Quantum Heights: Book one of the Dead Path Chronicles

by Richard A. Valicek

  “Not if I kill them first,” said Caprius. He made to stand, but the girl quickly sat up and crawled over to Caprius. Her breasts were right in his face. She curled her legs around Caprius’ waist and peered into his face, deeply, with concern. She slowly bent to him and kissed him on the mouth. Then, she stood and looked down at him.

  “I’m not getting involved in this. They don’t know me. If you choose to go to the meeting, these men will kill you,” she said. “You’ll know it’s them by the tattoos on their wrists: a snake with a spike through it. If that means anything to you,” she said.

  Caprius’ eyes widened. “The Goncools.”

  “That’s the name! I couldn’t remember it at first.” She got out of the bathtub. “If you value your life, you won’t go to that meeting.” She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. “I warned you, and now I’m leaving.”

  “Wait a minute. I don’t even know your name,” said Caprius.

  “That’s right. And, you never will,” she said. She walked out, paused, then leaned back in. “But, I remember you, Caprius Seaton. You always ignored me in school when I was young. I’ll let that be your hint.”

  Caprius thought for a moment. “Please, tell me. Who are you?” he asked again.

  “Still the same old Caprius,” she said from the living room. Caprius got out of the bathtub. He took the towel from the bar and wrapped it around his waist. As he came into the living room, the girl opened the door to the suite. “Goodbye, Caprius.” Cynthia closed the door behind her.

  Caprius got dressed and went to the table. There, before his sack, was a note with a bottle of wine and one glass. Caprius picked up the note; the paper bore the aromatic scent of pine. “This scent. It is familiar.” Caprius said as he sat down in the chair, his thoughts consumed with the mysterious woman—a woman who seemed to care about him enough to give him this very personal warning, probably at her own peril.

  Caprius opened the bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. He sat back sipping it, thinking of the note, which read, ‘Stay in the room and drink yourself to sleep.’ Caprius found the wine to his liking, redolent of berries and tobacco, and made to do as the note stated. He pulled out his pocket watch, looking at the time: 1:05 p.m. He sipped his wine and sat back. Every ten minutes, he checked his watch, weighing the Goncools and all he knew of them against this very sincere warning from the woman.

  By 2:05 p.m., Caprius had drunk two full glasses of wine. Again, he thought of the Goncools and of the mysterious woman. He paused in his sipping, feeling woozy. When Caprius checked his watch next, it was fifteen minutes before the meeting was to take place.

  He couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m sorry, pretty woman, but I have to know. I have to find out what this is all about.” He set the third glass of wine on the table and pushed it away. He stood, retrieved his claymore of power from the bathing room floor, recalling the taste of her kiss but turned his focus to the Goncools. The thought of them caused an anger to grow inside him that burned with a fierce light.

  Caprius had a lengthy history with the Goncools. Years ago, his brother Andromin had become involved with a group of men in a cult without knowing their true intensions. They had plotted to take over the Council of Koriston, get close to Queen Amenova, and kill her. In the battle that ensued, many good men from Koriston’s Taughtenslotte army lost their lives.

  When the whole plot was foiled, the Goncools were arrested and sentenced to hang. Andromin was among those to be hanged. But, his father, Confidus, came to Andromin’s rescue. Confidus had bargained with some of the Goncool members, asking them to confess, reasoning with them, saying that Queen Amenova was willing to spare some of their lives, which would allow them to go to prison rather than be hanged.

  Nine held true to their mission and were, thus, hanged. Eleven Goncools confessed, and their lives were spared. One man’s confession vindicated Andromin, saying he’d only been a pawn used by the Goncools to get to the queen, and he had had no knowledge of what he was doing. The noose around Andromin’s neck was loosened, and Andromin was made a free man. But, the damage was done: Andromin’s image was forever tarnished. This whole incident became known as the “Goncool Affair.”

  Caprius closed the door to his suite lightly behind him and headed toward the entertainment lounge. Going to the meeting meant he was about to play a game with the Goncools, but he had no idea what the result would be or who would be the winner.

