Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  They weren’t listening. They approached cautiously, fanning out for better position. He held his sword out in front of him, swiping at any man that got too close and backed away. He couldn’t afford to get surrounded.

  “Hey! Anyone? Are there any law officers nearby?” he yelled. “We have a disagreement here, but I don’t want to have to kill anyone!”

  The crowd backed away, making room, but no one offered to help. Justan was in an impossible situation. His only hope was to run. He leaned forward and slashed at the men, before turning and running into the crowd.

  Another man in the crowd grabbed him by the sword arm and jerked him to a halt. This man was also wearing the duke’s insignia. Justan kicked him away, but it was too late. He was seized from behind by several more men. They began to beat him into submission.

  Zambon was leaving a supply shop when he heard the commotion. He ran up the street just in time to see the duke’s men bind Justan’s arms behind his back and knock him unconscious. He stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Most likely, he wouldn’t be able to defeat all six men and even if he did, they wouldn’t be able to get out of the city without being arrested.

  Zambon approached the men. “Excuse me, but what did this man do?”

  “This guy attacked us!” one of the men complained with a whiny voice. He held up his hand, which had a wicked gash in it. “Besides, he’s wanted for being a bandit.”

  “A bandit?”

  “Yeah, he killed one of the duke’s best men just over a week ago.” The man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why, do you know him?”

  Zambon was shaken by the news. Justan hadn’t killed any man. The only thing Justan had killed was the strange armored orc.

  “No.” He thought quickly. “But I hate bandits. What is going to happen to him? Are you going to take him before the king?” If so, Zambon knew people in the palace and he thought that he might be able to find a way to free Justan.

  “No, we’re going to take this one back to the duke himself.” He grinned evilly. “He’s going to scream for a long time before the torturers let him die.”

  Zambon watched helplessly as they took Justan away. He followed the men to the inn where they joined up with more soldiers. They began dragging Justan to the outer edge of the city where a whole lot more men wearing the duke’s insignia were camped. The odds were now worse. Zambon needed help and the people he knew could not go against the duke.

  He had to find Lenny.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Lenui Firegobbler finished off his tankard of ale in two large gulps. He poured it down so fast that his thick red handlebar mustache was drenched. He grabbed the edge of the table cloth and blotted at his mustache making sure that it didn’t droop.

  “Arlene!”

  A somewhat plump dwarven woman with a downy blond beard approached his table with a scowl. “What do you want now, Lenui?”

  “What do you think I want, woman? Can't you see my gal-durn tankard's empty?”

  “Of course it's empty, you big oaf!” she barked, though there was a glint of amusement in her eye. “And when I finish filling this one up, I'll turn around and it‘ll be empty again! I have other customers you know! Don't you even pause to take a breath?”

  Lenui smiled disarmingly. “When the ale's as good as yers, darlin', who needs to breathe?”

  Arlene shook her head in exasperation. “You know, if you didn't shave your chin, you just might be cute.” She reached out and tugged on one end of his handlebar mustache. “Just you know that being cute doesn't pay your bills. I should remind you that your tab has been growing and you haven't paid me in a week.”

  “Dag-nab it, Arlene.” Lenui looked a little embarrassed. “I done told you a big client of mine stiffed me. Ain’t I always paid you before, even when times'r rough?”

  “How much does he owe?” came a voice from behind them.

  The Earthen Mug was an inn that catered mainly to dwarves, so Lenui was quite surprised when he looked back to see a human standing with a bag of coins in his hand. The man looked familiar, though he couldn't quite place the face.

  Arlene looked skeptical. “Ten gold.”

  The man winced. “Does he ever leave?”

  Lenui slammed one big fist on the tabletop. “Who’re you to be askin' such questions?”

  “I'll pay half,” the man said and handed over five gold pieces.

  “Gall-durn it, don't take that money, Arlene!” the dwarf roared.

  “I'll take it any way I can get it,” Arlene said, snatching the proffered coins so quickly that Lenui barely saw it. She smiled sweetly up at the man. “Can I get anything for you, sir?”

  “No. I'm in a hurry.” The man sat at the table across from the dwarf. “Lenny, I need your help.”

  “That's Lenui!” the dwarf snapped. But something about the man tickled his memory, and he found himself fingering the necklace of teeth that he wore around his neck. “Who in the hell do you think you are anyways, payin’ my bill without permission?”

  “You don't recognize me?” The man seemed surprised, then scratched himself behind the ear. “Well I don't suppose that I made myself particularly memorable at the time. I’m Zambon. I was one of the academy guards with the caravan you joined last year. You know, the one that was traveling from-”

  “Yeah, yeah. I remember you now.” Arlene handed Lenny a full tankard and moved away. “Thanks darlin'.”

  After one lingering glance at her behind, the dwarf looked back at Zambon. “Okay, so I done seen you before. Why’re you here? If you want me to make you a weapon, yer out of luck.”

