Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  The King's Guard paid them no heed as they passed, their duty being to protect the Palace from incursion, not prevent two wandering boys from escaping the studious chamberlain and his feast preparations. In moments the two were descending the large stone steps of the Palace and running for freedom across the courtyard.

  Once they were clear of the Palace walls, the youths slowed their pace. Marcus reached out a hand to stop Dariyen as he caught his breath. “So. . . where's the best place to get a drink in this town? You've spent a lot more time here in King's Court than I have—lead the way.”

  “The Golden Galleon is as fine a place as any—it's in the docks district but its drinks are a cut above what can be had elsewhere in the city. Occasionally they'll break open a cask of Tanameran wine or some mead from Khashish. If trade has been good we may even luck into a Dwarven ale. Have you ever had Dwarven ale, Marcus? It goes down like honey but hits you like a stampeding bull. On second thought, it's probably best we avoid it until after the feast.”

  “Perhaps you're right, Dariyen, I'm not much for dancing at the best of times. A bit of that ale and I'll be completely worthless.”

  “Dancing?” Dariyen asked, his face aghast. “They aren't going to make me dance, are they?”

  Marcus laughed heartily. “Why, Dariyen, my friend, you are going to be the most eligible man in the room. I'll be surprised if you manage to sit out a single waltz.”

  “Don't say that Marcus—you're beginning to make me wish I'd lost this morning.”

  “Oh don't be a wet rag, Dariyen—there are worse things in life than being paraded around the room by beautiful women.”

  “Is there anything you won't do for a beautiful woman?” Dariyen asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed as if he were considering the question earnestly, but instead he burst into laughter. “No, Dariyen, there isn't much I wouldn't do for the right woman. They bring color and excitement to the world and beauty to the moment. Don't while away your life without the presence of a good woman.”

  Dariyen considered the advice. “Indeed they might please me, but today is my day, Marcus, and it will be a good ale first and a woman second.”

  “As you wish, my friend”—Marcus laughed and swept his hand before him—”lead on. The city awaits.”

  Dariyen took Marcus through the city, toward the docks district. King's Court rested atop a series of cliffs overlooking the boundless sea. The port had been built around a large natural harbor, and the rugged cliff walls made the city all-but-impossible to enter, other than by the harbor. The districts around the wharves were largely commercial districts or storage for the merchantmen who ran their goods through the busy port. The docks district was separated from the city itself by a long winding pathway that rose from sea level to the city proper, built high atop the cliffs.

  The separation also served to keep the peace, as the town watch could confine the rowdy sailors to the docks district and limit their impact on the capital itself. Sailors were happy to carouse freely without the weight of the town watch descending on them at the first sign of a ruckus, and the citizens of the city enjoyed the buffer between themselves and the seedier aspects of society.

  As the pair descended the cliff road Marcus drew nearer to Dariyen and spoke quietly: “Don't look behind us, but it seems we've attracted a few friends.”

  “What do you mean, friends?” Dariyen asked, fighting the urge to turn around. The pair continued to make their way down the cliff road toward the docks.

  “A pair of thugs have been following us since we left the Palace. At first I thought it was a coincidence but these two won't quit. Either they have decided they wish to get a drink at the Galleon as well or they are following us.”

  “Friends of yours?” Dariyen asked.

  “I doubt it. I've never seen them before. Pretty sure I'd remember a face like that.” Marcus answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The big dopey-looking fellow looks like his nose has been broken a few more times than he would have liked. Come to think of it, his whole face looks like it's taken a bit of a drubbing. Ring any bells?” Marcus asked.

  “Not particularly—that could describe almost any of the enforcers that work the streets of King's Court. They are a rough-and-tumble sort—the kind you civilized folks would rather avoid.”

  “Enforcers?” Marcus asked, a little confused.

