The Storm's Own Son (Book 1)

by Anthony Gillis

  "Don't get respectable on me."

  "I've been trying. Talaos, I'm trying to wash my hands of gang ties."

  "Are you now?" said Talaos with an arched eyebrow and a darksome smirk.

  "Well, present company excepted. Or more accurately, maybe now might be the time for you to get out of gang life yourself."

  They turned a corner from the large street they'd been on, a bustling thoroughfare running back from the harbor district, full of wagons and carts, and onto a somewhat smaller, but still busy, street that led toward Daxar's offices.

  "All right, I've been thinking about it," admitted Talaos, "but what have you got?"

  "Well, business was good in Hunyos, but the war there is going to be so large scale that the risks could outweigh the benefits for me of trying to operate there on any more permanent footing."

  "More permanent?" asked Talaos, curious.

  "I'd been thinking about a branch office," replied Daxar, "but I'm having second thoughts since investing in a branch office in a city that ends up taken by siege will not be good for profits at all, or my chance to live and enjoy them."

  "So where then?"

  "I don't know if you are aware, but Kalanthar, in the Southlands, has a new Trade Consul here in Carai," said Daxar.

  Talaos laughed, "I was aware, in fact."

  Daxar gave him a quizzical look, but went on. "Through my more respectable circles of friends, I secured an interview with him, and met his family. It seems they do a good business supplying various things to both sides of a civil war in their neighboring country to the east. One thing they are short on is high quality weapons, and we have those aplenty in the Republic."

  Talaos suspected where this might be going. "So where do I fit in?"

  "Well, Kalanthar might not be at war itself, but that doesn't mean everything will be safe down there, and I need someone I can trust, someone really deadly, to keep an eye on security, and keep watch on my people who handle the money when I'm not around."

  As Talaos considered that, they turned another corner, deeper into the back streets but directly to Daxar's offices. They were in a rougher area, and near the border between Palaeon's territory and that of Cratus. Instinctively, both men kept hands near their swords.

  The Southlands, thought Talaos. That could be different, and anything but dull. The countries down there certainly had an exotic, beautiful, somewhat dangerous reputation, though he thought the same likely was true of Carai, as seen from a distance.

  "All right Dax, unless you make me a bad offer, I'm in."

  Daxar beamed, and considered, "Let's talk specifics, and gold, at my offices. This isn't a small step..."

  They were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Pallas walking in from a back street, resplendent in his black and gold brocaded cloak.

  "Tal, Daxar! How are you?" said Pallas.

  They greeted him.

  "Mind if I walk with you a few blocks? I'll be turning off before you get to your offices, Daxar, but it'd be good to catch up in the meantime."

  Daxar shrugged, Talaos smiled and welcomed him. As they continued on, a mischievous thought occurred to Talaos.

  "Pallas," he asked, "How did things go with Injraya?"

  Daxar twitched and skipped a step, but played cool. Pallas beamed.

  "It went great! She loved meeting everyone, especially Katara. I've seen her a few more times, when she can get away from her father. She works as an assistant for him, by the way."

  "I'm glad," grinned Talaos. Inwardly, he was glad Pallas had pulled victory from the jaws of defeat after all. He was equally glad to see Daxar's awkward expressions.

  They walked on for a little while. Daxar resolutely avoided bringing up his own far more respectable connection with Injraya's father. Talaos reflected with amused interest that Injraya herself knew of Dax's existence from both sides, but had presumably kept quiet.

  The three of them made small talk. They passed into a less busy area of warehouses and occasional seedy, rough taverns. This was a gang-haunted neighborhood that all of them knew well, and that knowledge kept all of them on their guard. Their talked quieted.

  As they went along a twisting section of street that was entirely deserted, Talaos had a sudden, bad instinct.

  "Dax, Pallas... Eyes open," he whispered, drawing his long blade in his right hand.

  Daxar drew the great sword from his back, and Pallas his own dueling swords.

  "Well, well..." grinned a tall, ugly man with hollow cheeks and scarred arms, as he came around a corner ahead of them. Talaos knew him. One of Borras's men who'd lived.

  "Astus," said Talaos, smiling. "Come to ask for my help in seeing Borras again?"

