City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy

by Ty Johnston

  Springing across another alley, thoughts of Wyck forced a frown onto Kron’s face. He would never forgive himself for Wyck’s death. The boy had brought a level of childish joy to Kron’s life he had not known since before the death of his parents. Growing up in the Prisonlands, Kron had known humor, but it had mostly been the rough and tumble humor of grown men who carried swords for a living.

  Kron swore to himself, and not for the last time, that justice would be served and the man responsible for Wyck’s death would pay dearly.

  But before dealing with Verkain, Kron had to help Gris.

  Still moving, he placed a gloved hand on the ledge of a two-story structure and spun his legs around to plummet from the building feet first. He landed on his boots and rolled over into a kneeling position. He stared outward, from between two buildings, and across a wide street to the Swamps’ healing tower Randall had called home for almost three years.

  It was early night and numerous people still paraded along the street, but Kron did not think he would be recognized with his cloak’s hood pulled forward. Once inside, he did not fear recognition because he was not known in the tower. His face would draw attention only if one of Belgad’s lackeys were present, and Kron was hoping one would be.

  More suffering was ahead for Belgad, especially if Gris was dead.

  ***

  Adara Corvus waited in Randall Tendbones’ office. She sat in a chair with her feet propped upon the healer’s desk next to a burning candle, her arms crossed over the sheathed rapier on her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered as her mind drifted. Her body sought rest while her mind raced. She had had a long day of doing nothing, which had been tedious to her, especially when she had heard about the business at the Asylum that morning and the action at the old cemetery.

  Fortisquo lay asleep in the attached room. He had been scheduled to be woken earlier in the day, but the healers on hand had decided against it because they feared an infection in his empty eye socket.

  Despite hearing from Stilp that Randall was an enemy, Adara wished the young man was present. He was a good healer, one of the best Adara had known, and she wanted Fortisquo healed. It had been three days since her lover had lost his eye, and Adara wanted an ending. She did not believe she and the sword master would remain a couple once he woke, but she did not want to walk out on him without knowing if she still had a friend or if she had made an enemy. Either way, she had decided to leave him, even if he still wanted her. She had learned all she could from Fortisquo, and it was time to find another tutor.

  A sudden, metallic sound gave Adara cause to open her eyes. She turned her head in the direction from which the noise had come, from the door that led to an outer hallway.

  Ever so gently, Adara inched her right hand toward the hilt of her sword.

  With a long creak the door swung inward to reveal darkness beyond.

  Adara stared into the blackness as her hand gripped the rapier’s hilt. There had been lit torches lining that hall the last time she had been out there. The healers who lived in the tower often had to perform their skills at night, and they always left torches or lamps burning.

  “I have been looking for you.” The eerie voice crooned from the darkness.

  Adara shoved away from the chair and onto the balls of her feet, her hand drawing forth her sword and aiming it at the blackness beyond the doorway. “Who are you?”

  “You know me.” A chuckle followed.

  Then the cloaked figure of Kron Darkbow crossed the threshold into the room, a black glove slipping out from the folds of the cloak to gently close the door behind him.

  Adara stood her ground, the sword now pointing at the heart of the cloaked man. “You dare show yourself here?”

  Kron stood straight, taller than Adara, while one of his gloved hands reached up and yanked back his hood, revealing his dark hair and bold features. He bowed without taking his eyes off the long blade in her hands. “I’d dare much to discover the condition of one dear to me.”

  “I heard of your antics today,” Adara said, keeping her sword steady. “You are in better health than last you were seen by Belgad.”

  “I am not without aid, but tell me what became of Sergeant Gris. Does he still live?”

  “The last I heard, he was breathing. He was taken to Belgad’s for questioning.”

  “You mean interrogation.”

  Adara gave a brief nod. “They seek your whereabouts.”

  “Meaning Belgad and the demons?”

  “The demon things have gone.”

  Kron took a step toward the woman.

  Adara quickly retreated, raising the tip of her rapier to point at Kron’s dark blue eyes. “Stay where you are.”

  “Are you going to try and capture me?”

  A grin spread across Adara’s face. “If I want to capture you, there will be no trying about it.”

  It was Kron’s turn to grin. “It would be an interesting contest, but I have no time. I need one more piece of information before I take my leave. Why did you stop your man from killing me?”

  He was talking about Fortisquo, Adara knew. Kron was curious about the night he had faced off with Fortisquo when he would have been slain had Adara not interceded, blocking the sword master’s blow. Her actions had cost Fortisquo an eye, and Adara bore more than a little guilt.

  She had no good answer to give, so she shrugged. “The night you fought Fortisquo, you threw my own dagger at me. You could have hit me, but you didn’t.”

  “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 doi
ng 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 with 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 la
te. “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.