Juhnunt’s pants weren’t unlaced yet and didn’t impede his movements. He drew his rapier, and the blade of the fop dressed in navy blue. He stepped forward and a thrust overhand with the left rapier, and pierced the second man-at-arms through an eye. The third guard called out to the other hired swords at the alley’s mouth. The other two fops finished retying their breeches as the boy laid forgotten in a pile of trash behind them.
Gruedo watched all this from the rooftop, her curly black hair tousled in the wind. She had seen these deranged young nobles hunt the back alleys of the poorer sections of town for months, which is why she was eager to help her old gang rob them. Now she had decided to do something about it on a permanent basis. Not to help anyone, but to tie up loose ends, and to test a few toys she had come up with. She loved her poisons and chemicals, but she never knew when something would make a bigger explosion than she thought until it was tested. She drew a thin cord from her satchel and made the loop she needed. She tossed it with expert precision towards the young boy below and watched with satisfaction as it landed over his head and upper body and dropped around his feet without anyone the wiser. With one quick pull Gruedo would have it snug around the boy’s chest and pull him up unharmed. Well, mostly unharmed. But we learn our best lessons from pain.
The two men-at-arms waited, swords at ready, as two more of the hired men joined them. Gruedo noticed that they left three to guard the entrance of the alley but still make the odds in their favor over the three remaining powdered nobles. She admired their strategy. Juhnunt stepped towards the approaching men, the two rapiers held steady in front of him.
“You men work for us!” he whined in his nasally tone. “What in the name of Torgoth’s scales do you think you are doing? You will be killed for this! I demand you drop your weapons immediately!”
The men just laughed and moved towards the dandies, spreading out to better use their weapons. Gruedo wrapped her line around a chimney of a stovepipe and leapt into the air, sailing down as the young boy, providing counter balance, rose into the air. She landed behind the fops. They heard her and turned, swords ready. The dandy that had his sword taken by Juhnunt held his main-gauche.
“Good eve, gents, I have something for you,” Gruedo said with a smile as she sprayed a fine mist into their faces from a small bottle. With a squeal, the two fops who had so just finished lacing their breeches danced backwards into the waiting arms of the hired guards. One guard kicked the knees out from under the dandy in the green coat, who fell to the ground clutching his face. The other two guards grabbed the second dandy, relieved him of his weapon, and restrained him. Juhnunt’s eyes narrowed as he wiped the liquid, smearing the makeup on his face.
“Aren’t you the powder merchant we bought from earlier?” Juhnunt asked with suspicion.
“Yes, I am,” Gruedo grinned, “thank you so much for your purchase. Now please hand over your valuables and you may go.”
“I don’t think so!” Juhnunt began, but stopped and pressed the butts of his weapons to his cheeks. His voice rose in volume and pitch as he shrieked. “It’s burning; my face is burning! Damn you, what have you…?” The words died out as he dropped the two rapiers and his screams began in earnest. His cries were echoed by similar shouts from his two friends behind him. The guards let go of the fop they held as he began to clutch his own face and yell. The nobleman on the ground was rolling back and forth, vomiting. The men who had just held them backed away in horror as they watched the young noblemen claw at the skin on their faces. The skin pulled away in torn sheets as their faces melted.
Their screams became whimpers, and then they lay still and quiet. As the guards stared at the dead bodies, Gruedo stole a look to the rooftop where the forgotten boy had clamored to safety.
“Well, good sirs, it seems you get the added benefit of any money these men had yet to spend this eve, as I promised,” Gruedo said as she gestured at the dead men. The two men who had been guarding the mouth of the alley had joined the others when the screams began. Seeing the grizzly scene, one turned and loosed his most recent meal into the trash beside him. The men relaxed and laughed, making jibes at the one who got sick. They began looting the men they were hired to protect. Gruedo knew she probably would not be safe from these seven in mere moments, and with a smile and a wave at the backs of the men, she leapt and grabbed the second line she had dropped into the alley earlier, pushed off the wall, and scaled the three stories to the roof in a matter of seconds. The men looked back at the noise of her exit, only to see her standing on the rooftop above them. Gruedo gave another wave, her smile visible in the bright light of the moon.
