by C S Vass
“That is your prerogative,” Banfrey said. “Though I would council you against making any hasty decisions when it comes to the Darksword.”
“And I’d council you to stick to pouring ale and baking bread,” Godwin snapped, just as a streak of lighting blasted purple light across the room and sent a great rolling wave of thunder over the land. The Shigata realized he was on his feet, though he had not remembered jumping up. “Forgive me,” he said, sitting down. “It’s been a difficult journey. I’m tired, and I’ve drank too much.”
“No apologies necessary,” Banfrey said. “Your bed is waiting for you. Rest as long as you need, and then some. When you’re ready, we have more to discuss.”
Sleep taunted him through the night. Godwin’s mattress was soft as lamb’s wool and filled with goose feathers, but that didn’t stop the Shigata from tossing and turning for hours in the twilight between wakefulness and sleep. He had placed the Darksword underneath his bed where he could feel it, a malevolent presence that filled his mind with thoughts of days long past.
Finding no rest, he placed his bare feet on the ground and stretched his hands towards the ceiling, feeling his muscles yawn and bones crack. It felt odd wearing simple clothes stitched from cotton without the weight of a padded jerkin. But Godwin believed Banfrey when the innkeeper told him they were safe from the outside.
Deciding to spend the pre-dawn hours watching the storm roll through, Godwin found his way to the kitchen, poured himself a large mug of cider, and found a rocking chair that overlooked the rolling hills. Flames burned continuously in the mouths of the gargoyles that circled the inn, sending licks of light into the distant woods. Godwin’s mind played with the shadows between the trees, forming moving figures that lurked just beyond his side of reality.
“A nice night for a sit.” Godwin had not even heard Banfrey approach. “Mind if I join you?”
Godwin extended his arm towards the chair next to him. Banfrey sat down with a groan and massaged his thighs. “The joys of old age,” he said. “Though I suppose that’s a bit like complaining about finding dirty water in the desert. So what keeps you from sleep this night?”
Godwin did not answer immediately. Instead, he watched the fireflies pulsing in the surrounding darkness.
“Never you mind then,” Banfrey said as he pulled out his pipe once more. “I think I know.”
“Perhaps you should tell me then,” Godwin said. “Because I’m not sure that I do.”
Banfrey chuckled and lit his pipe. He let out a slow-moving plume of purple and said, “Your juggling too much. How could a man in your shoes not be out of his sorts? You need to find the Sages, or at least reunite the Shigata. You need to find Lyra and figure out why she’s with your old master. You need to figure out what to do with that sword you thought you were rid of. And if I’m not mistaken, there are quite a few things that I believe I left out.”
Godwin sighed. Of course Banfrey was right, but having his various problems listed added to the weight of their burden rather than giving him a sense of order in how to approach them.
“You have to put first things first,” Banfrey said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Indeed. Tell me, do you charge for such sage wisdom?”
The Shigata expected Banfrey to wave off the comment in good humor, but to his surprise the innkeeper’s face darkened. “I jest, Banfrey. You know your advice is—”
“What do you see?” Banfrey interrupted.
“What?”
“When you look at me? What do you see, Godwin? Who is it that you think you’re speaking to right now? Because I’m not sure you understand.”
The comment caught Godwin off-guard. Feeling somewhat unsure of himself, he looked at Banfrey’s half-shadowed face. What he saw was the severe expression of an aging innkeeper. “Banfrey, if I’ve offended you—”
“It’s the same with everyone, isn’t it?” the innkeeper said. “It’s not just me. It’s Robert, too. Heh, I bet it probably was the same with Selena.” Banfrey shook his head. Godwin felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.
“What exactly are you saying to me?” Godwin asked.
“Do I have to spell it out for you, my friend? You’re arrogant.”
“Arrogant?” Godwin almost choked on the word. The injustice of the accusation left him speechless. “How do you suppose that I’m arrogant?”
