A moment of truth came when the ship was deemed to be no more than thirty miles offshore from the target city of Kaspista. Eudon and the captains didn’t want to sail much closer without getting a better idea as to the situation in the city and the nation as a whole. With Uthosis not much more than a jumble of city states, civil war and wide-ranging instability had been common in the region for the past three hundred years. Anyone with the pull to gather an army disciplined enough to herd sheep could conquer one of the valuable port cities in the west or mining towns to the east. Most of the army would then get drunk and disband, leaving their city open to more attacks.
Kaspista was chosen as our first possible harbor due to it being the least prone to chaos. There wouldn’t be much trading coming in from the sea if it weren’t for the merchant caste paying a high price to keep a hodgepodge of mercenaries guarding their neglected walls. Still, this was a precarious relationship, one that we predicted the Advent had infiltrated years ago to watch over the only practical way to enter the crowded highlands of the Vyalts.
A good chunk (or bad chunk, in our case) of the two thousand long mountain chain was home to clouded peaks recurrently disgorging molten rock, sun-stealing smoke, and choking gases. On top of that, Ghevont said earthquakes were a frequent consequence of volcanic activity. And it’s not as though regular mountains didn’t have their dangers. Finger-snapping temperatures, avalanches, rockslides, and trolls all waited for us as well. I preferred the idea of fighting men than nature, but I had to be careful what I wished for.
To first check if we had to fight men, Eudon ordered a griffin scout team to fly to Kaspista and get updates from the locals. Each ship had a trio of soldiers who learned to summon griffins, a hardy creature perfectly suited for short-range scout missions. If one had never beheld a griffin up close or seen a decent illustration of them, then they were often told to mash a lion with an eagle to get an idea of their appearance. But as I witnessed three being summoned right before my eyes, I recognized such a description to be the easy way out.
First and foremost, like dogs, bugs, and dragons, griffins came in different shapes and sizes. It just so happened that Orda warriors often summoned the species that carried the rough outline of a lion. However, while the powerful lion-like body demonstrated remarkable battlefield prowess, its heavy build did not allow for the agile aerial display most imagined griffin and rider performing. The airborne physique belonged to the whiptail species, the species now being summoned before me. These majestic animals were as tall as draft horses, but their semi-hollow bones had them weighing much less. The bottom half of their four reedy legs were featherless and ended in nibble talons deadly to anyone without proper armor, a shield, or ward.
Notwithstanding all the dark brown feathers and two broad wings, the torso of the whiptail reminded me of the body of a cheetah—at least if the artwork I saw of the feline matched the real thing. Apart from a slim, feathered tail that doubled the length of the griffin and gave it its name, the bursting muscles at its shoulders caught the eye. This humped pack of potent power gave the griffin the capacity to carry a fully armored rider fifty miles before tiring. If one disregarded their vulpine ears, then the whiptail’s head did uphold the shape of a bronzed eagle, and its robust neck grew a flurry of yellowish feathers that somewhat resembled a lion’s mane.
I watched the three griffins and their riders drop briefly behind the hull before reappearing in the early morning horizon to the east. As they climbed higher and smaller into the sky, Aranath expanded on a Ghevont comment to explain that the intelligent species of griffins—known as high griffins to humans—remained a rare human companion due to their inherent distrust of magic in all its forms. This was why few fell for the magical lures humans dangled to attract otherworldly creatures. They were also tightly bonded with their life mates, forcing a human to gain the trust of both before one agreed to forge a lasting bond of summoning.
Our fleet drifted eastward as we waited for the scouting team to return. The weather turned colder, wetter, and darker by the time the soldier in the crow’s nest shouted down the reappearance of the griffins. They landed on the slippery deck with poise and voraciously ate the fresh fish brought to them as their reward, making them emit what I suppose were happy squawks. The lead rider came up to the captain, who stood outside his cabin. Lorcan, Lucetta, Ghevont, and I were invited to join the captain and the rider’s briefing.
