SMOKE AND BLADES

by D Elias Jenkins

  Deep beneath Free Reign he found his refuge in this second, hidden city. The warrens of Free Reign stretched for miles and were only partially mapped. Even the magi of Candlehill had not documented everything that lurked below their high towers.

  There was life down in the deep.

  Rat-Priests scratched the tunnel walls with blessings to their twin scavenger gods, Odds and Ends. Little offerings woven from discarded things littered the ledges and dry rooms.

  Blight-men lived here too. Bleached, sightless descendants of refugees that had hidden ever deeper until the sun forgot them. They were scattered and uneducated but the subject of many a surface horror story told to disobedient children.

  Although not acknowledged by the peace loving and erudite amphibians themselves, it was not unknown to find Dark Salientia in some of the higher sewers. Bloated and greedy, they waited squat in slimy tunnels to swallow maintenance workers and careless Rattalites down whole.

  In a quiet, little known corner of this confusing and exotic labyrinth, the Plague Doctor tended to his wounds. He took off his armoured mask and breathed the air. After so long behind it, the humid air of the warrens felt like a cool spring breeze to him. The sweat dried and nipped upon his face.

  Gingerly he unstrapped his ammunition belts and war picks then let them clatter to the stone floor. He prized open his black shirt and looked down at the inflamed hole in his shoulder. He reached up a finger and lightly touched it, resulting in a sharp tsssskkk!

  The Wraith glided swiftly in towards him, cooing softly.

  The Vigilante raised his good hand and shook his head.

  “It’s all right. I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”

  The Wraith flitted around him in agitation. Its features morphed swiftly into a hundred different insubstantial expressions. The Vigilante grimaced as he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of Beardance spirit and popped the cork with his teeth. The Wraith hovered over his wound. The Vigilante rolled his eyes.

  “Stop fussing woman, it’s gone clean through. I’ll handle it.”

  The Wraith turned her back on him as her raggedy robes blew in an unfelt breeze. A petulant murmur drifted across to the Vigilante.

  “Don’t be in a mood. I know you mean well, I’m just hurting is all.”

  He took a big glug of booze and let the fire filter down to his belly. Then he upturned the bottle and poured some on the bullet hole. His legs shot out straight and he clenched his teeth to stop the cry. The Wraith spun around and started to float over but stopped short.

  The Vigilante took a few deep breaths and let his shoulders sag.

  “Waste of good Beardance if you ask me. Oh damn that was clumsy back there, I know it. Spend all that time learning to duck and dodge and I have to showboat to scare the bad guys. Feel like a damned amateur.”

  The Wraith came closer and ran her deadly talons through his hair.

  “Yeah, and I did it to impress a woman.”

  The Wraith put a lethal hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own, but it sank right through.

  “I think I might be in with a chance.”

  A low primal purr drifted across his shoulder. The Vigilante turned to smile but he stiffened with pain and a rivulet of blood ran from the bullet wound.

  Instantly the Wraith held a hand up and it morphed into a flame of ethereal white light. The Vigilante pulled away from her.

  “No, it’ll heal itself. I can’t let you keep doing it. You’re already less than you were a week ago.”

  The Wraith let her hand become corporeal and held him down by the shoulder with impossible strength. She cooed and murmured softly all the while.

  “By the Spark, woman, you’re a pain in the arse. I can still shoot with the other hand.”

  The Wraith cocked her head and her hair drifted out as if underwater. She stroked his head reassuringly. The Vigilante looked at her in conflict for a long moment and then slumped down in his chair.

  “Alright then. Go on. But only what’s necessary for us to work. Nothing more. You hear?”

  The Wraith gave something close to a little laugh and then placed the white flaming hand upon his shoulder. It steamed and the Vigilante grimaced in pain. Her essence seeped into his open flesh and closed it fast from the inside. The raw sorcery did its work. Soon there was nothing there but a livid scar.

  The Wraith brushed her ghostly cheek against his and then floated off to the water’s edge. The Vigilante touched the new scar and flexed his arm.