Banfrey did not hesitate to answer. “You think you’re some tragic figure. Burdened with the loss of the life you wanted when the Empire invaded. Cursed to become a Shigata. You’ve done great things, there can be no denying that. But you think the rest of us are bumbling idiots.”
“What do you want me to say, Banfrey? I think no such thing.”
“But you do,” the innkeeper insisted. “And it’s going to be a serious problem for you one day. You’ve underestimated the value that Robert brings you in a way that’s astounding. Worse still, you’ve underestimated me. So go on, Godwin. Answer my question. It wasn’t rhetorical. What do you see when you look at me?”
Godwin felt a rush of anger, but made the decision to let it pass over him. There was no point in getting into a pissing contest with Banfrey after all the innkeeper had done for himself and Robert. So instead he took the question seriously. “I see an innkeeper entering life’s next act with extraordinary luck. No, it wasn’t all luck. I’m sure it took skill to build a place like this. And patience. Damn it, what do you want me to say, Banfrey? I respect you. You know that.”
The innkeeper chuckled again. “Luck. Skill. Patience. I don’t know whether to be offended or blush. Listen up, Godwin. It’s time you learned a thing or to about Gaellos.”
Godwin watched his companion uncertainly. He had never seen Banfrey take such a tone, and he was unsure of what it might mean.
“This place, Godwin, that I’ve so miraculously been able to create from luck, skill, and patience, is not a simple inn. I’ve told you that already. I don’t take in just any vagrant. It’s for a very special kind of patron. What I haven’t told you yet, is that it’s the headquarters of the Order of the White Dragon.”
Whatever effect that was supposed to have on Godwin, it totally missed the mark. “Fancy name for your cards club,” he scoffed.
Banfrey smirked and slowly undid the buttons down the front of his vest. Peeling back the velvet cloth, he revealed a tattoo of a white dragon over his heart.
“Nice ink work,” Godwin said. “I have a dragon tattoo over my heart too. Does that mean I get to join your club?”
“It’s a very different kind of club than the one that you’re in,” Banfrey said seriously. “I suggest you memorize this image, Godwin. Your life may depend on recognizing it in an unusual spot one day.”
“Really?” Godwin did look. Though it was a dragon tattoo over Banfrey’s heart, it was totally different from his own dragon-in-chains that displayed the Shigata thrygta: the head of a dragon with chains wrapped around its snout. Banfrey’s tattoo by comparison showed the full body of a snow-white dragon with red eyes and sprawling wings curled into a circle and chasing its tail.
“So are you going to tell me exactly what the Order of the White Dragon is? I’ll be sorely disappointed if it’s nothing more than a pompous name you and your drinking buddies gave yourselves.”
“We’re an old order, dating back to Ulrick Boldfrost’s unification of the West. We are a group that is concerned with maintaining the balance of power, the good of the land and the people, regardless of political affiliation. We have members that are ogres in the Jagjaw Mountains, elves in the Frost Forest, even a Commander in service to Emperor Hercinium.”
“Hm,” Godwin said. “If you’re asking my opinion, you’ve all done a shit job of things.”
“Joke like an arse if you want, Godwin. But understand that our order does not seek recognition for our deeds. Over the centuries we’ve prevented wars, quarantined plagues, sealed away dangerous magic, and so on. In fact, you’ve met severa
l of our members. Some of whom you’re quite close with.”
“Is that a fact?” Godwin said. “None of them saw fit to show me their fancy dragon tattoos.”
“The tattoo is not a requirement for what I would think are obvious reasons.” The innkeeper smirked again. “Though I have to admit, I had quite a laugh when you first showed me your thrygta tattoo. I had gotten mine about two decades earlier. Obviously, it was not the appropriate time to show you.”
“And why is now the appropriate time to show me?” Godwin asked. “Why let me stay here at all, if it’s such a huge secret.”
“Because, Godwin,” Banfrey said. “You’re already tangled up in our affairs. Jon Octovos is the Commander who is one of us. As was his distant cousin.”
That gave Godwin pause. “You can’t be serious. Lyra?”
Banfrey’s face was totally unreadable. “Not Lyra. Not yet. Her father. Markus Jantos.”
