by Jeff Gunzel
Eric certainly saw the logic in her words, not to mention arguing with Jade could only end one way. He might as well save himself the headache and hop on her horse.
“Smart move,” said Jacob as he flashed his friend a wink. After giving the extra horse a slap, sending it back toward the forest, they were off.
Even carrying two, the strong horse didn’t show any ill effects from the added burden as they streaked through the field. It must have been so used to carrying the much larger crytons that even two humans were not all that difficult.
The lands of Tarmerria seemed calm and quiet as they sped along. Over hills, through grassy fields, not a single sign of life appeared to be anywhere. War was in the air, and even the animals could sense it. The world of humans had been very active lately, and even the monsters of the lands could feel the prickly energy.
As if humans didn’t have enough enemies already, they were now campaigning against one another. The many eyes lurking about planned to just watch...
Chapter 10
The sun beat down on the engineers as they worked feverishly though the final calibrations on the catapults. Luck was definitely going to play a role, but best not leave any more to chance than was necessary. Men were hard at work in multiple shops, chipping away at large stones then heaving them back on the scale for what seemed like the hundredth time. Each stone had to weigh exactly one hundred pounds; no more, no less. This was imperative for each projectile to cover the exact same distance and flight trajectory.
Three catapults had been set up near the front wall. Each one was unable to pivot freely, seeing as how this would only lead to blind shooting and wasted ammunition. Instead, each was fixed with three separate rotating positions: left, right, and center. They could not be steadied anywhere in between. This was where the “lookers” would have the opportunity to prove their worth.
Lookers were simply gifted men who saw the world differently than others did—special mathematicians who held rare abilities when viewing distances and such. This handful of men stood on top of the front wall, watching and waiting.
When the catapults were all set to their left notch, Azek lowered his hand and watched the heavy stones travel over the wall. The lookers watched as well and then trekked slowly across the wall, all the while taking mental pictures of the stones’ flight. The lookers walked toward each other then passed each other on the walkway until each was on the opposite side they had originally started. The entire journey was spent blinking constantly, making them appear to be quite unstable.
The exact same pattern was repeated for notches two and three, or rather, center and right. After each flight, the lookers walked the length of the wall, masked with their crazy expressions as they blinked incessantly. Then that was the end of it. They had memorized all possible flight patterns and would recognize exactly when to use each during the heat of battle.
The fact that five lookers would be roaming the walls during battle was nothing more than a precaution. Only two would normally have been needed, except for the cold fact that they probably wouldn’t all survive. If one fell, there would be four more to take his place, and so on. They would be given swords as a last line of defense, but fighting was never meant to be their primary job.
Given that the sounds of battle would drown any and all verbal communications, they would be using simplistic hand signs. The lookers would point to the catapult to be used, raising one, two, or three fingers to determine the left, center, or right notch, then a lowering of his hand meant “fire.” It was really quite simple. They couldn’t match the Dronin in arms, but proper strategy could never be underestimated.
After watching the lookers prepare, Azek leaned hard over the stone edge of the wall. The direct sun heated his face, making the gentle breeze feel almost cold when it picked up now and again. He gazed out over the green field. It was completely empty and seemed so peaceful. He watched a flock of black birds flying overhead in an uneven arrow formation. Taking a last deep breath, he turned his eyes to the blue, nearly cloudless sky. I’ve done what I can, my lady.
* * *
“We’ve made it,” Jade joyfully whispered in Eric’s ear as the cream-colored outer walls of Taron came into view. They had only needed to camp once, and even that was only for around six hours before jumping back onto the marvelous beasts. The horses had easily kept a breakneck pace for two days, never once showing any signs of tiring. Even the one now carrying two riders displayed no signs of fatigue.
Jade had insisted that Eric ride in front of her so she could hold onto him if he had another episode. Thankfully it never came to that, as he seemed fine the entire trip. Although the decision to ride together had been made out of necessity, neither could deny they enjoyed being so close to one another.
