Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1)

by Becker, Shawn

  Tair then saw the danger she was in. Vettis had hired Jes to steal the crowns from the town coffer and hide them under Tair’s bunk to frame her and then he murdered Jes to keep his secret. Vettis stepped lightly to the cell, Tair’s dagger in one hand and the cell key in the other. She saw the slight shift of madness in his eyes. They were no longer the soft brown of the affluent Hillden boy; they were the hard black of a resolute killer.

  “I need you gone,” he repeated, setting the key into the cell door’s lock.

  ***

  Myst half-ran, half-stumbled away from the Almdor estate, ignoring the autumn wind that chilled the tears running down her cheeks. She walked blindly, thinking only of the fact that she was unable to say goodbye to her mother. Myst had hoped her father would see that marrying Vettis was not what she wanted for herself. Her uncle saw this and perhaps this was why her father reacted so. It was possible that her father did know what she wanted, but because his outcast brother saw it first, Torvel Almdor chose to ignore it. Deep down, Myst knew it would come to this. Still, she cried. She cried for the twenty years of her life spent at the estate, playing amongst the wheat tip fields, and swimming in the river. To be an outcast of a family was to be banished from Joram’s Bend, unless you had special skills to offer, like her uncle.

  During those three months that she and Tair were on the run, Myst had always known that she could come back, that she could explain everything. Now, Myst was banished, left without a home. Playtime was over. There were no more excuses, no more reasons to hide behind. The open road was now her home and she would be damned if she walked it alone. Teeg would let Tair go, or she would wait until she was on the road to Fhaalvak and ‘convince’ her escorts to let her go. She was quite sure she could handle anyone Uncle Teeg sent – as long as it was not the Sherrif himself.

  A soft cough behind her made her reach for a sword that wasn’t there. She laughed at herself. How skittish she had become since leaving home. She turned to see Laridiya approaching, the cowl of her brown cloak pulled low over her eyes. The frown on the healer’s face told Myst that she was not happy with the council’s decision.

  “I would speak with you,” she said firmly.

  Myst nodded. “I heard you and the others were offered only one night’s shelter.”

  “Do they not know of the Zynnashans? Are they so confident in their defenses?” Laridiya stood with Myst, south of the Almdor Estate and north of the town square. To the east, the mesa dropped, giving the two a panoramic view of the eastern fields. The Tebis’non streamed steadily from the bend and into the dark line of trees like a black snake writhing through the harvest fields.

  Myst could see the small fires of those men and women who stayed in small huts or camps through the night so that they could return to their work before dawn without having to take the lengthy walk from town. “The council feels that the Zynnashans will move on once they learn that their property is not here.”

  Laridiya snorted and shook her head. “Our magister said the same thing. He even met the leader of their attack force to insist they did not have what they sought.”

  “He didn’t do a very good job,” Myst said with a hint of sarcastic mirth.

  “They took his head off.”

  Myst shuddered, a sudden image of her stubborn father meeting the savage lion Zyn Beast, his pleas unheard as the creature sank its jaws into his fleshy neck. They had to do something! Myst realized the irony of defending a town that no longer wanted her, but she was not so cold-blooded as to ignore those that were not part of the council, of those who were not her father.

  “Come with me,” Myst urged the healer. “Sheriff Teeg is the only man who will listen to us. He’ll be able to get the defenses started before the Zynnashans get here.”

  Laridiya suddenly grasped Myst’s good shoulder, forcing her to look toward the river. “We’re too late,” she whispered.

  The metallic dome of the Zynnashan vessel floated silently out of the eastern tree line upon the river, darker than the water, blacker than the night itself. The ship slowed as it approached the first of the eastern fields and stopped as it reached the first of the campsites and shanties. Myst thought she could almost see the small figures of Zyn Beasts on top of the ship, pointing at the fields.

  And then the fires began.