Godwin couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. “That hardly does your order much credit. I can’t say I think fondly of the man.”
“Who you think fondly of is little concern to me,” Banfrey snapped. “Markus hasn’t been active with us for quite some time. I’m well-aware of the sorry state that he’s fallen into. But Lyra is not just connected to the White Dragon because of her father. There is another person you know, a person I daresay you also won’t think fondly of, who is in the White Dragon and has found Lyra. Jon Octovos has told me he believes this person will recruit Lyra and that the girl will likely join.”
Godwin blinked. Of all the cruel ironies. “Reinko Assini? He’s in the Order of the White Dragon too? Fuck.”
Banfrey nodded solemnly. “It is safe to assume that Reinko has already begun the process of inducting Lyra into our order.”
“Then why are they in Iryllium? What big plans does the White Dragon have now?”
“Not many that I care to share with you, Godwin. But there is great instability in the West. The various lords clamor for us to watch the Jagjaw Mountains and the Blood Wood, fearing new hordes of demons that will ransack their lands. Our real concern lies with Valencia and Iryllium. I do not like what I’ve heard from Sylvester Shade’s court, and I am downright fearful of what I’ve heard from Mexdon Boldfrost’s.”
“I see. Very well, my friend. I apologize if I failed to see the importance of this place. No doubt Shane of the Kirishelliwan is a member of your group too.”
“He is,” Banfrey said. “A very useful one at that.”
“So what now? Why tell me this? Of course, I already know the answer. You’re going to ask me to join. Then you’re going to give me some bloody hopeless task to do on top of the mountain of bloody hopeless tasks that I’m already staring at. Let’s get it over with.”
Banfrey’s eyes shone in a line of moonlight that cut across his face. In the shadow beneath them, he saw the innkeeper’s lip quivering. Godwin waited, patiently, for the inevitable words to come.
“BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA—HAHAHA—Stop, stop! BAHAHAHAHAH.”
Godwin felt his eye twitch. Annoyance flickered across his face.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Banfrey said, wheezing like a beached whale as he rubbed his eye. “That was too good. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Didn’t realize we were back to jokes,” Godwin muttered stiffly.
“I didn’t either,” Banfrey said, still chuckling. “No, Godwin. I’m sorry. You are not invited to join the White Dragon. I don’t think that you’re… cut from the right cloth, let’s say.”
“I see.” Godwin took a sip of his cider in an effort to salvage some dignity. It was unlikely the innkeeper would ever let him forget this humiliation. “Then why tell me at all?”
Banfrey took several more moments to collect himself, his body shaking with suppressed laughter. Towards the east, the sky was lightening to a pale purple. “Because we have work for you,” he said at last. “You are still a Shigata, after all, aren’t you?”
Godwin sighed. More of the same. “What would you have of me?”
“Nothing too complicated. Simple bodyguard work. I should think the terms would be agreeable.”
“Got somewhere to go, do you?”
“Me? No, you’ll be guarding our newest member. Fear not. I should think it would be quite convenient for you. You’re already going to Iryllium anyway, right?”
“So who’s this new member in Iryllium?”
“You misunderstand,” Banfrey said, his eyes twinkling. “You’re going to escort our newest member to Iryllium.”
A very dark, horrible feeling started spreading through Godwin’s stomach. It had to be some kind of sick joke. Robert had emerged from the doorway, grinning like an idiot. To Godwin’s shock he turned, pulled his trousers down past his arse, and revealed a shimmering white dragon with red eyes chasing its tail on his right butt cheek. The flesh was still raw from the needle. “So what do you think, Godwin? Do you like it?”
Chapter 9
The streets of Valencia were eerily quiet given the news that Yaura had just received. She had no choice but to race through the winding pathways of Shade’s castle and out into the starlit city. After all, the Shigata had promised Shade her sword. She cursed that decision with every breath until she reached the Skullgardens.
