by Ty Johnston
“I missed.”
“On purpose?”
Kron remained silent.
“The truth of the matter is, I don’t know why I spared you.”. And it was the truth. The man was handsome, but Adara felt no love for him. From what she had witnessed, Kron was a good combatant but he was no fencer. Adara could learn much from him, but her main interests had always been with the rapier. Kron did not wear a sword tonight, but he preferred a large, heavy blade from what she had been told.
The grin Kron wore grew wider. “I think I know why.”
Silence now from Adara.
“It’s the same reason you haven’t raised an alarm tonight.”
Adara twirled the tip of her sword slightly, playfully, before the man’s face. “I still could. I could scream and healers would come running.”
“And I would escape them as I’ve escaped everything Belgad has thrown at me. Besides, you would lose a new teacher.”
Adara was stunned. How did he know what she had been considering? Was she transparent?
But she would not surrender so easily. “What makes you think I need a teacher?”
“Because you saved me once, and so far tonight you have done me no harm nor met me with ill will.”
Adara lifted her weapon slightly. “Some would could consider this ill will.”
“I need your help, and you could use mine. I need to get inside Belgad’s mansion to free Gris. If the opportunity presents itself, I will kill Belgad. Then I will leave the city. I have business elsewhere. You could travel alongside me as my student.”
Kron realized he was asking the woman to enter a dangerous partnership, though she did not know the full extent of the threat. She would not have a clue Kron and Randall were planning to go to Kobalos.
The man in black felt he had learned much from his affair with Belgad. He had not won his war, at least not yet, but each battle had been a growing experience. Mistakes had been made, culminating in Wyck’s death, but there had been elements of the conflict Kron had not expected, including Randall’s involvement and the inclusion of Kobalos into Kron’s troubles. Belgad was evil, yes, but he was nowhere near as demented as Lord Verkain.
The end of Adara’s rapier dipped. The woman was considering. She did not have much in the world, so she had little to lose by joining with Darkbow, other than possibly her life. Adara did not know how Fortisquo would react to losing her, especially to a foe, but she did not think it would be with well-intentioned aplomb.
“What are you doing with him, you conniving bitch?” The well-known voice came from behind Adara, making up her mind for her.
Fortisquo stood leaning against the doorway of the patients’ room attached to Randall’s office. He was disheveled, his one good eye barely open, with no shirt to cover his chest and only white cotton breeches for pants. In his right hand dangled a sword.
Adara jumped to one side, placing Randall’s desk between herself and Darkbow while making sure to keep her weapon pointed at Kron and an eye on her former lover.. “Fortisquo! You’re awake.”
“That’s right,” the swordsman said, raising his blade. “The healers must have been negligent in their duties. And I heard enough to know you’re a traitor, bitch.”
Pain filled Adara’s eyes. “That is not true.”
“Yes it is! Now I know why you stopped me from killing him!” The peak of Fortisquo’s sword darted to point at Kron. “You’re leaving me, just like you left Jarnac and DeGrassi before me.”
“Fortisquo ... ” Adara’s voice trailed off. She did not know what to say to the man. She had been contemplating exactly what he was saying. She could not call him a liar.
“Of all men, you are leaving me for Darkbow.” Fortisquo took his weight off the doorway so he was standing straight. “The man is an enemy! He is our enemy!”
Kron shifted to one side so Adara was not between himself and the sword master.“I am only an enemy to Belgad.”
Fortisquo snickered. “You cut such a fine line, you could be a duelist.”
Kron turned his attention on the woman. “Adara, we have to kill him.”
Fortisquo’s lips formed a smile.
Kron’s words were flat, simple, stated with no emotion, backed by a dark logic. “He will alert others to my presence, and he would turn both of us over to Belgad.”
“We can’t kill him. I won’t allow it.” Adara had no love for Fortisquo, but she did not wish him a speedy death. The man had taught her much and was a genius of the rapier. He deserved a better death than what Kron proposed.
Leisurely, but with intent, Fortisquo placed his right foot in front of his left and went into a fencing position, his blade aimed at Darkbow. “Whenever you are ready.” His words were soft.
“No!” Adara yelled. “There is no need for this.”
Kron’s hard gaze slipped over to the sword master. “Even if we escape, he will follow.”
“That’s right, bitch.” Fortisquo spoke to Adara though he kept his eye on Kron.
Her blade still leveled on Darkbow, Adara eased away from the desk and toward Fortisquo. “At least allow me to explain.”
“There is nothing to explain!” The swordsman lunged.
The woman twisted the sword in her hand to block Fortisquo’s attack, but she knew it would be too late. Her former lover had too long a reach and was too quick.
Three small lines of black metal appeared in Fortisquo’s sword arm, causing the man to yelp and drop his weapon.
Adara looked from Fortisquo to Kron, who stood with one arm extended toward the assassin.
Fortisquo dropped to his knees and yanked one of Kron’s throwing darts from his arm.
“Come.” Kron turned his open hand so it beckoned Adara.
The woman looked from man to man and back again. Then she turned to Kron, sheathed her sword and walked to him.
The man in black grinned. “Brave woman.”
“Do not make me regret this decision.”