“A parting gift for your help, gentlemen,” Gruedo said as she tossed half a dozen objects into the alley with a marksman’s precision. Two of the guards dove for cover, expecting an attack. The sound of a coin clinked into various metal canisters on either side of the dead end. One of the men turned and laughed at the others who had dove for cover. He took the fiery blast his smiling face, tearing most of it, and his chest, away. Five more blasts showered the passage, with a hollow ‘thoop’ noises. The side street clouded with a thick acrid haze and the sounds of coughing and gagging screams drifted up to Gruedo and the boy.
“What was that? What did you just do?” asked the boy, who had come from behind a chimney to look.
“No loose ends. I merely repaid them for what they had planned for me and turned the tables. I followed them all night and heard how they planned to ‘split’ things with me. A simple compound in six canisters throughout the alley and when the last item, the coins I specially minted, was added we got a little light show and they get to never worry about repaying me! Besides, who could ever trust men who would turn on their employers so cheaply?” Gruedo grinned as she tossed the boy a sack of coins for his part in the night’s events. “Sorry the guards didn’t come sooner,” she said in parting as she set a line, preparing to climb back into the alley to relieve the men of the wealth they no longer needed, as well as the item she was hired to retrieve. Well, as soon as the smoke from her toys dissipated, she thought with another grin.
Cyril awoke to a tapping on the window of his room in The Loose Goose. He rose from bed, straightened his nightclothes, and crossed the room. He was surprised to see Gruedo hanging from a thin rope in the cold night air as he drew the curtains back. He opened the window, and Gruedo swung in and dropped to the floor. Cyril leaned out and looked left and right, then up and down, before closing and securing the window and drawing the curtains.
“Did you expect someone else to be out there also?” asked Gruedo with a laugh. “At least you lock your window. I’m glad to see that you don’t rely on your god for all of your protection.”
Cyril shivered from the wet, cold night air and crossed the room to don his heavy robe. He looked at Gruedo in the dim light of the moon that filtered through the crack in the curtains. He went to the small fireplace, stirred the glowing embers and added a log to the fire.
“Did you get it?” Cyril asked without turning to look at Gruedo.
“Of course I did. Here it is.” Gruedo held the buckle with the belt still attached towards Cyril’s back.
“Set it on the table.”
Gruedo did as she was bid, then sat in one of the high backed chairs and leaned back on two legs. Cyril looked at the belt, then at Gruedo.
“You can go. You have done what you were paid to do.” Cyril crossed to the washstand, poured some water into the basin, and washed his face and neck.
“You paid me too much. I won’t return it to you, but I figure I can hang around and maybe help you with something else, it’s only… just.”
Cyril looked at her as he dried his hands and face and returned the small towel to the bar on which it hung. “Suit yourself.” Cyril closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. He chanted a prayer in a dull monotone. “Jonath, I call upon your wisdom, power, and protection to reveal what is yours. Use me as your tool to regain your lost treasures.” At the word ‘trea
sures’ Gruedo leaned forward, her interest obvious. “I am your faithful servant and ask for your strength in this step upon dealing your justice.” Almost before he uttered the last word there was a loud pop and a spark from the table. Gruedo jumped sideways out of the chair, knocking it over as she scurried backwards to the wall and faced the table. The leather belt on the table smoked and curled into black ash. The buckle had fallen into two pieces, though the bit still attached to the belt had melted into a puddle of silver. The remaining portion shed the leftover silver from it surface and revealed a square of reddish metal in the shape of a rough trident. Gruedo looked from the table to Cyril and saw Cyril was watching her with what was almost a mischievous smirk on his face.
“You could have warned me, damn it!” Gruedo swore.