  "You fucker. You won't have any archers to save you this time," replied Astus. As he spoke, four more men, three from Borras's old crew, and one Talaos didn't know, rounded the corner behind him. They had a variety of axes and iron clubs.

  Daxar and Pallas took places to Talaos's left and right. Astus stared at them with a sword in one hand and a hand axe in the other. His men did likewise. It went on just a little too long.

  There was a cold, harsh voice behind them. "Daxar, why are you keeping company with a couple of dead men?"

  Talaos knew that voice, and knew what it meant. He turned to look.

  There was Sorvion, Cratus's right hand for the last couple of years. The towering, rangy, hawk-faced man had fine broad-bladed dueling swords and a deadly, cruel look in his sharp-browed eyes. Behind him were eight of Cratus's men with swords, axes, and maces.

  Daxar didn't turn or respond.

  Sorvion continued, even as he and his men walked slowly forward, "Leave now Daxar, and we'll stay on good business terms. Otherwise..."

  "I decline your offer, Sorvion," said Daxar, backing with Talaos and Pallas to form a defensive circle.

  Talaos, however, had more to say. "How'd you find us?" he added cheerfully.

  "Did you think there wouldn't be payback, after Borras?" hissed Sorvion. "Or that there wouldn't be eyes watching for the right chance? My only regret is that we didn't have enough warning to round up more men. Enough men to catch you alive, and kill you nice and slow."

  "Life is full of little disappointments," answered Talaos. As he dragged things out, he sized up the situation, and hoped Daxar and Pallas were doing the same. Sorvion was by far the most dangerous opponent they faced, and he had more men. If he could take Sorvion himself out at the start, or at least throw him and his men into confusion, they could probably take out Astus and his crew quickly enough to face a fight on a single front.

  Luckily, Sorvion seemed inclined to savor the moment. "Still think nothing could ever touch you?" he added.

  "Women touch me willingly all the time, which is more than can be said for you."

  "Your sins are not my problem, but you should be ready to pay for them."

  That reply struck Talaos as odd, but with all the strangeness going on in Cratus's organization of late, he wasn't inclined to ask about it. In answer, he pulled a dagger and threw it straight at Sorvion's throat. The latter dodged just in time and it went right into the eye of the man behind him. He screamed and fell as the others all around paused for a moment in surprise.

  Astus cursed, and charged without waiting for Sorvion's men.

  Daxar and Pallas took it for the opportunity it was. Daxar dodged a swing from Astus's axe, spun up and around, and brought his heavy sword down through the latter's head and shoulder. Pallas leapt forward with long blade in his right hand and short in his left. A man with a club charged him. He parried with the short blade in perfect dueling form, and brought his long blade through the man's stomach.

  Talaos had hoped to join them and clear a quick way out of their situation. However, Sorvion, unlike his men, reacted with instant action. He flew forward in two leaping strides and was on Talaos with blades whirling. Talaos blocked Sorvion's long blade with his own short, tried to bring his long blade under the other's ribs, only to find it blocked in turn
. They stood there for a moment, locked in mutual hate, then Talaos leapt backwards with blades ready.

  Behind him, Daxar kicked one of Astus's men sideways at the knee, and the man stumbled backwards roaring in pain. Daxar then dodged a short sword from another man and ran him through. Pallas cut down another of Astus's men with a quick whirling flash of both blades.

  Talaos thought it was time to form a line. He spun backwards with Sorvion in pursuit, blades blocking defensively, left then right, then left. Daxar sheared the head from the man with the shattered knee, and Pallas spun to face Sorvion's men.

  Sorvion's seven remaining men charged. Pallas parried an axe with his long blade and used it to pull the man's own guard away as he put his short blade clean between the man's ribs into his heart. Talaos dodged a sudden lunge by Sorvion, then a strike from a man with a heavy spiked mace. Turning, he brought his long blade out to block both of Sorvion's at once and opened the maceman's throat up with his short. Blood spewed and the man fell.

  Daxar arrived, blade low under Sorvion's guard, but the latter managed to drop in time to block. Together, Talaos and Daxar forced Sorvion back a step. Two more enemies closed on Pallas, and he stood confidently ready for them. Then, without warning, he dropped, with a throwing axe cleaved through the back of his head.

