A Sellsword's Valor

by Jacob Peppers

  “How’s that back way coming, Wendell?” Aaron yelled, not daring to look completely behind him to see how the sergeant was faring.

  “Working on it!”

  Too much longer, Aaron thought as he faced his opponent once more, and it won’t matter one way or the other. He wanted to help the others with the monster they faced, but knew that if he turned his back on the man in front of him he’d be of no help to anyone. Corpses never were. Except to the worms, that was, and they weren’t known for being particular.

  “You’re bleeding,” the man said, nodding at Aaron, a grin on his face.

  “And you’re ugly,” Aaron said, wiping an arm across his mouth, “now, are we going to do this, or are you going to stand around running your fucking mouth all night?”

  The man growled at that, and Aaron smiled. An angry bastard, this one. The man rushed him with a shout, his sword a blur, and Aaron barely managed to get his own blade up in time to meet it. Then they were at it again, steel striking steel and creating a melody of what would almost certainly be the last song one of them ever heard.

  When they both stepped back, they were panting for air, and Aaron sported a cut on his arm, his opponent one across his left thigh, but neither deep enough to make any real difference. Suddenly, a crash erupted in the common room, so powerful to shake the floor beneath Aaron’s feet. It was followed a moment later by another, and he turned to see that the hulking figure was swinging the tables at Darrell as if they were clubs—but the swordmaster danced and weaved away from strikes that were surprisingly fast. The swordmaster hadn’t been touched—if he had, Aaron supposed the people the king sent to clean up the mess would have been better off bringing sacks than a coffin—but Aaron noted that the mask of serenity on the swordmaster’s face had cracked a fraction, displaying a slight strain that was rare in the normally composed man.

  Darrell tried to move forward for an attack of his own, but the hulking figure brought one of the tables flailing up, and the swordmaster had to jump back to avoid being sent through the ceiling by the blow. Leomin moved forward on the creature’s other side, but the other table went sailing toward him, and he stumbled backward, tripping and narrowly avoiding the strike by what appeared to be luck more than skill. Damnit, Aaron thought. He thought that the swordmaster would be able to keep the thing busy, at least for another minute, perhaps two, but that was all. Weave as he might, his old master couldn’t get close to the creature, and he would tire soon.

  “Wendell!” Aaron shouted. “Back door!”

  “Trying!” the scarred sergeant shouted back.

  Aaron felt movement near him, though whether by instinct or the power of the bond, he didn’t know, and he threw his sword up in defense as he spun back, and saw that it had caught the man’s blade inches away from his own throat. Growling, Aaron forced it away, and they strained against each other, each looking to overpower the other. The man was fast, but he was also strong, and for a time the two blades seemed locked in place. They hissed and gritted their teeth with the effort of keeping the other’s sword at bay like two opposing knights painted on some castle fresco.

  But Aaron was no knight—just about as far as a man could get from one, in fact—so he allowed the sword to slip a little, then a little more. The man grinned as he saw the change, felt Aaron’s strength weakening beneath his. Then, just when the man’s confidence was fully clear on his face, Aaron allowed his sword to be pushed away as he stepped to the side, scooping up a long piece of wood that had, until recently, been a part of the door, then swung it with all the strength he could summon at the man’s face. His opponent’s sword was out of position, and he didn’t react in time, was unable to avoid the thick piece of wood that smashed into his face. He cried out in surprise and pain as he stumbled, tripping over a piece of the shattered door and falling.

  There was another ear-shattering crash to Aaron’s side, and he spun to see that the cloaked creature had apparently grown angry at the swordmaster’s ducking and dodging, and had decided to throw one of the tables instead. The thick oak wood, swung by the thing’s impossible strength, had struck the wall and gone through it, tearing a hole into the side of the tavern. “Sir,” Wendell said, turning to look at Aaron, his eyes wide and wild, “I think I found that back door you were looking for.”

  “Well, don’t just stare at me,” Aaron shouted, “run, damn you!”

  None of the men needed to be told twice, and for all the creature’s strength, its pursuit was slow and plodding as they all dashed through the newly-made hole in the tavern’s wall. Out in the street, Aaron shot a quick glance around them at the shadows, searching for the other troops that would have no doubt been stationed outside. He saw nothing but took little comfort in it. He had seen enough dead men with knives in their backs to know that it was most often the blade you didn’t see that took you, in the end.

  “Aaron Envelar!” came a shout from the inside of the tavern, and Aaron peered through the hole to see that the swordsman had risen shakily to his feet, his jaw already beginning to swell. “I will kill you!” the man yelled, stumbling drunkenly toward the hole through which Aaron and the others had made their escape.

  “You’ll have to get in line,” Aaron muttered as he glanced up at the sky. Another hour before sunrise, maybe more, and no telling what surprises the night held. Still, there was no hope for it. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

  The others nodded, and Aaron followed them down the street a few steps before he realized the youth was missing. He turned back to see Caleb staring at the hole in the wall as if it were some puzzle he was trying to figure out. “Caleb, come on! They’ll be out here in a second!”

  “Seven, by my estimation,” the boy murmured as if he wasn’t really paying attention, and Aaron gaped.

