Soldiers of the Crown

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “My employer wishes you dead,” Holister said, breathing heavily, “and after I heard about your victory at Culdeny, I figured you might be kind of tough, so I made plans to lure you here. It wasn’t difficult to convince the thieves’ guild to send you our way, given the alternative was their death.”

  “Perry,” Ronan remarked ominously. “That son of a bitch played us. All that time he needed to ‘think about it’ was bullshit.”

  “Don’t judge him harshly, I didn’t make it easy for him,” Holister coughed. “Can I get my wounds looked at? You wouldn’t want me to die before I tell you everything, right?” Aiden didn’t answer right away, as he was fuming over Perry’s betrayal.

  “I take it this is the elusive Holister Swiftblade,” Sir William remarked, looking down at her with disdain. “At last we meet.”

  “And you are?” she asked.

  “Sir William Bryce-Clifton, of the Order of the Rose Eagle.”

  “Never heard of you,” Holister replied, causing the knight’s moustache to bristle with contempt.

  “Who was that robed person with the black lightning?” Aiden continued, eager to get this over with.

  “An associate from down south,” the assassin answered. “I was in retirement when I got news of this job, and most of my old crew were dead or out of reach, so I had to recruit some help. They’re some sort of religious fanatics that worship the old god of death, but they’re basically just assassins when you get right down to it. The sleeping poison is theirs.”

  “The god of death,” Aiden murmured, recalling reading about such things in an ancient text. “It was called Maecal, which roughly translates to ‘entropy’ in modern Aielish. They used to perform ritual sacrifices and often kidnapped people to use in their twisted ceremonies. They weren’t all assassins though. In fact, there were some passages referring to them mercifully ending the lives of the suffering. They were more of a cult than a proper religion though, and everything I read suggested they were all but extinct.”

  “There’s a few still around,” Holister replied dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know as much about them as I should, but they were available for a mere pittance, so I brought them on board.” Aiden pondered this for a moment, but mentally filed it away for later consideration.

  “How much were you paid?” Maggie inquired.

  “Five thousand gold sovereigns,” Holister answered, drawing a low whistle from Ronan and a look of incredulity from Aiden. “I wasn’t keen on taking this job, but the offer just kept going up until I couldn’t say no.”

  “That’s a staggering amount of gold,” Maggie breathed. “Who could possibly afford it?”

  “Probably only three people outside of the royal family,” Holister said. “Senator Augustus Johnson, Ronald Bartlett and Lady Aryssa Chelsea.”

  “Bartlett’s dead,” Aiden informed her. “We might have to look into what this Lady Chelsea is up to. I assume the rest of Bartlett’s family still has the bulk of his wealth, too. God knows the man was involved in this from the beginning, but there has to be someone with connections to the family fortune for all of this to still be in motion.”

  “Yes, his brother, Thomas Bartlett,” Holister said. “He lives in a modest place in the north of the city, and he’s a likely candidate. Senator Johnson is a shifty one, and he’s been accused of shady dealings behind the scenes so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved somehow too.”

  “Where do we find him?”

  “You’d either have to gain entry to the Senate, or go break into his mansion,” Holister breathed. “It’s some sort of historical mansion in the north-eastern part of the city.”

  “I have to say, I’m surprised to find you so… co-operative,” Maggie remarked.

  “You beat me,” Holister shrugged, somewhat awkwardly considering her injuries. “My operation is ruined and as I said, I’d like to keep living, if at all possible.”

  “There’s more to it,” Pacian added from nearby. “She’s not telling you everything, I guarantee it.”

  “In that case I think we’ll let the king’s spymaster, Mister Kinsey take it from here,” Aiden replied, drawing a less than cheerful look from the beaten assassin. “So you remember him, yes? That’s who you’re going to have to deal with if you don’t talk to me.”

  “I swear, that’s all I know,” Holister said emphatically.

