Dark Sahale

by Sam Ferguson

  “Also, you might like to know that your friend Gerald is in the dungeon, along with his wife and daughters. If you are responsible for this, and they knew about it, they will all swing on the gallows.”

  Lady Arkyn’s hand grasped the handle of her scimitar and she started to pull upward, but Erik seized her wrist and held it in place.

  “Don’t,” Erik said harshly. “He is baiting us.”

  “How does he know about Gerald?”

  “Someone undoubtedly told him about our dinner with the family. Come,” Erik said as he pulled her along. “We don’t want a fight here.”

  “Yes we do,” Lady Arkyn said.

  “We’ll come back during the night,” Erik replied. “We won’t leave them in the prison, but we can’t risk an open confrontation here. That will only strengthen their position.”

  “As agents of the king we have the authority to put them down,” Lady Arkyn replied.

  “Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.”

  Lady Arkyn sighed and Erik could feel her hand relax. He let go of her and the two walked back to the forest.

  “Sorry,” Lady Arkyn said after a few moments of silence. “It’s just…”

  “I understand,” Erik said when her words trailed off. “I feel the same way.”

  They camped a mile away from Far Point, careful to stay deeper in the woods and away from the road. They chose not to light a fire, instead opting to forego dinner and make do with the bits of dried bread they had remaining. From their position, they could see to a narrow spot on the road, and took turns watching and waiting. Just before dusk, a patrol of well armored guards marched along the road, apparently ensuring that Erik and Lady Arkyn had truly gone.

  “Shall we attack?” Lady Arkyn asked.

  Erik shook his head. “Let them return unharmed. I don’t want there to be any unnecessary bloodshed. We’ll wait until it’s dark, and then we’ll go back into Far Point.”

  “So along the coast then?” Lady Arkyn asked.

  “That would be the easiest way in probably,” Erik said.

  “I should go without you,” Lady Arkyn commented.

  Erik shot her a confused look.

  “If their wizard is trained to work against dragons, then I would bet he can sense when dragons are close.”

  “Like Alkantar,” Erik commented with a sour frown. “It makes sense, but I’d rather go with you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this kind of work for years.”

  Erik started to say something, but he knew she was right. He reached out and took her hand in both of his and squeezed gently. “Just, don’t get caught.”

  *****

  Lady Arkyn crept along the shoreline shortly after midnight. With her elf eyes, she could easily see in the darkness. As she and Erik had suspected, there were fewer guards along the coastal shores of Far Point. The docks jutted out into the misty waters, with only a few large vessels anchored there. Each of the larger ships had their own guards. Even from the shore, Lady Arkyn could see them walking the decks. She continued her scan of the area. Several smaller schooners and the like were moored, but they appeared empty. There were a few buildings, warehouses and the like, which she could use to conceal her movements. As luck would have it, there was no northern wall.

  So long as she avoided any guards, she would be able to slip in.

  She moved quietly through a dilapidated warehouse with a caving roof, ducking down behind an old crate when a pair of guards walked by. After they passed, she moved stealthily to the nearest house. It was a small building, but the large rose bushes helped conceal her movement. She worked her way up an alleyway ascending a hill and then crept along the back of a series of row houses until she came to the jail.

  There were four guards in front of the building. Two standing at the door and sharing a smoke, two more seated and playing a game of cards across a makeshift table formed by two small crates stacked atop each other. There was a light shining through the window in the front, with another two guards visible inside. She ducked back behind the row houses and worked her way through the shadows until she managed to circle around to the back of the jail. She frowned when she saw no rear door. There was a window on the second floor, but there were also three guards at the back of the building.

  She was going to have to get creative.

  Lady Arkyn crouched low in the shadows, considering her options, when a large man came around the side of the jail house. With her keen sense of vision, she easily recognized him as the rogue dragon-slayer from before. He was still dressed in full armor, and using his spear as one might utilize a walking staff. He approached the guards at the back of the jail. All three were quick to snap to attention and salute him.