  “I'm here because I need your help. It's about Justan.”

  “The boy?” Lenny said, his interest now fully piqued. “He's at the MageSchool, or at least he durn well better be.”

  “Actually he is here in Dremald and he's in big trouble.” Zambon said.

  Dag-gum boy. Of course he was in trouble. “What kind of trouble?”

  “He's been captured by some soldiers claiming to be the duke's men.”

  “The duke's men? That bunch of scruffy varmints! What do they want from him?”

  “I don’t know. They are claiming that he's a bandit and that he killed one of their own. But I have been traveling with him and the only thing he killed was an orc.”

  “Dag-blamed hoop-skirtin', frog-snortin'-!” The dwarf's hand clenched and the tankard crumpled, sending ale all over the table. He stared straight ahead. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Well, you know your way around this city. You know what's going on. But I just watched as the King's guards let those men drag Justan into their camp! Now I haven't been in Dremald for a while, but as I remember it, anyone accused of a crime was brought before either a judge or the king himself!”

  Lenny still held the crushed tankard, not noticing the ale that ran down his wrist. His other hand fingered the moonrat tooth necklace.

  “The king lets them varmints do whatever they dag-gum want as long as no nobles get hurt. We’ve all just learned to stay away from ‘em.”

  “We can't just let them take him! One of them told me that they were going to take him to the duke to be tortured to death.” Zambon said.

  Lenny gritted his teeth audibly. “When did they take him?”

  “About three hours ago.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “Look, whatever we do, we have to do it soon. It took me too long to find you as it is.” Lenny continued to stare straight ahead. Zambon erupted, “Are you going to help or not? I thought that you were his friend! At least he considered you to be. For the last two days he hasn't done anything but speak about how excited he was to see you again!”

  Those words seemed to penetrate Lenny's trance and he sputtered, “Of course I'm helpin', dag-blast it! I'm just plannin' in my mind how to do it.” He raised the crumpled tankard to his lips and seemed to notice for the first time that he had ruined it.

  “Gah!” He threw the tankard down. “Tell me
the whole story. From the beginnin’.”

  “We don’t have time. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Two hours before sundown.”

  “Well we can't do nothin' fer the boy while they're still in the city. Why the minute they saw me comin' they'd call the king's guard for help and they'd be on us like a hog on slop!” At Zambon’s questioning look, he added, “I've run into them folks before you see. So tell me the story.”

  Zambon told him almost everything. He didn’t mention Justan’s naming or the fact that the wizards probably weren’t happy that they left. Zambon said only that Justan’s magic was special and that he had been sent to find this Master Coal so that he could be properly taught.

  “I can’t believe he broke his blasted sword on an orc!” The dwarf sighed. “So the elf and the rogue horse are outside the city still waitin’?” Zambon nodded. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

  The dwarf stood and headed out the door, slapping Arlene in the behind on the way out. She scowled at him and let out a string of curses in response, but as Zambon followed Lenny out the door, he saw a slight smile on her face.

  “Where are we going, then?” Zambon asked.

  Lenny paused for a moment in the brightness of the sunlight, squinting after so much time in the darkness of the inn, then marched down the street with Zambon in tow. He spoke to the academy graduate as they walked.

  “We're goin' to my shop to pick up some stuff before we leave. They won't take him out of town 'til mornin'. ‘Least that's the way they've always done it.”

  Zambon was conflicted as he followed the dwarf. He had hoped to head into the mountains after his family right away, but Justan had been a good friend. Zambon couldn't let him go on to torture and death. Especially when he still felt in his heart that whatever had happened to his family was over with.

  Together they wove through the busy afternoon crowd of people. Most of the dwarves preferred walking along the edge of the streets to avoid being bumped into, but Lenny, being tall for his kind, had no trouble navigating the tangled mess of people.

  Soon the sound of ringing hammers and the hiss of steam filled the air and Zambon knew that they were in the blacksmith district. The shops here were made of black brick or grey granite instead of wood. Soot hung in the air and everywhere he looked, Zambon could see people hawking weapons.

  Lenny stopped and grinned. “This is my place.” Unlike the grey or black facades of the other shops, Lenny's brick was painted a blood red. The sign that hung out front said simply, Firegobbler: Weaponsmith.

  “Nhed!” Lenny entered the front room of the shop quickly and moved to the back. “Nhed, get yer fat yeller hide up here!”

  Zambon took two steps into the shop and froze as his eyes took in the beauty of Lenny's work. The room itself was fairly small, but the space was taken up effectively by display stands and wall mountings that truly showed off the dwarf's skill. Weapons hung neatly all over the shop and each one showed a distinct personality and attention to detail. Zambon found himself wanting to examine every weapon in the shop.

  “Nhed!”

  A rather chubby looking dwarf with a curly red beard came in from the rear door breathing heavily and wearing a thick leather apron. From the redness of his face and the heat that radiated off of him, it was evident that he had been at the forge.