  “I have one last question. The plan, as I understand it, was to kidnap the princess back in Bracksford, so you and your people were never meant to be involved. Yet you’ve been here in the city for at least a week… which means you were hired for some other reason. Explain it to me.” Holister stared back at Aiden for a long moment before answering.

  “You’re a sharp one, I’ll give you that,” he said, “but I can’t answer that question so you’d better just take me to Kinsey… unless of course you’ve got the stomach to get the information out of me.”

  “He doesn’t, but I do,” Pacian said, leering at the beaten assassin.

  “Kinsey would be more than happy to take it from here,” Aiden finished evenly, ignoring Pacian once more.

  They were a weary group indeed as they made their way out of the complex. The assassin was too injured to complain, and staggered outside to be marched through the streets with Ronan’s sword at her back.

  They made their way upstairs and upon opening the front door to the old building, once more looked out upon the snow-covered streets of Fairloch.

  “We’re in the docklands,” Ronan remarked, looking out onto the street. “We’re fortunate it’s snowing again — it’ll keep the streets clear. Come on gorgeous, you can go first,” he said to Holister.

  Valennia’s armour had been ruined in the fight and she shivered in the frigid conditions, so Aiden took off his longcoat and draped it over her shoulders. She gave him a wan smile and nodded in appreciation, subdued and spent after the titanic fight.

  After roughly ten minutes of trudging through the cold streets, they reached the Fair Maiden Inn and were all properly chilled from the experience, but they were intercepted by a familiar looking man with a cane, his dark-haired associate Kara and two City Watchmen.

  “Mister Wainwright, I do believe you have something that belongs to me,” Spymaster Kinsey greeted them.

  “How did you know we’d be coming here tonight?” Aiden asked as his companions filed back inside the inn.

  “I may be blind below ground, but on these streets, little escapes my notice,” the spymaster replied, giving a nod to Kara who smiled and nodded at the recognition. Kinsey gestured to the guard who took Holister into custody. “Congratulations on your success. I must admit I was surprised to learn of exactly who you were parading through the streets.”

  “It’s not over,” Aiden warned. “Some of her associates got away, and she knows more that he isn’t telling us.”

  “I’ll see if I can persuade further co-operation,” Kinsey said. “Get some rest and see to your injuries, Aiden. I will contact you again shortly for a proper debriefing.” Aiden nodded, and watched the spymaster walk Holister away until they disappeared into the night. Pacian was the only one still standing outside with him.

  “You know, if Nellise had killed her, we’d never have learned anything,” Aiden pointed out. “I can’t really expect you to not be you, but you need to learn some limits.”

  “There’s no guarantee what she said is the truth,” Pacian retorted. “She was filling our heads with bullshit just to buy her associates some time to get away.”

  “Maybe,” Aiden answered dubiously. “I hope Kinsey has better luck with him than we did. Let’s get inside, I’m freezing.”

  “Oh, here are your goggles back,” Pacian said, taking the device off his head and handing them back to Aiden. One look from the soft lantern light showed they were covered in the same thick muck as Pacian.

  “Why don’t you hang on to them,” Aiden muttered as they walked into the welcome warmth of the inn.

  Chapter Fifteen


  The thought of ascending the stairs to their rooms was too much, so they collapsed on the sofas near the fire to unwind from the tense fight. Nellise and Maggie undertook the task of seeing to their injuries, for they were a mess of lacerations, abrasions and bruises after the battle. Aiden slowly peeled off his plated leathers and undershirt, doing his best to avoid re-opening any clotted wounds. Bowls of hot water, spirits and clean bandages were provided by the inn’s sole remaining waitress. She had been cleaning up after a busy night before Aiden and his companions came through the door.

  Nellise was silent and pensive as she worked, clearly struggling with some issues. Aiden had never seen that side of her, when she stood over the defeated assassin and threatened to continue beating her. Aiden asked her about this as delicately as he could, but she was in no mood to talk.

  “Not now,” she answered quietly, allowing her pale hair to fall in front of her face.