  He looked at his clenching fist and then took the bottle of Beardance and put it to his lips. His eyes were distant and sad.

  He glanced over his shoulder but could not raise his eyes to meet the Wraith.

  “Every time you do it, I lose a little more of you. One day you’ll just be a memory.”

  The Wraith shimmered and seemed less substantial than before she had healed him.

  “Then nothing will stop the bleeding.”

  A shiver passed through the Wraith that the Vigilante felt in his own heart. He stood up with an effort and limped over to the entity, feeling the blood returning to his bruised legs.

  The Vigilante straightened his jacket and with a polite cough he reached out and gently tapped the spectral being on the shoulder. Her substance varied between smoke and steel.

  “Madam, would you do me the honor?”

  The Wraith turned her head away from him for a moment. The Vigilante straightened his back and clicked his heels.

  “I promise…not to step on your toes…again.”

  The Wraith turned in an instant and was in his arms, enveloping him like a wreath of smoke and blades.

  There, deep beneath the city they danced to the memory of a song only they could hear.

  6

  THE VIGILANTE’S TALE PART ONE

  John and Izabella Gaunt danced amongst the other guests but were unaware of anyone else. When the music came to a stop they stood in each other’s arms, slightly out of breath. Their foreheads lightly pressed together, their perspiration mingling. In his formal uniform John was immaculate, but a black eye and scabbed lip spoke of a less than gentlemanly previous night. Izabella however, looked like the picture of perfect ladylike elegance. No one but John knew she had a small pistol strapped to her thigh beneath the ball gown. John kissed her cheek and whispered to his wife.

  “I love you, Izzy.”

  Izabella kissed him and then flicked her eyes across the ballroom.

  “Damn it. I love you too John, but the ambassador is trying to get your attention. I think you’re in trouble again.”

  Captain John Gaunt sighed and turned to the plump man with the feathered hat giving him insistent waves from the edge of the dance floor. John turned back to his wife and winked.

  “Of course I am, darling. I caused a bit of a diplomatic incident last night when I sent three of Zalenberg’s finest to the sawbones.”

  Izzy gently dabbed his swollen eye.

  “Do you think it worked?”

  John shrugged.

  “Do they now think I’m a drunken liability who is only out for himself? I certainly hope so, or I got in a fight for nothing.”

  “Sir Skallen is talking to that fat idiot Brevvit. Let’s get into character and go face the music.”

  John and Izzy gripped each other’s hands and smoothly strolled over to stand by their ambassador. They smiled and nodded politely as the went.

  The great balcony doors were flung wide.

  A fresh evening breeze blew in to the great ballroom of the Prism Palace of Zalenberg. Emissaries from twenty nine nations sipped wine and plucked tidbits and canapes from trays. A voluptuous singer in a glittering golden dress was serenading the guests with a traditional folk song set to strings. With her short angular hair and severe makeup she cast the very image of the city’s sultry ideal.

  Lord Brevvit of Zalenberg took a swig of sparkling Krispennwine and looked down his nose at the battered man now standing next to the visiting dipl
omat.

  “Ambassador, you really should keep better control of your pets.”

  Sir Skallen cast a disapproving glance at the man in uniform that stood by his side. He arched an eyebrow and waited for a response. Gaunt was already standing to attention but squared his broad shoulders a little further. His face was inscrutable but the scab on his lip and faint black eye told the story. He looked like a sailor after a weekend’s drunken shore leave rather than a proud member of Free Reign’s elite Wing Clippers. Skallen turned back to the Zalenberg aristocrat with a pained smile. He was blushing a little beneath his waxed moustache.

  “Captain Gaunt is my personal attaché from the Ministry of Protection. He and his wife Izabella are here in a purely advisory capacity. I can assure you we are not looking to create any tension or diplomatic incidents between our two city-states. Free Reign’s trade with Zalenberg has run smoothly for generations.”

  Brevvit pointed to the three guardsmen that stood miserably in a far alcove, their arms in slings or legs bound with splints. They cast humiliated glares out from beneath swollen eyes at the soldier that stood before their lord.

