Miri turned and looked at him. “Was today’s match a fair one?”
Todrul looked down on the dusty floor. “I … must admit Ohmhizig had the advantage in weapons, but you must realize it was a testing match, which you passed convincingly.”
Miri made an audible sigh. “Adaste is right, there is no truth in this city.”
“Whatever the case, you must fight with what you have,” Todrul said. “Magub will try to insure that the odds will be even as much as possible.”
Miri bit her lip. “I doubt that. I saw his eyes. He wants gold, and will allow our opponents the edge- so that he could make larger bets. With our stable at a disadvantage, his rewards will be that much greater.”
Todrul was impressed. She was highly intelligent, perhaps the wisest pit fighter he had come upon in all his years as a trainer. Coupled with her fighting skills, she was formidable. He could only wonder what kind of warrior she could truly be, had her gift of Vis not been taken from her. “So you sensed it too,” he said. “I am most enthused, for you have the gifts to be a great pit fighter. I must ask you to lead the stable to victory once you are out there in the arena. Magub may very well pit you against superior opponents, but I am confident you will prevail.”
Miri stared at him blankly. “And what of the cost? Do you wish to sacrifice the entire stable just so your master could win a bet?”
“Our master,” Todrul corrected her. “Whatever happens, you must stay alive. I can always recruit more for this stable if need be. It is a harsh reality, but we all do what we must.”
Miri turned back to look at the equipment once again. She was being used, and would easily be discarded unless she could somehow influence more than just her masters. Lethe was a stratified city, with many classes of men. The slaves were practically powerless, while the nobles were full of greed and only looked to themselves. That left the freemen, the middle class that served as the linchpin between the servile and the rulers. The City Watch and the various mercenary outfits were all from that class, and they had the numbers and arms to match against the noble houses and the Magi. Yes, the freemen were the key. Now all she needed to do was to somehow galvanize them, but how?
Todrul sensed what she was thinking. It had taken him uncountable cycles to figure out the politics of the city, but she seemed to grasp it almost immediately. It was said that even though these former Strigas had been stripped of their mind powers, perhaps vestiges of their abilities to read minds still remained. “To ultimately win in the Great Games against deep odds, you must win the crowd. In order to do that, you must make yourself stand apart from the others. The best pit fighters in the history of Lethe were also the most colorful ones. In my youth there was Balrag of the One Eye. Reeml the Liege Killer, and the Lady of the Skulls were legendary. They were not only skilled fighters, but they each had a distinct appearance to make themselves stand apart from the other pit fighters,” he said.
Miri leaned over and took a painted bronze mask that had been hung by the wall. Wiping the dust from its surface, she stared into the ugly visage of the bulging eyes and the toothy snarl. It was a gorgon mask, and had not been used in ages. The covering would have limited practical use when it came to battle, but it would hide her face so that her enemies would not be able to recognize her. The unique features would also have the added effect of making her quite noticeable in the arena. “Do you need to tell them my name, or could I choose my own when I am announced by the crier?”
Todrul narrowed his eyes. “You can choose your own. What is it that you wish to be called?”
The leather straps were still functional. Miri placed the mask over her face and turned to face him. “Let them call me … the Red Gorgon.”
Chapter 8
The temple of Karma stood near the deserted side of the city, close to the necropolis. Over the eons it had been steadily abandoned, its priests eventually dying of old age or relinquishing their duties to move on to other things. The people of Lethe had stopped worshiping the goddess of fate, for her rules of mutual respect and charity were unpopular with the masses. In time the looters stripped it of everything of value and it became nothing more than one of the many sprawling ruins in a city whose power had already begun to wane. Most of the populace refused to live in this part of the city, believing it to be cursed. The entire district was subsequently called the quarter of the dead.
Zeren stood inside an adjoining ruin, looking out from an open window in the upper floor down over to the temple entryway. Dusk had fallen and eventide would come in mere moments. “Still no movement at the entrance. Unless they had come inside using an underground passage that I am not aware of, then they must still be on their way here.”
Ylira stood beside him as she too looked out into the deserted avenue. The temple served as an impromptu meeting place for the various mercenary groups in the city. It was considered to be neutral ground by all, but she was still wary. “How sure are you that they have not been waiting inside the temple itself for all this time?”
“I have been observing this place since morrow,” Zeren said. “I would highly doubt that they all camped inside for two days just to ambush me.”
Ylira bit her lip as she tested the string on the bone bow she carried. “I do not like this. The entire freemen district has been on edge since the massacre at the tavern you were in. There is talk that it was Grimgrin who killed everyone in there, including Hreth.”
Zeren frowned. “Lies. If I find out who is spreading such foul distortions, I shall cut off their heads.”
“Our reputation has been besmirched ever since we raided that caravan in the necropolis,” Ylira said. “Nobody wants to join us anymore, not even the starving youths. It is now just you and me. I think it is best we leave it and forget about those strange weapons. We can abandon our old names and join up with one of the larger gangs- there is safety in numbers.”
Zeren turned and looked at her. “I must talk with any mercenary leader who will listen to me. Hreth was killed by men who seemed to be in some sort of trance. They did not bleed and felt no pain- even when they were crippled by blows that would otherwise fell an ordinary man.”
