The Agent

by Brock E. Deskins

  “Hold,” Victor ordered. “We have to catch a ship in Merribourne anyway. Your Highness, my men and I will see you safely to the city.” He motioned to his men who produced several sets of shackles. “But since I cannot immediately corroborate your identity, and I have no idea of your relationship with Garran Holt or Prince Adam, I will need to restrain you and your valet for everyone’s safety.”

  “This is intolerable!”

  “It is pragmatic.”

  “And if I refuse to be trussed up like a criminal?”

  “Then I will leave your corpse to rot in the woods, and you can haunt the squirrels and deer for as long as you like.”

  Friedrich held out his arms with his fingers pointed toward the ground. “Fine, but my sister will hear of this.”

  “I am certain she will understand.”

  Adam looked on in silence until someone came near bearing a set of shackles. “You!”

  Karla smiled as she clamped the irons around his wrists. “Hello, handsome. We should really stop meeting like this.”

  “I thought you had learned your lesson the last time?”

  “I did. I learned not to act against Garran by myself. Now let’s not have you use any of your god-touched powers, otherwise I will have to keep you sedated all the way to Leva.”

  Victor had them all locked in one of the vacant stalls and set a guard of four men. Garran came to, looked around the stall, and tugged at the chain securing him to an iron ring set in the wall.

  “I surmise that something went wrong?”

  “Of course something went wrong!” Adam snapped. “Something always goes wrong when you are so damned sure of yourself and your stupid plans!”

  “How is this my fault?”

  “How…because I told you so! I told you it was stupid and too risky to take horses from the courier station—again!”

  “Maybe you’re right. Who got us?”

  “Victor.”

  “I was hoping that was a concussion-induced delusion.”

  “Karla helped him.”

  “Now that just hurts my feelings. I’m rarely wrong about women.”

  “Now what are we going to do?” Adam asked.

  Garran shrugged. “Sit tight, wait, and hope something happens to our benefit.”

  “That is not a plan!”

  “It’s my plan.”

  “We need to escape.”

  “You need to escape. I need to numb this throbbing pain in my head.” Garran searched his pockets but found them empty. “Where the hell is my booze? Where’s my opium? Where’s my goddam rapture root?”

  Adam crossed his arms with smug smile. “Victor took them.”

  Garran’s eyes went wide with panic. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

  ***

  Garran and his group rode shackled and surrounded by Victor’s squad. Garran and Adam also had the extra precaution of having a rope tied about their waists and secured to the saddle of a guard riding behind them. Any attempt at making a break for it would only result in their being torn from the saddle and deposited quite abruptly and painfully onto the ground.

  Garran looked over and found Karla watching him with a smirk on her face. “I’m disappointed in you.”

  “There’s a twist. It’s usually the woman who says that to you.”

  “I recall leaving you in a sweat and gasping for breath on our last tumble.”

  “You also left me with a rash that took the better part of a month to clear up.”

  Garran smiled and winked. “I am the gift that keeps on giving.”

  “You’re more like the gift everyone wants to give back.”

  Victor chortled from his position at the front of the party. Garran reached up and plucked a pair of pinecones from a low-hanging branch. His shackles had just enough slack for him to fling a pinecone and strike Victor in the back of his head.

  “What are you laughing at, toady?”

  “Like every woman you ever met, I’m laughing at you.”

  Garran hurled another pinecone with unerring accuracy. “Give me back my stuff.”

  “If you’re talking about your alcohol and drugs, forget it. This is but one of many tortures I will enjoy watching you endure over the coming days.” Victor turned in his saddle to face Garran. “And if you hit me with another pinecone, I’ll break your damned fingers.”

  The pinecone, already in flight, hit Victor between the eyes. “Oops.”

  Victor wheeled his horse about and drew his sword. “Pick a finger.”

  Garran extended his middle finger. “I’m pretty fond of this one; although in equal contention is his twin brother.”

