Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition

by Dave Oliver

  Alregon nodded. “I’ll be sure he gets the best care he’ll allow. How much do I owe you?”

  The doctor started to calculate, “There’s the bottle of remedy, the late-night call, the urgency of the call, the cost of testing.”

  “Forget it,” Alregon said. “Here’s an ire. Will that do?”

  The doctor’s eyes widened and he grabbed the white-yellow coin. “Yes, that will more than cover it. Thank you very much.” He nodded to the two of them and took his leave.

  The innkeeper turned to him. “Mighty generous of you, but I suppose good health is worth the cost, yeah?”

  “Absolutely,” Alregon said, his eyes fixed on Merrik. “I won’t let any ill happen to him if I can help it.” He stepped forward and made his languid master take his first sip of the tonic.

  Merrik coughed and pushed Alregon away. His eyes cleared a bit, but he still moaned when he spoke, and his voice cracked. “I’m not an invalid, Al. I’ll take my own swigs of that swill.” He turned in his bed sharply and threw the blanket over his head.

  “Well,” Alregon said to the innkeeper, “we’d best get some rest. Thank you for all your help tonight.”

  “My pleasure, seigneur.” He stood there grinning for an awkward amount of time.

  Alregon stared at him. “I don’t just give away ires for nothing.”

  The innkeeper’s smile faded.

  “But here are some extra plats. I do appreciate your services above the norm.”

  The innkeeper nodded and left. Alregon lay down in the other bed and tried to get some sleep. He stared at the motionless lump under the blankets in the other bed and put off his worry long enough to doze off.

  ***

  The loud crash came just as Puma had drifted off. He woke and grabbed his loaded crossbow. The haze of sleep fell off quickly as he looked around, but he didn’t see anything. A few moments of complete quiet passed before the door to the pale man’s room shattered. Bish flew out onto the street. Splinters of the door fell everywhere, and Bish groaned as he tried to stand. The man stood in the doorway, a large curved sword in one hand and a small metal object in the other. He was still shirtless, and his muscles looked even larger and more defined than before. He almost looked ridiculous with how large he’d become.

  Puma took aim with his crossbow, keeping one eye on Bish to see if he was all right.

  “Shoot him,” Bish yelled. “He’s a priest.”

  A priest in the heartland of the Commonwealth? Puma’s eyes widened and he fired without hesitation. His bolt sank into the large man’s left pectoral, but he didn’t flinch. He marched right at Bish, who was just now getting to his feet. The man swung his sword at the fat little mercenary while Puma rushed to reload. Bish swung around to turn his back to the man’s swing. The blade struck Bish’s sheathed sword and threw him into the side of the cart.

  The attacker, his face a mask of stern determination, closed on the coughing and grunting Bish. Puma locked his crossbow. This time, he took careful aim and fired a bolt into his enemy’s eye. Blood pumped from the wound, and the pale man reeled from the sudden sharp pain.

  “Roll under,” Puma yelled as he reloaded once again.

  Still struggling on the ground, Bish didn’t stop to think about the instruction. He dropped and rolled underneath the cart. He heard a swing clang against the cobbles behind him, and he kept rolling until he came out the other side. He heard another twang from Puma’s crossbow and the light click of another bolt being loaded. Once he was out from under the wagon, he rose and reached for his sword. He gasped and put his hand to his side. His ribs were shooting fire, though hopefully it was a bruise and not a break. He forced himself to unsheathe his sword, and then he rounded the back side of the cart. He peeked around the corner and saw the large man moving his head around from side to side. It seemed like he was looking for them, but apparently he couldn’t see through the bolts jutting from both eyes.

  He looked up at Puma, who was nearly done reloading his weapon. Puma looked back at him and raised one finger in front of his lips. The fucker didn’t seem to care that he was blind at all. They both shared a moment to process that priests were real, there was one here, and he wasn’t going down easy.

  Puma’s crossbow locked into place as quietly as he could make it, which still made the priest turn an ear to his direction. Bish raised an open palm toward Puma and slowly knelt down to pick up a small rock. He rose and lifted it over his head, trying his best not to let his blade’s tip touch the ground when holding it with just one hand. He thrust the rock toward the room they’d spilled out of, a place Bish could have realistically moved to without the big fella’s noticing.

  It bounced right before the threshold to the room and landed inside the doorway. With impeccable reflexes, the priest turned with a wide lunge and launched a vertical strike at the noise. Puma fired his bolt into the priest’s right knee, locking it in a straightened position. After trying to stand, he fell over on his side.

  Bish rushed at the man’s exposed back and hacked at his torso. He cleaved nearly all the way through his midsection while pushing aside the pain flaring from his own wounds. Enraged, the priest rolled to make another vertical strike at Bish. Bish froze. He didn’t have time to block or parry this strike. He turned his shoulder to protect his head, knowing full well he was likely going to lose an arm.

  The blade fell short but still sliced deep into Bish’s back. The priest flopped onto the cobbles and dropped the sword. He was breathing heavily, and his insides started to slide out of the gaping wound in his side.