“But the Watch found no trace of such beings you described,” Ylira said. “All they found were the bodies of the patrons and the slaves that worked in the place. They also found three of their own dead and now they will stop at nothing until they bring you to heel.”
Zeren let out a deep breath. “I did not kill the tavern owner or his family. Neither did I kill the slaves, Hreth, the other customers, or the whores. Kyti was one of my favorites! I would never even attempt to kill her. It was all the doings of the Magi.”
“The Watchers would sooner believe the Magi than they would trust your word,” Ylira said. “We are but two. How can we fight against an entire brotherhood of Vis users?”
“That is why I spread the word among those groups that would listen,” Zeren said, before he gestured at her to be quiet. At the other end of the street, two men were walking towards the temple entrance. He recognized one of the men as Sardom, Hreth’s brother, now leader of the Black Dargons. The second man was Lobron, leader of the Silver Shields. No one else was with them.
Zeren turned and headed for the stairs. “So it looks like they came after all. You know what to do.”
Ylira had a worried look in her face as she stood near the top of the stone steps. “Are you certain about this plan, Zeren?”
Zeren looked up at her and grinned. “Of course, my plans always work, do they not?”
Ylira said nothing while shaking her head.
Traversing through a side street, Zeren carefully used the ever increasing shadows around the building to dash from one side to another before he stood beside the temple’s flank entrance. Most of the building’s ceiling had collapsed over hundreds of cycles before; the open roof would provide adequate illumination by moonlight, while at the same time the dimness would cover him if he needed a quick escape. Zeren took out a piece of white
furred cloth from beneath his cloak and tied it prominently around the back of his neck before going inside. It would distinguish him from the others in case Ylira needed to use her bow.
He could see the outline of the two men standing just behind the entryway. Zeren carefully made his way around several fallen slabs of rock until he got into cover between two massive pillars made of granite. He was now hidden from their sight, perpendicular to their position. This time he wore his brigandine, greaves and vambraces. If anyone wanted a fight, he would give it to them.
Zeren cleared his throat before he started speaking. “A pleasant eventide to you, my friends.”
Sardom was taller than his brother was. The chain shirt beneath his cloak glinted slightly in the moonlight, along with his Black Dargon medallion. He looked around, but faced the other direction. “Zeren? Where are you?”
“I am close by,” Zeren said.
Lobron was just as wary. He had parted his cloak, revealing the hilt of his longsword. His stance was wide, and he was ready to draw his weapon. “You can see us, so I demand you show yourself, Grimgrin.”
Zeren made a short chuckle. “I am afraid I cannot just yet. There has been too much talk about a bounty on my head, so I do hope you understand why I cannot reveal myself as of this very moment.”
“We are standing within the temple grounds,” Lobron said. “Every mercenary has pledged neutrality when in the confines of this place. Your hiding in the shadows is insulting to us.”
“Be that as it may,” Zeren said. “Many of you no longer consider me as a fellow mercenary, and I have heard many a rumors this day that no sacred oath would stop one of you from trying to kill me for the bounty.”
Sardom made a loud snort. “I bare you no ill will, Zeren. We fought together as equals before, and my brother always thought fondly of you. It is why I don't believe you were responsible for his death.”
“You speak kind words, Sardom, and I respect you for it,” Zeren said. “I tell you this, your brother Hreth fought by my side last eventide. We were beset upon by a strange group of men who seemed to be in some sort of woken widdendream, and they shambled about without minds of their own. We used our blades and chopped their limbs loose, but they did not bleed and did not even seem to notice their grievous injuries.”
“I know of some people in the Watch,” Lobron said. “And they have said that it was all your doing. You are a renegade Magi, and you used your Vis to kill everyone in that tavern.”
“Lies,” Zeren said. “All invented by our unseen enemies to hide the truth from the rest of you. Hear my words, for I was there that eventide.”
Lobron shook his head. “Do you deny that you have the gift of Vis, Zeren? I have heard rumors about you since you were but a boy. You may have hid your true powers for so long, but everyone knows by now.”
“I can use a bit of the mindforce, that is true,” Zeren said. “But I am no Magi. I was never a member of their Order.”
“I always knew you had some sort of Vis,” Sardom said. “I may not have seen you leap up in the air during our days together, but I have noticed you do things in battle that no ordinary man could do. You have hid your true talents well. It is a pity everyone thinks you a renegade with no honor now.”
Zeren sighed. Sardom always had a way of putting him at ease. Of all the members in the Black Dargons, he always got along with Hreth’s brother the most. The various mercenary outfits in Lethe would compete for the best contracts handed out by the Watchers, the Magi, or the great houses, and there were times when one group would end up fighting another. In the end, it was all professional and grudges were discouraged- for once the contracts had expired, there would be no more retaliation against perceived slights, lest the entire city descend into chaos. Individual conflicts were usually settled with duels, and the one who remained alive would be treated honorably afterwards. Zeren always hid his mindforce, primarily unleashing it when there would be no witnesses to tell the tale. His fighting skills were formidable, and they were usually enough to win against his opponents. Nevertheless, there were times he would use an invisible push here or a pull there to gain a subtle edge. By the time any of his adversaries realized he was a Vis user, they were already dead or dying.