  14

  The High Temple of Diathanos in Kaalé was a unique structure that dominated the southwestern corner of the capital city with its two gleaming towers and crystal-domed cathedral. Surrounding the shining steelstone buildings were acres of lush, grassy hills dotted with copses of whitebark, dancing willows, and the occasional ancient oak. Pathways of crushed quartz weaved in and out of these trees and lay upon the gentle hills like eternal rivers of gleaming snow. Manicured hedges and low brush mingled with clumps of wildflowers to give the illusion that the compound was evenly balanced with nature, but here and there were reminders of human comfort interspersed among the flora. White marble and stained wooden benches, ivory statues with gleaming jewels, small and large fountains carved with effigies of Diathanos in varying forms, and glass gaslights hanging from sterile-looking white-iron posts could be found all around the complex.

  The compound was protected by four walls of thick steelstone and a crenellated guard tower at each compass point, giving the entire structure the shape of a diamond. Each rounded tower housed a portcullis on either side, allowing secured entry onto the grounds. The east and west towers were larger and led directly to both main entrances of the cathedral – paying homage to the sunrise and sunset given by Diathanos. The smaller southern and northern gate towers were usually closed. These were rarely used since they faced sections of Kaalé that were sparsely occupied. The southern tower was close to Kaalé’s massive city wall, while the northern tower overlooked the inner-city warehouse district.

  Upon the north tower stood one of the Palidiamos, his diamond-dusted armor shining in the early night. He paced the top of the parapet, recounting the fifteen steps it took him to reach from one side to the other. His shift was nearly over and he looked forward to removing his armor and attending the evening mass that was held nightly within the glorious cathedral. He enjoyed going to evening worship where Chancellor Tevic and his bishops would pray to Diathanos to give him strength against the night, to keep his malevolent brother, Maalithor, at bay. It was a battle that he and his comrades could aid the Light-Giver in, one that assured the coming of the sun the next day.

  Fifteen steps.

  The paladin once more turned to the west, adjusting the halberd he carried against his shoulder. It lasted for only a split-second, but the guard froze as he spotted a purple flash near the first row of warehouses that stood a mere thirty feet away from the tower. The paladin kept his eyes on the spot, focusing his eyes and forcing them to observe everything. He waited a few minutes, his nerves on alert. Nothing moved in the shadows cast by the torchlight of the tower. Normally, he would have just thought it a flicker of the light or his eyes playing tricks on him, but Protector D’ghelle had insisted that all of them pay special attention to their surroundings and to watch for any Magi approaching the temple. Everyone knew that the foul magic-users were becoming belligerent over their expulsion from Kaalé and Chancellor Tevic felt that retaliation could come at any moment. Casting one last glance at the dark buildings, the paladin continued his march, waiting for his replacement.

  On the street below, the holy warrior failed to notice the air shimmer. The shadows shifted, writhed, and came apart, one moving around and behind the low warehouse, hiding from any more prying eyes encased in steel. The shade coalesced into a humanoid shape until it took the solid form of Sajiix's apprentice, Kaelyn. She barely had to time to recover from her trek through the shadowpath when the amethysts on the foci she wore on her right wrist flared with purple light. Kaelyn cursed and jammed her right arm deep into her cloak, whirling around the corner so that the paladin did not spot her. The foci flashed again, its intense glow informing her that her
Dhama was within the walls of the High Temple. With a grim countenance, she slunk down the alley, her mind reeling from the idea that the House of Diathanos had stepped so far beyond its bounds. The Elementai had to be informed immediately. She sent a quick prayer to the Shadow Goddess that there would be enough time to save Sajiix and moved even faster along the walls of the darkened warehouses.

  Had Kaelyn kept her mind on her surroundings, she would have noticed three figures that kept to their own shadows, following her.