“I will attempt not to.”
Adara shifted to see Fortisquo pulling another dart from his arm. “I am sorry, my love.”
Kron gave the sword master a dark look, one that told Fortisquo he was only alive because of the woman’s generosity.
Then the pair were out the door, running.
Tears flowed from Fortisquo’s one good eye as he grasped the last of the darts embedded in his flesh. “Don’t you worry, bitch. I’ll be coming for you.” He jerked the small weapon from his arm to splash blood on his sword.
Chapter Thirty
To Belgad, Percifidus looked like an old frog that had long outlived its hopping days. The man was short and stooped with a head that held only a few white hairs combed over it. His yellow eyes appeared too large for his pinched face and his chin did not exist, the skin of his jaws flowing into fleshy jowls. He wore a simple toga, once white but now stained yellow with age and grime. Percifidus’s hands clutched a small black bag by its twin leather handles.
“It is about time you arrived.” Belgad was none too happy.
Percifidus, with Lalo glowering behind him, paused in the doorway to one of the many rooms in the basement of Belgad’s manor. This particular room was dim, a single torch hanging on a wall to provide light. The far wall was of natural rock while the others consisted of mortared stone. In the center of the room was a table of gray marble atop which lay a man of size, his ankles and wrists tied by leather bands attached to ropes that disappeared beneath the table. The man appeared to be unconscious and was unclothed except for a simple cotton loin covering.
Percifidus lumbered into the room and placed his bag at one end of the marble table between the unconscious man’s feet. He proceeded to open the bag and rummage through it. After a few moments he withdrew miniature tools, similar to those surgeons and healers used. One of the tools was a small pair of sharpened pliers with points on their ends. Another was a saw small enough to fit into one hand. Other tools appeared to be needles of various sizes and shapes, some wi
th crooked or curved ends. The last tool extracted from the bag was a small knife, mostly handle with a short, curved blade.
Percifidus turned his attention to the master of the house. “Will you provide an apron?”
Belgad waved a finger at Lalo. “See to it.”
Lalo nodded in return and disappeared into the dark hall beyond the room.
Percifidus blinked his froggy eyes, looking for all the world like a sick toad ready to croak. “A chair would be appreciated. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Belgad grimaced and reached beneath the table to withdraw a wooden stool. He placed the four-legged seat next to the table to the left of the unconscious man’s head.
Percifidus used a cloth to wipe down his tools and placed them on the table between the unconscious man’s legs. “If I may ask, who is he?”
“Local sergeant of the city guard. He has information of which I am in need.”
“So you will want to be present during the operation?”
Belgad nodded, irritated. “Yes.” He did not like Percifidus. More correctly, he detested the service Percifidus performed, however necessary it might be.
The little, toad-like man was a vivisectionist, a non-magical healer who performed surgery and experimentation on living beings. He was known in Bond’s underworld as useful for interrogations.
The vivisectionist went back to work, making sure his utensils were in good order. “My usual fee will be doubled since you wish to be present for the procedure.”
Belgad gritted his teeth. “Very well. I’ll need to ask him some questions once you waken him.”
Percifidus retrieved a pair of brown stoppered bottles from his bag and placed them next to his tools. “How far do you want me to take this?”
Belgad was nonplussed for a moment. He understood the question, but he was not sure how to answer.
“Your man Lalo did not explain to me the extent to which you want me to attend to this man,” Percifidus said, gesturing over Gris. “Do you wish only minor treatment? Amputation? Dismemberment? Complete dissection?”
“I want answers to my questions, and I want them to be truthful.”
Lalo the Finder appeared in the doorway with Stilp, but they did not enter the room. “My lord, we have a situation.”
Percifidus continued to arrange his utensils as if he were not interested in what Lalo had to convey, but Belgad immediately walked to his servant.
The lord grimaced as if anticipating bad news, the only kind he seemed to receive of late. “What is the problem?”
Lalo looked up to his employer. “Master Markwood is in your library awaiting your presence, and he has made a bit of a ruckus while waiting.”
Belgad’s grimace did not improve. “What kind of ruckus?”
It was Stilp who spoke, his face ashen. “A bunch of guards have been put to sleep, and Markwood won’t wake them until he speaks with you.”
Belgad grabbed Lalo by a shoulder and glanced over at Percifidus and Gris. “Stay here and do not let him begin until I have returned.”
“As you wish.” The Finder nodded.
Belgad pointed at Stilp. “Come with me.”
***
Although Kron had been inside Belgad’s mansion before, he had not had an opportunity to familiarize himself with the layout of the building. Fortunately for him, Adara had spent a good deal of time within the confines of the walls and could describe the basic design of the place.
The man in black and his student skulked in an alley near the Dartague’s manor.
His black cloak making him all but invisible, Kron stared out across the way and up the hill to the mansion. “Randall will be expecting you.”
“You should not attempt this alone.” Adara gave her new teacher a stern look which went unseen in the shadows. “It is much too dangerous and Belgad will show you no mercy.”
“I am expecting none, and I would show none, but you as of yet are not wanted by local constables, and I need someone to buy horses for us before we leave in the morning.”
