“Hey, be nice.”
“I’m serious. I have cared for late stage lepers who looked to have a better life expectancy than you do. You need help.”
Garran lowered his head, trudged down the road, and muttered, “What I need is a drink and a smoke, and if I don’t get at least one of those soon, my life expectancy is going to look positively immortal compared to yours.”
CHAPTER 8
Garran and Adam peered through the trees at the road ahead where a hundred yard-wide stretch of road lay buried beneath thousands of tons of rock, soil, and uprooted trees. Dozens of men clamored atop the slide like maggots on a carcass wielding axes, saws, picks, and shovels. The road crew was much smaller than the one Garran had been a part of and only numbered a handful of guards.
“Should we go up and around them?” Adam asked.
Garran shook his head. “No, we need supplies, and this is a great opportunity to get them.”
“What about the soldiers?”
“There aren’t too many, and they are focused more on keeping men from running off than anyone sneaking in. We’ll wait until it’s dark, then I’ll sneak in and grab what we need to help us make it over the Highland Range.”
“What do I do?”
“You’ll stay where I tell you so you don’t screw anything up.”
“I can help!” Adam insisted.
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are as useless as tits on a pickle.”
“I am not useless. You saw some of what I can do.”
“Can you work up any magic that will allow is to sneak into their camp and steal some gear?” Garran asked.
Adam looked askance. “My vows will not allow me to use my magic to commit a crime or sin.”
“And thus our pickle grows tits.”
“I could—”
“No, you can’t.”
“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!”
“I didn’t need to. Come on. We can sneak around their camp, get on the other side of the blockage, and wait for dark.”
Adam fumed at Garran’s dismissal of his usefulness, but he silently followed the agent deeper into the forest as they made a wide pass around the road crew’s camp. The sun was just dipping below the tallest hills by the time they reached the far side of the camp. While they could not see through the numerous trees standing between them and the camp, they were able hear the occasional shout or loud noises that always accompanied large numbers of men.
The wait was interminable and tested the limits of Adam’s patience. Garran took advantage of the Prince’s restlessness and fell asleep next to a downed tree. His forced sobriety made for a difficult and uncomfortable sleep, but he managed it. His subconscious noted the drop in ambient noise several hours later and roused from his slumber. Garran cocked an ear toward the camp and listened.
“We’ll give them another half hour to get to sleep before I move.”
“I could follow you in.”
“You need to stay here and not move. I know that is asking a lot from your limited abilities, but I have faith that you can handle it—unless you’ve changed your mind about using your magic.”
Adam set his jaw and did not respond.
“I thought not.”
Garran waited nearly an hour before moving, giving Adam one final warning to stay put. He noted that the guard force was minimal compared to his days in the camps eight or nine years ago. He was not terribly surprised given the recent change in politics, but instead of making him feel more at ease, it further increased his ire. He had spent the past few years digging into The Guild’s activities when he could do so without raising suspicion, but he failed to predict the seemingly swift and dire results. The Guild had obviously played their cards very close to their chest.
He refocused his thoughts on the current mission and made for the equipment wagons. The work crews must not be expecting a prolonged assignment since they had not erected any solid buildings. Tents comprised the sleeping quarters and dining hall, and all of the tools and equipment was stored in covered wagons. The wagon containing the axes and other dangerous tools was a hard body design and secured with a stout padlock, but that was not his target. Garran slipped from shadow to shadow, waiting for the occasional guard or wandering worker to walk past and disappear into the darkness before skulking closer.
He was only a score of footsteps from the equipment wagon when he noted the command tent just a short ways away. His mouth went dry and his hands trembled. If there was any booze in this camp, that was where it would be. It was a simple matter of gaining entrance and pilfering a bottle or three. It would hardly even add much time to his mission.
Garran veered toward the large tent, hunkered down near the back, and listened for any sound of an occupant. After a minute’s torturous eavesdropping, he made a small slit in the canvas with his knife. A lamp turned down to its most fuel economical setting cast a paltry orange light. Garran was just able to make out the unoccupied cot against one wall.
The camp commander must be out making his final rounds before turning in for the night. This made Garran’s job much easier. He lengthened the cut to create a hole large enough for him to slip through and entered the tent. He made straight for the cot, pulled out the footlocker beneath it, and used his reaping blade to pry the clasp away from the wood. The sound of the rivets pulling through the boards was like a wagon crash to Garran’s silence-attuned ears. He paused and listened for any sign of discovery before flipping open the lid and beaming down at the glint of orange light reflecting off the bottles within.
Garran snatched up one of the bottles, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and spit it across the room before upending it and pouring the contents down his throat.
“Put down that bottle, you thieving little prick!” an angry voice demanded from the tent’s entrance.
Garran raised his free arm, held aloft his index finger, and continued to chug. He slapped at the hand trying to snatch the bottle from his grasp and dodged away. He lost his duel and the bottle in moments, but not until he had drained it of half its contents.
