The Storm's Own Son (Book 1)

by Anthony Gillis

  Tall buildings loomed all around, closely spaced. Here and there were black alleys thick with shadows. From those shadows crept silent figures. Many figures cloaked and hooded in dark colors. There was a glint of steel.

  The young man leapt up in seeming drunken confusion, and the women followed him clumsily. A growling voice came from a big heavyset shape among the shadowed figures.

  "Got you at last Talaos, you laughing bastard!"

  "Can't you see I'm busy, Borras?" smiled the young man, his voice clear and deep.

  "You think this is a joke? There's twenty of us, and one of you."

  "I count three."

  "My quarrel's with you, not your drunken girls. You, girls! Your man chose the wrong side. Let people know it was his last mistake. Get out of here. Now," said Borras. When he got no immediate reaction, he continued, "Well, get going!"

  In reply, the blonde drew herself up straight, with a suddenly grim expression, while the dark haired woman made a lopsided smile, dropped to a low crouch and drew her daggers.

  There was an awkward pause.

  Borras turned his hooded head in the direction of the dark haired woman. Long swords gleamed in his gloved hands. He shrugged wearily.

  "All right then," he muttered. "No mercy, men."

  Talaos quipped, nonchalantly, "About now, you might want to look up."

  "Huh?"

  Several things happened at once. The courtyard brightened as lamps suddenly lit on two flat rooftops above - roofs now seen to be crowded with archers. In that same moment, Talaos sprang into action. In one smooth lunging motion, he drew a short sword and ran it through the nearest enemy, one of three who directly blocked his way. The dark haired woman threw one of her daggers full into the face of the second enemy and slashed the knee tendons of the third as she spun past. The blonde woman aimed a kick with one of her long bare legs. A sandaled foot struck the man's injured knee and sent him toppling backwards, shin bent at a sickly angle.

  Then, as Talaos and the women darted for cover, the archers above let loose. Borras and a dozen of his men fell, each with many arrows in their bodies, while a handful of survivors escaped into the darkness. It had all taken but a few seconds.

  Talaos laughed once more as the young women returned to his side.

  "He didn't even pick up on the clue I gave him..."

  "Eh?" smirked the dark haired woman.

  "Sorya, you too? When I answered him in a clear voice, and no slur of wine, he should have known something was up..."

  "Exactly," said a man's voice from one of the rooftops. The tone was light, even joking, yet with a cold edge beneath. "Next time, be more careful."

  "I thought I'd give him a fighting chance, or running, as the case might be," replied Talaos casually.

  "Not with my money on the line," answered the voice.

  A lean man slipped effortlessly down a wall. He had a thin scarred face and wore darkly rich clothes. The cold-edged voice was his, "Still, that was well done. You took a great risk. If I had changed my mind, and we'd not been in place, or they'd caught you before you got here..."

  "Then we'd have had to take them by ourselves!" smiled Talaos in return. "One of these days, you'll worry yourself to death, Palaeon."

  "My worry is what keeps me alive," replied the latter, now on the ground. "This little war of Cratus and his allies makes no sense to me, but now that Borras and his lads are in the hells, maybe he'll see reason... and you might get your wish and can go back to easy living."

  "I hope so, because if I wanted war, I'd go east. But right now, I want wine and good company," smiled Talaos with an eye to the women at his side.

  Palaeon pulled the younger man aside and spoke in a low voice. His hard eyes glittered in the dark. "Speaking of them... they're quite a pair. Sorya I recognize, from every now and then. Too bad for Borras he didn't. Who's that other one with the golden hair and the amazing chest?"

  "Katara. She's from far away north."

  "Ah. They might just be the prettiest women in the city with skills like that. Smart trap for Borras, but it must have cost you some good coin to hire them."

  "Hire? They're my dates."

  Palaeon laughed, a quiet predatory laugh. Then he took a step back as a new thought flickered across his face. He spoke more loudly, in earshot of all, "You know, there'll be a lot of room for my organization to grow, with Borras and the others in this part of town gone. I could probably use a new crew captain or two... You'd have to take the oaths of course, and get a little better at following orders, but..."

