The Artifacts Of Elios (Book 1)

by R N Skye

  The first thing they noticed was a gray haired head poking out of an air vent on the far side of the room. Emitting from a thin mouth with evenly white teeth sandwiched between a thin mustache and a pointy beard poured a blue streak of profanity that could have melted ice; the body attached to the head appeared to be stuck within the depths of the vent.

  “You set me up you treacherous motherless son of a mongrel. You’d sell out your own mother if you knew who she was. You may think I’m caught but I never found a trap I couldn’t spring and if you think for a second that you can hold me you are dumber than that idiot king you work for. Or are you forgetting that I taught you everything you know, sonny,” spat the old face glaring at Stafford. “And you, you spineless prick,” the old head turned towards the king. “You wouldn’t make a pimple on your old man’s arse. Is this how you pay your staff for forty years of loyal service? Watch your back, Stafford, if for some reason I don’t get you for this betrayal, that little bastard you call king is more than likely going to do it for me.”

  Almost as if on cue Wendell proclaimed, “Mr. Shew, as a member of the CSS I place you under arrest for trespassing, treason, and attempt to harm the Royal Person of the King.”

  “Who the enfer are you, you sniveling twit. Take your speech and stick it up your…”

  “Mr. Shew,” Interrupted Wendell, “I happen to be the King’s head of internal intelligence and as such I suggest you cease your insults to his majesty. You are caught accept it.”

  “You haven’t caught me yet, “the old man grunted as he started twisting on to his back.

  “Get him down, cut out his tongue and then have him beheaded,” commanded the king.

  Stafford stepped forward and the old man suddenly seemed to break free from whatever was holding him. “I wouldn’t try backing up,” Stafford said dryly. “I have a guillotine set up to cut you in half.”

  “You wish you do,” Shew said as he disappeared back into the vent. I taught you that trick. It was the first thing I disarmed,” echoed a buoyant voice from the depths of the vent.

  “Stop him, “yelled the King and Wendell at the same time.

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Stafford said with simple assuredness.

  A cranky voice echoed from deeper within the deep air duct, “you best be looking over your shoulder, the both of you. I’ll be coming for you – forty years of service and this is how…”

  The voice was suddenly silent. An ominous huff of air weakly echoed from the depths of the vent. A moment passed, the king looked at Stafford questioningly. Slowly a trickle then a stream of bright red blood began to flow from the vent.

  “I guess he missed the second guillotine,” commented Stafford to no one in particular.

  “Disgusting,” grimaced Wendell.

  “I guess that’s that,” said the king as if let down that he couldn’t see the actual beheading of the former agent.

  “Guards,” hollered Stafford, “get me a large piece of canvas and an eight foot wooden staff with a hook on the end. Bring five or six soldiers back with you to clean this up,” he added pointing to the wall and floor dripping with blood.

  “I’ll have the head and body out of there in a moment, your majesty,” said Stafford as he waited for the cleaning detail to join them in the Clerk’s office. “What do you want done with it?”

  “Have it fed to a farmers hogs and make sure I get some bacon or a roast off of the animal that it is fed to,” the kings said his eyes seeming to gleam in a weird demented fashion. The king started to turn to leave but then stopped. “I think I’ll stay; make sure the old bastard is dead,” the king said as if speaking to himself. “I recall too many of my father’s stories of that man’s ability to survive.”

  Soon a half a dozen guards poured into the room and laid out the canvas on the floor. Stafford took the wooden staff that didn’t happen to have a hook like he’d asked for and took out his knife and notched a small pointed hook into one end, not unlike a giant crochet hook. Snagging a nearby chair he set it below and to the side of the vent opening. He carefully stood on the chair and pulled out a mirror and placed it barely in front of the opening so that he could peer into the opening without subjecting himself to an attack if the old man was simply playing opossum.

  “Not afraid of a little old man are you,” Wendell taunted as he observed Stafford’s cautionary maneuvering.

