by Jesse Teller
“It’ll come to me. Keep that close. If these commoners give you any more trouble—”
“What, Rayph, what will you do? Come riding that behemoth of a horse you have to my rescue? No, dear, you are not to worry yourself about protecting me from my own people. I will see to myself. You have Julius to deal with.”
Rayph kissed her sunken cheek, and she smiled. He turned without a word and left, pinning his badge on his chest.
Glyss Crillian
When he left, he said goodbye over breakfast. Konnon had always loved breakfast. His father had told him breakfast was the meal of possibilities. It was a meal of preparation, a meal that promised a day of hard work and joy. Konnon had taught Bree the same thing. So when he told her goodbye, he did so around a mouth full of eggs. The mutton jowl was too salty, Poncan always made it too salty, but Konnon ate it all as he spoke to his daughter.
“One day soon, the medicine to save your life will be paid for. You need not fear hope, Bree Darling.” He smiled and kissed her as he walked out the door.
But he could tell by the strain of her smile, she did not believe him. Soon the paralysis would spread to her waist and she would be forced to wear diapers. Soon it would rise to her gut and she would be unable to digest her food. She would die soon after.
Konnon would likely be on the road when his daughter died. Maybe it would happen this time.
He kissed her until she pushed him away. He picked a flower for her and made a promise about seeing her again. When he climbed on his dusty horse and headed out of the village, he fought against the strength of his sobs so she would not see his shoulders shaking as he rode away.
After seven days of sparing the horse, he reached the city of Fir-Lak. He did not take the time to stop at a pub for food or drink, a bath or rest, before he hit the bounty wall. He did not like bounties, did not enjoy hunting men. He looked at the lesser paying jobs, to the left of the drawn faces of murderers and thieves, and he found other advertisements for jobs that would pay for his skills.
He talked to a foreman for two hours, haggling prices and plotting routes. The man was older and balding. He stunk of ale when he sweat, and he carried a rugged sword that spoke of a hard life of battle and death. He acted as if he had not heard of Konnon, but he had. Most of them had.
They talked about the crew that had shown up earlier that day, and how they had been paid for half the trip already, so they could purchase supplies, but Konnon told the man to keep his money until the job was finished. He did not need the temptation.
He arrived at the bar where the rest of the crew drank and he watched them from a distance. They sat gambling and spending their supply money on women and drink. Two large men carried equally large weapons. One seemed powerful enough to make it work for him. The other looked more obese than strong, and Konnon knew he would be slow. The quiet one, who sat watching the game with a whore on his lap, was a murderer. It was in the hands and the mouth. The way the hands clenched and thrummed with activity and the mouth rolled and rumbled in the man’s silence. He wore a scar across his left cheek. Very small and thin. Subtle and almost imperceivable, but there nonetheless. It was a scar from a near miss. A blade or an arrow had almost taken his life.
The woman was beautiful. She wore a whip on her side; Konnon liked that. He let his hand tap on his own whip and he wondered if she would try to steal it. She carried many blades, all different sizes and thicknesses, and each strapped to her body in various places. She was lithe and her eyes moved well. She looked at Konnon and he did not look away. He let her eyes scan over his body and he nodded at her.
She dropped her cards on the table and rose. Like blood running from a wound she dripped across the floor seeping through the crowd until she stopped at his table. She looked at him and sat with a grin on her face.
He brushed his thick hair out of his face and looked at her through the part.
“Konnon Crillian, the legend himself,” she drawled. She reached across his table and took his drink. She gulped and spit. “It’s water,” she said, dropping the mug on the table to splash.
“No Crillian, just Konnon.” He took back his mug and wiped the rim.
“Why are you looking at me, Konnon? See something you want to get your hands on?”
He looked at her soft features, her perfect skin and her devastating hazel eyes, and he shook his head. “Sworn off sex. Too dangerous.”