  “Any sign of them?” the dragon-slayer asked.

  “Nothing, sir, quiet as a graveyard back here.”

  The dragon-slayer cursed and shook his head. “They’ll come for Gerald, I know they will, and we will have to be ready. When they try to come looking for him, we’ll make sure the people of Far Point know who they can trust.”

  “Yes sir,” the others said in unison.

  “Stay alert,” the large warrior said before turning and going back around to the front of the jail.

  There was something about the way the dragon-slayer spoke that caused Lady Arkyn to doubt her current plan. If they were laying a trap, and expecting them, then the smart thing to do would be to keep Gerald and his family somewhere else, while filling the inside of the prison with enough guards to ambush her and Erik.

  She quickly abandoned her position and retreated back through Far Point. Her first destination was Gerald’s house. She snuck by the two sets of patrol guards walking the streets and made it to the house without difficulty. When she arrived, she found a single guard posted outside the front door. There was a light coming from the window, but from her vantage point across the street in a narrow alleyway, she couldn’t see into the house.

  She checked the roofs surrounding her for other guards, and then darted across the street and into an alleyway that would allow her access to the back of Gerald’s home. She had to turn sideways and slide between two brick buildings, but she eventually made it into their rear garden, which was a small pad of dirt with raised planter beds in wooden frames for growing vegetables. Another guard was pacing back and forth through the small area. Lady Arkyn pulled her scimitar and waited for the guard to turn back toward the house. She came out hard and fast, cracking the man on the back of the skull with her scimitar’s handle. She guided his unconscious body to the ground and then moved to the door. She found that it was locked, but the nearby window wasn’t. She pulled the window open and slipped into the house. She could see two young women sleeping in a single bed, likely Gerald’s daughters. A few feet away was another bed with Gerald and his wife. Lady Arkyn smiled upon seeing they were still safe. She then saw a shadow dance upon the drawn curtain that separated the bedroom from the kitchen area.

  Lady Arkyn crept silently to the curtain and peered around. A lone guard sat nursing a rather large bottle of wine without the aid of a glass. His eyelids were droopy and he was quietly humming a tune to himself while bobbing his head up and down. It would be easy enough to silence him. Lady Arkyn snuck up behind him and wrapped her left arm around the man’s exposed neck while using her right arm to pull back on her left wrist. Her taught muscles easily closed off the blood and air supply to the guard’s head. He was asleep within seconds.

  She then turned and went back for Gerald and the others. She woke them as quickly and quietly as she could, and then led them out the back door. Leaving the city proved to be just as easy as getting in. The family followed her through the shadowy alleys and streets until they neared the docks.

  Gerald pointed out their ship. It was a slim schooner designed to be operated by a crew of three. The only problem was there were four guards on board. Lady Arkyn suggested stealing another ship, but Gerald assured her that all of t
he other vessels capable of sailing through the Breaks, a grouping of islands to the North West, would require crews of at least six. Gerald’s wife was not skilled in sailing, neither were Lady Arkyn or Erik.

  It seemed Lady Arkyn would need to use her bow after all.

  She instructed the family to wait in one of the abandoned warehouses while she took care of the guards. She stole her way toward the docks, careful to watch for the patrolling guards making their rounds along the streets. She found a hidden position on the interior of a collapsed warehouse wall some forty yards away from the docks. The shadows and rubble would conceal her position well enough so long as the foot patrol walking the road between her and the docks didn’t catch her first. Not only would she have to take down all four of the guards quickly enough to avoid an alarm, she would have to time the assault for when the patrols had their backs to the docks.

  She waited impatiently, counting the minutes off in her head as she studied the patrols. The four guards on the schooner would be easy enough. Two walked in rounds atop the deck, while one stood near the port side, studying the warehouses with his inferior night vision. The fourth was leaned back in a chair, arms folded across his chest, appearing to be fast asleep.