  "Following orders is the main problem, and being freelance keeps that to a minimum."

  "Suit yourself," smiled Palaeon. Then, with another, suddenly reflective expression, he added, "Orders or not, war in one form or another might find you yet, Talaos. Like finds like. Another reason you're called the storm's own son."

  "Oh?" retorted Talaos with a smirk, "I'd say it has a more pragmatic explanation."

  "Yes I know, lad. I was an honest young pickpocket with an ear for news, when they found you. But, what I say is true in its own deeper way," said Palaeon with a catlike smile.

  Talaos gave an arched eyebrow in reply.

  "Till next time," said Palaeon as he tossed Talaos a bag of gold.

  The young man caught it with casual grace and with his companions, stepped lightly down the street toward a tavern he knew in a much nicer part of the city.

  ~

  The small, clean, soft-lit room was filled with happy, drunken patrons. Outside, the moon shone on a clear starlit sky. Inside, little tables were packed close atop a black and red tile floor. The majority of the men wore knee-length sleeveless tunics trimmed with geometric patterns, and all bore weapons of some kind. Most of the women were in long, low cut sleeveless dresses, held by clasps at the shoulders, and slit up to and clasped tight at the waist in what was called the city style. They had painted lips and eyes lined with kohl.

  Talaos smiled, and took it all in.

  He sat in a corner near the front, with a small lattice window a few feet to his right. Katara sat to his left, and Sorya to his right. They were still in their clothes from the earlier street battle, though they'd washed off the blood. With them was Talaos's old friend Arax, a lank-haired young man with a sharp-eyed look and a scar across his forehead.

  Everyone had earthenware cups of wine.

  Sorya was telling Arax her version of the night's events, small mouth smiling and big eyes flashing, "...Borras said 'huh?' They uncovered the lanterns, and he just stood there staring for a second while all hell broke loose, until the arrows hit him."

  "His last words were 'huh?' Just like Borras, to go that way!" laughed Arax, "Wish I could've seen the look on his face. Say Sorya, was that the first time you ever met Borras?"

  "And the last," said Sorya with a wicked smile.

  "Any chance Palaeon's going to join us?" asked Arax.

  Talaos replied with mild amusement, "What do you think?"

  "He was never much for taverns," added Sorya, "But these days he's getting so serious it's scary..."

  "He is, but it works. He's the second biggest boss in Carai now," answered Talaos.

  "Second biggest, till he gets done with Cratus," smirked Sorya.

  Arax interjected, with a kind of dark humor, "Looks like it wasn't such a bad idea after all Tal, way back when you quit with Cratus. Though at least he used to know how to throw a good party, before he went grim and crazy."

  "Cratus was crazy before that," corrected Talaos, "it just took a while to see it."

  Talaos knew all too well the appeal of the legendary boss's former lifestyle of wine, women, and adventure, and of his pretenses at being a champion for the people of the streets. There'd been a time when it had made gang life seem grand, almost heroic.

  "Still," replied Arax, "things are getting really strange in his organization these days. He and his higher ups are getting as cold and serious as Palaeon. And those Eastlanders he's had hanging around? I eve
n heard he has a bunch of foreign bodyguards now."

  "True," replied Talaos thoughtfully, "and there've been a lot of disappearances. Then there is the war. Palaeon doesn't think it makes sense either, and Cratus has been fighting it in a really murderous way. It must be costing a lot of gold. It's all odd, and all bad."

  Sorya and Arax nodded. Then the latter began with a new thought, "Tal, I bet Palaeon will offer you a job as a crew captain."

  Talaos, casual again, replied, "He already did, and I turned it down. I like being free. Now, enough about Palaeon and Cratus. Let's get some more wine."

  After a moment, the barmaid, a young woman with brown hair curled in spirals, and a red-brown dress cut low and revealingly even for Carai, arrived and took their orders. She leaned in close to Talaos with her ample chest almost touching him.

  Sorya flashed her a glare.

  For his part, Talaos ordered the wine, then looked happily elsewhere around the room.