“Since you are indeed a child of Vis, then even you must admit that the tale of your massacring the tavern makes sense,” Lobron said. “The Watch came not long after, and they could not find any truth to the strange men you claimed to have fought against.”
Zeren was frustrated now. His pleas were falling on deaf ears. “That is because those dazed men were led by the Magi. It was the Magi that told those lies to the Watchers, and it was the Magi that took away the bodies.”
Sardom looked up as if lost in thought. “Are you saying that the Magi are responsible for what happened? Why?”
“Your brother met me at the tavern because I had some business to discuss with him,” Zeren said. “I raided a Magi caravan a few eventides ago and found they were transporting some strange weapons. I am sure that those blank eyed men I fought against had something to do with it. I have no doubt that they tracked me down to that tavern and I was the one they wanted killed. The others were just unlucky.”
“These blank eyed men were not Magi?” Lobron asked.
“No, but they were under control by either a Magus or a Striga who was working with the Order,” Zeren said. “Hreth told me that the Magi were recruiting everyone with promises of gold, and many were never seen again. One of the strange men I fought against looked familiar to me, I think he might have been a member of the Stinger mercenary group once.”
Lobron looked up in surprise. “There … is some truth to your words. My second, a man named Yarbram, has gone missing and I was told that he was last seen in the temple of Vis.”
“Many of the Black Dargons have not been seen either,” Sardom said. “I have lost roughly half the men who had been serving under my brother and me for so long. I do not know what has become of them. We have searched most of the city, even the sewers for a number of moons, and still no word.”
Zeren felt a bit of relief. They were finally starting to believe him. “Everything points to the Magi Order. They are up to something and it is imperative we find out what it is.”
“The Magi are but few in number these days,” Lobron said. “I can understand that they would hire mercenaries for whatever hidden motive they have, but your tale of dazed men who could withstand mortal wounds is too strange to be believed. I know of nothing that could somehow bewitch a man and stop him from bleeding.”
Sardom turned to look at his counterpart. “I find no reason why Zeren here would lie about such things. If he said that he did not kill the patrons in the tavern, then I believe him. I think we should hold a general council among all the warrior outfits and discuss this.”
Lobron shrugged. “That will not be an easy task. I can hardly believe Zeren’s tale myself. As of this moment, all the other mercenary leaders want his head because of the gold that is being offered for it. To get them to listen to a story like what I have just heard will be nigh impossible.” He turned, indicating that he was shifting his attention to Zeren. “The gold that has been offered is substantial, and it is enough to entice every single outfit to slay you, Zeren. The coinage would make the lucky one who brings your head in to claim the reward into a minor noble. With motivation like that, hardly anyone will listen to reason. I only accompanied Sardom because he is a trusted ally, and I had wondered about my missing men.”
Sardom gave a reluctant nod. “Yes, that is true. We need proof of what you say, Zeren. I agreed to this meeting because of our mutual respect and Lobron here came along only because he wants to know what happened to his second. The other leaders were not interested in parley- they just want you dead.”
The sound of footsteps was heard by all three. Zeren instantly crouched down, pulling his body deeper into the shadows. Sardom and Lobron turned at each other’s backs. A bone arrow flew through the air, embe
dding itself into Lobron’s upper right leg. The mercenary leader of the Silver Shields cried out in pain as he staggered backwards. Zeren ran towards them as two more arrows shot through the air, but this time he used his mindforce to deflect them away.
“This way!” Zeren said, grabbing Lobron by the arm and hustling him to a nearby column. Another arrow came at them, and Zeren once again deflected it with his Vis. Sardom drew his battleaxe as he ran after them until all three got behind one of the stone pillars near the side of the hall.
Lobron cursed as he snapped away part of the arrow shaft in his leg. The point had penetrated just below his leather gambeson. “By the gods, someone must have followed us here.”
Sardom peered out from the side of the pillar. He noticed a number of shadows converging on them from multiple sides. He immediately recognized the pointy leather helmets that a number of the assailants wore. “It is the Stings,” he said tersely.
Zeren poked his head past in the other direction and saw four more shadows making their way towards the three of them. The Stingers were the largest mercenary outfit in the entire city. Rumors abounded that they were financed by one of the great houses to act as assassins and taskmasters for whatever was needed to be done covertly. Their leader was Ujurok, a former pit fighter who earned the sobriquet of Blood Drinker. The Stingers didn’t care who it was that they killed, and many of the other outfits hated them. Duels against members of the Stingers were uncommon, due to the fact that Ujurok or his hulking second in command preferred to act as champion for any of their men, and they were undefeated when it came to one on one combat.
A loud voice boomed across the desolate hall. “Sardom and Lobron, surrender now and I shall grant you ransom. All I want is the Grimgrin.”
Lobron winced from the pain in his leg. But his anger won out. “You dare to attack us here? This is sanctuary ground for all of us, you misbegotten son of a mangy canis!”
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