“You chose to stay, I figured you knew enough not to get in the way,” Cyril answered, his face smooth. Gruedo regained her composure, leaned against the wall nonchalantly and looked back at the table.
“So, what is it?” she asked.
Cyril approached it and picked up the already cool piece of metal. “It is a trident, symbol of Jonath,” he said.
“Yes, but why a trident?” Gruedo asked as she rolled his eyes at the obvious answer.
“As the God of Justice and Protection, he uses the three-pronged trident for a dual symbol. It represents the scales, though sometimes the scales are balanced on the center tine. It is drawn from the common man. Both the farmer and fisherman can use the trident, or pitchfork, as a tool just as they may use justice as a tool. It is for everyone, not just the rich and the ruling class.” Cyril turned the small squared of metal trident over in his hands, and inspected the odd lines covering both sides.
“I meant, what is this specific trident intended for?” Gruedo clarified.
Cyril looked at the girl with a piercing gaze, as if searching Gruedo’s soul. “It is a key. There is a city and a castle far to the southwest. This key should open some very important doors there, and that is where I am going.”
“Will there be treasure?” Gruedo asked.
Cyril smiled as he gazed upon the artifact of his faith. “I think there may be, but it won’t be easy to get to. I must travel through Oceaphylius Glensharrow and possibly face the beings who live within it, and perhaps even the man who corrupted the soul of that great forest.”
“Kala, the Black Priest?” Gruedo asked, coming closer to look at the key Cyril held. “I have heard of him, but he is just a myth, and if he did exist that was over a hundred years ago. Why would you think he is still alive?”
“He is no myth. He was a priest of Promethene, Goddess of Song and Light. He died due to his own foolish pride in the Gray Lands to the east. But thanks to a powerful priestess of Promethene, was brought back to this world. He was a changed man, claiming he now had fae blood in his body. He fell in love with the immortal fae, Cryfalshoulsia, whose spell brought him back. He proposed to her. She rejected him, for Promethene’s priestesses aren’t supposed to marry. She taunted him for turning against the tenets of the sun goddess. Actually, from what I have learned in my studies, Promethene only accepts females into her clergy, but Kala, who went by a different name then, was the exception.
“Kala betrayed his friends to the Dark Tribes under the Rolling Mountains and came west. He sought other fae; the Dasism who protected what was then called the Ocean Wood. He found them.” Cyril handed the key to Gruedo and went to the fire to stoke it higher, as if talking about the dark man stole the warmth from the room. “He preached to them of the evils of the humans who shared the fringes of their great forest. He claimed Promethene chose him. She had chosen him at one time, but he had fallen away from her light to walk the opposite path of the dark. He convinced the Dasism to attack the humans, to chase them from their ancient wood, to kill any who dared enter. He began the poisoning that has led to death of the Dasism, the poison that stripped them of their immortality and has changed them to what they are today.” Cyril stood and turned back to Gruedo.
“He also convinced them to take the city built by Jonath, Silver City, and rename it Shulyar City. Jonath built many great things in his time on this world before he rose to Godhood. Silver City was the perfect city. It shone in the sunlight and glowed in the starlight. It was clean, kept that way by man and magic. It was overlooked by Jonath’s castle, Silver Castle, which he had carved from a single mountain when he became a god. He first summoned the earth to rise, thus solidifying his domain over the element of earth, and caused a mountain to grow where there was none before. He used his magics to carve a castle from the mountain. It was a wonder of the world. As glorious as the Highest Spire, it stood as a symbol of justice and protection for any man to look upon or visit. Jonath closed it to the world when Kala the Black took control of Silver City below it.”
