“Piking hells, you still with us?”
Ryker opened one eye, and then the other. The tempest of sound had gone still around him. He was on his knees in the middle of the worn dirt road, breathing as heavily as if he had just finished his morning calisthenics. Looming over him like a thunderhead was Vegard, concern on his face. Ryker peaked around Vegard's massive frame and saw the results of his waking dream. Children were staring at him as their mothers herded them inside. The elderly couple from before stood down by their bench. The wife looked almost embarrassed, while the husband had a knowing, sympathetic look on his face. The old man whispered something to his wife and walked towards them. As he walked, his wife's expression turned to sympathy as well.
“Ahoy there big man,” the old man called out to Vegard. He pointed to Ryker, who was still on his knees. “Is he your friend?”
Vegard turned to the man. “Aye, yet for some reason I can't figure out why.”
“Were you Legion with him?”
Vegard nodded, a grin on his face. “Yeah,” he eyed Ryker with a wry grin as he spoke. “We was in the Hammers. Poor sod took a shot to the head awhile back. Explains a lot of things, shit like this being one of them.”
“Well you take care of him, you hear? My two boys both came back from the Melcaran border with fits after their discharge. They needed us badly, just like he needs you.”
Vegard gave the man a Legion salute and then leaned down and helped Ryker to his feet. He waited until the older man rejoined his wife and walked away before turning back towards his second-in-command. The good humor was gone from his face, and he ran a hand through his short blonde hair.
“Planes sir, what was that?”
“What was what?” Ryker's voice was flat as he struggled to process what had just happened.
“Pike you, sir. I'm the closest thing you have to a medico. If you don't tell me now what the hells that was, I'll go to the Commander and he will make you tell me.”
Ryker's eyes widened, and he shook free of Vegard's arm. “No, no you don't have to tell him. Look it’s just...” he paused. How in the hells could he explain it all without sounding like he was losing it? Was he going insane? Or was he a man in need of magical intervention, he thought with a chill. “I've just been having some really piked up dreams lately. Can't seem to get enough sleep because of them. I think I'm just, just really gods damned tired, you know?”
Vegard eyed him for a moment, but nodded. “I'll accept that. For now.”
“Good. So, what did the boss man say our plan is?”
“Well first of all, you are to head back to Rickets. Toma should pass you on the way.” He motioned with his head and the two of them started walking down the road. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “We are going to rotate people watching the house. Garm and the Commander think that waiting another day should be enough.”
“Enough for what?” Ryker asked.
“Enough to determine if the Underking is going to actually show up. If after a day no one else joins that Kairm guy-”
“Kian,” Ryker said.
“Right, that's what I said. Anyways if no one else joins that Cream guy, then we're going to take just him.”
“And if the Underking shows up? Are we calling in backup?”
Vegard shook his head. “Garm doesn't think the local Watch here would be reliable in this. The Commander agreed. Next closest Outrider unit is Royalt's group, but they're still going to be in transit with their prisoners, so we probably won't be able to get a hold of them in time. If the Underking shows up, the Commander is going to send them a message anyways while we keep them under watch. Garm is pretty confident that the Underking doesn't travel with many guards, so we may not even need Roy and his guys if it comes to that.”
Ryker was quiet for a moment as they walked. “Garm seems to know a hell of a lot about this.”
“Yeah. I'd be a little worried, but he swore he'd spill the beans on everything once this little op is finished. Well, that's not entirely true. The Commander made him swear. Made us all swear.”
“Swear what?”
“No more secrets in the group, he said. And after the Commander said that, Garm and Alek both started acting a little...off. I think something happened between the Commander and them, and he's had enough. Guess that means I'll have to tell everyone I plowed your mother, huh?”
Ryker didn't hear him, he was lost in his own thoughts. Johan had never been the type to pry into people's personal lives before. Even in the Legion, he was a soft touch with the men. What had changed all of a sudden? Was it him? He knew Johan had been noticing his stressed out behavior lately. Did he suspect something? Wait, what was that? What did Vegard just say?