  Victor reached out with his free hand in an attempt to grab Garran’s wrist. “Give me your hand!”

  Garran pulled back and guided his mount away. “No! Is this your way of asking for a handy? Give me back my stuff and we can work something out.”

  Victor glared at his compatriots who failed to stifle their laughter. He grabbed the rope attached to Garran’s waist and gave it a jerk, pulling him from the saddle. Garran struck the ground hard and lost his air. He gasped and tried to blink away the stars exploding before his eyes.

  Victor loomed over Garran. “You nearly bested me back in Cimmaron, and I’m almost proud of you for that. I made the mistake of ignoring Adam’s talent. I won’t do that again, so don’t test me.”

  “You already made another mistake by not killing me last night. Every minute I’m alive is one more opportunity for me to get a second chance.”

  “Gordon wants you dead, not me. Not right away anyway. He’s still a bit sore with you.”

  “I bet he is.”

  Victor shook his head and grinned. “But he is letting his anger lose sight of the bigger picture.”

  “If it’s a picture of your mother it must be enormous,” Garran said as he struggled to his feet.

  Victor’s sword flashed and smacked Garran on the top of the head with the flat of his blade. Garran crumpled back to the ground with a cry.

  “Are you trying to give me brain damage?”

  “That ship sailed long ago. I’m pretty sure it can only improve matters at this point.”

  Garran got back to his feet and climbed into the saddle. “Still, didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to hit, or was her mouth too full of food and dicks?”

  Victor squeezed the hilt of his sword before slamming it home in its sheath. “The big picture is that there are elements within Leva who refuse to recognize Gordon and The Guild’s authority. I think you are at the heart of the resistance. Gregor is retiring shortly after I return you and Adam to the capital, and I will take his place. That makes the rabble-rousers my job. You are going to identify them for me so I can clean it up quickly.”

  “Garran will never give up his people!” Adam insisted.

  “No, he’s right,” Garran replied. “I don’t have the loyalty or the stomach to withstand torture.”

  “You would betray everyone who is helping you?”

  “I’ve witnessed and even participated in a few tortures in my career. Everyone breaks eventually, and I just don’t see the purpose of putting myself through that kind of pain when the results are a forgone conclusion. It’s just stupid.”

  “I never took you for being such a coward.”

  “Says the man who has never been tortured.”

  “And you have?”

  “I’ve been tortured every day since rescuing you.”

  “You are tortured by my presence?”

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  “You are unbelievable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment!”

  “Are you sure?”

  ***

  “Garran, we’ve nearly reached Merribourne. When are you going to do something to get us out of this?”

  “You’re the god-touched. Why don’t you use your magic to turn these chains into pasta, or at least pop the damn lock?”

  Ad
am inclined his head toward one of the guards sitting not far away. “That bald one never takes his eyes off me. I think he is a sensitive.”

  “Maybe he just fancies you. You should work that angle and find out.”

  “I am not working any angle!”

  “I’m sorry. I meant work that dangle.”

  “I know what you meant! I am not going to risk being brained like you were. You’re supposed to be this great agent, so do something great!” Adam noted a figure coming toward them out of the darkness, their form silhouetted from the blazing fire in the middle of the camp. “Quiet, someone is coming.”

  “You be quiet. You’re the one doing all of the whining—again.”

  “I’m not whining I’m terrified!”

  “I understand. Some people feel the need to vocalize their fear.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The psychological profilers have a name for that in the Diplomatic Corps. They called it whining.”

  “What do they call being ass?” Adam grumbled.

  “Upper management.”

  The shadowy figure resolved into Karla as she drew near. “Are you boys playing nice?”

  Garran tugged at the chains securing his manacles to the shackles on his feet. “I’m trying to since these chains make it rather difficult for me to play with myself.”

  “But not impossible,” Adam growled.