The sun hung low on the horizon, but there was still plenty of warmth in the air as they rode through the familiar grass field that would ultimately run them into the path leading to the front gate. Even though they knew what was to come, there was a feeling of peace that was hard to explain. War was in the air, yet they would be amongst friends. They would make their stand, and would do it among people they loved, people they would die for—friends who would gladly do the same.
As they drew closer, Jacob began to lag behind, riding slower and slower as the smooth, paved road came into sight. Jade gave Eric a little tap with her chin as she continued to hold the reins, just trying to get his attention. She swung the horse around slowly as Jacob trotted up. “Jacob? What’s wrong?” asked Eric with a puzzled look.
His sad eyes bounced back and forth between them. “We need more men,” he said bluntly.
Jade quickly responded, “Berkeni already told me Taron has sent riders to both Athsmin and Denark. Of course, I’m not sure who has responded yet, since we’ve only just arrived. I’m sure they are doing everything they can.”
“Not everything,” he said in that suddenly blunt, emotionless voice. “They’ve sent no riders to Corper.”
“And with good reason!” snapped Jade. “The whole town is overrun with leathers. They care nothing for authority or anything else, for that matter. Their very government, if you can call it that, is nothing but a thieves’ guild. Supposedly a tyrant named Marlow runs the whole town, and he is not someone to do business with.”
“Sure, he won’t do business with anyone of authority...or rank...or even someone sent by the Queen herself.” Jade tilted her head to the side, considering the logic in his statement. “But he just might listen to me,” Jacob finished.
“Then we’re coming with you!” blurted Eric.
“Oh no you’re not!” Jacob fired back. “The last thing I need is to get the Gate Keeper killed.” Eric’s face paled for a moment. Jacob had never called him that before. As impossible as it was becoming to ignore, the full acceptance of who he was had never seeped into their friendship before...until now. “Yes, you heard me,” Jacob said, as if reading Eric’s thoughts. “And you, Guardian,” he said as pointed to Jade. “Do your job and protect Eric. Get him to Berkeni so you can find out how Dragot got in his head.” Jade’s mouth hung open, but she didn’t know what to say.
Jacob turned his horse around and looked back over his shoulder one last time. “After all, who the hell am I, if not expendable? If I’m not back by tomorrow, then—” With his meaning well understood, he turned back around and rode off, hoping to take advantage of what remaining sunlight was left.
* * *
Jade was right when she had first told him that Corper was less than thirty miles from Taron. With the special beast galloping along at full speed, he could see the run- down, shabby-looking town up ahead. The sun had fallen below the horizon about an hour ago, but the sparse streetlights flickering a golden orange helped to guide him in.
The night air was much cooler now, and the slight breeze that had been there all day was now making its presence a bit more obvious. The minimal light barely allowed him to see the sandy gravel road leading through the center of town.
But as he rode deeper in, it was becoming clear the sandy road was also quite soft and damp, as the horse’s hooves sunk in with every step. It was also clear by the tangy sting in the air that the road was constantly damp due to a lack of proper sewage drainage. Jacob tried not to think about it as he consciously made the attempt to breathe through his mouth. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.
He glanced from side to side at the run-down wooden homes and shops, almost all showing flakes peeling away here and there—the only remaining evidence they once had been painted. The lack of hoofprints in the sand proved there was very little traffic in this town, even during the day. Roofs with wooden planks but no shingles, combined with rotted oak walls, made most buildings in the town appear abandoned.
The damp, sandy streets were all but barren except for... Jacob rode on ahead but didn’t necessarily want to speed up, for fear of what he might be looking at. The thick, wooden post planted in the middle of the street looked to have arms tied behind it! He rode around the side of the pole and saw exactly what he had hoped he wouldn’t.