  The pale man brought up his left arm and thrust the small metal icon directly at Bish. It shone a blinding light that exuded a surprisingly comfortable coolness. Bish relaxed all over, his muscles going loose and peaceful. The pain receded and he lowered his blade’s tip to the ground. It felt so nice. No pain, no anger, just peace. He dropped his sword.

  A bolt struck the icon and a quick, deafening pop echoed in the alley. It went flying and skidded to a stop on the ground. Bish’s eyes opened wide and the cold faded. The pain from his wounds and bruises didn’t return, and he stretched to test himself. He felt great. He picked his sword up and swung it at the man’s face. The priest’s body went limp and his oversized muscles reduced into a much more human size.

  Bish staggered over to the wagon and leaned up against it. The two of them watched to make sure the unnatural monster they’d just killed wasn’t about to rise like some immortal from the stories. He didn’t show any signs of movement, but they stayed on guard for a while longer.

  “So that was a priest.” Bish shook his head. “Relentless bastard. Strong too.”

  “You okay?”

  Bish stretched and flexed some more. “I actually feel really great. Not even out of breath anymore.” He reached around to his shoulder and felt no wound, though he was sure he’d taken a deep hit there.

  “What did that light do to you?”

  “Nothing bad, it seems. I’ll just count myself fortunate with that one.”

  The door to Merrik’s room opened and Alregon poked his head out. “Is it safe?”

  The two of them startled and Puma fired his crossbow at the corpse in surprise.

  Bish stared at the dead priest. “I hope so.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Casselle rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned. She’d been at this for hours, and there was still a pile of paperwork to go through. In the few weeks since she’d become an officer, her people had managed to completely bog her down with reports, requests, and incident filings. The city had been especially unruly with the king missing, and this deluge of duties seemed endless.

  It was late and dark outside, but there was no telling exactly what time it was. She was alone in the mess now except for the bartender, Gummy. He was mute, so he didn’t offer much of a distraction. The whole place smelled like dark ale and old wood. It used to be one of her favorite places, but she found herself socializing less these days with so much work
to do. She gazed off at her favorite table, where her little social circle would gather, and gave a nostalgic sigh. She needed a break.

  “You have any more coffee, Gummy?”

  Gummy gave a toothless smile from behind the bar and nodded. He fetched the pot and brought it over. Once he’d filled her mug to the brim, he gave her a few taps on the shoulder and an encouraging nod. She smiled back at him and he hobbled his way behind the bar.

  She took a long sip and let the aroma fill her nose. The fresh heat did wonders. Her senses perked up and a small rush rippled through her body. That’d all go away the second she looked at that pile of papers though. It was long past time to get up and move around a bit.

  “I’m going down to lockup, Gummy. Will you watch my things?”

  He raised a hand and nodded from behind the bar with a big smile on his face.

  She headed out of the mess hall through the back and into the stairwell. She wound down the stairs into the basement and used her key to get into the lockup. As she strolled down the hall, she eyed the evidence room on the far end. The guard outside of it was reading a book and didn’t seem to notice her.

  “Hey, you mind if I see a prisoner?” she asked.

  He looked up from his book and squinted at her for a moment before nodding. He said, “Take a torch,” and went right back to reading his book.

  She grabbed a fresh torch and lit it with the brazier in the corner. She rifled through her keys and found the one to the lockup. If she needed to actually open a cell, she’d have to get a different set of keys from the guard, but she didn’t see a reason why she’d have to do that. She was just there to chat.

  She walked down the aisle of cells until she reached the one that held the syndicate man she’d arrested. She banged on the bars with her rapier’s sheath, and the man inside popped up.

  “Oh, it’s you.” He slid to the edge of the hard cot and sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from his face.

  Casselle set her torch into a sconce between cells. Then she grabbed the wooden stool underneath it and slid it in front of the prisoner’s cell. She had a seat right in front of the bars.

  “What can I help you with, Warden?”

  Casselle smiled as warmly as she could. “It’s lieutenant, actually. And I heard someone say your name was Koben. How are you holding up in here, Koben?”

  “Not the most comfortable place in the world, but you guys have fed me well. I expected it to be a lot hotter too.”

  “That’s why they made these cells underground.” She looked around above her. “Keeps it cooler during these hot summers, and it stays pretty warm during winter too.”

  Koben yawned as he nodded. “So what can I help you with?”

  “You’ve been looking at that prototype with Ward supervision, right? Have you found anything?”

  “We’ve figured out just about everything we can about that thing.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “The secret is all in whatever powder they use. Having the amberarm by itself doesn’t tell us much. All we know is that they load it from the rear instead of the front and that the thing won’t explode in your face.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  Koben glanced up at her with scorn in his eyes. “Look, putting aside the fact that you’re the reason I’m in here instead of out there securing that very powder, just why did you come and see me tonight? I doubt you’re checking research progress.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re right. I came here with a different purpose. I want to know more about the syndicate.”

  “Well, first of all, none of us call it that. We have a name.”

  “I know. I just prefer not to use it.”

  Koben grinned. “What’s wrong with Cressian’s Company? No pride in your pop’s work?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Well, I’m not sure what I can tell you. I’m just one part of the party. We’re just a group of citizens who believe in freedom and the people.”