This was part of Kron’s plan. Adara had been taken into the man’s confidence, learning in their trek from the healing tower to Belgad’s that Kron and Randall were traveling to Kobalos. She had thought it suicide, but Kron had promised she did not have to enter Kobalos. Considering the powerful enemies Kron and Randall faced, Adara was not sure it was smart of her to join them, but she had always entertained challenges. And heading to Kobalos with Belgad possibly trailing definitely would be a challenge.
Some of the gold for buying horses and supplies came from Kron, but Adara was not without a good bit of funds and offered it for the overall good of the three. Darkbow was hesitant, but accepted knowing he had little other choice. Adara prompted him on his current lack of heavy weaponry, meaning a sword and bow, and his reply was that he would correct the situation at Belgad’s mansion.
Soon they parted, Kron slinking toward the walls of Belgad’s manor while Adara made her way east into the heart of the Swamps, seeking stables willing to sell four steeds in the middle of the night.
Nearing the walls of the fortress, Kron trotted around the structure. He was surprised to find the front gate hanging open and two guards flat on their backs on the gravel path leading to the main house.
From inside his cloak, Kron drew a dagger and a fire grenado. He approached the open gate with caution but as far as he could see there were no other guards.
He checked the downed men near the gate and discovered they were not dead, but snoring away their time on duty.
The man in black grinned. He did not know who had performed this miracle for him, but he realized it was of a magical nature. He hoped it was Verkain, his war demons perhaps returning early and not happy with Belgad. He doubted as much, but Adara had told him she had heard the demons were expected to return for an answer as to Randall’s whereabouts.
Kron helped himself to one of the dozing guards’ swords and belt. He wrapped the weapon onto his back, noting it was heavy but shorter than the sword he was used to carrying.
Under shadow he made his way toward Belgad’s front door. There was little cover in the openness of the huge front lawn, but Kron felt sure no one could see him. It was a dark night and he was, as usual, all in black.
To his surprise the heavy front doors to the main building also hung open. Just inside, another pair of guards slept on the floor. Kron would never have planned on walking through the front door, but it appeared either Ashal had taken pity on him or a stroke of stupendous fortune had presented itself.
Belgad’s voice boomed from inside. “What the hell does he want?”
Kron leaned forward to spy around the edge of one of the open doors.
Belgad, along with the dumpy figure of Stilp, was hurrying up the curved stairs of the front hall.
“It’s got something to do with the healer, Tendbones,” Stilp said, not more than a few feet behind the hulking Dartague.
Before more could be said, the two men vanished upstairs.
Kron hesitated. What little he had heard had given him pause, making him wonder if he should not try to follow the two. They had been speaking of Randall, and the healer’s safety was of import. But Gris was somewhere on these grounds, needing his freedom or already dead. Kron decided he would have to go on with his search for the sergeant. Randall was in no immediate danger, and Kron had faith Adara would not turn traitor. Gris needed saving. Kron Darkbow was the man to save him.
As he moved into the house, Kron promised himself he would not make the same mistakes he had in the past. It was a time for results, not showmanship. He had embarrassed Belgad enough. Rescuing the sergeant had to be the priority, but he still hoped for a chance to end the large northerner’s life.
***
Percifidus found himself with nothing to do until the Liar returned, so he sat on the stool next to Gris’s unmoving body and waited. Belgad had left Lalo the Finder with the vivisectionist, but the two had nothing to say to one another.
The servant and the vivisectionist had not been long in their silence when both heard soft steps approaching through the hall outside the room.
Lalo turned to the sound. “Did you placate him, my lord?”
A black fist caught the Finder in the face sending him reeling to the floor in front of the table.
“Oh my.” Percifidus stood away from the stool.
“Do not move.” Kron entered the room with his new sword pointed at the vivisectionist.
Lalo touched his broken nose, which was leaking red down his robes. Kron gave the man credit for not crying or calling out; it would have been the end of his life if he had done either.
The Finder glared up at the man who had wounded him. “What do you want?”
“Him.” Kron’s sword pointed at Gris.
Lalo gave a snake’s smile. “Take him if you like, but you’ll never make it out of the house.”
“I beg to differ. It appears someone has already taken care of the guards.” Kron wore an evil smile of his own.
Lalo moved to stand.
“Don’t.” Kron waved his weapon in front of the Finder’s face.
Lalo remained sitting on the floor, but his face showed he was not happy about it.
“You,” Kron said, turning his blade toward the vivisectionist, “untie the sergeant.”
Percifidus glanced at Gris. “He’s leashed with leather straps. I’ll have to cut them.”
“Then proceed, but do so very carefully. I’m only a hair away from finishing you both as it is.”
With shaking hands, Percifidus reached out slowly and lifted his small knife from the table and began to saw at the bindings around one of Gris’s wrists.
Lalo used a sleeve to wipe the blood from beneath his nose as he glared up at Kron. “Even without guards, Belgad will take care of you.”
“Just like at his party?” Kron’s words held some mirth, but he continued to watch every move of Percifidus.
Lalo sat back, resting on his hands. “He is not alone. He is upstairs in his library this minute with Professor Markwood from the college of magic. I am sure the professor can deal with you.”