  ***

  Tienn Draanyr watched Ayce win his fifth round of Bards Bluff and listened to the four men sitting at the round table grumble about his luck. Tienn leaned against the corner of the bar nearby, keeping an eye on anyone who might have a grudge against Ayce. Not that there would be. Most of the regulars here knew who he and Ayce were. Even after eight years, the fame they inherited from the Defender’s Guild still clung to them. Tienn found it to be beneficial most times. No one wanted to openly argue or fight with those that defeated the Gray Dragon of Fettlebjorn. Yet, there were moments he could barely stomach – those moments when an adventurer recognized him, offered to buy him a round, and begged to hear a few tales of the Defender’s Guild – all the while staring at his purple skin with a mixture of wonder and fear. Tienn supposed his unnatural skin would always single him out, even if his exploits with the Guild were fated to languish in history books.

  Thankfully, tonight was not one of those nights. The regulars here at MacGrunn’s Tavern knew Ayce and Tienn, knew of their affiliation to the Guild, and knew not to pester them about it. The men and women here were local merchants, spending some of their profit from today’s sales. They were not the adventurous type. They were not mercenaries. They were gem-hawkers, fish mongers, tailors, and tinkerers looking for nothing more than to blow off some steam - which was why he and Ayce were here.

  Ayce had been complaining for weeks that he needed to get “out” – away from training the initiates of the new Guild, away from the dull routine of repairing the old building. He wanted to gamble, to drink, to carouse with local barmaids. It was something within Ayce’s nature. He wasn’t callous about his libations, he never cheated, and he was always kind to the hardworking women that brought him his ale. Ayce just liked to have fun. But Cassius had put a harsh restriction on fraternizing with the initiates – leaving only the former knight and Tienn as entertainment. Sadly, Cassius kept to himself and Tienn was neither a social drinker, nor a gambler. So, every once in awhile, Tienn would accompany Ayce to one of the last taverns in Kaalé not policed by the church: MacGrunn’s.

  Tienn watched with a resigned sigh as Ayce began dealing another round of disks. Leaning casually to his left, Tienn took another small sip of the woodberry wine that sat near him. He grimaced as the wine touched his lips. He preferred it chilled, but it had grown warm sitting in the same pewter goblet since he arrived nearly two hours before. His heart was not in on the night’s festivities. All Tienn could think about was the fight between Cassius and Sajiix. The experience had placed a pall over his training with the initiates and he wondered, not for the first time, if reopening the Guild was a wise decision. He had attempted to speak with Cassius about it, but the man refused to even see him. Cassius was not a hateful man, but he was stubborn.

  His mind returned to Sajiix with another sip of wine. I should have gone with him, he thought. Tienn was aware of all the affairs and love trysts that Sajiix was involved with ten years ago and he did not condone his friend’s behavior. But, Tienn was one of the few that spoke against removing the Magi from the Guild. Those that had voted against him did so only to make him an easy mark. The Defender’s Guild was already falling apart, and it was easy to blame its disease on one man. He pleaded with his fellow Guild masters to make the decision without emotion – to think logically of what they were doing. In the end, he was in the minority and Sajiix was banished.

  His eviction did little to save the Guild. Two years later, the Guild’s doors were locked and its members were separated and spread across the realms of Vasalius. To this day, those former Guildsmen still refuse to admit that banishing Sajiix was wrong.

  When Cassius had contacted Tienn about restarting the Defender’s Guild, he had mixed emotions about it. He was living comfortably in the Schedoch Plains in far southern Kaalmoore, assisting the local sheriff with renegade gangs of thieves that were praying on the outlying farmlands. Tienn had plenty of crowns to keep him living comfortably for decades and the work he did was appreciated by the townsfolk. It was quiet, it was peaceful. He worked on his own terms.

  But he missed his companions.

  When Cassius rode up to his small home with Ayce next to him, Tienn nearly wept. They spent the night talking of their current lives and their past adventuring days (the ghost of Sajiix was somehow avoided) and that was when Cassius offered to open the Defender’s Guild once more. A lack of sleep and an emotional ride through his past had weakened Tienn’s resolve and by the next full moon, he found himself in Kaalé, cleaning out his old quarters in the guild building. During the last spring, Ayce and Cassius had posted notices through a dozen small towns, announcing the revival of the Defender’s Guild and it was not long before they had a handful of initiates to train.