  “You can bet your arse I am,” Stafford responded. That was one tough old man in there and I don’t plan on giving him a chance to take me out on the off chance he is still alive.

  Finally after moving the mirror around and at several angles, Stafford fed the long staff, point first, into the vent. After probing a round for a few moments he gave a slight jerk and the slowly withdrew the pole. As the final few inches of the stick emerged it was follow by a bloody head - neatly cut at the base of the neck. Suddenly the head rolled out of the opening, detached from the hook, and fell to the floor.

  Everyone but Stafford jumped as it hit the floor. The head looked pale and small. The white beard and mustache now soaked in blood. “I give you Mr. Shew,” Stafford pointed at the floor with his pole.”

  The king undaunted by the gore stepped forward and folded the right ear forward exposing the CSS tattoo. Satisfied that the former agent was dead, the king turned and left the room calling out over his shoulder as he left, “Stafford, come and see me after this is cleaned up.”

  It took a few hours to finally clean up the mess and remove the traps that he had set up in the vents. He personally took the body and head to a local farm and made sure that the body was consumed as the king had ordered; Wendell looking over his shoulder the entire time.

  Leaving Wendell, Stafford went to his rooms and cleaned up. After a quick bath and some fresh clothes he went to the Kings private office. Knocking on the door he waited until he was summoned. Hearing that he should enter he opened the door and entered.

  “You wished to see me your majesty,” he bowed his head to the king noting that Wendell was again in the office.

  “Congratulations Stafford, you passed the test. Frankly Wendell here said that you would let the old man live and that you weren’t loyal enough to kill your mentor, but I had my money on you. Well done, you didn’t let me down.” The king stood and patted Stafford on the back.

  “Thank you sire,” Stafford responded calmly. “I serve the kingdom in any way I can.”

  “Please take a seat,” the king indicated an empty chair. “Sapp, I won’t need you anymore this evening, Stafford and I have some private business to discuss.”

  Looking like a child picked last for a playground game, Wendell bowed and headed for the door.

  “Oh Wendell,” Stafford said before he was through the door. “I was wondering is there by chance an antidote for the poison you put in my breakfast this morning.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” stammered the spy.

  “Forget it then,” replied Stafford. I guess I was just being paranoid when I switched plates with you, never mind.”

  The door almost slammed as the spy practically ran from the room.

  “He’s too easy,” smiled Stafford.

  “He didn’t really poison you did he?” The king asked.

  “Who knows; he could have, if I had actually eaten breakfast this morning,” laughed Stafford. I just like busting his chops; he takes himself far too seriously. While we’re on the subject, sire, I may have to put a leash on him. I know that he is invaluable to you in providing intelligence around the court and other ministers but he has nearly ruined several operations of mine by butting in where he doesn’t belong. He seems to have an inflated opinion of himself and his abilities. He also seems to think that his social standing qualifies him to be my superior and is constantly putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. He almost scared Shew away by packing the tavern I had arranged to meet him with his agents.”

  I’ll have a word with him and let him know his place; he does make a
great watch dog and he does keep the inner court and servants in line. I just hope that no one figures out that he just barks a lot,” laughed the king.

  “Now to business the young king announced enthusiastically.” There has been a new dig discovered on an island within the Gulf of Lu Y Ere. First reports are saying that is the most expansive archeological find since the first artifacts were discovered. IDAD has taken the lead and has been following your protocols while you were involved with the Shew affair. I gave Naval Command preliminary charge of security, but after what has been reported so far I want you to meet with Evans and make sure there are no problems. He wants to involve the collegium magetech department in the research due to the projected volume of artifacts involved. I have no problems with that provided you vet the participants. It is sure to leak out so as of yet I haven’t allowed the navy let any non-military, non IDAD personnel leave the island until we can secure the island and claim it as Infin soil. Until then the direct orders from me are to keep the location secret.”