  Karla laughed and shook her head. “Same old Garran.” She dropped a key near Garran’s hand. “It’s happening tonight. We have some friends who should be in position around the camp, but you will have to deal with Victor. If you can’t neutralize him, we are all dead.”

  “You’re helping us?” Adam asked. “Why?”

  Karla sighed. “I’ve decided to play the long odds.”

  Garran smiled. “Not for the first time either.”

  “You are far more odd than long.”

  Adam quipped, “It looks like a thumb doesn’t it?”

  “It does! One that got slammed in a door.”

  “Or hit with a hammer.”

  “Exactly!”

  “You know…” Garran intoned dejectedly.

  “Just be ready to act when it happens. Garran, you have to seek Victor out immediately.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. He has my stuff.”

  “I’m glad you are properly motivated. I just hope it’s enough. A lot of people are putting their lives on the line to see you freed.”

  “Karla,” Adam said as she turned to leave, “why are you doing this? You were going to hand me over just a few weeks ago.”

  The agent looked around and clenched her jaw. “I thought that all was lost, and I did not like where the kingdom was headed under The Guild’s rule. I was going to use the reward for your capture to get out of Anatolia for good, but when Garran showed up, and hearing of how he beat Victor and Dragoslav, I began to think that maybe I don’t have to if you two are able to complete your mission. I still don’t think you have a snowball’s chance in hell, but I’m willing to take the risk and do what I can to give you shot.”

  Adam nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Just get ready to fight like hell.”

  Adam scowled at Garran as Karla walked away. “You knew this entire time that she was on our side?”

  “Not the entire time…”

  “Yet you still let me sit here and worry.”

  “It kept your mind occupied. Boredom is a terrible thing.”

  “It’s better than stark-raving terror!”

  “Maybe to you.” Garran turned to Liam and Friedrich. “Listen, when the crap starts to fly—”

  “We’re going to hide behind this tree and try not to get splattered,” Liam finished.

  “I was going to tell you to grab the nearest weapon and fight.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t work for me.”

  Friedrich shook his head. “Me neither. While I have given some great performances putting on displays of masterfully choreographed fight scenes, I have no illusions of being able to properly wield a sword in actual battle.”

  Garran scowled. “Pickle tits, each and every one of you!”

  “Shut up over there before I put my foot up your ass!” the bald-headed soldier shouted.

  “You shut up before I draw a line down the middle of your head and make it look like an ass!” Garran shouted back.

  “Smart-assed sonofa—,” the man growled as he jumped to his feet, drew his sword, and stormed over.

  Garran raised his hands before his face. “Wait! You wouldn’t hit a man in shackles would you?”

  “Those are my favorite ones to hit,” the soldier replied with a sadistic grin.

  “Oh well, they aren’t attached anymore anyway.”

  Garran held up the manacles now dangling from his hands. The man’s face went slack and he stepped back. Garran swung the iron cuffs overhand and clobbered the soldier, dropping him to the ground and leaving a deep gash atop his head. Several men gathered around the nearby fire stood and reached for their weapons, but a chorus of shouts and dark figures bursting into the clearing charged at them before they could take more than a few steps toward their freed prisoner.

  “Garran!” Karla shouted and hurled his weapons belt toward him.

  Garran rushed over to where his weapons landed and pulled them from the belt. Both sides of the melee appeared to be near even, but the attackers had taken Garran’s captors by surprise and were quickly overwhelming them. Their initial success was about to prove fleeting when Garran spotted Victor hewing into his rescuers.

  Three men fell before the agent in as many seconds. Victor locked eyes with Karla for a brief moment before sprinting across the campsite, ignoring the enemies fighting closer at hand. Karla had just a moment to comprehend the death bearing down in her with impossible speed. Victor’s sword flashed so fast she could barely discern the blur of the blade.