  “What? Boy, get the fu—”

  The youth suddenly reached down and picked up a piece of the broken brick that had once made up the tavern’s wall. He used it to strike one of the stones in what was left of the wall, almost daintily. There was a creaking, shifting sound and the youth took a step back as the remaining part of the wall and roof collapsed with a thundering sound of breaking wood and falling rock, blocking the hole.

  Caleb turned to Aaron and the others who stared at him as if they’d just witnessed magic. The youth looked away from their eyes, shrugging embarrassedly. “The structural integrity of the tavern had been compromised, that’s all.”

  “Well, alright then,” Aaron said, staring at the pile of rubble in disbelief. “Anyway, come on before your living integrity is compromised. It’s time to move.”

  This time, the boy nodded and hurried along after them as they made their way into the streets, cutting through back alleys at random in an effort to throw off their pursuers. It would have taken a crew of men the better part of an hour or two to clear away the rubble of the roof’s collapse, but from what he’d seen of the cloaked creature’s strength, Aaron didn’t think it would hold them for long.

  Aaron, Co said in his mind as he led the others at a sprint down the streets, there are others. Can you—

  I know, he thought back, his breath coming in gasps as he ran, leading himself and the others further into the city. He didn’t need the Virtue to warn him. Now that he knew what to look for, Aaron could feel others like the hulking figure, others who had been warped and twisted by Kevlane, throughout the city. Dozens of them, maybe more. And if each of them was as dangerous as the creature…Well, he thought, at least Adina’s safe.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Adina did not feel safe. The sun was still two hours away from rising, and what few people she passed in the street seemed to study her more than she liked. When the others had asked her what time she was to meet Raste, she’d lied and had snuck out of the inn while they were all still sleeping. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. The smart thing. She would be less conspicuous traveling alone, not to mention the fact that there was no need to risk their lives along with h
ers. After all, if something went wrong they’d have the entire city after them and even May’s cleverness, Beth’s speed, and Gryle and Bastion’s strength would mean little against an army of trained soldiers. She’d realized on her walk back from her night out with the guard that she could not, would not risk her friends’ lives without good reason.

  Besides, it would have to be her. Captain Oliver was a good man, but he was also a notoriously suspicious one. He would not agree to any coup without seeing Adina in person, she knew. They were good reasons, wise ones. At least, they had seemed like it when she’d reached her decision the night before. Now though, faced with the reality of walking into an unknown location with a man she knew nothing about, her reasons didn’t seem wise at all but foolish, not compassionate but careless. Never mind that, she told herself, it’s too late now. You’ve made your choice, and it was the right one so stop worrying so much. You’re not a child to be taken care of, you’re a princess of the royal blood, and it’s time you started acting like one.

  By the time she reached the place Raste had told her of, the sun had only just peeked over the horizon, bathing the streets in pale, early morning light. As she drew closer, she saw the guard waiting with his back propped against the outside of a tavern. He smiled when he noticed her approach and there was enough guileless innocence in that smile to set some small part of the tempest of worry and fear roiling through her at ease. “There you are,” he said, “and here I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

  She smiled back. “I am right on time as I said I would be. To be honest, I’d half expected to find myself alone here—thought that maybe the one ale you had would have left you too hung over for arranging meetings and accompanying a lady to them.”

  He shook his head ruefully at that. “Remind me never to tell you anymore embarrassing stories about me.”

  “Oh?” Adina asked, coming to stand beside him. “There are more?”

  He sighed heavily. “Many, I’m afraid, but I’ll have to tell you about them another time. The captain waits.”

  He offered her his arm, and she hesitated for a moment before finally taking it. He gave her that innocent smile again, then began leading her down the street, whistling as he did, and a little more of the trepidation Adina had been feeling slid away. The morning was cool, close to chilly but not quite, and she could smell bread baking in a nearby shop, the baker preparing for the day’s business. She noted buildings she had not seen in months and had not thought to see again as she passed them, and soon there was a smile on her face as she took in the sights, smells, and sounds of the city. Her city.

  She was so lost in the pleasantness of it, the feeling of the warm sun on her skin and the cool breeze, of the sounds of doors beginning to be unlatched as shopkeepers prepared for the new day ahead. She turned and opened her mouth to tell Aaron she was glad he’d finally been able to see her home only to remember that it wasn’t Aaron whose arm she held at all, but a stranger’s. A handsome, kind stranger but a stranger just the same.

  The warm, comforting feeling she’d been experiencing left her at that, blown away as if by a cold wind, and she told herself to focus on the task at hand. There would be time to appreciate her city, her home, later. If, of course, she didn’t mess up and get herself killed; if, of course, there was a later.

  They walked for nearly an hour. Adina was just about to ask Raste where he was taking her when he stopped in front of a church. A statue of an old, wizened figure in flowing robes stood in front of it marking it as a church dedicated to the worship of Nalesh, Father of the Gods.

  “Only our second outing,” Adina said, turning away from the church’s closed doors that seemed somehow menacing to her and trying a smile that felt unnatural on her face, “and you intend to take me to a church?”