  “They do the grunt work for the gangs here in the city. You have the Devils of the Deep who run the docks, the Sewer Rats who run the poorer districts, and the Cobblestone Crew who run most of the higher end of town—mostly brothels for the aristocracy. Rich folks don't like to dabble with the peasants, you see. These boys could work for any of them. Beyond that, anyone with a bit of coin can hire some muscle here in the city.”

  “Would any of them want to cause you harm?” Marcus asked.

  “Why do you assume it's me they’re after?” Dariyen demanded.

  “Shhh! They'll hear you,” Marcus replied. “First and foremost, because they've been watching you the entire time—the big one's been sizing you up like a prize ham, and I'm not sure if he wants to eat you or knock your teeth out. Second, I'm Marcus Listar, and while many a fool has wanted to tear my head off my shoulders, there isn't an imbecile on this island that would be willing to risk my mother's wrath to do it. If there is I haven't met him yet.”

  Dariyen nodded. Amarisa was a formidable woman whose reputation preceded her. Even with her husband's passing she had maintained the Listarii's status with an iron will. Those who had sought to take advantage of her husband's untimely death were still licking their wounds. “What would they want with me? I'm in the Town Guard. Nobody wants conflict with the Guard. It's bad for business.”

  “All the same, it seems they've got a bone to pick—what do you want to do?”

  Dariyen thought about the predicament. Having reached the base of the cliff road, they could continue on to the Golden Galleon knowing that these two might be waiting for them when they emerged, or they could confront the thugs now and deal with them. If there was going to be a brawl Dariyen would rather it take place before he'd drunk himself into a stupor.

  “Follow me, there are enough warehouses and alleys around the docks, we could get lost for days if need be. We’ll have a chat with our friends more privately.” Dariyen spoke softly as he darted into the alley.

  The two made their way deeper and deeper into the maze of alleys. Eventually ducking behind crates that had been neatly stacked along the edge of the warehouse, then waited. Soon enough the two men appeared . Convinced their quarry was near, they made picked up the pace.

  The thugs breezed straight past the crates and the concealed youth. As the second passed them Dariyen stuck out his leg, tripping the burly man. He stumbled and plowed roughly into the cobblestones. Cursing heavily, he tried to get to his feet only to find Dariyen's sword at his throat. At the commotion his companion turned and came face to face with Marcus, who also had his broadsword raised threateningly.

  “Now gentleman, would you mind explaining why two upstanding citizens such as yourself are following a member of the Town Guard through the city. While not a criminal act in and of itself, it certainly raises a few suspicions.”

  “Just hand over the gold and we'll be on our way,” the thug who was still on his feet replied, with scant regard for the sword point dancing mere inches in front of him.

  “The gold?” Dariyen asked, feigning ignorance.

  “The winnings from the Tournament. We know you're carrying a hundred pieces—now hand it over and you can go about your business.”

  “Oh, so you know who we are, and you were still dumb enough to try to rob us?” Marcus chimed in. “What sort of imbeciles try to rob a pair of master swordsmen? Have you no regard for your own lives?”

  At that the men laughed. “We work for Khazim,” one said, “and he doesn't give a damn about our lives, but more importantly he doesn't give a damn about yours.
Now hand over the coin and be on your way.”

  “They're brazen, I'll give them that,” Marcus answered. “With our blades at their throats, they are still determined to rob us.”

  “That's because there are a lot more of us than there are of you,” the man responded. For the first time since they had cornered the thugs Marcus scanned the alleyway. Approaching fast from tone end of the alley was a handful of brutes drawing arms to aid their fellow thieves. From billy clubs to brandished blades, it was an imposing sight of skin and steel.

  “Thoughts?” Marcus asked nervously.

  “It's them or us.” Dariyen declared. “Kill 'em or maim 'em, it's your choice, but if it can swing a blade when you’re done you've stopped short of the goal.”

  Hearing the declaration the man on the ground tried to rise and was rewarded with Dariyen's sword in his chest. His companion perished moments later as Marcus ran him through.