“Wait, what?” he asked.
Vegard sighed. “Nothing sir. Do me a favor though, which is the house our friend is staying in?” As they walked, Ryker casually steered them to walk past the house Kian was using, with Ryker nodding imperceptibly at it as they passed it. A handful of minutes later, they stopped.
“So far, it's just him in there,” Ryker said, looking back at the house. “No one has come or gone since. I'm pretty sure he's asleep.”
Vegard regarded him for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, someone or someones could have been in there before him.”
“No, I'm positive. It's just him, and he's waiting for his buddies.”
Vegard nodded. “Alright sir, thanks for the heads up. Just, uh, just head on back to the inn for now. Get some food and some sleep. You really do look like shit.” Ryker glared at him, and Vegard raised his hands up in defense. “I mean that only in my capacity as unit medico. My professional report will read that you look to be in sub-optimal condition. Sir.”
“Right,” Ryker said, his voice dry. Gods, he thought as he walked back towards the inn. Since when was even Vegard able to run witty circles around him? He really was losing it. He had to find something to take to keep his dreams at bay. That's all he had to do, he kept telling himself. A few nights of sleep without those nightmares showing up and everything would be right as rain. He hoped. This was becoming a much bigger distraction than he had anticipated, and he hated it. He shouldn't be this preoccupied with dreams when planning to take down a notorious outlaw.
“So, the Underking. He's like, the king of criminals I take it?” Alek asked as he stuffed his mouth with cold chicken.
Garm almost nodded and grimaced slightly. He had remained seated in the back of the booth at the inn, doing his best to stay out of sight. Having Aleksander sit at the other end of the booth did an excellent job of making sure he remained hidden. “Eh, not quite. Technically he isn't really affiliated with any gang or syndicate or anything. He just does his own thing.”
“Then why is he so feared if he isn’t in charge? I thought he was running the whole show?”
Garm took a sip of watered down wine. “When we-, er, when he started out, he was in the Fringes, and he loved planning jobs. Heists, assassinations, blackmail, you name it. And he was good at it. Damn good. Had a mind for the stuff, you know? Problem was, he didn't have the kind of muscle he needed to do the jobs he planned. And he was too weak to lean on other crews or take them over. Especially in the Fringes. Not much to rob out there except livestock and water. So what he did was he kind of hired himself out. Freelance brain power. He had a few heavies, of course, both to watch his back and to be his eyes on jobs. See, he would send them on the jobs as observers to make sure shit when down the way he had planned. But it was his plans, his knowledge, that people paid for. And gods, did he make folk rich. He started out with smaller gangs around Vonderhall, devised some really crazy shit for them to do. And they almost always succeeded.”
“Almost always?” Alek asked, his mouth crammed with food.
“Well sure. Some idiots would always try and go 'off the book'. That's what the he called it when someone paid for his services but didn't follow his instructions to the letter. Anyways, the only time his plans failed were when his clients
went off the book. Word spread fast amongst the riffraff. He only had one hard rule. You couldn't hire him to use against other criminals. That was what kept him alive in those early years, I think. So street gangs, politicians, smugglers, you name it, they all came calling. Small gangs got bigger, politicians advanced, noble houses prospered. The Underking got them results. As he got bigger, his resources and influence grew. Vonderhall was his minor leagues. Now he's big time. I'd wager that most of the major criminal players in the larger city-states owe him something. Smaller mercenary groups and the like too, no doubt. So he's kind of an unofficial king among the underground, hence the name.”
“Huh,” Alek said between bites. “You know Garm, I think this is the most I've heard you say in a month.”
“What? I-” Garm looked at a loss. “Big deal,” he growled. “So I know some shit about things. What of it?”
Alek chuckled. “Nothing man. Just not used to hearing your dulcet tones so much.”
“Whatever.”