  “Is that why you harass importers? I’ve heard that you bully shop owners and bribe Wardens too. If your beliefs are that simple, why are your actions so illegal?”

  Koben glared at her. “We never agreed to those laws. All the patrons up on the hill decide that crap. We choose to walk our own line instead.”

  Casselle put her head in her hands. It was likely the stupidest justification she’d ever heard from someone breaking the law. How could he sit there and actually believe what he was doing was remotely harmless? This man was a scientific researcher in their organization too. If this was one of their brightest, it only strengthened her resolve to unmake them.

  “Your father believed in our cause.”

  “My father believed in fighting corruption with even greater corruption,” she said with an edge in her voice. “He created your ‘company’ to get around laws and regulations that didn’t favor him. Even his philanthropy was tainted by his circumvention of the law through mindless anarchists like you.”

  “Whoa.” He inched forward on the bed and smiled at her. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Your whole organization is coming down, and I’m going to pull out each brick myself. You’re a blight on the greatest city in the Commonwealth, and you’re my own personal shame.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. We really do help a lot of people.”

  “Yeah, yourselves.”

  Koben tilted his head for a moment and shrugged.

  Casselle sighed. This wasn’t giving her anything useful, and she wasn’t keeping her cool like she’d planned. She wasn’t even sure he could tell her anything new about the syndicate. Maybe he was just under their employ without any real knowledge of how they worked. Maybe this was a big waste of time.

  A loud clank echoed from the entrance she’d come in earlier. She looked up and expected to see the guard coming in to tell her something. She froze as she saw three masked figures in dark black clothes, their weapons playfully reflecting the firelight in a beautifully threatening way.

  The three of them were chatting as they came in, but they stifled and froze when they saw her.

  The huge one in front spoke first. “Supposed to be nobody in here.”

  “Can I help you?” Casselle’s voice cracked a little. She wanted to sound tough, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this terrified.

  “You a Warden?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, that’s a problem.” The three of them started to whisper to each other.

  Casselle cleared her throat. “I don’t know how you got in here, but you’re trespassing on Ward property after hours. I’m going to have to take you to holding upstairs.” She moved her hand to the hilt of her rapier.

  The trespassers all looked at her hand.

  “Is that good enough a reason?” one asked.

  Another grunted in agreement. “Reckon it is. They’ll understand.”

  All three of them drew their weapons and fanned out as best they could in the cramped corridor.

  Casselle drew her rapier and entered a defensive stance. Her heart was beating out of control, and her vision started to blur a bit. She breathed deep and tried to calm herself. She’d fought more than this on the Kendel’s Brow and made it out fine. The narrow fighting space would work to her advantage here too, since they couldn’t surround her.

  The first strike was slow but powerful. She jumped back to avoid the downward slash and got ready to parry the follow-up attack. It came just like she expected. She bounced the attack right into the stone wall, which made a loud clanging noise. That was sure to hurt the wrist of her attacker, so she took the opportunity to press her advantage.

  She thrust her blade into the shoulder of his sword arm and flicked the blade up as she pulled back, slicing it across the assailant’s face. He howled and dropped to the floor.

  His two friends stepped forward. They were small enough to fit side by side in the hallway. One held a rapier like hers, while the other raised a long sword. She lo
wered herself into a defensive position again, ready to react. These two fought much less obviously though. The man with the rapier fought a lot like she did, and the man with the longsword was good about never overextending in his attacks. She had no opening to counter any of their strikes.

  They pressed on her, and she gave ground steadily. She heard Koben shout something from his cell, but her panic prevented her from processing it. The longsword cleaved a deep slash in her arm. Angry, she struck back hard and pierced one of them through the chest. It felt like a lethal blow, but she paid a price for it. The rapier wielder thrust hard into her side underneath her arm. It sent her reeling into the wall in pain.

  The man with the longsword gave a haphazard swing at her before toppling to the ground. Her last opponent stared down at him. Casselle didn’t hesitate. She dove at the enemy and rolled onto the ground with him. She landed on top of him and heard a small pop as they struck the stone floor.

  He groaned and worked his sword to get an angle on her. The dying man with the longsword kept swinging his sword around in his death throes, and she could feel its edge eating into her legs. She looked up and saw the large man she’d injured first getting to his feet. A deep, dull pain pierced her hip, and she screamed.

  She closed her eyes and swept up above her in an arc. The torch made a flat thunk as the blade tore through it. She felt small singes and burns on the back of her unprotected neck, and she heard the man under her scream. She opened her eyes and saw a large piece of the flamecloth lay across his face, still burning away.

  She swept it from him and leaned over to punch the wrist of his sword hand. It took two or three blows, but he let loose the blade and started to howl. She’d likely broken his wrist, but at least he was disarmed.

  She stood but had trouble finding her footing. She half-intentionally tackled the large man in her way and stumbled through the darkened hallway to the exit. After she slammed the door to the lockup, she locked it and turned to the guard’s station. He was unconscious and tied like a farm animal being prepared for the butcher. She didn’t have time to worry about freeing him right now. She headed for the emergency cord.