The naked man tied to the wooden pole was blanketed with deep slashes, clearly come to be by the end of a whip. The skinny, bald man, well past his middle years had remained upright due to thick ropes around his wrists. With his belly and cheek pressed tightly against the ridged, damp pole, it was hard to tell if he was even alive.
Jacob’s blue eyes burned with anger as he leapt from his horse and marched quickly to the poor man’s side. Short, labored breaths at least proved the man was alive, if only barely. The lashes across his back were dark with dried blood, also proving the man had been here for at least a full day, if not longer. This reality only intensified Jacob’s anger as a dagger flashed into his hand. “Hold on, old man,” he said, and moved around the pole to cut him loose.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a soft, feminine voice with a touch of a lisp.
Jacob whirled around, pointing the dagger toward the surprise intruder in a menacing fashion. The girl just looked back at him in her high riding black boots that could hardly be seen under the long and faded red, hooded robe that had more than one hole on display. The gaudy diamond ring gracing her ring finger seemed very odd given the rest of her drab attire. No doubt something she stole. The few golden locks bordering her face from under her hood were amplified significantly by her bright green eyes.
“And why shouldn’t I?” he barked, admittedly caught a bit off guard. “Whatever he did, or more likely didn’t do, I’m sure he has already paid his debt.”
She shrugged at him while tilting her head slightly. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just warning you, you will die if you cut him down. That decision isn’t up to you.”
“Let me guess, it’s up to Marlow.”
“Something like that,” she said with a shrug followed by a grin. “I suppose I’ll skip the part where I ask you if you are from around here, seeing as the locals don’t even say that name out loud. So where are you from?”
He hesitated a moment. What was the point in saying Bryer? He wasn’t sure he would ever go back there again, and he was certainly sure this small-town girl would have never heard of it. “Taron,” he said at last.
“Ohhhh!” she said in a high-pitched squeak. “I hear the winds of war are blowing that direction. Rumor is Taron has given sanctuary to some sort of false god.”
“He is not a false—ah! Just tell me where I can find this Marlow guy, OK?” he said, growing more and more frustrated by the second.
Her smile grew even larger as she clicked her tongue while rolling her eyes over her shoulder, gesturing toward the rundown bar behind her. “You might try over there,” she said, her lisp very pronounced that time. “I know he goes there sometimes, and besides, it’s the only thing open right now.”
“I thank you for your help,” he said softly as the charming, smooth, calm, ladies’ man demeanor flooded back into him. Jacob seized her hand and planted one of his customary kisses. The girl giggled and nervously twirled her knees back and forth. “Until we meet again.” He turned to walk toward the only building that seemed to be showing any signs of life.
She called out to him, “This is really important, isn’t it?”
He spun toward her one last time. Dripping with his usual charisma, he held his arms out wide, followed by a low, flourishing bow. “My sweet, you have no idea.” He then turned back, leaving her staring open-mouthed.
Jacob squished on through the sandy gravel before approaching the saloon-like swinging wooden doors. A combination of pipe tobacco and sweaty bodies filled his nose even before he pushed through. Jade was definitely right about one thing: these folk did not exactly appear to be righteous citizens.
Rough-looking leathers were rampant throughout the entire room. The first batch that caught his eye was the three close to the door, sitting down and playing a game of cards. The bald, heavyset man wearing a bright red vest was just getting ready to deal. Jacob couldn’t see the face of the blond man wearing a white button shirt who had his back to him, but the skinny fellow with a thin nose and brown, rimmed hat was staring a hole into him.
I’m drawing too much attention. Better take a seat. Jacob hopped up on a stool by the bar, threw down two coppers, and ordered an ale. The short, dark-haired man with a bar mustache and receding hairline bit each coin individually with yellowing teeth then began filling a glass from a thin black hose attached to a small silver tank. Jacob drained it with one swallow, spun on his stool, and gazed around the lively room.
