Locmire's Quest: Book One A Tales from Calencia Novel

by Brian Hutchinson

  Chapter 49

  Revenge

  Danard’s Tavern was positioned alongside the main road on the outskirts of Galdarath. The tavern was owned by a rather shady individual named Danard Cotrill. Danard was a tall man and very thick. His gray hair had started to recede, which gave everyone a good look at the wide scar that ran from the crown of his head to the top of his brow. Danard was an accomplished swordsman, winning many of Calencia’s various tournaments. He was a hard man; he had to be to run the tavern in an orderly fashion.

  For years, the Kingdom of Galdarath had tried to find a reason to shut down Danard Cotrill’s pub and eatery, but never was there any evidence found that would give the kingdom sufficient rights to do so. The tavern was located within the borders of the Free Lands and Galdarath had no power there. Many mercenaries, head hunters, thieves, and assassins frequented the tavern to take contracts and finish underhanded deals. Danard’s Tavern was a hub for illegal activity and so long as Danard could keep the illusion that the tavern was a reputable place of business, gold would always fill his pockets.

  It was the middle of the night, and all of Danard's usual patrons were at the tavern. It was loud, very loud. The more the patrons drank, the more rambunctious they became. Danard scanned the crowd looking for any signs of trouble. For some unknown reason, he had a strong notion that it was brewing in his little tavern. Most of the patrons were usually well behaved, but Danard noticed two unfamiliar faces sitting in the back of his establishment. He hoped they did not intend to cause problems. He did not feel like cracking anyone's skull tonight.

  Zathillius Kraven, a Raptilian outcast from Dead Marsh, and Trevor Metzger, a Human who was orphaned as a child, patiently sat at a table in the furthest most corner of the tavern.

  Zathillius was dressed in brown leather armor. Four daggers were strapped across the front of his chest. A bow and quiver of arrows were slung across his back. A single edged war axe was hanging from his side. The Raptilian was over seven feet tall and covered in brown, green, and purple scales, with a bright blue face. His barbed tail lay coiled on the floor behind him. Several purple, tentacle- like locks of scaly hair were pulled behind his head in a ponytail. His face was strikingly similar to that of a lizard; two slits for a nose, holes for ears, a pair of yellow eyes, thin lips, and no noticeable chin.

  Zathillius Kraven was relatively unknown throughout most of Calencia. The many unlucky individuals who had the displeasure of meeting Zathillius, minus his constituents, never lived to tell the tale. Zathillius was an assassin, and not just any assassin, but one of the most, quite possibly the most, deadly assassin to ever walk Calencia. Although he was very skilled with almost every type of combat weapon, Zathillius favored poisons, and being Raptilian, his concoctions were extremely lethal. Zathillius and his travel companion, Trevor, were the last remaining members of the Shadows, and they had a debt to settle with Thaddeus Graystone.

  Trevor Metzger was a pale faced man in his mid-twenties. He had short black hair with a matching handlebar moustache and soul patch goatee. He had the look of a lord about him. Trevor was well groomed and boyishly handsome, but his looks were very deceiving. He was a cold-hearted killer. His green hooded tunic and brown breeches hid the self-inflicted scars that he used to keep a count of his kills. He had currently run out of room on his arms and legs and had begun counting his victims across his chest. Two falcata swords, his weapons of choice, hung from his hips. A dagger was secured to each of his brown leather boots. His cane, which was purely for show, concealed a thin blade that had taken the life of many unsuspecting targets.

  The assassins had been sitting idle in Danard’s Tavern for over an hour. Their tempers had become short; they hated to be kept waiting. They were impatiently awaiting the arrival of an informant who had valuable information on the whereabouts of Thaddeus Graystone. It had seemed that King Graystone had unexpectedly departed from Galdarath, and they had not the slightest idea as to his whereabouts.

  The door of the tavern slung open, and the man they had been expecting had finally arrived. Danard jumped across the bar and met the man at the door.

  “Look,” Danard said as he came nose to nose with the man, “How many times do I have to tell you people that nothing is going on in here!”

  “I have not come to interfere with your business,” the man paused as he looked around. “I am actually here on business of my own.”

  Danard stared him in the eyes and said, “Very well then. Will you be having a drink?”

  “Yes. Send three rounds of your finest drink to the back table,” the man said as he pointed toward the assassins.

  Danard nodded and climbed back over the bar to prepare the drinks. The man cautiously walked to the back table and took an empty seat.

  “Where iz the King?” Zathillius asked.

  “You are late. I expected your arrival over two days ago,” the man replied.

  “Ze lass job took us longer zan weez expected,” Zathillius responded.

  “Well, your last job has cost me dearly,” the man said.

  "Weez been waiting on you for quite zum time. Weez do not like to be kept waiting," Zathillius hissed.

  Trevor stepped in and said, “Pardon us for our untimely arrival. Has our tardiness allowed Thaddeus to escape our grasp forever?”

  “No, it has not. Things will just be harder for you now. He is traveling in the company of some very skilled warriors, but the initial contract I offered you still stands,” the man replied.

  Danard came over and set the drinks down on the table and gave the man a suspicious look.

  “Zat iz all. Be gone wizz you!” Zathillius hissed.

  Danard quickly turned and walked away.

  “Drink up,” the man said.

  “Where haz ze King gone to?” Zathillius asked.