“My question now is,” Alek leaned forward a little, “do you think we can keep him? The Underking I mean.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Alek said, taking a drink, “I've got no doubts that we'll catch this guy. Let’s be honest here, we are pretty badass. But, it's not like we are going to just keep him locked up in our basement forever. I know from personal experience that an Outrider basement isn't the most secure facility for holding prisoners.” that got an amused grunt from Garm. “What happens when we turn him over to the Judicators? I mean, that piking Kinnese guy you all captured was able to bust out, and he was one man. Honestly, how long do you think the Underking would stay in chains?”
Garm considered it for a moment, his brutal face taking on an almost thoughtful look. “Hmph. Didn't think about that. Isn't really my place to think that far ahead, though. I'm still just a soldier. When the Commander gives an order, I carry it out.”
“I thought you were the one they sent to the University during training. Didn't you learn about high ideals and humanism and natural justice, shit like that?” Alek grinned. “Shouldn’t you be some kind of deep philosopher warrior monk or something?”
“They'd have to pay me more if they wanted that,” Garm said, the hint of a smile on his face. “But yeah, they sent me there. Didn’t really take too well to it though,” Garm said, tapping the side of his head. “Most of it, anyways. Besides, it's so much easier to just be a grunt and follow orders,” he said.
“I hear that,” Alek said, and they clinked cups together.
Johan squeezed past Alek and sat down in the booth. He nodded at them both as he sat.
“I've got to say,” he said, “it's still so weird seeing everyone in normal clothes.” Almost automatically Garm and Alek looked at their own clothing. All of the Outriders had changed out of their signature Outrider coats and mail and were wearing simple tunics, boots, and breeches. “We all look like out of work laborers,” he chuckled.
“So what’s the plan, Commander?” Garm asked.
Johan shrugged. “Every three hours a different pair of us will take over watching that house, except you of course. We will hit the house in the morning, whether it's the Underking and his group or just this Kian guy. He's a pretty high up member in the organization so he's a valuable target no matter what.”
“Think we can get him to talk?” Alek asked. “I mean, he may be the only one here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know of something or someone else we may want.”
Garm nodded slightly. “He's not made of stone. At least, he wasn't last I saw him. It may take him some convincing, but we should be able to figure out what is going on here.”
Johan shot Garm a warning look. “'Convincing' is all we are going to do, is that clear? We aren't torturers. We scoop him up, see what we can get out of him, and then we send him up the river. Literally. I'm sure the Judicators will be able to pick up on whatever we miss. Got it?”
Both men nodded at him.
“Good. I got us a room upstairs if either of you want to try and rest up. Ryker is already up there.” Johan said. “Alek? You and I will relieve Toma and Vegard in a few hours. Garm, you stay out of sight. Just don't ring up too much of a debt here, okay? I didn't bring enough money to fund a twenty-four hour feast.”
Johan stood to leave the booth, and both men almost saluted him. They caught themselves mid-act and just nodded at him, grins on their faces.
Horrace Logun was not an easy man to find. As Nerthus and Edda strolled through Bellkeep, they found very little on the man they wanted to speak to the most. After meeting with Ceene, the two women had headed into the city, their initial destination being governmental district. Their trip had two goals. One was to find Logun and get information from him. Where the secret project was being worked on, if he knew anything about the people involved, that sort of thing. The second goal was to simply canvas as much of the city as possible with their Trace bracelet. Edda had given her bracelet to Egveny, so as to cover more ground that day while they were all out searching. Nerthus didn’t think it would be so easy as to just walk around and find their agents sipping tea at a coffee house, but if they were being held somewhere, the Trace would find them.
Upon reaching the governmental district, the two women had learned that Logun had a small office in the area, nestled between two formidable looking guild halls. When they found it, it was locked and no one answered Edda’s knocks. Their next stop was the Keep of the Bells, on the off chance they could find Logun soliciting the local politicians as he was known to do. But again, while it was easy to find information about Logun, they could find no trace of the man himself. Walking amongst the massive, open buildings, Nerthus found herself grudgingly admitting that the governmental district of Bellkeep was impressive.