  Once the patrol on the road walked far off into the shadows, Lady Arkyn went to work.

  She took in a breath and waited for the two guards on the boat to turn their backs to her. Then her first arrow was set loose. The guard standing port-side caught the missile with his forehead, and began to fall backward. Before his body hit the deck, two more arrows bit into the pair of guards circling the deck, one in the neck, the other in the back of the head. As the bodies hit the ground, the fourth guard startled awake and lifted his head only to be rewarded by a perfectly aimed arrow that tore through his skull and toppled him onto his side.

  Lady Arkyn then sprinted for the spot where she had left Gerald’s family. The five of them dashed across the road and toward the schooner. They didn’t have much time, Arkyn knew, so she posted Gerald in the spot where the first guard had been standing, quickly throwing the guard’s hauberk over to the startled man.

  “Here, take his spear,” Lady Arkyn said. She then told Gerald’s wife to go below deck while the two daughters donned armor and began pretending to patrol the deck. Lady Arkyn placed her bow at her side and slipped into the fourth guard’s hauberk just in time to sit in the chair as the guards patrolling the road stopped and began to turn around to retrace their route.

  The daughters walked slowly enough that they untied the moorings a bit more with each pass around the deck. If they were lucky, the guards on the road wouldn’t notice anything strange. Just to be sure, Lady Arkyn kept her eyes on the patrol. If possible, she would avoid killing any more guards, but she was more than ready for the alternative.

  The patrol passed along the road and off into the distance the other way.

  The daughters fully untied the last mooring and then Gerald took over, whispering and signaling with his hands. Lady Arkyn stood and surveyed the docks all around, not wanting to be caught by surprise in case there were other guards nearby.

  The schooner lurched into motion as the skilled crew took her away from the dock.

  There was no turning back now.

  Just as the schooner put the docks behind it, the patrol on the road came running down the docks. One was readying a bow and the other was grabbing at something dangling around his neck. Lady Arkyn sighed and launched an arrow before the whistle ever touched the guard’s lips. He fell to his knees and then slumped forward as the second guard fired his arrow at them. Lady Arkyn glanced at the arrow for only a moment before realizing it would never reach them. The guard had not judged the distance correctly. She fired a second arrow and dropped the bowman. He staggered backward and then splashed into the water.

  Gerald and his daughters expertly piloted the craft out from the bay and into the open seas before anyone else noticed their escape. They sailed due east to pick up Erik, who was waiting for them along the coast.

  CHAPTER 9

  An elderly man sat at a meager, well-worn desk, pouring over a list of names and places. His shaky hand traced the words on the pages.

  A woman sat on the rickety bed a few feet to his left. She cleared her throat expectantly.

  “Just a moment,” he said as he studied the passage. “The tomes of prophecy are hard to read.”

  “The book before you is no tome of prophecy,” the woman replied. “It is a genealogical record.”

  “It is written in a similar fashion,” the old man said. “I should know, I was once the prelate of Valtuu Temple. I can recognize the writings of the ancient mystics when I see them.”

  “Odd choice of words,” the woman mocked. “With eyes as dull as yours, I doubt you see much of anything anymore.”

  The old man nodded silently, taking the berating. His eyes were dull in the ways of normal vision. His natural-born sense of sight had been offered long ago as a sacrifice when he joined Valtuu Temple. However, he was not entirely blind. He had the gift of true sight, an ability that allowed him to see auras and magical energies. It was a skill that was highly prized by certain people, especially while searching for forbidden knowledge.

  The ancient mystics had entrusted the priests of Valtuu Temple with their prophecies, and secrets, but they took great pains to ensure that only the priests would be able to unravel the codes. To any normal person, a book would have several written passages, many of which would contradict each other, but to a priest with true sight, the hidden knowledge was plainly laid out before them, written with a kind of magic that never faded with age. Of course, even then there were tricks used by the mystics to keep the more dangerous pieces of information away from wayward priests, but the ex-prelate knew those tricks very well. The only two people who might have had as much skill as he did, were Marlin and Tatev. The first had succeeded him as prelate after he was banished by Master Lepkin several years before. The second was Valtuu Temple’s librarian. Both were now dead.