She rose and walked around the table. He knew this dance and he scooted his chair back. She sat on his lap and he let her weight fall on him. He could tell from her weight that she was comprised of almost all muscle and he wrapped both arms around her. She ran her fingers through his hair.
“Sex is only dangerous if it is good,” she purred in his ear. He smelled her breath and knew she was near to drunk. He ran a finger across the long curved blade on the back of her shoulder and she tensed but did not pull a weapon. She was not drunk.
“Too risky sexing a woman like you—” He looked into her eyes and shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Ella the Swift,” she said with a smile.
“Fitting. You seem pretty fast to me.”
“Oh darling.” She ran a finger from his ear to his chin. “You have no idea.”
Konnon heard a particular laugh at the other side of the bar and grinned.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
“Friend of mine just showed up,” Konnon said. “I will need to be left alone with him.”
“Sure thing, Konnon,” she said. “I’ll just untangle myself from you and be on my way, disappointed and sopping.”
“You’ll be fine.” He smelled her again and could tell she was aroused. “You’ll have plenty of cold air to cool you off on your trip.”
She looked at him, alarmed and grinned. “Maybe, my dear. Maybe I’ll have company by the end of it.” She took his arms and pulled them open very gently. She placed her palms on his knees when she rose and slid her rump against his crotch as she left him.
Disgust rolled in his gut, and he hailed a bar wench. “I need a bottle of your best wine,” he said. “And two glasses.”
“Finally decided to drink with us, huh? You’re ready to loosen your coin purse?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s not for me.”
He could smell the powders and the scent of woman that always followed his friend. Glyss pulled out a chair for the woman he was with and he grinned at Konnon as he sat down.
His hair was of course perfect. He was dressed in silks, green and cream with a golden sash and a pair of dark boots. His face was handsome, if not a little feminine, and he had his perfect smile and gleaming eyes alight when he nodded and said, “Konnon.”
Konnon grimaced and nodded back. “Glyss. You in?”
“Of course, like I would let you go alone.” Glyss grinned when the bottle came, and he tapped the wrist of the beautiful woman who sat at his left. “If you could, dear girl,” Glyss said.
She pulled out a purse worth more than Konnon’s horse and she dropped three gold pieces into the waitress’s hand. The waitress’s eyes lit up and Konnon was suddenly sick to his stomach. With the coin that woman had just given for wine, and whatever came after, Konnon could have held back Bree’s sickness for another two months.
“We need food. We need a room. We need a sour drink for my sour friend here. We need a woman to warm his bed and another bed for me and my flower here,” Glyss said. The bar wench nodded and started to go.
“I don’t need the woman. My bed will be warm enough,” Konnon said.
Glyss looked at him with sadness and nodded. “That would be fine then, dear woman, no warmth for my friend here. Fond memories are all he needs tonight.” Glyss looked at Konnon. “I’m sure they are still fond, correct? Your love has not soured in your loss?”
Konnon thought of the woman he had lost and he scowled. “She could never sour in my mind, brother.”
Glyss slapped the table. “Good, then. Let’s celebrate fond love and r
eunions.”
Konnon smiled. “That would be fine.”
The woman who decorated Glyss’s arm had gone to bed hours ago. The crew Konnon would leave with the next morning still hunched over fists filled with cards and scowled over mugs brimming with ale. They were more than drunk now and they had the look to them.
“The murderer is leaving soon,” Glyss said. The man had drunk his fill and was casting a weathered eye at the door.
Konnon looked at the man in disgust and turned back to Glyss. “They will make us wait for most of the morning, as they hope for him joining us tomorrow,” Konnon said.
“Maybe we stop him and force him to the caravan tomorrow,” Glyss said.
“He will slip us sooner or later, and I’d be happier without him. Let him run. We know his kind of man.”
“How is my niece?” Glyss asked.
“She misses her uncle,” Konnon said.
“Yeah, well, I am working, my friend,” Glyss said. “Fighting the same fight as you.”
Konnon fought back the tears.