The lead rider was also Eudon’s right hand military man on board. He was a twenty-eight-year-old man with the potential to someday lead the entire Alslana griffin corps named Lieutenant Turell Nedica. His long black hair, sun-kissed skin, and muscular leanness almost made me swoon. As it was, I only respected his levelheadedness and the skill he wielded spell and spear.
“What did you find, lieutenant?” asked Eudon.
“A godsdamn shithole, sir. I’ve never seen a more depressing place. You can tell the city was once a grand place. It makes it all the sadder knowing that. More vexing than sad is the political state. The city’s regent was assassinated three weeks ago. Not a huge loss when the title holder is no more than a figurehead, but the mercenary captain decided to make it a more meaningful position.”
“Let me guess,” said Lucetta, “not everyone fell in love with the idea.”
“Aye, Madam Ambrose. The old mercenary captain didn’t get to decree more than his own breaths before some of his own men stopped those as well. The mercenary group split up to three or four different rival factions after that, becoming nothing more than roving gangs. Most of the wealthier merchants can pay for protection and keep a modicum of trade open, but everyone else is free game. The rest of Uthosis doesn’t sound a great deal cheerier. The gods of curses and madness appear to be taking every opportunity the Advent are giving them to strengthen their hold here. Fatefully, the lack of a central power should keep us safe at sea. And even should they organize, no ship in their harbor is a match for our own.”
“Sounds as though we can take the city ourselves,” said Ghevont.
With a snicker, Eudon said, “The sight of foreign soldiers occupying their fruitless land might be the only circumstance that will unite everyone against us, master scholar. So, lieutenant, do you recommend docking at their port?”
“No, sir. Though I anticipate we could defend our position well enough if you choose the option. My recommendation, however, would be to anchor at a small alcove two miles south of the city. It’s quiet and used mainly by a fishing village. Until we can find a proper client for our coin, then it’ll be as safe a place as any.”
“‘Proper’ will have nothing to do with it,” said Lorcan.
“True enough,” said Eudon. “Our first goal will be to find someone with the connections and know-how to use our gold quickly and effectively. We don’t have the time or the odds to vet for an honorable man here. I suspect getting into contact with the most influential merchants will give us what we need. Do the merchants still have a central guild house, lieutenant?”
“It’s more of a grand tavern in the only part of town that isn’t crumbling. Folk say you’ll see men as round as pregnant hippos begin to enter the place not an hour after the sun has reached its zenith. They then don’t come out until an hour after midnight. They call it Ut Remeck Sor.”
“What does that mean?” asked Lucetta.
“The Dead Butterfly,” answered Ghevont. “It might also mean ‘The Dying Butterflies.’ The words are of the now largely defunct Kevlehan language. Uthosis used to speak it before-”
“Thank you, master scholar,” said Eudon. “All right, then we’ll sail for the alcove now and get a contingent to the Butterfly before noon.”
“May I as be so bold to suggest something?” asked Lorcan.
“You may.”
“I understand time is precious, but I say you allow me and my men a day of due diligence. We can gain access to the city without drawing attention, then gather a little intel on these merchants before meeting with them.”
>
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
Lucetta smiled. “Even cities flowing with gold and prosperity will have dens where lonely cocks will take advantage of the hospitality of women who are paid to say ‘yes.’ Now take that whorehouse into a city where ruin and death are as common as the cocks, and you got a smelly wellspring of information ready to be tapped. Give us a little coin to bribe the head mistress and we’ll give you the names of the main players.”
“I agree with Lady Ambrose,” said the lieutenant. “I’d prefer it if the father of her majesty not go in blind in his meetings with the merchants.”
“Very well,” assented Eudon. “It would be remiss of me to ignore both my lieutenant and the wisdom of the underworld. As soon as we anchor, Master Eberwolf will gather his men and set off to the brothel. Return before the next nightfall and I’ll make my next move based on the available information. Agreed?”
They did.