  “You certain that you need to know all of these names?” the ex-prelate asked.

  “Are you certain you wish to be breathing tomorrow?” the woman replied.

  The old man smiled. Given the fact that he could see auras, he had identified this particular woman as a very real threat. Her magical abilities were greatly advanced, far superior to his own. While he was mainly schooled in the arts of healing and deciphering mystical tomes, this woman had a dangerous power surging through her that rivaled anything the old man had encountered before, save for Lady Dimwater. Her voice was soft and pretty, but her demeanor was harsh and strong. He knew better than to tangle directly with her.

  In the end, he didn’t disagree with what she wanted, he just liked to poke the bear a bit, as it were.

  “I have identified a few more families, but these lines are not originally from the Middle Kingdom. They are recorded as residing much further away.”

  “Where exactly?” the woman inquired.

  The old man shrugged. “Take your pick,” he said. “You can find sahale on nearly every continent. Of course, you and your master have already slain the most renowned family lines closest to the Middle Kingdom. The others, I would imagine, are less powerful, and should prove easier marks than the ones we summoned to Winter’s Beak.”

  “Are there no others here, close to us?”

  The old man sighed and glanced back down to the page. “There are two more,” he said. “One is written in this book, and the other I know of personally, though I know not exactly where he is.”

  “Tell me,” the woman said.

  The ex-prelate nodded. “The first resides in the north, in a place called Hermit’s Hole. He is a strong one, so your master will need to take care.”

  “My master will have no trouble dispatching the beast,” the woman spat.

  “Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” the old man said.

  “And the other?”

  The old man frowned and turned to face t
he woman. “The other is Erik Lokton.” A strange swirl of colors flowed through the woman’s aura, a mix of anger, confusion, and what appeared to be admiration. It was a confusing reaction to the old man. “You know him?” he asked.

  “Who doesn’t?” the woman asked cryptically.

  The ex-prelate nodded, as if that answer satisfied him, but he could see that the woman was hiding something. Still, he decided best not to poke the bear again… this time. “He should be easy enough to find, if your master wants to tangle with him as well, but I should warn you. If the sahale in Hermit’s Hole is a threat, then consider Erik much more so. He defeated Tu’luh the Red, among many others. He shall not be an easy target to slay.”

  “You are needed for the names and locations of strong sahale individuals,” the woman cut in. “You are not required, nor asked, to be an advisor on strategy.”

  The old man bowed his head in deference. “As you say, m’lady.” The woman got up to leave and made for the door. “If I could ask a favor,” the ex-prelate said. The woman stopped and turned to listen over her shoulder. “If your master does decide to go after Erik Lokton, then I want to be present for his assassination.”

  “Out of the question,” the woman said.

  “Then bring me back a souvenir perhaps? A finger, or an eye?”

  The woman exited and closed the door behind her.

  The ex-prelate laughed softly to himself and turned back to the book on his desk. Of all the things he thought he would do in his older years, tracking down sahale and helping a madman kill them had never crossed his mind. Whether it was due to his current status as a fallen priest, ousted by the order that had required so much of him for most of his life, or an innate cruelty that had always been a part of him, he couldn’t be sure, but he was discovering that he rather liked playing for the side that chased and slew dragons.

  *****

  Njar rummaged through the endless bottles and vials on the shelf. Eye of newt, frog’s tears, crocodile saliva, jars of various herbs for poultices, even the dried tail of an ox wrapped in borglin vines atop a bed of volcanic salts. No matter how desperately he wished for it, he could find nothing to aid the ailing Nonac. The massive tree that had guarded the satyrs for ages was now in need of protection and help, and Njar was not prepared.