  A heavy weight struck her in the side and sent her flying sideways. Garran’s reaping blade caught Victor’s sword with a resounding peal of colliding steel. Victor’s sword rebounded from the impact. He spun with the weapon’s inertia and turned the parry into a swift riposte. Garran caught the blow between his twin blades, and the two locked eyes.

  “I had hoped to humiliate you in Leva before killing you, but I’m perfectly happy to end your miserable life here and now,” Victor seethed.

  “Do you know the old saying that the most dangerous thing in the world is standing between a mother and her child?”

  “What of it?”

  “That person has never stood between a junkie and his drugs.”

  Garran heaved Victor’s sword away and launched into a flurry of blows. Victor initiated a steady, controlled retreat, ducking and parrying Garran’s manic assault. Victor’s muscles tingled from the constant vibrations Garran’s unrelenting blows sent through his sword and into his arms. After several interminable minutes, the fury of Garran’s attack began to ebb. He stepped back and tried to catch his breath, but Victor was not going to give him the chance.

  The moment Garran let up, Victor launched into a vigorous offensive. Victor’s heavier sword sent shockwaves through Garran’s arms with each parry, sapping strength from them with every intercepted blow. Unlike Garran’s attack, Victor did not let up and appeared to have no intention of doing so until his foe lay dead at his feet.

  Garran needed to break the assault. He ducked beneath a heavy swing and spun behind Victor. He continued his rotation even as he darted past; his reaping blade slashing at Victor’s exposed back. Victor turned with his swing, letting the momentum of his sword spin him around.

  Garran scored a hit on Victor’s lower back, but his small victory did not come without a price. Victor’s longer reach and the speed of his reaction allowed his blade bite into Garran’s side before he could slip away.

  Both men pressed a hand to their wounds. With neither of them finding the cuts lethal, they squared off and began to circle like two predators fighting for territory. Garran read
ily acknowledged Victor as being the superior fighter, but Victor knew it was foolish to become overconfident. He had done so once already, and it nearly cost him his life.

  Garran hung back and stepped away from Victor’s probing strikes, not bothering to expend the energy to parry the half-hearted thrusts. Victor quickstepped to his left before leaping right and lunging forward. Garran slapped the blade aside with his left reaping blade, spun, and swiped at Victor’s back as he darted past. Expecting the move, Victor ducked his head and rolled the moment Garran parried his thrust and felt the weapon whistle past.

  Victor bolted back to his feet just in time to catch one of Garran’s reaping blades diving for the top of his head. He shoved the weapon away, ducked beneath the one coming at him from the side, and delivered a powerful overhead chop. Garran trapped the sword in the crotch of his crossed weapons, bulled forward, and drove his knee into Victor’s thigh and side.

  Victor snarled his rage, released his two-hand grip on the hilt, and punched Garran in the side of the head. Garran reeled back and ducked the follow up blow. Finding himself at the edge of the clearing, he backpedaled into a stand of young aspen trees. He put the slender trunks between them to thwart Victor’s longer reach and deadly swings. Garran kicked against the slender trunk of one of the trees and sent the top whipping down at Victor’s head.

  Victor cursed as he dodged to the side. Garran darted behind another slim tree and bent it down as well. Anger and frustration building, Victor hacked at the tree and sheared though the trunk just above where the tree sprouted branches. He barreled forward, shouting his rage. Garran continued to retreat and tried to kick over another tree, but the grove was maturing, and the trunk only shook and swayed wildly under the impact. Victor swung his sword, buried it deep into the wood, but wrenched it back out before Garran could move around the tree and take advantage of the split-second opportunity.

  Furious, his transcended state starting to take its toll on his body, Victor thrust past the tree, striking for Garran’s heart. Garran twisted away but felt the blade cut deeply and skip along his ribs. He accepted the strike and hooked his left reaping blade behind the quillon of Victor’s sword. Victor’s face showed a moment of surprise before Garran sheared through his wrist with his other weapon. Victor’s sword dropped to the ground with his hand still gripping the hilt.