Garran turned to face the newcomers and glared at Adam, firmly held in the grips of two soldiers. “Way to go, Pickle Tits! How the hell did you manage to get caught?”
Adam arched his eyebrows and wore an abashed frown. “I wanted to get closer.”
“And?”
“I got too close.”
Garran turned his eyes to the camp commander who gave half-empty bottle a disgusted look. “Hello, Cyril.”
Cyril turned to the two soldiers restraining Adam. “Let him go and sweep the camp for anyone else skulking around. I’ll deal with these two.”
“Are you sure, sir?” one asked.
Cyril nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked to Garran. “Right?”
“Actually, you’re looking a bit old and decrepit, but you won’t get any trouble from me.”
Cyril dismissed his two men with a wave of his hand. “Some men from the capital rode through here the other day. There’s quite a reward for you and your friend. Enough for me to retire in comfort. I got the distinct impression that they were more interested in him than you. Who is he, and what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”
Garran made to answer but Adam cut him off. “Sir, I am Prince Adam Altena, and I demand that you and your men provide me with aide and protection.”
“Shut the hell up, Pickle Tits!” Garran snapped through clenched teeth.
“My name is not Pickle Tits! I am the prince of Anatolia, and you will respect me as such!”
“You are the prince of Jack and shit!”
Adam put his face within inches of Garran’s. “I truly look forward to meeting Jack, because I am quite familiar with the other and am less than impressed.”
Garran responded by belching loudly and blowing it in his face. Adam reeled away, fanning away the fumes with his hand and gagging.
�
��Are you impressed with that?” Garran asked. “Without me, you would be dead right now.”
“How long are you going to milk that? I’m starting to think it was more dumb luck than any design drafted by you. I thank you for your service, but my sister is all alone, and you are taking me farther away instead of going to help her. It is time I enlist some loyal men to help me rescue her.”
“Tell me this brilliant plan of yours,” Garran demanded.
Adam set his jaw. “I will find men loyal to my cause to take me to Anatolia. From there, I will find more people who support my father and are of like mind in regards to The Guild’s overreaching power. We will secret Evelyn from the palace and gather more followers until we are strong enough to strike back at them.”
“There is nothing in that statement that isn’t the stupidest pile of horse crap I have ever heard.”
“Explain to me why doing exactly that is so stupid.”
“Firstly, you are assuming that Cyril and anyone in the camp is even remotely loyal to you or your father.”
Cyril nodded. “That’s true. I can’t think of a single man here who wouldn’t sell you or even their own mother for half of the reward being offered for your capture. Hell, I’m still undecided, but I’ve always been a bit slow.”
“Secondly, for every man you might find still loyal to you or Remiel, you will find ten who will sell you out in a heartbeat. Then let us assume you can get in the palace my much less get your sister out. Then what? Every soldier, King’s agent, and Guild agent will be looking for both of you. But let’s pretend you do find a place to hide. The Guild can buy a mercenary force nearly the size of Anatolia’s army, and now they have Anatolia’s army as well. Even my meager math skills lets me appreciate the size and scope of one plus one.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I suggest you let me do what I do best.”
“What, drink yourself into oblivion?”
Garran grabbed another bottle from Cyril’s footlocker. “Yes, then I can get to doing the thing I do second best, and that is being a colossal, dream-shattering pain in the ass.”
Cyril nodded. “Yep, that’s about the order of things.”
“Once again, you make grand claims without saying a word about how you plan to achieve them,” Adam said heatedly. “Maybe I could trust you more if you told me what you plan on doing.”
Garran locked eyes with the deposed prince. “You want to know how to keep a secret? Don’t. Tell. Anyone.”
“But I am part of it! I have more reason to hate The Guild than anyone.”
“What about Cyril? You only just met him, but you want me to spell out everything in exact detail right in front of him.”
Cyril nodded. “I’m too old to tolerate much in the way of torture. I’ll do my best to create a plausible lie if questioned, but the less I know the better.”
“What about the men who brought you here?” Garran continued doggedly. “Did any of the workers see you when the guards paraded you through camp? Do you think a bunch of convicted criminals give a damn about you or your sister?”
Adam nervously licked his lips and glanced away. “I suppose you’re right, but you could tell me when we are alone.”
“What if you get caught and tortured? Have you ever been tortured? This goes beyond just you and your problems. Do you think I would risk my life just for the sake of a kid I don’t know who is the son of a man who enslaved me and is responsible for the deaths of some of the few friends I ever had? You are a means to an end and nothing more. The fact that we both desire the same thing just makes it easier.”
Adam nodded and turned away. Garran’s words stung like the lash of a whip. He had thought that the agent’s help was based on a sense of duty and loyalty, but perhaps this was better. He had seen the limits of loyalty. If Garran’s grudge was as powerful as his own was, then perhaps that made them stronger, even if it meant he had no authority or power over him.
The camp commander broke the palpable tension. “I see you are as adept as ever at making friends. I assume you came here for more than just my booze.”
