ye know, I’ve seen ye before,” Lipscombe said. “On stage at th’ theate’.”

  Josephine turned to look at him. His head was tilted down while he studied the ever-changing images in the mirror. From this side and at this angle, most of his horrible scars were hidden. “I . . . I didn’t know . . .”

  “Ye surprised I’d step foot in a theate’?”

  Josephine wasn’t sure how to respond. What if she said the wrong thing and it set him off again? Finally, she shrugged, “The Theater speaks to different people in different ways.”

  Lipscombe snorted. “I suppose it does. I like t’ sit in the back ‘nd . . .” He curled his right hand into a loose fist and jerked it up and down in front of his trousers.

  Josephine’s face burned red. Lipscombe’s snort turned into a wild cackle. “I stroked th’ ole log t’ ye a good ten twelve times durin’ tha’ ‘Alegar ‘nd Sylvia’ show. Ye do fine as th’ seductress but let me give ye a bit of advice. Ye listenin’?”

  Josephine nodded.

  “I can’t hear ye.”

  “Yes . . .” Josephine cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m listening.”

  “For this performance, use yer tits more. A man lookin’ at yer tits ain’t lookin’ at yer hands. Y’understand?”

  Josephine crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware of her cleavage and turned away to look out the window. She wished it was open. The inside of the carriage was stifling hot and filled with his stench. Or perhaps she still smelled a hint of urine. “I understand.”

  “Good. Now be quiet for a bit, I got t’ pay attention here ‘nd make sure things go as they should.”

  It was the first order he’d given her she was more than happy to oblige. She closed her eyes and tried to relax while they waited, but her nerves wouldn’t allow it. She had an important performance coming up and this time she wasn’t playing it in hopes of receiving a thunderous applause.

  She was playing it for the lives of her family.

  Chapter 19

  A sizzling comet of fire shrieked across the sky over Ian’s head. He dove for the dock, dragging his two friends down with him, and watched in horror as the fireball punched into Serenity’s starboard side. Flames splattered across the deck, consumed sailors and transformed their writhing bodies into twisting pillars of orange fire. Both the main and fore masts ignited, and the ship canted dangerously from the impact, nearly lying on her beam ends. Burning men toppled over the poop rail and dropped screaming into the bay. Kylpin broke free of Ian’s grasp and ran for his ship, shouting orders, but the intense, blistering heat drove him back.

  Two more blazing comets screamed across the sky in quick succession. The first incinerated the mizzenmast, while the second engulfed the sea crane. Ian watched helplessly as his cargo exploded.

  An alarm bell clanged. A second joined in moments later and then a third. Ian rolled into a crouch, shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and scanned the adjacent roof line. The fire mage had to be within sight of the ship, but where?

  Behind him, Kylpin continued shouting orders, but when Ian hazarded a glance over his shoulder at the burning ship, he doubted if any of the sailors were left alive to heed his commands. Greedy flames raced across the deck devouring anything in its path.

  “Is that the fire mage?” Lumist pointed.

  Ian followed his friend’s direction and spied a thin figure with dark hair, dressed in black, running down a narrow alley away from the dock. The man reached the far end of the building and paused to look back. He was too far away to identify and much too swift to catch, but Ian started for him anyway.

  Lumist grabbed his arm before he’d taken a couple of steps. “Let him go. You are no master with the sword and his fire magic would destroy you long before you could reach him.”

  The muscles in Ian’s neck and back tighten. His friend was right. He was a mediocre swordsman at best and he hadn’t been born with any great talent in magic either. For the first seventeen years of his life, the lack of skill in either had not been an issue. He had grown up believing he would manage the family-run olive plantation started by his great-grandfather nearly a hundred years earlier on the hilly outskirts of Ryerton. He had spent little time handling a sword and no time fretting over his lack of magical ability. It wasn’t until his first trip to Belyne that he’d witnessed the truly awe-inspiring talents of a skilled magician. During that same trip, he’d met King Henrik. The Yordician king had taken a liking to him almost immediately and less than a year later, he had been married to Cecily, the king’s granddaughter. Still, there were times like now when he wished he’d spent a little more time training with either the sword or magic.