  The two youth scanned the alleyway, and finding no alternative, Marcus shouted, “We're better off taking them a group at time!—Don't want to get caught between them. If we are lucky we'll break through before the others catch up with us.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Dariyen replied as he began running deeper into the maze of alleys.

  “Who's Khazim?” Marcus asked as he tried to keep up.

  “He's a moneylender, one of the worst in the city.”

  “Business must be bad if he's turning to petty theft,” Marcus replied.

  “A hundred gold pieces is a lot of money, Marcus. it's enough to make them stupid.”

  “Speaking of which, you left yours in the Palace, right?” Marcus asked.

  Dariyen shook his head. “Like I said, enough to make men stupid.”

  Marcus couldn't believe his ears. The news gave them all the more reason to try to escape. For a hundred gold Khazim's thugs would slit both their throats simply to ensure there were no witnesses.

  The pair rounded a corner and came face to face with more of the thieves. The heavy footfalls of the approaching thugs drowned out all other attempts at communication and the duelists were soon thronged and fighting for their lives.

  Marcus ducked underneath a billy club aimed for his skull and delivered a wicked slash to the man's midsection before stepping past the man as he crumpled in a heap. Moving on, the youth batted away a short sword and ran its owner through.

  Marcus sneaked a glance to his right and could see that Dariyen was true to his word. One thug lay clutching at his throat. Another lay on his side, blood pooling from a wound in his chest while the guardsman ran a third thug through.

  Together, the pair were a whirlwind of death and soon the alleyway was littered with thieves. Some were dead, others dying, but still they pressed on. Who is this Khazim that these men fear him more than us? Marcus wondered. Surely there are easier ways to make coin in this city.

  Just as their ranks were beginning to thin, the thugs trailing them reached the fray. With foes in front and behind the dangers multiplied. Stepping outside the thrust of a dagger, Marcus struck with fury, catching the man just above the hand and severing it completely. The thug howled in pain but Marcus delivered a savage kick, knocking him to the ground.

  Dariyen was moving swiftly through the pack. By keeping on the move he was striving to use the weight of numbers against them. Where trained soldiers were used to fighting in formation and could use their numbers to their advantage, street fighters seldom had the same discipline. Instead the brawny thugs would get in each other’s way more often than not. The lack of discipline allowed the duelists to deal with them one or two at a time and prevent the attackers from truly bringing their numbers to bear.

  Dariyen knew that to stop moving was death. As soon as the men could pile on top of them there would be no space to fight effectively. Marcus tried to follow the guardsman's movements as best he could and another thug fell, his knife little match for Marcus’s longsword.

  As the man fell Marcus, heard a heavy thud and saw Dariyen arching backwards in pain. One of the thugs with a club had finally caught up to him and, from the look of things, delivered a bone-crushing blow to the guardsmen's back. For Marcus the world seemed to slow as he watched. He was helpless to intercede as the throng of men was simply too thick to break through. One drove his knife straight into Dariyen's chest.

  Angry shouting carried over the din as Marcus hacked down two more in quick succession, seeking to fight his way through to his newfound friend. The club man turned on Marcus and was rewarded with Marcus's blade in his belly. Tearing it free, Marcus whirled and found himself face to face with the one who had stabbed Dariyen.

  The thief was close, too close—Marcus could see his yellow teeth as the thief stared at him in slack-jawed amazement. The thief thrust at him with his dagger, the blade still bloody from where he'd plucked it out of Dariyen's chest. Marcus batted the arm away with his left hand and finding he was too close to swing his sword properly he shifted strategies and instead used the basket hilt of his broadsword to punch the thief in the face as hard as he could manage. The steel broke skin and struck bone, and the force of the impact knocked the murderous thief unconscious.

  Standing over their bodies, Marcus realized the shouting he could hear was his own voice as he bellowed his defiance at his attackers. The thieves hesitated at the primal rage manifesting before them. Seeing four of their number fall so swiftly gave them pause. Marcus looked down and saw Dariyen at his feet, clutching at his chest with both hands, blood seeping out of the wound. He knew his friend was not long for this world, and with the thugs bearing down on him again he knew that he would soon join him.