A group of five Bluecoats had accompanied her. Yaura had barely glanced at them. They were faceless soldiers, not allies. All of them wore the identical uniform with those stupid sideways hats that shadowed half of their heads.
“It’s quiet,” one of the Bluecoats observed.
“Brilliantly recognized,” Yaura said as her eyes swept over the empty streets. Maybe she would be in luck. Perhaps whatever was said to be going on was so exaggerated that a simple scuffle had turned into an all out rebellion by the time it had reached Sylvester Shade’s ears. It wouldn’t be the first time that rumors spread like wildfire. Still, it might also be a chance to find Faela and Tzuri-kai—of have them find her. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. She needed to get to them, and sooner rather than later.
“Come on,” she said. Intentionally touching the silver thrygta on the pommel of her sword, she added, “Don’t do anything unless I do it first.” The men nodded seriously and followed her lead. Your dogs are well trained, Lord Shade, Yaura thought. She had been expecting some more resistance from the men about being led by a woman, but no such attitude had emerged among the obedient soldiers.
As they began their march down Valencia’s winding roads, Yaura’s mind turned back to thoughts of Faela and Tzuri-kai. Could they have been involved in whatever happened? It was certainly possible. But it didn’t quite make sense. They were supposed to be finding out if things had gotten bad enough for the ogres, elves, and dwarves to consider welcoming King Kark as a new ruler. But maybe they had just as little allegiance to that cause as she did. There was no way to tell without finding them first. She would have to track them down, one way or another.
“Halt!” one of the Bluecoats yelled. Whipping her head around, Yaura turned to see what was happening. The Bluecoat had yelled at a vagrant lying against the side of a building. Scowling, she approached the man to see if he could tell her anything when she noticed that his shirt was covered in blood. He was dead.
“Imbecile,” she snapped at the Bluecoat. “If your idea of helping is to scream at corpses, then you might as well march yourself to the castle catacombs and out of my sight.”
“Apologies, ma’am,” the Bluecoat muttered sheepishly.
“Well, let’s get on with it,” Yaura said. “We’re going to have to figure out what’s going on here one way or the other.”
Yaura knew that she should be formulating a more serious plan than wandering aimlessly through the Skullgardens where they could be ambushed and killed at any moment, but she was too distracted by Kent’s proposal. A Shigata stronghold in Valencia. It wasn’t something she could really consider, was it? There was a coherent plan made by herself, Godwin, and Logun to send the Shigata back
to Black Wolf.
But even so, it would be entirely unreasonable not to at least consider Shade’s offer. Almost endless money to build them back up. Help recruiting new members. An immediate setup in a location that was bound to have hundreds of contracts for demons. But at what cost? That was the question. Even if Shade could be troubled to hold up his end of the bargain, and that was no small if, then how could she be sure he wouldn’t try to influence them and gain power over their swords? Besides, King Boldfrost still technically had authority over them, didn’t he? The steward Kent was certainly willing to imply that Boldfrost’s power could be waning.
Was it more important to get the Shigata formed and functional or to maintain independence at all costs?
“Lady Yaura,” one of the Bluecoats said, his voice shattering her thoughts like a rock through glass.
“What?”
“Forgive me. We just inspected this road. I wanted to make sure you wanted to search it again.”
“Of course I don’t,” Yaura snapped. “I don’t want to search any of these roads. There’s nothing here. Why were we summoned out here to deal with winter chill and empty streets?”
The Bluecoat blinked stupidly. Yaura sighed. What would Shade say if she returned having not done anything? Would he be angry she missed the action? Was there ever even any action to miss?
“It is getting cold,” the Bluecoat said. “Perhaps we should consider concluding the investigation.”
“And miss all the fun?”
Yaura turned as this new voice spoke. She saw a group of men approach them from the south. They were a ragged band of elves. Only one of them held a sword. The others had a mismatch of makeshift clubs and farm tools.
“Get back to your houses,” a Bluecoat shouted. “Curfew is still in effect.”
“Go fuck your ugly face with a brick,” one of the elves shouted. “We’re done with curfews and with Bluecoats in our part of the city.”