  By the time summer had arrived, Tienn was sure the new Guild would fail. Only three of the five initiates remained and he felt no affinity for these younger adventurers. Cassius seemed to forget that what had made their Guild so great was the friendship they all had with one another. The connection was so powerful between them it even affected the Guildsmen that came later. Everyone felt a kinship, an attachment that strengthened the very essence of what the Guild stood for: Equality, justice, and honor. This new incarnation of the Guild did not have that spark. Perhaps if they had invited Sajiix back, or anyone else from the old Guild for that matter, then maybe they stood a chance. Of course, this brought Tienn’s thoughts back to how stubborn Cassius is and how disheartening it was to see him and Sajiix come to blows…again.

  Tienn felt tired. He glanced over at the table. Ayce had three mandolins and two harps; he was going to win this round as well. Shaking his head with the faint trace of a smile, he left a gold crown on the bar and stepped toward the table. “I am done for the evening,” he told Ayce.

  The bearded gambler nodded, “I’ll be back after I clean out these dupes.”

  Tienn eyed the other three players who stared at Ayce with competitive anger. “The ‘dupes’ can hear you,” he remarked. “Try to go easy on them. You are not spending your day’s wages.”

  “You know what they say about fires and getting burned,” Ayce smiled at his fellow gamblers. “But I hear you,” he said softly to Tienn.

  For a moment, Tienn felt that old camaraderie, that spark that told him that their friendship was right…that it was a part of some greater design. But then he saw the fury in Cassius’s eyes as he charged at Sajiix and the feeling slipped away. Feeling sick, Tienn grasped Ayce by the shoulder in farewell and then maneuvered through the small tavern crowd, stepping through the single door into the cool night air. Drawing the hood of his gray cloak over his eyes, Tienn began to walk toward the Guild.

  The hour was growing late and there were few people on the streets. Tienn reveled in the silence, the only sound coming from the soft tread of his leather boots and the soft hiss of the gaslights that lined the street like a magical trail of stars leading him home. He kept his head low, thoughts of Sajiix and the Guild still hammering a persistent beat in his mind. Would the Guild have survived if Sajiix had not been banished? Tienn doubted that very much, but there was always the chance that their friendship would have remained amicable. It was not the Guild that kept him a part of the eclectic group of adventurers, so much as the friendships that were created out of it. Sajiix, Cassius, Ayce, Saerle, and Quesheks were people he still considered friends – in spite of what they thought of him. And he missed the days when they were all together, joined in a union to battle the forces of tyranny
and darkness.

  Now it just seemed like a sad parody.

  The night had become considerably darker, causing Tienn to pause and take in his surroundings. He sighed, shaking his head and chuckling at the fates. His wandering had brought him to the Dragon’s Tale Inn. The gaslights were further and further apart here, the city not bothering to light them near defunct proprieties. The inn’s sign swung on rusted hinges, creaking in the autumn breeze like the dusty bones of some long-dead beast. The wooden slats that made up the exterior were once apple red, but time and inattention had faded them to a ruddy brown. The windows of the lower and upper floors were shuttered and covered with planks of wood. The stone steps leading to the inn’s now tarnished bronze doors were cracked and crumbling.

  The inn was dead. It was a testament to everything connected with the Defender’s Guild of old. The kinships made from the Guild, the alliances forged from their work, everything good that had come out of it was gone. All he, Cassius, and Ayce were doing was trying to breathe life into a corpse.

  Harsh laughter exploded nearby. It startled Tienn so much that his hand darted to the hilt of his rapier as he lowered into a defensive crouch. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the night, his Draaken heritage giving him the gift of seeing images in the dark as clearly as if they were showered in sunlight. The laughter ebbed into a chuckle from two different voices that drifted out of the alley that made up the back of the inn. A third voice gave a harsh order; its scratchy tone was much different than the other two. He heard a female respond with a defiance tinged with fear. More laughter echoed eerily around the corner. Tienn was halfway to the alley before he realized he had drawn his rapier, its thin blade briefly flashing blue from the crescent moon above.