  In the entertainment lounge, Caprius was seated at his reserved table, now fully aware that the men who killed Peasley were watching him. He quietly watched the belly dancer sway to the music. Much time passed, and he began to wonder whether these men would actually approach him. Caprius finally decided, Goncools or not, he was hungry. He signaled the waiter and ordered; then, he saw the drinks menu. “And, a glass of your finest bourbon would be nice,” said Caprius.

  “What room should I charge it to, Sir?” asked the waiter.

  “To 2111,” said Caprius. The waiter left. More time ticked away, and Caprius began to feel that waiting for these assassins was like waiting for a cold meal to warm itself. The belly dancer made her way around the front tables and now approached Caprius. She shook and wiggled her voluptuous body, and Caprius allowed himself to be mesmerized by her beauty. His eyes traveled over her body, finally arriving to her face. It was the woman from his bathtub. She rolled her hips around, and he noticed a small slip of paper was tucked into the waistband of her beaded skirt. He reached forward and took the paper. She glided toward other tables as he opened the note. “Leave before it’s too late. Leave now.” Caprius tore the note up into little pieces and placed it in the ashtray. He took up the complimentary cigar on the table, put it to his nose, and breathed in the heady tobacco smell. He struck a match and lit it, puffing until it had a nice glow at the end. He wondered whether these men would ever make their move.

  In a moment, there was a scuffle at the end of the dining room by the kitchen. Caprius’ waiter tumbled from a closet and collapsed onto the floor dead. Some commotion ensued, but the entertainment continued. Caprius didn’t leave. Clearly, this was another note, meant just for him. When his meal arrived, Caprius looked up at the new waiter.

  “Your meal, Sir,” he said gruffly. “What’s the room number?” Caprius wrinkled his nose at the foul, musky scent of the man’s aftershave.

  “Room 2111,” said Caprius.

  “Enjoy your meal, Sir,” said the waiter.

  Caprius realized this waiter was one of the men who’d previously been sitting at the far end of the table—certainly one of the assassins. Caprius pretended to eat the meal, regretfully letting none of the food pass his lips in case it had been poisoned, while he kept an eye on the remaining men. As they stood to leave, Caprius signaled his new waiter.

  “Is everything fine, Sir?” the waiter asked looking around.

  “Could you bring me a bottle of bourbon? And, don’t open it.”

  “You want a whole bottle of bourbon, Sir?” the waiter seemed puzzled.

  “Yes, an unopened bottle,” Caprius said.

  The waiter returned momentarily. Caprius chuckled to himself at the good service. “Your bottle of bourbon,” said the waiter. “Sir, you hardly touched your meal.”

  “I’m afraid this meal won’t do. It stinks. Like your aftershave,” said Caprius.

  The man sneered at Caprius, and Caprius, tired of the games, got up and met the man’s eyes. He said nothing but swept up his bourbon by the neck of the bottle and walked calmly from the entertainment lounge.

  The waiter watched Caprius disappear through the doors. He went into the back and took off the stolen uniform.

  When Caprius approached his suite, a cold vibration was coming from his claymore of power. He took another puff from his cigar and shook the bottle of bourbon thoroughly. He opened the door and entered his suite. There, seated on chairs, were the four men from the entertainment lounge. Caprius’ hand instantly went to his sword, but before he coul
d grasp the hilt, a man standing behind the door hit Caprius over the head. Caprius fell to the floor, dazed and bleeding. The man took Caprius’ claymore from its sheath. Caprius struggled to regain his focus and stand. Behind him, the door to the suite opened, and another man came in. Caprius’ vision was fuzzy, but he could smell that it was his second waiter. That made it six men against Caprius, and he didn’t have his sword of power. The fake waiter bent down to Caprius and drove his fist into his stomach. “Incidentally, I happen to like this aftershave.”

  The waiter spied Caprius’ bottle of bourbon and grabbed it before joining the others. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” the waiter laughed and grasped the bottle to his chest.

  The man who had hit Caprius from behind came around to join his cronies. Caprius saw his face. “Lavender Frikiseed. Are you behind all this? What does a Koriston Taughtenslotte want with the Goncools?”