  Marcus was furious that a little gold had the capacity to ruin so many lives. Many of the thieves were dead or dying but five still remained and Marcus was tiring.. The Listarii Lord could feel the crushing weight of inevitability weighing down on him.

  “There's only one of 'em now, lads!” one shouted. “Bring him down. On the bright side, we won't have to split the gold quite so many ways.” The others seemed in agreement and after a moment's consideration they began to close once more.

  Five

  Marcus made ready to sell his life dearly.

  As the thugs closed in, all hell broke loose in the alleyway. A blinding light flashed along the length of the passage. When Marcus' eyes had adjusted to the flare he saw two of the men flying through the air as a noise akin to thunder pealed through the narrow confines of the alleyway, deafening those within.

  Wind hurtled down the passage. Marcus was disorientated and confused. There was another flash of light, and this time Marcus recovered in time to see a bolt of lightning slam into the attackers before him, the lance of energy arcing violently between them and throwing them off their feet, never to rise again. Only Marcus and a pair of thieves remained standing. All eyes watched in dumbstruck awe as a woman appeared out of the chaos.

  The woman was terrifying yet beautiful, her hair waving in the wind as her outstretched palms glowed with an ethereal light. At the sight of her the remaining thieves lost their nerve and fled, running as fast as they could manage in the opposite direction. The woman strode past Marcus who still stood speechless and rooted to the spot. Another lance of energy hurtled down the alleyway, knocking yet another thief off his feet and striking him against the alley wall before he landed heavily on the cobblestones.

  With the departure of the assailants, the air in the alleyway went still. The woman turned to face Marcus. “Are you injured?” she asked, ignoring the destruction she had just unleashed.

  Marcus was too shocked to respond. He simply shook his head in response.

  She knelt down by Dariyen's side. The wounded guardsmen was no longer moving. Leaning close, she plucked a dagger from the alley floor.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asked, fearing the worst.

  The woman simply raised her hand to silence him and raised the dagger to Dariyen's lips. She held it there for a moment before raising it in front of her eyes. Seeing the
light fog on the blade, she answered, “He is breathing, but barely. Watch the alleyway and ensure they do not return. If I do not help him now he will die. Do you understand?”

  Marcus regathered enough of his wits to answer. “Yes, of course.”

  The woman placed both hands over the wound and closed her eyes. Her mouth began to move but no sound escaped her lips. Marcus watched intently, unable to take his eyes off the woman. Her hands glowed once more, and this time a warm golden light filled the alleyway.

  Realizing the reason behind her injunction, Marcus quickly scanned the alleyway. There was no sight of anyone approaching. The thieves still littering the alleyway were either dead or pretending to be, unwilling to draw the destructive ire of the mysterious woman.

  After several long moments the woman stopped and lifted Dariyen’s tunic. There was blood everywhere but the wound itself was gone. The skin was unbroken, and there wasn't even a scar where the dagger had pierced his chest.

  “How is that possible?” Marcus asked in disbelief.

  “Magic,” The woman replied. “When arcane energy is channeled carefully it can commune with the energy within a person and augment the body's natural healing process. In cases like his, the magic itself supplies the energy his soul is lacking. He is lucky to still be with us.”

  “Who are you?” Marcus asked incredulously.

  The woman stood up and offered her hand, “You may call me Elaina.” Then she looked down and realized her hand was still covered in blood. “Oh I'm sorry,” she stammered, suddenly nervous as she began trying to wipe her hands on her blue dress, ruining it completely.

  Marcus looked at the woman before him. The blue dress, the billowing black hair. “I know you—you're the woman from Greensbrook. I saw you in the forest!”

  “I don't know what you are talking about,” the woman answered firmly.

  “I do—I didn't see your face then, but I saw you in that dress. I'll never forget it.”

  “I. . .”