  Talaos raged, but kept his focus on the fight. He had no choice.

  Weaving and parrying, Talaos glanced behind him. There was yet another of Cratus's men back where Astus had been, new to the fight from who knew where; a fellow named Arios who was an expert with throwing axes. He had another one at the ready. Without thinking, Talaos spun and threw his short blade. It flew, spinning across the intervening distance, and lodged where Arios's neck met his shoulder. Blood spurted and the man fell.

  Talaos felt the cut of a blade on his forearm and brought his attention back to the foes at hand. Daxar had captured Sorvion's attention, along with one of the latter's remaining men, while the other four tried to surround Talaos. He aimed a kick to the groin that sent one of them flying backward against the filthy brick wall behind, spun to his right to dodge a mace, and still spinning, parried a sword.

  Daxar, for his part, was working hard to fend off Sorvion's dueling blades with his own heavier two-handed sword. He found an opening, shoved both of Sorvion's aside, and slashed a long cut along the latter's side. Then, using his momentum, continuing away from Sorvion in the same motion, he cut off the second enemy's left leg. The man toppled back screaming as blood sprayed all around.

  Talaos made a flipping leap past one of his four foes and out of their ring. He cut the man down with his long blade under the ribs, drew a dagger and threw it into the stomach of another. The man yelled in pain, pulled it out, and staggered forward with fight still in his eyes.

  To the side, Daxar dodged another strike of Sorvion's long blade, but didn't react quickly enough to avoid a sweep from the other's foot. He tripped, caught, and balanced himself, just in time for Sorvion to run him through.

  In fury, Talaos ran his long blade through the man he'd kicked into the wall, whirled, and nearly decapitated the foe who'd pulled the dagger from his belly, and then leapt at Sorvion.

  There were just three living men on the blood-soaked street now; Talaos, Sorvion, and the last of Sorvion's men. The other two pressed hard at Talaos, swords flashing. He stepped back, weaving, dodging, and parrying with his single blade. He decided to try something. Flipping sideways, he rolled low away from them, flipped back to his feet and sprinted to retrieve his short blade. He grabbed it, spun, and jumped straight backwards to avoid a skewering by Sorvion. As he did so, he spat, full in Sorvion's face.

  The latter glared at him in surprise and deadly hatred. He charged, and in his anger, his guard was ever so slightly off. Talaos glanced the other's long blade aside with his own short. Simultaneously, he brought his long blade up and under the taller man's chin and into his skull.

  As Sorvion dropped, Talaos withdrew his blade and whirled. The remaining man had come to a stop, looking suddenly nervous.

  "Go tell Cratus I'm coming for him," said Talaos, in a deadly cold voice.

  The man made a sort of fearful nod, then started to run.

  "On second thought, no," said Talaos. He sprinted, leapt, whirled in midair and landed past the other man. The enemy skittered to a stop, stared at him in surprise, and spun to bring his long sword in an overhead strike. Talaos dodged it, spinning low to the right, and brought his short blade into the man's kidney. He pulled it back and stabbed again in fury, and then again. He kicked the dying man to the ground, and then went to see his fallen friends.

  Pallas and Daxar were lying close by each other in pools of blood. Talaos kneeled at their sides, fists clenching and unclenching around his swords as fury and misery mingled on his face.

  ~

  Still splashed with the blood of the fight, Talaos raced through the back streets. He found a neglected, half-ruined fountain and washed off the most obvious signs of trouble. He didn't want to attract attention from the City Vigiles now, of all times. Not when revenge was burning hot inside him. Once he thought it good enough, he sped on.

  Back there, on the blood and gore soaked street, his friends Pallas and Daxar lay dead.

  However bad it was that he'd joined them for their disastrous walk, Talaos knew Pallas at least was a target for Cratus in his own right. Daxar had been a neutral. He'd stayed only out of loyalty and friendship for Talaos, and now he was dead.