Where the rest of the city was a random hodgepodge of styles, materials, and tastes, the ruling class seemed to have a unified sense of architecture. Large granite columns lined the cobble-stoned streets, which in turn ran in orderly city blocks. The buildings here were sturdily built stone, adorned with both jagged spires, and smooth domes. In the center was the Keep of the Bells, a massive fortress that gave the Citadel back in Tethis a run for its money. When it was built, the Keep was positioned so each wall faced north, south, east, and west. And on each of these walls was a tremendous metal bell, fifteen feet in diameter. Nerthus did her best not to show her embarrassment while Edda had “oo’ed” and “ahh’ed” like country bumpkin in the big city for the first time. When they approached the Keep, however, a curious scene was playing out.
Seven heavily armed and armored soldiers were being denied entry by a group of over two dozen members of the Town Watch. The differences between Bellkeep’s soldiers and its City Watch were vast. Whereas the Bellkeep Watch wore dented metal helmets and dusty mail under faded green tabards, the plate armor worn by the soldiers was polished to a dazzling degree. The Watch’s simple cudgels looked vastly inferior to both the gleaming halberds held by the soldiers and the swords they wore on their hips.
One of the soldiers, a blonde man with a white cape on his back, a helmet held in the crook of his arm and his other hand resting on the hilt of his sword, stood forward a few paces. Their captain, Nerthus saw. Though he was young, he held himself with the same quiet dignity and confidence she remembered from Johan. He also stood with the relaxed authority of someone who belonged where he was and knew it. The leader of the Watch, while not nearly as slovenly looking as his men, paled in comparison to the soldier. Nerthus could see the disdain for the soldiers on the Watchmen's leader as he angrily strode forward to bar the soldier’s path.
“Go back to playing games out in the fields, Garrey,” the Watch leader barked. “You’re no longer needed here. Bellkeep has no time for boys pretending to be men.”
“Ah, Captain Gustav, I do so enjoy our meetings,” Garrey said, his voice strong and clear. “The least you could do is respect my rank, if not my person.”
N
erthus felt Edda’s elbow in her side at the mention of Gustav’s name, but she ignored her.
“So be it, Captain,” Gustav said, scorn dripping from every word. “You and your men are to stand down, disarm, and come with us to the Watch Barracks until Lord Titus summons you.”
Garrey smiled politely. “I was unaware that the Custodian of the Purse ranked so highly in my chain of command. Or yours for that matter. Now, if you’ll let us pass, I have to report to Lord Keung. I believe you and I are expected for the weekly briefing.”
Gustav thrust out a small scrap of parchment, which Garrey took. Nerthus watched the young man’s face shift from confidence to surprise, and then twist in anger. Gustav caught the change also, because though he flashed a horrible grin, he motioned and the almost thirty silent Town Watch behind him drew their cudgels. Almost automatically, Garrey’s soldiers dropped the tips of their halberds down in a defensive posture and swarmed around their captain in a phalanx. Definitely a man who had the loyalty of his men, Nerthus saw.
Gods, watching this play out made her realize just how badly she missed that idiot Johan.
Garrey threw the paper to the ground and looked up at Gustav. Their temperaments had almost swapped from the beginning of their conversation, with Gustav now firmly in control.
“I don’t know how you or that deceitful parasite Titus managed this,” Garrey snarled, “but don’t expect this to be over between us.”
Gustav smirked as he drew his own cudgel. “So do you plan on disobeying a direct order from Lord Keung? I have to say,” he gestured towards his Watchmen and their cudgels, “I rather hope you do.”
“Part of me is considering it,” Garrey spat. “We'll most certainly not be going with you anywhere. We will return to the Garrison Gate. And that is as far as we'll go. And if you want our weapons so badly, you’ll have to take them yourselves. But if you do, I'd be interested to see how your precious Lord Titus can manage without you.”
Gustav smiled broadly. “I look forward to the day when you and I can settle our account. But for now, go and cower in your tin soldier house. You’ll be sent for when you’re worth our time.” Gustav turned and walked through his men into the Keep. The Watch didn’t budge, remaining in place with their weapons drawn, almost daring the soldiers to make a move.
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 15