  “To the best of my knowledge, he recently visited Lasticall. Once he left there, it has been reported that he traveled west. I am certain he is heading to Dead Marsh,” the man said as he tossed back the shot of Danard’s finest.

  Trevor leaned forward and asked, “And why would he be going there?”

  “It has to do with the Dark Wizard, Hasbarie. All I know is that Thaddeus is traveling with a Wizard, two outsiders, Lot Caskill, the Sestian of Lasticall and his Sword,” the man said as he nervously looked over his shoulder.

  “Zen ze deal still stands?” Zathillius asked.

  The man hesitated momentarily, and then said, “Yes, the deal still stands.”

  Trevor Metzger ran his finger over the rim of his shot glass and swished the drink back and forth. He took a small sip and said, “Disgusting,” as he placed the drink down. “Just to refresh our memory . . . what were the details of our agreement?”

  “You know the details of our arrangement!” the man said angrily. “How many times must we go through this?”

  Zathillius Kraven placed a hand on his sword and said, “Az many timez az weez needz.”

  The man leaned forward and said, “Do you think placing your hand on your steel intimidates me? I have twenty men outside waiting for my word. Not to mention that I am quite confident that I could easily dispose of you and your friend by myself.”

  “Let not our tempers flare. Assassinating a king is a very risky job. All we want is reassurance of our arrangement,” Trevor said calmly.

  Zathillius removed his hand from his sword and leaned back in his chair. This seemed to calm the man, as he relaxed himself.

  “Fine,” the man said. “For you fulfilling your end of the bargain, I will reward you both with ten thousand gold pieces. Also, I will grant you amnesty for your crimes, once I become King of Galdarath. I will also grant you land and titles within the kingdom.”

  “Very well,” Trevor said, as he began to stand up. “That was not so difficult, was it?”

  “There is only one minor problem. A problem that I am prepared to compensate you handsomely for if you are able to correct it,” said the man with a hint of anger in his voice.<
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  “What iz zis problem?” Zathillius asked.

  “It seems that Thaddeus Graystone was not the last heir to the throne. It seems that he has a long lost brother, Lot Caskill, who is presently traveling in his company, or at least he was the last time I saw them. With Lot alive, I have no claim to the throne. I am prepared to double the amount of gold promised if you are able to deal with this minor inconvenience,” said the man.

  Zathillius and Trevor exchanged nods.

  “Thiz soundz good. We accept your termz,” hissed the Raptilian.

  “Well, that settles it then,” said the man with a sigh of relief.

  “You are very ambitious, sir. Once this is all said and done, remind us to never call you a friend,” Trevor chuckled.

  Rage grew on the man’s face. “You have the nerve to speak of such things to me?” he slammed his fist down the table. Everyone in the tavern looked at them for a moment and then turned back to minding their own business. “You two assassinated the former King for me and allowed Thaddeus to lead an assault on your entire brotherhood because you felt that you were both more suited to run the Shadows. The two of you are no better than I am. I will have the blood of three men on my conscious. You two have the blood of the entire Shadow brotherhood on yours.”

  “Weez never called ze Shadowz family. You, on ze other hand, called ze kingz yourz. You sworez to protectz zem. You gained zeir trust and look how you repayz zem,” hissed Zathillius as he stood to his feet. “You were correct. Weez are no better zan you.”

  The man was now furious. His face turned the color of blood.

  “Well,” Trevor said, extending his hand to the man, “It seems that our business here is done. We will be contacting you shortly.”

  The man stood up, disregarding Trevor’s outstretched hand and headed for the exit of the tavern. When the man made it to the door, Trevor called out to him.

  “Sebastian,” Sebastian Buxton slowly turned back around. “Just as you are a man of your word, so are we. We will accomplish this task for you. For your sake, I hope you uphold your end of the bargain.”

  Sebastian Buxton nodded his head and left Danard’s Tavern as quickly as he entered.

  “Let’s get to it,” Trevor said, as he gathered his things.

  “Zis should be razur eazy. I say weez headz out for Dead Marsh,” Zathillius said as he put his chair neatly back under the table.

  “Sounds good,” Trevor said.

  As Zathillius and Trevor were leaving Danard’s Tavern, a drunken patron muttered to his friends, “I thought I smelled lizard. Thank the gods he is leaving. I hate lizards.”

  The drunken man’s friends began to laugh as the two assassins passed by them. When Zathillius was at the door, he pulled a small needle-like object from his side. He nonchalantly flicked the needle behind him as he closed the door. The needle stuck in the drunken man’s neck. Immediately the veins in the man’s neck and face turned black, and he grasped his throat. Within seconds the man lay lifeless on the floor, his face as black as petrom. Zathillius and Trevor mounted their horses and headed south toward Dead Marsh in search of Thaddeus Graystone and Lot Caskill.

  End of Book One

  About the Author

  Brian Hutchinson was born in a small, country town in West Virginia. Currently, he still resides in the Mountain State with his wife and two children.

  Brian has always been a fan of the fantasy genre. He enjoys fantasy novels, movies, and video games. In his spare time, Brian takes pleasure in bonding with his family, hunting, fishing, playing paintball, watching college sports, and playing video games.

  In 2009, Brian was unexpectedly laid off from his job as an equipment operator in the coal industry. He went back to college and received an Associate's Degree as a Physical Therapist Assistant. With extra time on his hands, Brian took on the challenge of writing a book, a project he had always wanted to attempt.