The ships took the next couple of hours to find the alcove. I found a nap in the meanwhile…
Since Clarissa and Ghevont would be of little help in a brothel, I told them to stay on the ship. Clarissa didn’t like it, of course, but she couldn’t give me a good reason why she would be useful gathering information while trying to keep her vampirism hidden at the same time. Lorcan wanted to keep the spy team small, so the squad consisted of Lucetta, her husband, Aristos, and myself.
When the ships finally discovered their niche of the sea amidst the shivering darkness and dainty mist, our boat lowered into the shallow depths. Lucetta manipulated the water underneath the boat to push us toward land in hushed haste.
We did not immediately disembark when we caught sight of the shore, instead choosing to trace it until Lorcan spotted a rocky peninsula. Using a mix of spells, Lucetta carefully placed the boat between two larger rocks while Aristos compacted loose stones to pin the boat’s sides to it. The position kept the boat secure and out of sight. That done, we climbed out and walked to smoother ground.
I liked the cold, and spending weeks coated in sea ice made me accustomed to the worst winter had to offer, but there was something about stepping on to a foreign land overseen by a surreptitious enemy that produced a different kind of shiver. Not even the burned dragon stones I held in my hands eased this type of arctic anxiety. The road to Kaspista’s wall was a lonely one, but not exactly serene. Indistinguishable scratching, screeching, and garbled noises came from the sea to our left and the shriveled woods to our right. I couldn’t for the life of me tell what they were. Beasts killing men? Men killing beasts? Women strangling sick cats? More vice versa? Whatever the case, they soon died away the closer we came to Kaspista.
As the lieutenant pointed out, the wall was weighed down by fungus and mold as much by its stone blocks. In the patches free of stain and muck, one could still make out a dulled whiteness hiding underneath a barrier that stood sixty feet tall in the handful of segments that had not already eroded or outright collapsed. Since no one wanted to pay anyone the amount it would take to keep an eye on the gates in the middle of a winter night, my spy team had no trouble gaining admittance.
The lieutenant’s description of Kaspista did not do justice to the misery I witnessed. It was as though the cracked buildings of battered stone were the objectification of not only a near dead crone, but one that derived joy from torturing a man’s sight by dancing without wearing a scrap of clothing. A lone tower of black and white marked the epicenter of town, the last standing of the sacred sextuplets. The void streets were frozen rivers of mud and the scant plant life screamed at passersby to be put out of their withered existence. Glum howls from loose dogs billowed higher than the gray smoke curls escaping most chimneys.
Worst of all were the huddled beggars in the alleys, doing everything possible to stave off hypothermia. Going by their black fingers and toes, or lack of them, “everything possible” did not always work. Knowing four ships full of coin were going to go to be donated to an already rich fuck only ambitious about their own prospects turned my slushing stomach upside down. Good thing I didn’t eat much before coming.
Going by the loathing way people exited their homes to get to their place of trade, I concluded that the townspeople must have held a similar opinion of their settlement as I did. The only real activity came from dock workers and rambunctious children far too ignorant to recognize the cold and their piss poor situation. It was the dock workers we asked about the best place to find the best pussy, but there would be no surprise if I learned that the urchins once had a close association with these same pussies. A brothel called Nirvana’s Gate was mentioned the most, though their accents made it sound like Nirvania’s Cat.
As expected, the upstanding institute was located near the poshest part of town. Nirvana’s Gate turned out to be an easy structure to spot. It stood as one of the few buildings to be chiefly composed of wood and rose three stories up. Mingling more than defending the main entrance were men armed with cheap weapons and armored with another empire’s scrap.
As we made our way to the double doors, the most athletic fat man I ever saw stopped us and said, “You’re prepared to give up your weapons once inside? We hold them for you, safe and sound, yes?” When we said yes, he said, “Good. Have good time with good girls!”