  “When I get out of this, I’m going to apprehend you, bring you back to Elysium, and make sure you see a cell of Zaderack prison.” The Goncools began to laugh.

  “Immortality, my dear Caprius, immortality,” said Lavender.

  Caprius peered into their eyes. Then, his gaze fell to their tattooed wrists. “The Goncools have new followers, I see,” said Caprius.

  “Yes, but soon they’ll be joining us,” said Lavender.

  “They are in prison, and there they’ll stay,” said Caprius. “And, you intend to continue where they left off? If so, you know that their fate will soon be yours. And, God will condemn you for what you do.”

  “My fate is to serve Makoor. And, your belief in your religion is what makes you weak,” said Lavender. “Your God is a very poor advisor. Do you think such prayers and worship will protect you from what you are about to face?” He smiled. “But, I am a kind man. I will give you your moment of prayer.” He leaned in to where Caprius could smell the man’s fetid breath. “In the end, you will see that the dark powers are the only real religion. But, please, go ahead, have your senseless prayer, Caprius.”

  Caprius hadn’t waited until he was told; he’d been silently in prayer since his arrival, knowing he’d need all his resources to get out of this. “I gather you’re responsible for Brandon Peasley’s death,” said Caprius.

  “I know nothing of what you speak; I only requested he write to you, and I took the liberty of sending the letter on his behalf,” smiled Lavender.

  “What do you want with me?” asked Caprius.

  “All we need is your claymore of power. Beyond that, how we get rid of you is entirely up to me,” said Lavender.

  “My claymore is of no use to you. It only works for me,” said Caprius.

  Lavender took the claymore and balanced it on his open palm. “This sword of power is what we need to bring the Prince of Darkness to life again,” he said. His eyes misted over in reverie.

  “You think you can harness the sword’s power and bring Titanis Clore back from the dead? It will never work. The power comes from Petoshine. And, the vim cannot be forced to work against it,” said Caprius.

  “Well, Caprius, I’m not going to tell you how it will be done. But, I assure you it will work,” said Lavender. “Nick! Malory!” Two large men approached Caprius and grabbed his arms. “Pray to your God now, foolish mortal.”

  “You do realize that killing me won’t stop the rest of the Seatons,” said Caprius.

  Lavender gave the sword to one of his men. “Take the claymore of power down to the stables. We will meet you there as soon as we take care of Mr. Seaton.” The man took the claymore and left the suite.

  “Mind if I open the bottle of bourbon for a final drink?” asked Caprius.

  “Not a chance,” said Lavender.

  “At least let a condemned man finish his smoke?” asked Caprius, holding up his cigar. Lavender nodded to the men. They let go of Caprius. He put the cigar in his mouth and puffed on it slowly. “Say, this may take a while. Why don’t you gentlemen pour yourselves a drink. The bottle’s on me.”

  Lavender looked skeptically at Caprius but nodded to the man who had posed as the waiter. “Go ahead, Ronen.”

  Caprius chuckled. “You’re good at waiting on people. The drink is on you, Ronen,” said Caprius puffing his cigar. Ronen pulled on the cork, but it didn’t budge. He pulled harder, and he stumbled backward, bourbon splashing all over his face and torso. Caprius took a last hard puff of his cigar before throwing it at Ronen. Ronen burst into flames. He screamed and ran about the room, crashing into paintings and knocking them off the walls.

  While the horrified men were stunned, watching their comrade, Caprius punched the man closest to him, which allowed him to grab the dagger on the inside of his boot. He took a running start and crashed through the large window across the living room, landing on the awning. It bounced gently, and two men leaned out through the shards, preparing to go after Caprius. He punched his fist through the fabric, and it tore in half. He grabbed the two sides and leaped like a parachute glider down the mountain’s side.

  Up above, Ronen, still aflame and running in circles, fell out the window and smashed into the rock face. His body fell heavily to the gorge beneath.

  Caprius had his eye on the man running to the stables with his claymore. The man turned, saw Caprius approaching from above, and ran faster. He entered the stable and went to his horse. It was tethered firmly to a post. He struggled with the knot, clearly aware he didn’t have much time.