  “Does that look advisory to you? I have three of my finest constables on ceremonial duties in a shadowy cubbyhole thanks to your man. They were in hospital all last night. What advice did your gorilla here offer them as he broke their noses?”

  Gaunt kept his eyes front and focused as he answered.

  “I advised them to go to hospital, Sir.”

  Lord Brevvit flushed and puffed his chest up to respond. Sir Skallen coughed politely and took a small crisp step forward. He smoothed down the sash on his red blazer and addressed the aristocrat.

  “Lord Brevvit this trade conference is as important to us as it is to you. I can assure you that I will deal most harshly with any break in correct protocol amongst my staff. It is already being dealt with internally.”

  Brevvit turned to the soldier and addressed him as an inferior.

  “You see, Captain Gaunt. That is the reason that Ambassador Skallen here is the diplomat and you are his…advisor.”

  Gaunt allowed his eyes to flick to the ambassador for a second then resumed his thousand yard stare.

  “Yes he’s a real eel when it comes to slipping the issue.”

  Brevvit seemed content now that he was dealing with a fool of the highest caliber and as such regarded him as no more of a threat than a horse bucking in its stable.

  “Boys will be boys I suppose. We have a military culture here, and are no strangers to blowing off steam in the alehouse. However I think the complexity of this conference is beyond your area of expertise Captain. The deals negotiated here will bring our two cities wealth and prosperity beyond your reckoning. Your family will benefit in the long run. The trickledown effect.”

  Gaunt sucked on his scabbed lip.

  “I don’t know, I can reckon quite a bit.”

  Brevvit straightened and looked around with an exaggerated grin as if everyone was amused at his every action. He addressed Gaunt like a child that recites nursery rhymes at adult dinner parties.

  “So what is your advice then? Enthrall me with your wisdom. You would have us cancel the entire event? Sacrifice months of planning and organization?”

  Gaunt glanced to the ambassador. Skallen sighed and nodded then braced his shoulders for the diplomatic incident. Gaunt stood at ease and looked Brevvit in the eye.

  “Lord Brevvit. I appreciate that a great deal of effort has gone into your little fundraising soiree, but better to sacrifice that than thousands of your own people. My concern is the safety and security of the civilian population, not money. I’ve brought valuable information to you that your own security forces have chosen to ignore. At their peril.”

  Brevvit glugged down his Krispennwine and grinned incredulously at the ambassador.

  “Is he still pushing this agenda Ambassador Skallen? That we are under imminent attack from some arch criminal? Is he this anal in Free Reign?”

  Sir Skallen gave a little shrug and nodded.

  “I’m afraid he is Lord Brevvit. Captain Gaunt has a uniquely obsessive disposition.”

  Brevvit turned to an elegant woman with an explosion of auburn curls tied up on her head.

  “Well he must be a joy to be married to Mrs. Gaunt.”

  Izabella Gaunt flicked her eyes to her husband and the tiniest smile flickered on her lips.

  “It’s not so bad if you’re the object of his obsession.”

  Gaunt suppressed his own smile and tried not to be effected by how beautiful he considered his wife to look in her ball gown.

  Play the rogue Gaunt. Sell it to this fat fool.

  Brevvit smoothed down his bristling sideburns and offered Izzy a wolfish smirk.

  “See, Captain? Now that’s a diplomat. I see which one of you carries the charm in this partnership. As well as the beauty.”

  Izzy took a step forward and gave a small curtsy. Her pale blue dress crumpled on the checkered tiles.

  “You’re too kind Lord Brevvit. My husband is a straight talker. However I share his concern for security at this event. Our intelligence is credible. I for one would not like to see anything bad happen at an event so masterfully orchestrated and beautifully executed by your skilled hand.”

  Brevvit placed his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and leaned in to kiss Izzy’s outstretched hand.

  “Why Mrs. Gaunt I may steal your for myself. Would that create a diplomatic incident, Ambassador?”

  Skallen glanced askance at Gaunt and gave a nervous smile.

  “It might.”

  Izzy gave a polite laugh and stood closer to the Zalenian aristocrat.