  He noticed the arrival of another friend of his, a very young, dark-haired man named Pallas, who was known for his skill with a sword, his signature brocaded black and gold cloak, and his turbulent ups and downs with women.

  Tonight however, there were two changes around Pallas. The first was that he wore a pair of sturdy new swords with a long blade and a short in the dueling style, the second was that he arrived with a slender, foreign-looking young woman. She had dark bronze skin, long black hair in loose waves, and big dark eyes. She wore a red dress in the city style of Carai, and she seemed pleased enough with Pallas thus far.

  "Everyone," Pallas said with a dramatic sweep of his cloak to the side as he swept an arm their way, "this... is Injraya!"

  There were greetings in reply as Pallas guided Injraya toward their table.

  "And, this," he said to Injraya, gesturing a hand toward Talaos, "is my friend, Talaos."

  "It is an honor, Talaos," she replied. Her Imperial was heavily accented, and she had difficulty pronouncing his name.

  "Tah-lay-os," Pallas corrected her, drawing out the proper pronunciation of Talaos's name for emphasis.

  Injraya gave Pallas a thankful nod, looking slightly embarrassed.

  Talaos watched the exchange with a catlike smile. With Pallas, he thought, one could never be sure if putting her on the spot like that would make Injraya intrigued by the challenge, or be taken as an insult and the beginning of the end.

  The newcomers sat down as the rest of the little group introduced themselves.

  Katara looked at Injraya with great curiosity, "Where are you from?" she asked.

  "I am from Kalanthar, in the Southlands. My father is now trade consul to Carai."

  At that, there were glances from Sorya and Arax, since her statement established her as from a very respectable background. Talaos wondered if she knew she was among gangsters.

  "And you?" asked Injraya, eyeing Katara's blonde hair, and her height.

  "Vorhame, in the far north," replied Katara.

  "Northmen! Do they not battle terrible man-eating ice drakes there?" asked Injraya.

  "Not anymore," said Katara, with a faint grim smile, "the drakes are all dead."

  As the others continued their conversation, Pallas turned to Talaos.

  "Notice anything new?"

  "Nice swords," answered Talaos.

  "Not like yours, but still I paid a good price to old Arion for them."

  Then Pallas turned to Injraya again, "Talaos here is one of the deadliest swordsmen in Carai, and he spent a small fortune to have swords custom made by the master smith Dormio in Ivarna... That's our capital, the capital of the Republic, and..."

  And now Talaos thought he could see the end peaking over the horizon. Still, the truth must be told. He interrupted in a casual voice, "In all fairness, most of that fortune originally belonged to men working for Cratus, Borras, or Perio."

  Pallas decided to elaborate, "Those are gang bosses. We're fighting them! Well, not Borras or Perio anymore, because now they're dead, but..."

  Talaos mused that Pallas did better when he wasn't trying so hard to impress.

  Sprawled at ease, he noticed Injraya was already casting furtive around the room with her big eyes. He smiled benignly and mused about his dueling swords. He certainly had spent a lot of other people's money on them, to the point of getting some notoriety for it. Ivarna had been famous for centuries for the quality of its blades, all the way back to the days of the Empire, and Dormio was probably the greatest living master sword smith.

  With broad, double-edged engraved blades of high steel, solid oval cross guards and silver pommels carved engraved with designs of storm clouds and lightning, they suited him. But, they suited their deadly work even better.

  His life was already likely to be short. Why trust it to something cheap?

  Then, his musings were interrupted.

  "Daxar arranged it all, right?" said Pallas.

  "Yes," replied Talaos, with an absent smile.

  That reminded Talaos that Daxar should be back in town soon, from his trip to Hunyos, east of the mountains. It would be good to see him again. The weapons broker could smell profit a long way off, and with war brewing in the east, there ought to be plenty of it. When Daxar's ship returned, he planned to catch up with him at a sprawling, seedy place they'd favored for years; a tavern sarcastically named the Cheated Deal,

  His musing was interrupted again, though this time more pleasantly, as Sorya suddenly kissed his neck. Pallas and Arax both stopped their conversations in surprise.

  "Feeling a little forward, eh Sorya?" teased Arax.