  “I take it that it is international waters then,” asked Stafford.

  “Well,” the king waffled, “That may be up for debate. All the more necessary to keep it secret until the navy has its patrols set up and the Army is landed and secure on the shores. I’ve already given the Generals and the Admirals their orders; they know that your command is the same as mine. I need you to go and flush out the spies and make sure the problems disappear. There has been too much smuggling in and out of Jehhet lately and I don’t want it to spread to this new dig.”

  “I’ll see to it right away. Does Wendell know anything or is this between your highness, the Director of IDAD, and myself?”

  “Let’s keep Wendell out of this one, shall we,” exhorted the king. ”I prefer keeping him where he is rooting out crooked ministers and administrators at the department of commerce. And yes, see Evans at IDAD he’ll bring you up to speed regarding the island.

  V

  Stafford waved as he walked past the director of the IDAD’s secretary and entered the older man’s office without invitation. Seeing who it was, the thin professorial looking man, who occupied the office, stood and stretched out an eager hand.

  “Mr. Stafford! What a pleasant surprise,” the greeting was both graciousness and genuine. Stafford had worked with the director many times on behalf of the king; the director only knowing that he was with the crowns security and not knowing the darker nature of his many other duties.

  “Director Evans,” Stafford replied shaking the man’s extended hand. “Sorry to barge in on you like this but I need to get up to speed on a few of your endeavors.”

  “No problem at all, I expected to see you sooner or later given the new discoveries.” The Director leaned his head out the door. “Yvette,” he spoke to his secretary, “I’ll be in conference for a while. Please have some refreshment sent in. Thank you.” He added and then closed the door.

  Walking back to his desk and taking a seat he indicated for Stafford to be seated as well.

  Philip Evans was the Director of IDAD. He was as energetic and comfortable out of doors and in the field as he was indoors as an academic. He had degrees in languages and magetech from Wonstrowd and archeology from University of Jehhet. His sharp mind and agreeable nature had brought him to the leadership position that he now held and maintained with precision and efficiency. He appreciated those that worked for him and went out of his way to make sure they felt appreciated.

  Unlike many in the Crowns ministry, Evans continuously made every effort to make sure that IDAD was not politically driven. When Allion the Third had assumed the throne after his father’s death he had asked the IDAD to make changes. Phillip Evans had informed the new king that his requests were not possible. That the detail and accuracy necessary to advance the sciences needed to be maintained, otherwise information would be lost and the edge that Infin had in the recovery and study of artifacts would be lost and they would soon be forced to rely on imports. When the king had balked at this Evans had stated that he would gladly tender his resignation and would happily honor the king’s choice for a new director. The king wisely had asked him to remain while he considered the matter. Although he had thought about replacing the strong willed academic he chose first to assign Stafford to check on Evans background and to see if he had any ulterior motives for his steadfastness. When Stafford had concluded his investigation he convinced the king that the crown was lucky to have such a valuable scientist and administrator at the helm of his artifact division; the man was beyond dedicated to the science and documenting of artifacts.

  “You never pop up unless it is important. Am I to conclude that you are here to make sure that the island dig is safe and secure?” the director asked hands clasped together resting on the desk.

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” said Stafford sitting alert and attentive in his chair. As always, confirming to the mind of the director that the CSS agent was never lax. “Can you bring me up to speed on where we are at and what security is in place so far,” Stafford continued.

  “The usual,” began the Director. “We have perhaps a half a dozen consulting archeologists as well as many IDAD staff as we can afford to send and we are bringing on eight interns and a professor of magetech and archeology from Wizard and U of J respectively. I have made arrangements for Wonstrowd magetech department’s advance studies group to take part in the over flow that we are experiencing in cataloging.”

  “Do you have a list of the professors and the students joining your expedition,” interrupted Stafford.