  “Well if I may intervene before our two cities wage war. I have yet to see the vista of the harbour from the grand balcony of the palace. I have heard that it is one of the unmissable views of Zalenberg. I regret that the Ambassador has kept my husband on duty constantly and he has been unable to chaperone me. Would you see a lady unsatisfied, Lord Brevvit?”

  Brevvit puffed up his chest and sucked in his ample gut.

  “Why never. If the good Captain would permit me the loan…is that an appropriate word? Loan? Of his wife for an hour or two, I shall show her the most beautiful view of our old city. As well as the latest artefacts discovered by our archeologists in the Lost Lands.”

  Sir Skallen clenched his jaw and gave a courteous nod.

  “I’m sure captain Gaunt would feel comforted that his most precious possession is safe in your capable hands. Wouldn’t you Captain?”

  Gaunt offered Brevvit a strained smile.

  “My wife can handle herself just fine.”

  “Then it’s decided. If I may, Mrs. Gaunt?”

  “You may.”

  Izzy drew in close to her husband and kissed his cheek. She whispered in his ear.

  “I’ll let you mingle, sweetheart. I know how you love parties.”

  Gaunt answered in his own gruff whisper.

  “Hmm. Careful he doesn’t fall off that balcony.”

  “I’ll let you know when the job is done.”

  As she began to pull away, Gaunt gently pulled her back closer.

  “You look beautiful Mrs. Gaunt.”

  Izzy could not conceal the shy smile that flickered across her face.

  “And you look very dashing Mr. Gaunt.”

  “I may attempt to seduce you later.”

  Izzy gave him a look of faux offence. He offered a smile.

  “I’m off the market soldier. I’ll have you know I’m a respectable woman with child.”

  Gaunt furrowed his brow into a scowl but the smile remained.

  “Well I don’t want respectable. And if you have a bun in the oven then I’m not interested.”

  Izzy nervously fidgeted with her elaborate dress.

  “Is it showing?”

  “Only in your eyes.”

  Izzy tapped him on the arm.

  “Get back in character, soldier.”

  A p
olite cough came from behind them.

  “Mrs. Gaunt?”

  Izzy expertly spun with a smile and extended her hand to Brevvit.

  “Yes Lord Brevvit. My possessive husband has kept me to himself long enough. Show me Zalenberg.”

  They gracefully gallivanted off through the throng of guests towards the main staircase. Izzy looked back once and gave her husband a wink. Gaunt watched her go all the way. His face was as stony as ever but inside he was smiling like a schoolboy at Wintermass.

  Sir Skallen stood formally until they had gone and then grabbed a glass of Krispennwine from a tray and downed it in one.

  “Another crisis avoided Gaunt. She really is the best part of you.”

  “I’m aware of that ambassador.”

  Skallen looked sheepish for a moment.

  “I don’t mean to disrespect you in front of him, John. I know your instincts are never wrong.”

  “He’s here, Sir Skallen. He’s after the precursor artefacts Brevvit has had dug up in those mines of his.”

  Skallen nervously chewed his lip.

  “You’re sure? If someone like Jonas Reach got his hands on a weapon like that, the consequences for us all would be unthinkable. ”

  “Councilor Crawl attached us to staff for this conference because he has it on good intelligence that an attack is highly likely. Reach is here somewhere. I can feel him.”

  Sir Skallen looked around at the eclectic attendees that nibbled and gossiped all around them beneath the glimmering chandeliers.

  “Gaunt if this conference is attacked it will cripple the economy of this place. And bring us all to the brink of war. There are envoys here from half the western world.”

  Gaunt scanned the room looking for any sign of threat.

  “He won’t be content with just disrupting a trade conference. Jonas Reach likes to cause as much collateral damage as possible. He enjoys what he does.”

  “I’ve seen the simulacrum from his attack at Memphin. That’s not something we can afford here Gaunt. If he’s here you need to find him.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Sir Skallen raised an eyebrow.

  “You know I’m supposed to be privy to all aspects of your plans, Captain? Why do I get the feeling you’re only telling me half-truths?”