The doors opened to an enclosed room holding coats and weapons. Two older women placed our banned items behind a counter. Before I gave them Aranath, I cheekily instructed him to treat the women nicely unless they carried him out of the room. The women then asked for our orders. As we had agreed to beforehand, Aristos bought two of their most popular girls while Lorcan and Lucetta requested a meeting with the madam of the brothel to talk about their unique and lavish tastes. The response was for them to wait for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, I ordered their best man. Aristos and Lucetta grinned their stupid faces off, but since I wasn’t actually looking for a bloke’s sensual companionship, I didn’t indulge their humor by reacting. The women checked their ledger, rang a bell twice to summon a young boy and a younger girl, and instructed them to take Aristos and I to our rooms.
An earthy incense absorbed some of the sticky stench inevitable in this type of place, but whiffs of it just as inevitably shoved up my nostrils. The first floor was a lounge area furnished with pink couches and big plush chairs. Four minstrels in a corner inconspicuously strummed lute and throat for the dozen men and mostly stark-naked girls on their laps. The boy led Aristos to a room in the back while the girl scampered toward the stairs at the corner and pointed up.
“All the way to the top floor, sir. Room six. Yemy will be with you in a few minutes. If anyone says, I took you all the way to the top.”
Before I could think of tipping her, she ran off to a room behind a red curtain. I followed her directions, reaching an unlocked door that housed a big round bed of dark pink in the back center of the space. For a room meant to have people without their clothes, every wall had a large armoire, which weren’t only for show based on the density of clothes in an open one. A small fireplace hugged the outer corner.
I waited beside the fireplace for five minutes before hearing footsteps coming from the hall. The dandy black man that crossed the threshold wore a red vest and uncomfortably tight trousers under an open purple robe. His middle-aged figure was finely chiseled and cleanly shaven. The black hair on his head stood as short as possible.
With an accent smoother to my ears, the man I presumed to be Yemy said, “Forgive me for the wait, master. Or do you prefer I be the master, hm?” He shut the door and looked me up and down. “Delectable! But why so shy? Go ahead and get comfortable.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m here for information, nothing more.”
He frowned and put hands to his hips. “You can go to any ol’ tavern for that.”
“That will be another stop, I’m sure. For now, I have you here. I also have a few silver and gold standards on me. The more I learn, the more you earn.”
“My, my, I’m not
sure I have one silver standard’s worth of info, honey.”
“We’ll see, but I’ll give you a gold one for wasting your time. Or will you refuse even that?”
“‘Course not, but I will look a gift horse in the mouth and ask why so much coin can be invested in little ol’ me.”
“There’s a lot more at the ready to accomplish an important goal. Have you heard of the Advent?”
He raised a titillated eyebrow. Without looking, he backed into a comfy chair and sat down. “Lots of whispers when they’re spoken of. Almost like ghost stories. They’re like religious fanatics or something, right? What do they have to do with Uthosis? With you?”
“They could be a major reason why this nation is has been a sewer for decades, maybe longer. An Alslana force is anchored not far from here. We seek a way to cross into the mountains and flush out the Advent from their base, but to do this we need to come to an understanding with someone with pull.”
“Ah, and you need to identify these pullers.”
“Aye. My team is here with me, getting what they can from the girls and your madam. So, even if you don’t feel you can provide much information, we’ll get our names.”
“If I’m following this right, Alslana is willing to choose Kaspista’s next big player to earn a favor, right?”
“I realize that won’t sit well with many, but I don’t think it will matter much. It’s not like this place can get any worse.”
“Indeed, and I’m not upset about outsider interference, mind you. I’m one myself. Originally from Dracera, but fella on fella lovin’ is not exactly seen as favorable to the notion of balance there. The good thing about living in a sewer is that no one cares who’s livin’ and lovin’ in it.”
“I currently care about the livin’ part.”
“Right, right. Say, instead of gold, would you give me a kiss or two?”
“I’d rather give up the gold.”
Flight of the Dragon Knight (The Dragon Knight Series Book 3) Page 7