  He couldn't bring Pallas and Daxar back, but he could at least make Cratus pay for killing them. War had found him after all. Palaeon had been right. Now it was his war. Talaos had a lot of friends who wouldn't mind helping Cratus die, yet weren't part of Palaeon's organization. Now was the time to give them the chance. Talaos hoped Palaeon was ready to do his part, and wasn't feeling too jealous about who gave orders to whom.

  After a short while, he was in the district where he'd heard Palaeon might have his latest base of operations. Much like Talaos, and in stark contrast to Cratus, Palaeon kept mobile, hard to find, never setting up a permanent home.

  He kept his eyes open, watching for Palaeon's lookouts, and finally spotted one; a short, greasy, weasel-like young man named Lodius. The other had already seen him, and waited with a guarded, frowning, expression.

  "Lodius, I need to see Palaeon. Now," said Talaos, still boiling.

  "I dunno, Talaos, you look like you got trouble. Lots of it," replied the latter.

  "It's the kind of trouble he's going to like. Tell him he was right, like finds like."

  Lodius eyed him dubiously, then let out a wheezing snicker of a laugh. "All right, whatever that means, it sounds like the kind of thing he'd say."

  Lodius then kicked a broken piece of paving stone down the street. It crashed into a pile discarded pottery with a loud clatter. After a short delay, a scrawny young man, or boy really, appeared. Talaos had seen him around lately, but didn't know him.

  Lodius gestured to the boy, "Good ear. Now you got a bigger job. Keep watch here just like I showed ya. Don't take anybody to Palaeon, just keep 'em waiting until I get back. Got it?"

  The boy nodded with visible pride.

  Then Lodius turned to Talaos, "Wait here, I'll go see if it's all right to bring you."

  Talaos gave a faint nod as he scanned the buildings around them.

  As Lodius started walking, he added, "Don't think about following me. We got guys on watch with bows."

  "Yes. I can see Demetrius up on that roof," replied Talaos with impatient sarcasm.

  As Talaos and the boy waited, the latter attempted to look mysterious and dangerous at his new post. After a short while, Lodius returned.

  "You're in. Follow me," Lodius said to Talaos, and off they went.

  They took a meandering path through trash-strewn back alleys until they came to a nondescript door on a windowless brick wall. There was what Talaos thought to be a suspiciously strong-looking beggar sitting nearby, and Lodius nodded to him. He t
hen knocked twice, high, and kicked the door once, low. It opened a crack, and Lodius gave another nod to whoever was on the other side of it.

  Together, they stepped inside. There was a little hallway going back and very narrow, steep stairs down. They took the stairs. At the bottom was a large, dingy basement space full of old crates and some scavenged-looking furniture. Goods of all sorts were piled under dirty tarps.

  Palaeon was at the far end on the left, near a trap door going down. He sat on what had once been a very nice gilt-painted chair atop a threadbare rug of ornate Southlands design. Around him were six armed men, all in his organization and known to Talaos. Palaeon had an icy serious expression. He motioned for Talaos to approach.

  "Word just reached me about you and Sorvion," he said, with no appreciable emotion.

  "Yes..." answered Talaos, forcing his earlier anger down into cold purpose.

  "Daxar and Pallas were good men," said Palaeon. "Daxar had friends of his own, and Sorvion made his last mistake in adding them to Cratus's list of enemies. Much as with you."

  "I'll be gathering and organizing my own today," replied Talaos.

  "Organizing leads to organizations, Talaos. Keep that in mind for the future, if we succeed in putting Cratus out of business," Palaeon replied in coolly thoughtful tones.

  "I'll do as I see fit."

  "You always have. Listen, Talaos, what happened to you was just the first strike in a campaign Cratus has been planning for a while. He's expecting us to try something, and he'll be ready."

  "And how soon can you be ready?" Talaos replied.

  Palaeon made a catlike, mirthless smile. "This evening."

  "Then I'll be back in a few hours," replied Talaos.

  ~

  "What still makes no sense is where Cratus is getting the gold to pay for it all," said Palaeon in his low, cold, dangerous voice. He sat on his scavenged gilt chair in his basement headquarters.

  Talaos had been away several hours, then back at the place several minutes, yet the only thing of significance that seemed to have changed was that many of the stacks of boxes and barrels had been moved to form a kind of partition between the back area, where Palaeon sat, and the entrance.