“I have twenty-five gold hidden away. Should keep her fixed for a while and make a dent in the master plan,” Glyss said.
Konnon did cry then. He lowered his head and wept for love of a friend who would never let him down, a friend he would love forever.
“We are going to get her fixed up, Konnon,” Glyss said. “We just need to stay focused.”
Konnon nodded and looked up at Glyss Crillian with adoration and swelling love. “You own me,” Konnon said.
Glyss patted his hand and poured from the bottle again.
“Yeah, you, too,” Glyss said. “It’s good to see you again.”
The next morning they arrived at the livery with Konnon’s beaten old mare and Glyss’s sleek black stallion, and they watched the rest of the crew walk up on them. Konnon nodded at the obese man. “I’m Konnon,” he said. The group of them looked at him in measured awe and Glyss waved at them. He heard Glyss’s name whispered, and Konnon knew the trip was going well so far.
“I’m Reggan Harp,” the big, strong one said. “This is my brother, Break Harp, and our friend—”
“Ella the Swift,” Glyss said. He smiled his immaculate smile and winked at her.
She blushed. Konnon did not know why he was surprised.
When the merchant arrived with his six wagons of silks and the one heavy wagon loaded down with gold, Konnon cursed. Glyss scowled. Merchants who employed the heaviest of wagons were making a statement about their wealth. They would rather be seen moving their wealth than ride with more modest means and hide the gold they were carrying.
The large bulky wagon was a target moving with them. Konnon shook his head and looked at the armed men traveling with the merchant. They were token guards gifted to him by the city, young soldiers who had little idea of the road that stretched out before them or the goods they were moving.
The ranking member looked at Konnon and his eye traveled to Glyss. He mouthed their names and kicked his horse forward. “You’re Konnon and Glyss,” he said.
“We are, sir. Glad to be on the trail with you,” Glyss said.
“I would hand over control of the group to you but—” the young man began.
“We don’t need command of your men, sir. Just your respect will do,” Konnon said.
“You will have it. If you have any advice, or think of anything else I should be doing, you let me know,” the man said. “I’m Chat. These six men are stout and ready for action.”
Konnon looked them over and doubted the words. They all looked as if they were staring at gods as they looked at him and his brother. Konnon sighed. He looked at Glyss as the men rode off to talk to the rest of the crew.
“We have been here before, I fear,” Glyss said. Konnon nodded with a grunt.
The merchant was fat and oily, with a crimson frock he had sweat through and thick gold rings that boasted all sorts of gems and jewels. He wore a whip-thin mustache, waxed and curled, and his hair had been oiled to a gleam. Now the sweat and the oil ran in rivulets down his face and neck, and he wiped with a sopping kerchief as he scowled at the group of them.
“If I do not arrive in Song with every foot of fabric and every single coin, if I suffer the slightest bruise or scrape, all of you will be ruined. I will be avenged if I suffer any misfortune. Even the most minor.”
He sneered at them once and climbed into his carriage. When he reached the door he pointed a thick finger at Glyss and beckoned him with it. “You are acceptable as a carriage companion. Looks like you actually wash occasionally,” he said before the buggy swallowed him in one great gulp.
“Want to trade?” Glyss said.
“I’ll eat dust, thank you,” Konnon said with a laugh.
Glyss nodded and rolled his eyes as he tied his stallion to the back of the last cart and joined the rich man in the carriage.
Konnon looked at Chat and nodded. The young guard whistled to the teamsters and the whole of the caravan rolled for the city gate. As Konnon rode behind, he noticed the murderer staring down at them from a high window.
“Wonderful,” Konnon muttered. This was going to be a long trip.
Dragon’s Blood
Rayph leaned against the windowsill of his tiny room looking down on the filthy streets of Mystal. The lord’s keep loomed imperial beyond, white and gold turrets throughout, with a large ivory dome topping the structure like a crown. The castle seemed a place to lead a nation from instead of the seat of a noble lord. Mystal was the darling city of the nation, the jewel they kept polished for nearby Ebu to see, but it was not the beautiful heart of Lorinth.