  Once they had been bandaged up satisfactorily, they finally headed upstairs for a long overdue rest. Aiden slid into his bed and lay there for some time, exhausted but unable to sleep. It wasn’t that his mind was distracted by recent events or mysteries as yet unsolved, but rather a faint scratching noise from somewhere in the room that kept catching his attention.

  He tossed and turned for a few minutes, but if anything, this seemed to make the sound grow louder. Aiden finally threw off his covers and went over to an elaborate dresser near the door and found the source of the noise.

  A large hourglass was sitting on the dresser, the white sand contained within slowly sifting through from the top chamber to the bottom one, creating a noise far louder than should have been possible. Each grain of sand scraped at the others as it hit the growing pile at the bottom, and Aiden suddenly had the feeling he needed to be somewhere.

  Looking up into a large mirror before him, he saw his own reflection in the near-darkness of his room, yet over his shoulder was a large, reptilian eye gazing directly at him, suspended in a cloud of shifting purple hues.

  Gasping, Aiden turned around and saw a corridor leading away behind him, constructed of old stone and with a familiar darkness. Short tunnels led off either side as he crept along with the sound of a hollow wind sending a chill down his spine. The corridor twisted and turn, and before he knew it Aiden was lost in a maze, his heart racing.

  He came to an abrupt halt when he heard an ominous noise to his left, the sound of something heavy slamming into the ground. Dust fell from the ceiling as the entire corridor shook and slowly, his mouth dry, Aiden turned to look down one of the side tunnels. A dark, reptilian shape was silhouetted against the faint lantern light in the distance. Although he couldn’t make out any details, he knew it was looking right at him.

  Aiden turned and saw another shape in the darkness watching him. His heart was pounding in his ears as his instinct to run flared up. He charged along the corridor through ankle-deep water, well aware from the sounds of heavy footsteps that he was being pursued.

  The corridor turned and went down a wide staircase, which Aiden took three stairs at a time. Water flowed into the passage from above with the sounds of dragons approaching from behind him growing louder by the moment. Thinking quickly, Aiden turned and hid under the staircase, finding a small alcove that he could duck inside.

  He lay down in the water, almost completely submerged beneath the surface save for his face, and looked out past the staircase before him in breathless anticipation. A dark, draconic form leaped over the stairs, its shadow blotting out the light for a few moments as it lumbered past. Aiden managed to get a quick glimpse of the dragon as it dashed down the corridor. It was quite emaciated, and he thought at first that it was Salinder, but this dragon was green in colour.

  Holding his breath, he lowered his face beneath the water to wait until it had passed him. Nearly a minute went by before he lifted his head to take in a fresh breath and saw two gigantic eyes peering through the gap in the stairs at him and a deafening bellow echoed off the walls accompanied by Aiden’s scream.

  * * *

  He jolted awake, gasping for breath and trying to untangle himself from his bedclothes. He sat up and looked around, noticing that it was daytime and that Pacian was staring at him from across the room with a dagger in his hand. He had clearly just awoken, and his look of terror was disconcerting to say the least.

  “What the hell are you screaming about?” Pacian asked, glancing around the room.

  “I… it was a dream,” Aiden stammered, still trying to shake the horrid feeling of being hunted.

  “More like a nightmare,” Pacian remarked, sheathing his dagger and taking a deep breath. “A really loud nightmare.” Aiden rubbed his face with his hands and then poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher with shaking hands. He had to assume that Salinder was trying to communicate with him, with clearly mixed results. Aiden briefly grasped the shard hanging around his neck and thought he could detect a little warmth, though it might have been his imagination.

  It was difficult to translate the imagery in the nightmare to anything specific, except for the palpable sense of urgency. He didn’t understand why he’d been told to speak with the wizard Desmond about contacting the dragon again, when the cranky bastard didn’t seem to have a clue what he was talking about. Aiden was beginning to feel the need to speak with Salinder again soon, and he would have to think of a way to make it happen, short of dying again.