  He made it out, mounted, and began galloping down the mountain through the forest. Caprius landed quietly, got his stallion, and went into a chase. Bombidus Barons, who got on his horse, had fled. The snow was thick, sodden tree branches slapping at their faces. The canopy was dense, blocking out the sun and shrouding them in semi-darkness.

  They followed the main path until, suddenly, the man veered left and careened down a hill. Caprius followed and soon was within a horse’s length of him. Caprius spurred his horse on to go faster, then caught up to the man’s horse’s hindquarters. He reached out at full gallop and grasped his claymore sticking out of its sheath at the back of the saddle. The man reached back and grabbed Caprius’ hand. They struggled, the horses jostling into one another on the thin path.

  Suddenly, the man’s horse lost its balance on a patch of black ice and fell, bringing Caprius and his horse down on top of it. Caprius was launched down the hill and slid on more ice, catching stones and brush in his face as he went. The man was close behind, grunting and howling when he hit the stones.

  At the bottom, they landed in a fast-moving river dotted with ice. The men were carried by the current quite a ways until Caprius caught a hanging branch and hefted himself up and out of the water. The man, just meters behind Caprius, caught hold, as well, of an adjoining branch and Caprius’ leg. He was a burly brute, close to three hundred pounds and too much for the one tree. It snapped, sending the men back into the water with a great splash, the two of them still clinging to the thick branches. Caprius used his as a raft, and the man followed suit. When the water moved the man close enough to Caprius, he struggled to reach the claymore. Caprius punched him in the jaw, sending him reeling, but he recovered and lunged at Caprius. They tousled on the single branch, too thin to hold them in the churning water. The rapids had increased in intensity, white water cresting and peaking around their bodies as they fought.

  They stopped at the sudden sound of violent, rushing water. At the end of the river was a waterfall. The man panicked and clung to Caprius. Caprius used his last reserve of strength to kick the man in the face and send him into a cluster of boulders just off to the side by the waterfall. Caprius clung to his branch with one hand and his rescued claymore with the other.

  He neared the falls and thought he should pray again, but he realized it wasn’t prayer he needed. Caprius stuck out his arm and unleashed a lasso rope, which wrapped itself around a tree. Caprius pulled away from the falls. The man following him was not so fortunate; he plunged, screaming, over the falls and crashed onto the rocks
below.

  When Caprius met the shore, he grabbed hold of another set of branches and climbed up onto the snowy riverbank. The foliage was thick, and the snow had an icy crust over it. He shivered but was relieved to be on dry land. He made his way back up the hill, sheathing his claymore of power.

  ***

  Caprius walked a very long time, stopping only to eat some snow to quench his thirst. After some time, he came to a clearing. There in the center of it was a squat, spry fellow with white hair and twinkling eyes, tinkering with a deflated hot air balloon.

  Caprius approached him. “Mechanical problems?” he asked affably.

  The man turned and looked at Caprius. He didn’t seem surprised to see another person in this wilderness. “Hello,” said the man pleasantly before returning to the balloon with his wrench.

  “That’s quite a contraption you have there,” said Caprius.

  “Yes, if only I can fix this throttle…” murmured the man as he sweated over his work.

  “My name is Caprius Seaton. And, who might you be?”

  “The name’s Nero,” said the man.

  “Nero what?” asked Caprius.

  “Just Nero. That is what I like to be called,” he said. Suddenly, a blast of fire erupted from the base of the balloon as helium began to blow. “Ah, there we go. All set to fly.”

  “Can you really fly this thing?” asked Caprius.

  “Yes. I’m off on another adventure,” said Nero, tightening the ropes.

  Caprius scratched his head. “I say, Nero, how would you like to take me to Elysium? If you get me to his majesty safely, there’s a reward in it for you.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Nero thoughtfully. “I thought your name sounded rather familiar.”

  “What do you think?” Caprius asked again. “You would be doing his majesty a great service.”

  “Well…” Nero began, “I had been planning on heading in a different direction. But…” he scratched his chin, “yes, alright. Hop in,” he said and opened the gate for Caprius to enter the basket.