Cyril took the key from Gruedo, who handed it back without hesitation. “So, I go to reopen this Castle, free the city, and cleanse the wood if I can. The world is seeing dark times with the Talisman hanging over our heads, Gruedo.” Gruedo nodded as Cyril continued. “Demons have been sighted as close as Aborgas, which rumors say has been a historic home to such activity, and claims of werewolves are everywhere. It’s said that dead rose from the ground and attacked Everyway, abominations walked the streets, the young and elderly who were too weak to resist were overcome by the ancient evil magics and transformed. I looked into it a little, spoke to a city guard I know there. She told me also about two great heroes that have been born into our side of the fight. Grenedal Dragonblood and Hue Blueaxe rose from the ashes to fight the coming darkness.”
Cyril moved to the chest of drawers that held his clothes and other possessions. On top of it sat a fine crystal decanter and glasses. He poured two glasses of amber colored liquor and handed one to Gruedo, who accepted it without hesitation. Cyril crossed the room, sat in an armchair by the fireplace, and stared into the flames.
“Gruedo, I have prayed to Jonath for guidance. I have asked for His blessing in my quest for Justice. This is not just some criminal trial though; this is the state of the world. I am waiting for something. I do not know if I am waiting for something to happen, someone to get here, or both.” Cyril sighed and looked into his glass.
Chapter 9: Tides Turn
“The love of a ship rocking you to sleep often means your final sleep shall be in the deep.”
Sailors’ Proverb
5854 – Thon – Quebal – Bestuf
The Captain did not appear the first evening. Speaking with the crew, Rogen and Cite learned that the Captain spent most hours below deck in the Captain’s Quarters. They spent the early part of the night watching the stars and waves after the sun set. It was an experience Cite had never had before. The stars opened above them in a celestial panorama like they never dreamed. With no land to block the horizons, it was the largest sky they had ever seen. The moon was just beginning to wane, still lighting the night sky and waters. They witnessed a meteor shower that looked like the Talisman itself had decided to knock the stars from the skies.
The Talisman crossed the sky in its new orbit around the world. It was prettier out here in the ocean without the smoke and pollution of a city to stain it. Instead of having the usual yellowish cast, it twinkled in the moonlight, hues of blue, white, and green that scintillated in its long tail. They slept on deck that night along with part of the crew.
The next morning brought more wonders. The sunrise woke them, and they watched dolphins play in the wake of the ship as they ate a meal of boiled oats with cinnamon. The sea air was crisp and clean, and the breeze never stopped caressing their hair. The seabirds circled them, since they were still within sight of land, and searched for tidbits of food on deck as they shouted their raucous cries. The boat rocked as it cut through the waves, the canvas of the sails flapping in the wind, and everything seemed more peaceful and relaxed than it did on land.
The ship was on a southwest course towards an island named Paradise Island. A sailor named Jumper, the sai
ling master in charge of navigation, leaned on the rail fishing with a bamboo pole and told them that the island was truly a paradise. It held fresh water in the form of beautiful waterfalls, sand made of gold, and mermaids sang you to sleep at night. Neither Cite nor Rogen was sure how much was truth and how much the sailor believed was true.
The next surprise came when the Captain made an appearance. They heard the call that the Captain was on deck as sailors scrambled to their posts for inspection, as if this were a military ship rather than a merchant or pirate ship. The first thing Cite and Rogen saw was the bright red hair over the shoulders of the crew as they tried to stay out of the way. The Captain moved with a rolling walk and poise that was apparent, even from the poor view they had. When the crew finally parted and they got a clear look at the Captain, they were stunned to see that she was a woman.
Captain Redblood of the Lady Luck stood half a head shorter than most of the crew. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her green eyes were bright compared to her well-tanned skin. She was wiry and athletic like most that spend their lives at sea. She was not dressed much differently from the crew: loose pants, a white shirt tied at the cuffs and neck, and barefoot. Cite later learned that most sailors went barefoot while at sea. Bare feet gave better traction on the deck, in the rigging, as well as made swimming easier if you did fall overboard. She wore a wide leather belt that held a pouch, spyglass, compass, and various other paraphernalia. The crew did not bother wearing weapons once they left port, but stored them in lockers on the deck that could be accessed when needed.
Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One Page 10