  "Not really. We've been together in secret for a while now," replied Sorya with sudden intensity.

  Talaos reflected in mild surprise at the step she'd taken. He knew he had as much a reputation as a womanizer as Sorya had for aloofness. He took her hand.

  She put her pert lips to his ear, "Sorry, I just couldn't take hiding anymore." With that, she undid the cord that tied her dark hair, let it flow past her shoulders, and leaned her head to Talaos's chest.

  As time went on, a few other friends joined them. Conversation flowed on for a long while, fading from tough talk to a glow of warmth and peace that belied their violent trade. At last, Talaos thought it might be time to go. He squeezed Sorya's hand, then Katara's. He raised a hand to get the others' attention, and spoke.

  "Thanks for coming, for being here. Every moment with friends counts, while we have them. We won this round, but let's keep our eyes open," he said with a smile.

  Then Pallas raised a cup. After a moment, so did the others.

  "To good friends, the ones here, and the ones gone," said Pallas, simply.

  All at the table took drinks of their wine.

  ~

  The morning was bright and fresh. Light peeked in through the slatted blinds of the inn's windows. It lit a warm, wood-paneled room and a large, comfortable bed with three people under clean linen sheets.

  Talaos sat propped against pillows and stretched his arms. The sheets, luxurious things in this expensive inn, felt good against his skin. On his left, Sorya began to sleepily stir. She was under the sheet, nude and sprawled on her stomach. He smiled, enjoying the sight of the soft fabric clinging to her slender body.

  Katara, propped on her shoulder to his right, leaned in to give him a kiss, and ran her hand along the muscles of his chest. She peered into his eyes, then gazed at him, and at Sorya for a while in smiling silence. At last, she climbed softly out of bed and searched for her dress from the night before. The smooth curves of her body were dappled in sunlight as she dressed.

  "I am feeling hungry," the Northwoman said in her smoky-sounding accent.

  "See if they'll fill a tray to take up for all of us. And fresh water," replied Talaos.

  "As you wish," said Katara, softly smiling as she slipped out the door.

  Sorya peered up, then turned to cling to Talaos as she nibbled his chest.

  "That was fun. I like Katara... I think I learned a few things," sh
e said playfully.

  "Yes."

  "You make me feel wonderful... when I have you," she added.

  Thinking about what might be coming, he put a hand gently to her cheek.

  "But," she continued, and her eyes grew more serious, "I... I'm... not sure I want to keep sharing you. We've been together, what, five months?"

  "Nearly six."

  "Yes, but nearly all in secret, and there've been... how many other women?"

  "That secrecy kept you out of the war, and I don't keep count."

  "That isn't the point. I want you, all of you."

  "Or you could try something crazy, and take me as I am," Talaos replied with a smile.

  "You and that damned cocky smirk!" she snarled, her eyes now flashing, but her hands running over his body, "Don't you ever take anything seriously?"

  "Yes, danger."

  She laughed a sarcastic laugh, "Really? You could have fooled me! Last night..."

  "Who said that was danger?"

  "I... You're impossible! Tal, you might be the most fascinating, most frustrating man I've ever known..."

  "And I've got friends in high, well mostly low, places," he replied with mock grandeur.

  Her lips curled and her face flooded with emotions, "And is that all you want?"

  Talaos ignored her comment, but instead ran his hands along her cheek, neck, and firm little breasts. She gasped, then seemed to master herself, and kept talking.

  "No really, think about it. We've got a fair amount of gold put away... Well mostly you, but still, all the recent trouble has paid well."

  "It has," he smiled, as he played with her nipple and between her legs.

  "Maybe it's time to get out while we're ahead. Things might be going well for Palaeon, but I... unh... trust him about as much as a hungry snake, and... mmm... We should think about another part of the city, or somewhere else even... I ah, that's good... Little town somewhere. You know, go respectable, settle down..."

  "Settle down? We're gangsters..." Talaos laughed, as he gave her a swat on her bottom, Then he covered her mouth in a kiss as he pushed her onto her back. With that, the desire for discussion seemed to go out of her. She smiled and sighed. He teased her body and put his lips to her neck, then gave her a nip.