You Can't Avoid A Little Blood

by Philip Norris

  You Can’t Avoid A Little Blood

  By

  Philip Norris

  All material contained within © Philip Norris, November 2018.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Jennifer Oliver – www.joliverdesigns.co.uk

  You can find me on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn

  Acknowledgements

  So, who to thank? Well first off there is Miles Boothe, editor of Legends Of The Monster Hunter series, for not only giving me some great advice but also for giving my first short story – Groundhog Day - a chance, and then doing it again giving my next story – Jack - the same. To everyone who ever frequented the long gone SFX forum and went into the Creative Writing thread to give advice, critique, encouragement and general chit-chat. For constant encouragement from friends too many to list but special mention to Rob, Lyn, Paul and Lisa for telling me I could do this. And lastly I want to thank you, yes you, for reading this and (I hope) enjoying the fruits of my labours.

  One

  Joakim Karesh was not a man who was easily impressed. He’d seen a lot in his forty years, the Towers of Sarakesh, the thousand islands of the Scallians, the mighty Sirus mac Callas at the centre of the Four Empires. He’d even climbed the smoking caldera at the heart of Maramir and gazed into the fires that had burned since before the war with the Frail Men. He’d seen a lot and it had left its mark on him. Not a lot impressed Joakim Karesh but even he had to take a moment and marvel at the Fortress of Koon.

  He’d never thought about it until he sat there looking across the valley at the hill upon which the city was built, but he’d been born and raised barely a hundred miles away in a town called Rochster and yet had never seen the fortress before. No small wonder he supposed seeing the Highlord who resided here was notoriously reclusive and kept not only the gates to his house but his city securely closed. His people were said to be no better and tended to be arrogant and aloof, anyone would think they were Easterners. Joakim never truly believed that story, he had known one citizen of Koon well and could testify their supposed aloofness had no basis in fact. But then whatever the truth those days of seclusion were said to be drawing to a close.

  The Highlord Mandrus Bendicala was old, some said he had fought against the Frail Men alongside the Highlord Calus Ardens himself, so even for a Highlord that was old. It was said his son, Fandrus Bendicala, was more of a people person and preferred an open door policy not only to his house but his city. Not that Joakim cared much for who sat in the high seat, in his bitter experience one Highlord was much the same as any other.

  Koon stood on a hill in the middle of a plain that stretched as far as the eye could see. Dozens of farms circled the fortress making the land around it a patchwork of various crops and pasture where eyecattle grazed. The river for which the city was named flowed northwest out of the mountains that separated the lands from the border with the Western Empire, feeding the fertile plain and making this the garden basket of the Northern Empire. Closer to the fortress the fields gave way to orchards and then the small town of Underhill. Not a very imaginative name but then when you lived in the shadow of a place like Koon you stood little chance of standing out. The fortress atop the hill was impressive and Joakim could tell why many said it was impregnable.

  The curtain wall stood near as tall as the towers of the lower keep within. They were said to be as thick as a man is tall. Joakim knew some tall men, he also knew some short men, so he did wonder what standard that measurement was set against. There were towers at regular spacing that would have made for an adequate fortress on their own, but the architects had planned for better. The city was more than one level and each level above the lower city was designed to be as defensive as the one below it, each had its own impressive curtain wall and rose upwards to the heart of the city where the spire of the Highlord rose to scratch the belly of the sky.

  The homes of the Highlords were all impressive. The citadel in Eastcallas was the grandest of them all built by Calus Ardens nearly two thousand years ago after the treaty he had forced on the Frail Men had been agreed. The curtain wall of his citadel was nearly five miles in circumference, the buildings within monumental and numerous all dwarfed by the thousand foot high spire home to the Highlord Belus Bandanada, said to be the only living descendent of Ardens. The main keep at Koon was not quite as tall as the Eastcallas citadel, but even so Joakim would not want to climb it.

  There were a dozen roads crossing the plain all ending at the gates to Koon. Joakim stretched in the saddle and scratched under his hair, he’d been on the road a long time and was in need of a bath. He tugged on the reigns of his mount as he dug his heels in and with a snort the beast set off down the small incline towards the plain, if Joakim was lucky he’d get to Underhill in time for dinner.

  ##

  The inn was called The Two Headed Man, he’d have been surprised if it had been named anything else. No matter where you went in the Four Empires there was always an inn named after the Frail Men, whether it was in honour of them no one knew, there were none apart from the Highlords still alive that could tell if they liked to drink or not. The streets of Underhill had been busy and it had taken Joakim over an hour to find his way here. Everywhere were men and women all sporting sharpened steel and all eyeing each other warily, they like him had all answered to call to arms by the Highlord and were here to take his coin in return for their services.

  He’d given the boy at the side gate a copper for his service with the promise of more should his horse be well cared for. Shouldering his pack Joakim went in through the main doors into inn.

  As drinking dens went this one didn’t stand out from the crowd, it was plain in the extreme but did have a rustic feel to it with relatively fresh straw on the floor and some attempt to mask the smell of unwashed bodies, ale and piss with strategically placed incense burners. Tables filled the space between the door and bar and each was full. In the far corner a great cook pit took up one corner with the remains of something big still turning on the spit, Joakim took a deep breath and could just make out the smell of roasted meat over all the other less wholesome scents.