  “Ian?”

  He blinked and found Lumist staring at him quizzically. In the distance, over the clanging alarm bells, he heard the distinctive sound of galloping horses.

  “I said Lord Ragget has gone too far. First your outpost and now this!”

  Ian frowned at Lumist’s attempt to connect the two disasters. “We have no proof this is his handiwork.”

  “Proof!” Lumist spat the word out as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “You’ve been spending too much time in that damn Yordician courthouse!”

  “Forgive me if I don’t want to handle this the Gyunwarian way.”

  “Look at what has happened to you!” Lumist waved his hand at the burning ship. “And to Kylpin!” His gray eyes narrowed. “You speak of ‘our way’ as if it is wrong.”

  “Not wrong, just barbaric,” Ian said. “If there is evidence linking Lord Ragget to all this then I will prove his guilt-”

  “Evidence! Proof! Those are Yordician words!” Lumist pointed at Kylpin. “Why don’t you ask him if he needs either of them?”

  “This could be Lord Orrington’s doing. He and I have had our differences lately.”

  Lumist’s face illuminated with a mixture of excitement and rage. “Then we retaliate against him too. Neither of these lords will stop unless you act!”

  “NO!” Ian shouted. “We are not in Gyunwar anymore!”

  “That doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become a spineless Yordician!” Lumist shot back.

  “If you attack either of them, you will end up in prison or beheaded in the square,” Ian warned. “Is that what you want?”

  “I’m finished anyway. My vault is empty and Bolodenko has already threatened to kill me at midnight.”

  Ian threw the fat roll of bank notes at his friend. “Take it. I told you I would pay your debt! Just quit trying to be a martyr all the time! Not everyone in this city is out to destroy us!”

  Lumist opened his mouth to respond, but his words were drowned out by the arrival of the mounted patrol. Twenty uniformed riders rode onto the boardwalk. The four in azure robes broke formation and galloped toward the burning ship. The remaining sixteen bore down on Ian and Lumist. Ian groaned when he recognized the royal warden riding up front.

  “Captain Wolfe Straegar,” he called out trying to sound polite, “thank you for your prompt response.”

  The blue-eyed captain reined in his horse, brushed at some dust on one of his shoulders, crossed his hands over the pommel of his saddle and finally deigned to look
down at him. “Lord Weatherall.” His voice dripped with contempt. He eyed Lumist darkly. “Tunney. You both need to get behind me and my horse, right now.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Lumist snapped.

  Captain Straegar ignored his outburst and barked a couple of orders at his men. The fifteen wardens immediately split up, riding off in either direction to cordon off the pier and push curious onlookers back. Only after they were gone did Captain Straegar glance down his aquiline nose at Lumist. “My water mages are preparing their spell. You will be safer behind me, or you can stay where you are and suffer the consequences of their magic.”

  Ian dragged Lumist to the other side of the captain’s stallion.

  “Now, if you are able,” Captain Straegar said, “tell me what happened.”

  “I saw the fire mage responsible for this brutal attack running down that alley.” Ian pointed. “Just before you arrived.”

  “I saw no one.”

  “He would have passed you on the main road.”

  Straegar’s piercing blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did you see this man cast any spells?”

  “No, but he was running a-”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “Not clearly.” Ian took a steadying breath. “But he was about my height, thin build, dark hair.”

  “Dark hair?” Straegar snorted. “So, it was a dirty Gyunwarian then?”

  Lumist took a step toward the mounted captain. Ian grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “He was dressed all in black,” Ian continued. “And he-”

  “Yes, well, that is a very detailed description, isn’t it? I’ll make sure to inform my men to search the city for a Gyunwarian dressed in black.” He glanced around the dock and then stared down at Ian. “Oh look! I have found such a person. A Gyunwarian dressed in black. Perhaps I should arrest you.”

  “I don’t appreciate your tone, captain.”