  Looking out through the window, Aiden saw a blanket of white snow piling up on the streets, with more coming down from the slate-grey sky. The winds were strong and cold, and few people could be seen attempting to traverse the bleak streets below. It was a perfect day to rest and recuperate by the fire after their victory on the previous day, and judging by the blue and purple welts on Aiden’s body, he was in dire need of it.

  Dressing himself in several layers of clean clothes, Aiden made his way to the door and upon opening it had the idea that Sayana might have some insight into the strange nightmare he’d experienced last night. She and Maggie shared a room across the hall, so Aiden crept over and knocked softly to give the ladies fair warning of his impending entrance.

  “Sy, are you awake? I had the most bizarre nightmare last night that I—” Aiden said as he opened the door, but stopped abruptly in mid-sentence when he looked inside and saw Sayana still in bed, with Ronan in her arms. Both of them stared back at Aiden in surprise, and the whole moment seemed to freeze.

  “Can you give me a minute here mate?” Ronan asked, the first to regain his composure. “No, make it two — I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “Excuse me,” Aiden choked, emotions he didn’t know he had welling up and threatening to overwhelm him. He hastily closed the door and backed away with the feeling of a heavy weight upon his chest.

  “What’s going on out here?” Pacian asked, peering out of his room half-dressed.

  “Nothing,” Aiden muttered, and then turned and walked downstairs, wondering why he felt so betrayed when they hadn’t even technically been together. His head told him that Sayana was free to choose to live however and with whomever she wanted, but his heart was possessed of its own agenda.

  At that moment, he felt a deep ache in his heart from feelings he’d been suppressing since she had ended their brief relationship in the wilds near Bracksford nearly two weeks ago. The flurry of events had allowed him to ignore it, but only once he realised there was no getting her back did he feel the full weight of losing her.

  The common room of the Fair Maiden was packed this morning, and although Aiden wasn’t completely aware of the time of day, he knew the foul weather had something to do with it. Commoners and merchants alike sat at their tables with platters of hot food and drink, waiting out the storm in comfort and security. It was a scene that briefly reminded Aiden of the Bracksfordshire Arms Inn during the unnatural weather that had people crowding the common room, awaiting clearer skies.

  He didn’t see any of his companions at the tables nearby, so
he picked one of the few empty seats over near the wall and sat down, oblivious to the relaxed and friendly atmosphere around him as he tried to process his feelings. After a few minutes he caught the attention of a waitress and ordered some food, just as Pacian came down the stairs to join him, with Maggie in tow.

  “You’ll never guess who I saw in Sy’s bedroom just now,” he blurted.

  “Ronan,” Aiden answered without hesitation.

  “No, it was Ronan — oh, you know. I guess that’s that why you look so miserable,” Pacian remarked awkwardly. “I’m sorry mate, that has to hurt.”

  “Yeah,” Aiden grumbled. This was shaping up to be a very lousy day.

  “I suspected you two had something together, but it’s not my place to really comment on this,” Maggie added shrewdly. “Young people will be young people.

  Aiden noticed Ronan, still getting dressed, making his way toward them through the crowd. This didn’t help Aiden’s current goal of erasing the image of him lying on top of Sayana from his mind.

  “Aiden, look, I didn’t know you and she were…” the sailor began hastily as he arrived at the table, awkwardly tucking in a loose shirt with his uninjured arm.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a sneaking suspicion that we’re not together anymore.”

  “Ronan, I think you should go see a cleric or something,” Pacian remarked. “Sy seems to have infected you with ‘elf-ears’.” Aiden blinked at this and looked at the sides of Ronan’s uncovered head, noticing that his ears were slightly pointed at the back, much like Sayana’s.

  “Yeah, uh, that’s actually one of the reasons we hit it off so well,” Ronan explained, self-consciously covering his ears with his long hair. “We’re both orphaned half-elves who are also properly talented and sexy.”

  “It’s not a big deal really, there are plenty of us with beautiful ears like those,” Maggie added, pulling aside her grey-streaked auburn locks to reveal her own pointed ears. “In fact, when you get right down to it, humans and dwarves are the ones with the strange, non-pointed ears.”