  The clientele were more of the same of what Joakim had seen out in the streets, scarred and ugly. Not that he was any oil painting himself with more than a few scars, long greasy hair that he kept tied back at the nape of his neck and the sort of skin conditions familiar to anyone who spent long periods of time without proper food or access to soap. But then people in their line of work were not in it to win any beauty contests, on the whole it was a short and brutal life that usually ended bloody, at his age Joakim was an exception, not many saw their fortieth nameday. But then he’d been lucky in that he’d mostly surrounded himself with able companions who all looked out for each other.

  The noise level dropped when Joakim let the door shut behind him, several dozen heads turned to look at him, he knew each was measuring him, grading him, deciding whether or not they could take him should come to that. For his part Joakim returned each stare with cold indifference, though he never doubted their skill he’d been at this too long to get into any pissing contests. He’d learnt long ago that invariably those that were all front with the biggest mouth tended to be nothing more than that. It was the quiet ones you had to watch and mark for future concern. With him assessed the room slowly returned to its former noise level and Joakim made his way towards the long bar along the back wall.

  The man who he took to be the innkeeper looked to have had his fair share of adventures, his face as scarred and battered as any of his patrons, his right arm ended in a stump just below the elbow.

  “Evenin stranger.” He had the gruff accent of a northerner but his skin was dark brown
that spoke of some southern blood in his family line. “If it’s a room you’re lookin for we’re full so you’ll have to share.”

  “I’ve never had a room to myself so am too old to change my ways.” Joakim fished in his jacket pocket and dropped several coppers on the battered wood of the counter top. “That enough for a few days and something to eat and drink?”

  The innkeeper scooped the coins off the top with practiced speed and nodded towards the cook pit. “Afraid most the good cuts have gone but you might find some scrag ends that have been missed, if you can find yourself somewhere to sit Bel will bring you a pitcher of ale.” With that the innkeeper turned away Joakim forgotten now he’d paid his due. A young girl smiled at him and reached for an earthen jug and turned for the row of barrels behind her, there was a familial resemblance to the innkeeper so Joakim took her to be a daughter. Joakim went to see what was worth eating off the carcass and find somewhere to sit.

  The meat wasn’t all that bad, he’d found some clumps that were overcooked and tough as old boots but it had some flavour once you chewed it away from the gristle. Shame the same couldn’t be said about the ale which was weak and flat and appeared to have as much grease in it as the remains of the carcass on the spit. Joakim had found a small space at a table where a man lay face down in the remains of his meal snoring heavily, he’d finished his food and was picking at the remains of the sleeping man’s when two of the patrons pulled stools around the table and decided to get sociable.

  “So you really a Regulator?” The first man said looking down at the scarlet and black slash across the front of the shirt Joakim wore. He was a weasel of a man with skin as greasy as his hair and wide staring eyes that made Joakim wonder what it was he was smoking. The other man was older and more reserved, he eyed Joakim was a practised look, his clothes were clean, his skin unblemished and considering the company they were all in he was unscarred. Joakim decided this one would take watching.

  “A Regulator huh? Any man can don the colours but there are not many that were really one.” The weasel looked edgy which led Joakim to believe his intention was to elicit some response from him in order to test him. Joakim just nodded to him but kept his attention on the quiet man.

  “We not seen no Regulators round these parts in long time, not since you all went off to Maramir.” Weasel looked sideways at his companion, Joakim guessed he was under orders what questions to ask and was looking for some reassurance. The other man leaned forward.

  “You on Maramir?” He had an eastern accent, Joakim had spent enough time in Eastcallas to have become accustomed to the strange twang the locals seemed to add to certain words.

  “Maramir, Velux, even Scalia itself.” The quiet man didn’t react to the last name but weasel nearly jumped out of his seat with excitement and for a moment Joakim wondered if he would lean across to embrace him. Not many knew about the mission to Scalia but it seemed these two did. The dark look the quiet man gave weasel told Joakim all he needed to know.

  “You’re a man of skill then and guess you’re here answering the Highlords call.” The quiet man looked Joakim up and down as if measuring him for a new set of clothes. “What if there were other employment to be had, a greater purse and bigger bonus?”

  “That would depend on the contract.” Joakim looked around the room and noticed several of the tables nearest his had gone quiet and everyone sitting at them paying attention to what was being said at his. Seemed he may have chosen the wrong inn to lay his head. The quiet man nodded.

  “Its easy work and double what the Highlord is offering, not something a Regulator should find too taxing. If you should decide what we have to offer is of interest present yourself at the Summit Gate before dusk tomorrow.” The quiet man stood up and turned to go, he stopped looking back at weasel who was looking at Joakim with something close to reverence before he looked fearfully round and joined the quiet man.