  “Just the professors and the advance studies members, you already have the list of students from the study group but I have them on this list as well. Column one is the student group the second column is the list of the professors. I told them I need to have their list as soon as possible.” Evans handed the list to Stafford. “Wonstrowd has told me that their submissions will all be from the advanced studies group, U of J has no such group but has promised their four names by Venri”

  Stafford studied the list. “All of the names on here including the U of J professor are still considered vetted and secure. Make sure I get a copy of the University of Jehhet interns as soon as possible.” Stafford then chuckled. Evans raised his eyebrows in query. “I doubt you will get Shane Chason to join your expedition.”

  “Why not,” asked Evans.

  “He’s starting receiver for the Wizards. If they keep playing like they have this season they will be playing in the championship next month.”

  “That’s too bad,” Evans replied. “Not that they are going to play in the championships; I played handler for the Wizards back in my day, it’s just that I’ve had my eye on that boy. He’s top of his class in magetech and languages. He’s following the same track I followed except he’s gone mathematics instead of archeology. I’m hoping to persuade him to join IDAD when he graduates at the end of the semester.”

  “He sounds like someone that would fit in perfectly around here,” acknowledged Stafford “Now about the security. I suggest you let those signing up for the expeditions know that they will be in isolation for up to six months. By then the location should be secure and I’ll have in place everything that needs to be in place and we can start allowing leaves and rotations.”

  The IDAD Director and Stafford continued their discussion for another hour as Stafford learned about the dig and made suggestions for controlling the security of the increasing number of outbound artifacts. At the end of the meeting Stafford headed off to meet with the Naval Command to cover the same issues.

  Wendell was furious; who in the enfer was Stafford. Right in front of him the king had in no delicate way told Wendell that if he didn’t stop stepping on Staffords turf that he would turn Stafford loose on him and he would find out just how dangerous a man he was. The king went so far as to instruct Wendell that Stafford outranked every officer in the military and in the court and what Stafford did was not his affair; If Stafford needed something done by him th
en Stafford would let him know.

  Having a paranoid and suspicious mind and a self-important attitude Wendell couldn’t help himself as he claimed that Stafford was somehow in league to overthrow the crown; In so many words he told the king his suspicions but the king had dismissively informed him to continue to bring his concerns to him if they were founded on evidence, but in the meantime he should do whatever Stafford instructed or he would find someone who could. These words drove him even more to ignore the king’s orders regarding the senior agent of the CSS and he foolishly began having his agents follow Stafford.

  Of course Stafford knew well in advance of Wendell’s schemes. The fact that all of Wendell’s agents were in fact Stafford’s agents hadn’t even crossed the pompous man’s mind. When Stafford had been informed that his meeting with Assistant Director of Commerce, Leslie Coeur, was supposed to be observed he handed a premade report of what was observed to the agent that was to be observing them and gave him the day off. It was after reading that report that Wendell decided that Assistant Director Coeur would be a perfect mark to recruit as a personal agent to spy on Stafford.

  It was an unusual lunch when Leslie and Stafford met for the second time in one month. This lunch was unobservable and both were in disguise. To the outside observer should it have occurred they would have seen a chef and a waitress sitting at a table in a small café taking their afternoon break after the lunch rush. Their first meeting over month ago had been purely official business, but since that time Leslie had discovered several items that required her to speak with the man called Stafford.

  There were only two people that knew Staffords true identity before he had joined the CSS, they were Gerard Desmond and his Sister in law Leslie Coeur. His brother’s family knew him only as uncle Ari. They knew him as the uncle that was never around and was in the Army stationed somewhere far far away and rarely was able to travel home to see the family and they only saw him every several years. But Jerry and Leslie knew he was something more if not exactly sure what. Leslie knew he was a CSS agent from her official capacity as the ADC but did not know the details other than he was very high up. Jerry knew that he was a special agent of some sort but knew no details beyond that. They both knew to never refer to him as Ari unless at a family occasion and that except for Leslie’s official capacity it was best to never acknowledge that they knew him at all.