  “Nhed, you gall-durn fool, what’re you doin' back there? Don't you know we coulda’ been robbed?”

  “Come on, uncle.” The younger dwarf yawned. “You know as well as I that no customers have come in here in over a week.” His accent was faint compared to Lenny's.

  “Zambon,” Lenny growled. “This is my stupid nephew, Nhed, who can't even watch the store for a few measly hours while I have myself a drink.”

  Nhed snorted. “More like five hours.”

  “I don't get it.” Zambon said, still staring in awe at all of the beautiful weapons. “You shouldn't be able to keep these things on the shelves. If you were anywhere near the academy, you would be cleaned out in a single day. They are magnificent!”

  “Yer dag-gum right,” Nhed said.

  “Bah! Them academy boys couldn't afford my work.”

  “Don't be so sure,” Zambon argued. “Academy graduates are probably the best paid soldiers in the known lands. They would pay well for weapons like these.” Nhed nodded his chubby red face in agreement.

  “Maybe so.” Lenny grunted. “But that's somethin' to worry 'bout later. Nhed, I'm gonna be gone fer a while and I don't know when I'll be back. Can you handle it?”

  Nhed scowled. “Of course I can! You were gone fer over three months last time and I made a hefty profit. My work may not measure up to yours, but I make a good sword myself.”

  “Fine, fine. I'll get some stuff and be on my way then.” Lenny went through the door in the back of the shop and Zambon turned to Nhed who was grinning to himself.

  “I still don't understand. With weapons such as these, why isn't your business booming?”

  “We been blacklisted by the duke's men,” the dwarf explained. “See, Uncle Lenui was approached by two of them that weren't as scruffy as the others. They were captains or something in the duke’s army, and my uncle was itchin' to try some new designs, so he decided to accept the commissions, and at a hefty price, too. See, whenever some minor noble gets a raise in status, they like to throw money around.

  “Well, when he was finished, they were two of the nicest swords he'd done in a long time. When the two captains came back in, they drooled all over the swords, but then they refused to pay and said they wanted to think about it first.

  “Well, they must've watched us put the swords away, because when I came out in the morning, someone had broken into the shop during the night and stolen just those two swords out of where we had them hidden. Later when we heard about two men in the duke's army braggin' about how they got two magical swords for free, Uncle Lenui was furious.”

  “Magical swords?” Zambon asked.

  “Yeah, my uncle got carried away I guess. He does that sometimes. Especially when he's trying out something new. So he used some of his magic ore to make the blades.”

  “So what did your uncle do?”

  “I'll tell you what I done,” said Lenny as he came back into the room carrying a sack that bulged with supplies. “I found out where one of them liked to drink, so I took Buster with me and started bustin' knees until I got my sword back.”

  Nhed interrupted, “Then Uncle found out where the other captain was and it ended up that he was on a journey to the Razbeck border. Well, he took off after the man.”

  “Dag-blasted fool!” Lenny growled.

  “And it ends up that he's dead before Uncle even gets there. Well, after questioning some of the men that were still alive-.”

  “With my fists mind you,” Lenny interjected.

  “He found out that they had been under orders to kill this giant and the giant ended up way tougher than they could handle. So Uncle Lenui goes after the giant to get his sword back.”

  The dwarf spoke so quickly that Zambon had a hard time following the story. “A giant?” He looked at Lenny. “You went after a giant by yourself?”

  “Why'er you so surprised? I done killed lots of giants in my time. I hate the stupid things. Anyways, so I follow the tracks and when I find the giant, it's a garl-friggin rock giant and I thought, hell, this should be easier than gettin' a gnome drunk.” He noticed Zambon's skeptical look and added, “Buster loves killin' giants and he loves bustin' rock even more.”

  “Buster is your hammer, right?”

  “Yeah.” Lenny looked sad for a moment, but continued, “So, I tell the rock giant that I want my dag-blamed sword back. It just laughs at me and says to fight fer it. Well, like I said, I've done killed lots of giants before, but thisun's different. It was fast and smart. So it took a while, but when Buster finally hit it, the durn thing roared like its skivvies caught fire!”

  “So d
id you get the sword back?”

  “Nope,” Nhed answered.

  “Son of a . . . Nhed, let me tell the gall-durn story! So anyway, I busted its foot open and the giant was hoppin' around on one foot and hollerin'. Then it took Buster away from me and booted me out of its territory.”

  “Wait. How did it take Buster away from you?” Zambon asked.

  “Hell, it just reached down and grabbed him by the head. Now I held on 'cause I wasn't about to let go of my Buster, but the big corn-jigger lifted me up off the ground and drop kicked me into the trees!”

  The thought of the irascible dwarf being kicked through the air was quite amusing, but the serious look in Lenny's eyes kept any smile from reaching Zambon's lips.