  The tables all around began talking again, Joakim forgotten for now. He sat there for a while watching the faces, trying to eavesdrop on the conversations but these men were good, they knew how to guard against unwarranted attention. Joakim wasn’t sure what exactly had happened here but seemed he had the option of two jobs, one he knew about taking the Highlords coin, or one he knew nothing about but the promise of a better return. He decided best he sleep on it before making any decision, he got up and made his way through the clutter of tables, none of the men looked up at him but he noted the conversation died at every table as he passed and started up again as he was far enough away so as not to be able to hear what was said.

  Two

  Tenemi was an A’yai who for the past two millennia had been the Chamberlain of the Highlord of Koon. The A’yai were an old race, older than the Frail Men some said. In fact many associated the two because in the dark days before the wars and before the Treaty of Ardens, the A’yai had been the intermediaries between the Frail Men and slave races across the Sirus continent. But then everything changed, as the wars between the Frail Men and their slaves had raged and the humans had begun to gain ground the Frail Men had created the Highlords, a mix of humans and Frail Men magic meant as some sort of appeasement to the humans. The A’yai had acted as advisors to both the Highlords and the Frail Men. But then the Highlords – or the first amongst them Calus Ardens – had turned the A’yai against the Frail Men and so turned the course of the wars. In the years since the Highlords victory and the treaty the A’yai had become an integral part of the governing systems spread across the Four Empires and beyond. Tenemi had been in the service of the Bendicala family since the Highlord Fendril Bendicala had secured the lands around where Koon now stood after the wars.

  Like all A’yai Tenemi was unremarkable to look upon, neither male nor female they looked like both genders depending on who they were interacting with. Or as some believed depending on what mood they were in. All A’yai were the same, exactly five feet tall, slender, bald with no nose and small indents where the ears should be. Their skin was as white as milk and was cold and clammy to the touch. Not that many felt any need to touch an A’yai.

  Tenemi stood on the outer battlements of Koon’s curtain wall and looked down into the valley below. The sun was setting behind the hills to the west but still the roads below thronged with traffic. Tenemi could see every rider, every cart, and every sell sword on foot making their way towards the already overcrowded taverns in Underhill, all of them answering the Highlords call to arms and hoping to make a fortune.

  If Tenemi understood humour no doubt the irony of the situation would have generated a smile, maybe a laugh. All those men all clamouring for coin yet none of them really understanding why they were here or even what the job they were being asked to do was. Such was human nature, their lives governed by emotions, emotions that led to reactions, reactions that led to consequences. The A’yai had long pondered how such a chaotic creature could ever have overthrown the Frail Men but always failed to come to a suitable answer. Perhaps it had been sheer weight of numbers, they were millions and their masters but a few. The simple fact was humans were an anomaly and couldn’t be quantified, that is why they fascinated the A’yai so much.

  Tenemi turned and looked at the top of the stairs that led down into the guard rooms built into the wall. It was a few seconds before the footfalls of the man climbing up could be heard but Tenemi had been aware of his presence already. He was a man of middle years, fairly plain in appearance with sallow unblemished skin. The sort of man who could easily go unnoticed. Behind him came another, younger and furtive looking his eyes never resting with an unkempt and unclean appearance. Tenemi didn’t have emotions but this one did generate a feeling that Tenemi associated with distaste. Both men stopped suddenly when they spied Tenemi standing waiting for them.

  “I hate it the way it does that.” Said the unkempt man lowering his gaze when Tenemi looked at him.

  “Shut your mouth Kark and stay put.” The older man carried on up the stairs leaving Kark standing watching an
d fidgeting. Tenemi looked at the older man.

  “Jakamo Boskags, I trust your excursion to Underhill was successful?”

  “Informative as always but I’m not sure about successful,” Boskags stopped a few paces from Tenemi clasping his hands behind his back like a school teacher. “Underhill is overflowing but the calibre of the men looking to take the Highlords penny is dubious.”

  “That is to our advantage is it not?”

  “Yes and no. Bendicala is no fool and neither is his son, they will assess the men and choose those best suited leaving the dregs to either get in our way or drift back to whatever pit they crawled out of.”

  Tenemi nodded in agreement and turned back towards the wall and looked out over the plains.

  “The Highlord Bendicala is firm in his plan convinced as he is of the threat from the west, he will send the best and the brightest which is what I calculated he would do, leaving the ‘dregs’ as you say was to be expected and welcomed. They will not be of any trouble. He will of course leave those closest to him behind to guard him, his son will go in his name.”

  Boskags joined Tenemi at the wall and looked down towards Underhill. “There was a Regulator in one of the taverns.”

  Tenemi turned to look at Boskags. “Is that a problem?”

  “Regulators worry me but this one appears to be alone, I’ve sounded him out, see if he bites.”

  “And if he doesn’t…bite?”

  “Then I’m sure there’s enough of us to deal with him. Either way I’d rather know what he’s about, he’s either with us or pig food.” Boskags looked at Tenemi. “Everything is ready for tomorrow night, the army will leave after noon giving us enough time to have everyone in place.”

  “Including this Regulator?” Tenemi looked at Boskags blankly. “Perhaps it would be best considering he’s an unknown to have him brought into the Keep. That way whichever path he chooses we will have him somewhere contained.”