“I need some supplies; primarily a shelter, blanket, and rations. We have about fifty pounds of venison and bear meat, but that won’t keep.”
“Bear meat?”
“Yeah, the skin too. A pretty big one. Maybe we can work a trade. It’s a bit heavy to be lugging around and is in dire need of tanning.”
“How did you come by that?”
Garran rested his hands atop the reaping blades hanging from his belt and arched up on his toes. “It tried to challenge me for the deer I brought down.”
Adam looked up. “I would like to note for the record that the bear was distracted by having my head lodged in its throat.”
“All part of my mystical prowess,” Garran insisted.
“You pushed me down into a pile of guts and ran away!”
“That is called tactical repositioning. You would know that if you studied more military doctrine and less scripture.”
Cyril chortled and wagged his head. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Sure I have. Have you ever heard of cocaine?”
***
Cyril gathered the supplies Garran requested and escorted them both out of the camp as secretly as he could. Garran and Adam kept walking hours after Cyril had turned back. The riders they had encountered could return at any time, so they needed to put as much distance between themselves and the camp as they could. Once they gained the upper reaches of the Highland Pass, they could relax. No one went through the pass except by way of the heavily guarded trade road, and Garran and Adam were certain to avoid that.
To his credit, Adam remained stoically silent despite the overwhelming fatigue he felt as they plodded on throughout the night and next day with little more than a few short breaks to rest their weary muscles. Garran chose to numb his pain with his pilfered hooch while Adam tried to catch up on some much needed sleep. It was never enough as Garran woke him seemingly the moment he fell asleep to resume their march.
Garran finally called a stop and began setting up the small shelter just above the base of the Highland Range near dusk. Adam had no idea how to combine the two shelter halves to make a small tent, but he followed Garran’s lead as best he could. Once they had the tent pitched and a small fire going, Adam dropped to the ground near the warming flames stared into the sky.
“Did you mean what you said about your motive for helping me?”
Garran stared into the flames and shrugged. “More or less.”
Adam continued to connect the stars in his mind’s eye and nodded. “I can accept that. I don’t care why you are helping me as long as we destroy The Guild and rescue my sister. Nothing else matters. I will do whatever it takes and suffer any hardship to see it done.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“I know my sister, and I know she is fighting too, however she can. I just wish she did not have to do it alone.”
Garran watched the flames dance as he contemplated his response. “She’s not alone.”
Adam bolted upright into a sitting position and whipped his head around. “What?”
“She’s not alone. I have someone watching her. If things get bad, he’ll get her away if he can.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you, not yet anyway.”
Adam felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders, but the revelation created more questions that Garran would probably refuse to answer. “You said you were in the infirmary when you heard about my family’s murder. How did you have time to coordinate this and get to me before the assassins did? If you already knew, why didn’t you stop it?”
“I didn’t know, damn it!” Garran jumped to his feet and hurled a stick into the fire. “Do you think I jumped into this all on a whim? I fought to become an agent for the sole purpose of bringing down The Guild. I’m no patriot. I don’t give a damn about whose privileged ass sits on the throne. I spent years trying to
gather information on what The Guild’s plans were and how they were going to do it, but I discovered next to nothing. I certainly did not have enough to present to your father so he could order arrests.”
“This is about your friends, the ones you said The Guild killed.”
Garran nodded, a scowl creasing his face. “They outsmarted me, but not until Gregor came to me that night did I understand how and what they were going to do—had done. I knew they threatened your family. Hell, your father knew that, but none of us knew how or when thanks to Gregor. I doubt more than half a dozen people within The Guild were privy to what they were planning, and I couldn’t get close to them. I planted my own spy within their ranks, but even he wasn’t able get more than half a whisper of their plans. I told you before that I always have a plan. The moment they killed your family and seized the throne, my spy enacted one of several contingencies I set in place.”
“Who is he?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“If he is close to Evelyn, if he is inside The Guild, he could kill Gordon!”
Garran shook his head. “Gordon is a puppet. If he dies, they will just find another. You need to understand what we face. The Guild cannot be killed by pricking it until it bleeds to death. It is too big and has too much blood for that to ever happen. The only way to defeat them is to destroy them in their entirety with a single, massive blow.”
“How do we deliver such a blow?”
“By trusting me and doing what I say.”
Garran picked up his bottle of whiskey and walked away into the darkness.
Adam sighed and shook his head. “Trust him he says. I’m not sure which of us is more insane; the lunatic or the idiot who follows him.”
CHAPTER 9
Garran and Adam trudged through the ankle-deep snow blanketing the lower passes. Although it was still bitterly cold, Adam continued to be grateful for the good boots and warm clothing they had procured at the work camp. Without which he surely would succumb to the cold unless Garran’s noxious tobacco twists did not choke him to death first.
“Why are we following this goat path instead of using the trade road?” Adam asked, his breath billowing plumes of fog with every word to compete with Garran’s fumes.
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