  The man grinned, and if he noticed her discomfort at all, he didn’t show it. “No fear, my lady. I’ve no intention of tricking you into marriage. Not yet, at least.”

  Adina glanced around the deserted street. Unlike the others they’d traversed, the road was empty save for the two of them, and she turned back to Raste. “Where is everyone?”

  The man shrugged. “I could not say, my lady. Still, it is early yet and many will not rise from their beds to start their day for another hour or more. And if it is brigands or sneak-thieves you’re worried about,” he said, pausing to give her that innocent smile once more, “then I would merely seek to remind you that you are in the company of a city guard, and I will allow no harm to come to you.” He winked. “Now, are you ready to meet the captain?”

  Adina frowned. Perhaps her discomfort wasn’t justified. As Raste had said, it was early, and the street they were on held few shops, mostly churches dedicated to one god or the other. What services they held would not start until later in the morning. “Yes,” she said, wanting nothing more than to get the subterfuge over with, to meet with Captain Oliver and have it done. May and the others would be angry when she told them—Gryle, of course, would be hurt—but she thought they would understand the necessity of what she’d done, given time. She glanced around the empty street once more then nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The inside of the church was dark, the only illumination coming from the pale, weak light that managed to seep in through the windows past the heavy curtains that hung upon them. No worshippers here to celebrate the Father of the Gods, no priests to guide them on their holy journey. “Where is everyone?” she said again. Even if the official church services hadn’t started yet, Adina knew that the priests would have normally already arrived, making themselves available for guidance to those who came with questions or problems, intermediaries working on behalf of the Father of the Gods.

  “Nalesh is not worshipped much, anymore,” Raste said dismissively, staring around the empty church as if its state didn’t bother him in the slightest. He ran a finger along one dust-covered pew then blew on it. “People prefer to worship gods they understand, gods closer to their own lives, their own problems, than some aloof old geezer in a silly robe.”

  Adina frowned at that, bothered by Raste’s dismissive tone and sacrilegious words. It was true that Nalesh, the Father of the Gods, was not worshipped as much as he once had been, but that was no cause to disrespect him. “Without Nalesh,” Adina pointed out, “none of the other gods would exist. He created them, after all. We owe him respect.”

  The guard shrugged as if he cared little either way, “My dad created me, and he’s a right bastard. Making something doesn’t make you worthy of it.”

  Adina stared at the man, shocked at the difference in his temperament and behavior compared to the bumbling, buffoonish guard she’d met the night before. She took a step away from him, pulling her arm back and, for a moment, it seemed to her that he held it intentionally, as if to show her he could, before letting it go. “Where’s the captain?” she said, making her way down the center aisle and examining the pews without really expecting to see him. The light through the windows might have been poor, but she thought that it would have been enough to have seen the captain if he were there.

  “Perhaps Oliver has not yet arrived,” the man said from behind her, and Adina spun at that.

  “You mean Captain Oliver, of course.”

  He smiled a humoring smile. “Of course. Captain Oliver.”

  A sense of foreboding rose in Adina, and she turned and started hurrying down the aisle, casting her gaze almost frantically to the left and right until she reached the end and still there was nothing. She looked behind the altar and saw a door leading further back into the church. “Captain Oliver,” she called, “where are you?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to hear you, my Queen.”

  Adina’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned to see Raste pulling his sword from the scabbard at his side as he walked toward her. Gone was the kind, slightly foolish expression he’d worn. Instead, the eyes that met hers were calculating, devious and, worst of all, amused. “After all,” he said, bri
nging the sword up to point it at her, the tip resting in the air no more than a foot away from her throat, “the dungeons are a long way from here.”

  “Why?” she whispered, her throat unaccountably dry.

  There was no innocence in his smile, not this time. “For the money, of course. Why else?” He must have registered some look of surprise on Adina’s face because he let out a soft laugh. “Surely, you didn’t think they would just let you walk back into the city and take control from them, did you?”

  “But...” Adina said, “everyone in the city thinks I’m dead. They were told a horse—”

  “Trampled you and killed you, yes I know,” the man said, rolling his eyes. “Personally, I think they could have come up with something better than that, but then, it was not my decision to make. Still, the fool commoners seem to have bought it, so I’ll give them that.

  “It’s funny, you know. At first, the general and the nobles thought they’d seen the last of you, thought that you’d run off somewhere to cower and hide. Of course, they still sent spies out to all of the major cities, men and women put in place to keep an eye out for any sign of the princess and, if possible, to finish what they had started. It was then that these spies started sending back very interesting reports. Reports of a woman claiming to be Princess Adina, daughter to the late King Marcus, wrapped up in some conspiracy with a sellsword and some others.

  “When news of your presence in Perennia reached the council, they thought it best to prepare just in case. After all, Isalla is not so very far away, is it?” He smiled. “And a good thing they did, for I was there when you walked through the gate and now here you are. Trapped.”

  Adina threw the cloak she was wearing over one shoulder and reached behind her, drawing the slim sword that she had secreted there, a precaution she’d purchased during the shopping trip with May. She took a step back, getting into a defensive stance as Captain Gant had shown her, but Raste only grinned wider, nodding his head as if in appreciation.