The room was actually rather nice in comparison to the examples he had so far only seen from the outside, or compared to any room, really. The fine, smooth walls were covered in beige tile. Black, lidded oil lanterns fully encased with white frosted glass were placed every four feet or so. Heavy, thick, wooden-framed oil paintings hung just above three of the lanterns. Each were nature themed: one with a reddish sunset disappearing over a long, grassy hill and the other two displaying views from within a thick green forest, but only one showing a dirt trail dividing its center, the other not.
Even the stools and tables were assembled from thick, high-quality oak, sanded down and stained with multiple coats to give a rich caramel color. Thick, red cushioning filled with goose feathers also provided surprising comfort.
He suddenly noticed that not a lot of people seemed to be drinking. Not ale anyway, as there was a large punchbowl filled with a red beverage set on one of the tables in the corner. The large, clear liquor bottle stationed next to it was very telling, however.
He whirled back around on his stool and faced the bartender. “Do you know where I can fin—”
“Hi again,” came that hissing lisp once again. Jacob couldn’t help but wonder if she had had a very rough childhood because of it. She was quite pretty, though. Now with her hood pulled back, he could get a good look at her face as she sat on the stool next to him. Her high cheekbones and full lips were a nice accent to her long, dark eyelashes.
“Isn’t this place a little dangerous for you?” he asked accusingly while raising one eyebrow.
“No, I’ve been in here before. Never had a problem.” She batted her bright green eyes, which made her dark eyelashes appear all the longer.
Jacob smiled at her. “Well, since you’ve interrupted me once again, I will leave it up to you to tell me which one of these gentlemen is Marlow.” He held her gaze for some time.
Her smile grew even larger as her eyebrows rose. “Well, I say we find out together.” To Jacob’s horror, she leaped off the stool and began waving her hands in the air. “Attention, everyone...attention! This man here,” she gestured to Jacob, “is looking for Marlow. Can anybody help him?” He didn’t know which was worse, all the eyes in the room staring at him, or the nearly unbearable silence.
Then, just as suddenly as the silence fell, booming laughter filled the room. The men playing cards were now alternating between smacking the table and hitting their knees. Other men arou
nd the room, who were originally wearing scowls, were now bent over, holding their stomachs as their backs heaved up and down with laughter. Jacob wanted to run from the room, to ride away and forget he ever came here. No, I have to try. What’s a little humiliation compared to the possible fate of Taron?
He leapt up off the stool and took a deep breath. “I am Jacob Couture, representative of Queen Ilirra Marosia. I come to you on behalf of Taron in their time of need.” The laughter was dying down now, but large, toothless smiles remained prevalent. “The Dronin march on Taron as we speak. War is upon us, and our city, your Queen, calls to you for aid. Are your services not for hire?” He gazed around the room with his hands held out wide. “If it is coin you seek, coin you shall have!”
“The Dronin march because the witch of Taron gives sanctuary to a false god,” came a baiting call from a shrill voice standing in the corner.
“The Gate Keeper is no false god!” Jacob screamed. It was no longer embarrassment or humiliation he felt. Seething anger replaced all other emotions. “Eric Aethello is the only hope we have. I ride with him. I serve him, as should you!”
All around the room most just shook their heads, as if realizing they had given far too much attention to a madman, but a few were hanging on his every word with intent stares—a very few. In a rage, he stormed behind the bar and grabbed several bottled poisons used for rodents that were sitting on the floor. He nearly sprinted over to the punch bowl with his arms full.
One by one he began pouring the toxins into the punch as loud shouts and protests came from everywhere at once. “Come, drink from my punchbowl!” he screamed in a thunderous, booming voice. “Take one sip, and you can lay down and sleep peacefully forever, which is a far greater mercy than you will ever receive if the Gate Keeper does not survive! I promise, each and every one of you will be more than willing to cut off your own limbs just to have one more chance at the mercy I offer you this day, but the chance will be gone, and all you will ever know is pain and suffering...to no end!” Everyone’s eyes were the size of plates as the spectacle went on.