It was here in this humble quarter where mothers weary from back-breaking work found the time to teach their daughters to be women, where hard-working fathers taught their sons to be hard-working men. This was a hub of poverty, a place where a copper could buy two weeks of meals for a family of eight, but no one had that copper. Crime had not found a heart here, where it would have for most of the rest of the country. Races worked side-by-side, married one another and lived together. This was a quarter of love and brotherhood, one of Rayph’s favorite faces of the nation.
The sun set, and he looked at the moons lining the horizon. It was nearly time. He gathered the four pyramids from his bag and blew lightly on each one until it let loose a soft glow. He set two on the floor, one on each corner of a wall. With a word he sent the other two levitating to the top corners. The wall wavered before rippling and draining to the floor, betraying a large room with marble floor tiles and vaulted ceilings. The far edge of the room held a set of double doors. Rayph waited patiently until they opened.
An elder woman entered the room with a tall blond boy of five striding beside her. He had clear eyes and a tall forehead, a strong chin and wide shoulders. Rayph’s heart sounded deep and full in his chest. This was a boy to inspire men. Rayph was ashamed at the sheer weight of the hope he held for the boy. Expectations like that could cripple a man.
The prince stepped from the shadows and Rayph took a knee. “Master, it does my heart great joy to see you again,” he said, his gaze locked on the floor.
“Please rise, Ivoryfist. Mistress Dayla has been teaching me of you. If she does not exaggerate, and she never does, I owe my life to you many times over.”
“It is no debt to be paid, my prince. It is my pleasure to serve Thomas Nardoc.”
“Is my lesson ready to begin then?” Thomas asked.
“It is, but before you ask what you will, I must demand a message be taken by your guard.” Rayph handed the scroll to Dayla and Thomas’s governess looked it over. She looked up at Rayph, her eyes wide.
“It will be fine. She is my friend. She will be discreet,” Rayph said.
Dayla nodded and hurried from the room to hand the scroll to a guard outside the doors.
“Now, what question do you have for me today, my prince?” Rayph sat cross-legged on the floor, and the boy joined him.
“They call me the Blood of th
e Dragon,” Thomas said. “Can you tell me why?”
“They will not explain themselves to you?”
“They would if I asked them, but I wish you to tell me.”
Rayph felt a swell of love for the child, and he nodded. “Very well. Your studies include geography, so tell me what great nation lies to the north.”
“There is Corlene to the northeast. It is not a great nation, though.”
Rayph extended his hand. “On what grounds do you make such a claim?”
“The nation is in chaos. Its government cannot rule itself. The cities are nations unto themselves controlled by warlords and criminals. Their armies clash and clash again led by the tempers of their commanders.”
“What is it that makes a country great?” Rayph asked.
“Its army is what my father would say.”
“What would you say?”
“Its land. If the cartographers can be believed, then Corlene is nearly a wasteland.”
“Land can make a nation great, Thomas. But I would say a nation’s greatness rests with its people. Can you pass judgment on Corlene’s people?”
Thomas lowered his head before he shook it. “I cannot.”
“Then let’s reserve our judgment of Corlene until we meet her people. What great nation can we see if we go north? Think roads,” Rayph said.
“Tienne.”
“Tienne had, as its first human ruler, a man named Clark.”
“The First King,” Thomas said.
“Correct, and he was the hope of his age. He gathered his might and fought for a home for his race.”
“Was he a good man, Rayph?”
“I never knew him, but I was trained by a man who lived during his time. Have you heard speak of a man named Glimmer?” Rayph said.
The boy shook his head.
“When you are king, you will one day meet Glimmer. He told me that Clark was the greatest human he ever met. Clark had a wife named Moa and a concubine named Ferallorn. Ferallorn was a dragon.”
Thomas, ever reserved, held his awe in check, and Rayph laughed. “You would think I just told you she was a mule.”