Battlemage

by Stephen Aryan

  Just as Gunder reached the end of the street and stepped into the doorway of an apothecary, two Fists of Drassi warriors came trotting down the road. All ten men were roughly the same height and build, although the man at the front was slightly broader than the rest. As ever each warrior was dressed identically in padded grey armour and white masks that showed only their chin and mouths. Most of them carried one or two swords across their back, but two had pairs of short scythes on chains tucked into their belts.

  As they reached their designated position the men stopped in unison. Gunder stepped out of the doorway and approached the leader, noticing his beard was flecked with grey.

  “I’m Captain Gerall,” he said, handing over the hexagonal token Roza had delivered the previous evening. The surface of the disk was inlaid with swirling black, red and blue script, the words intertwined and utterly unreadable to anyone but the Drassi. Gunder wasn’t the only one with secret codes. The leader took the offered disk and produced its identical twin from a pouch on his belt. He studied them closely before pocketing both and all ten men immediately snapped to attention.

  “I am Xhan gi Koto. We are yours to command until sunrise.”

  Gunder grinned. He wouldn’t need them for that long. “Let’s go. I have a list of targets.”

  “As you command,” said Xhan.

  The first two people were not on the official list assigned to him, but Gunder knew he wouldn’t have a better opportunity to settle a few old scores. Two streets away he led the Drassi to the mouth of a narrow alley between a row of run-down shops. It was littered with broken boxes, bits of rotten food and scurrying rodents. On either side were sets of narrow stairs that led up to small apartments above the shops. Without hesitation Gunder walked through the filth, soiling the pristine trousers of his uniform. The Drassi followed without complaint, stopping when he did at a narrow staircase halfway down the alley.

  Gunder pointed at the pale yellow door at the top of the stairs. “You’ll find two men inside. Both are to be eliminated. There shouldn’t be anyone else inside, but if there is, we can’t afford any witnesses if this coup is going to work.”

  The Drassi didn’t need to know any of that, and wouldn’t really care, but since he was dressed as a local, he needed to play the part of patriot to the hilt. His contract with them would be annulled if they suspected he was lying, or trying to manipulate them for his own ends. Drassi spies were famous, and their ability to tell when someone was lying was equally impressive. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of their displeasure, so carefully schooled his facial muscles.

  Xhan nodded and issued a series of whispered commands in his native language. Two men jogged down the alley, no doubt going around to the front of the building in case those inside tried to escape via a window. It was unlikely they would throw themselves out, but desperate men might try anything.

  Two Drassi crept up the stairs with swords drawn, while the rest fanned out and kept watch. The apartment was small, so any more than two Drassi would just have got in the way of the others. There was a faint crash as the first man kicked open the door and the second leapt inside. Gunder heard a short cry of pain that was quickly cut off, then a couple of thumps as heavy objects hit the floor. Less than a minute later the two men returned and the pair from the front came back. None of them were out of breath and the night was still young.

  “Our next target is a group of Chosen,” Gunder informed Xhan, leading the way out of the alley and back onto the main streets. He set a brisk pace, stretching his legs and using his height to make up for lost time. All of the Drassi kept pace without complaint.

  “How many?” asked Xhan.

  “Six. Most of them are thugs and former criminals. Their weapon skills were learned on the street. The leader is different. He’s a soldier.”

  Xhan nodded thoughtfully and passed this information on to his men. They were two streets away from the tavern where he’d been told they were drinking, when they came across a trio of Chosen.

  One man was pissing just inside the mouth of an alley, while the other two were meandering about and swaying from side to side. The Drassi leader glanced in his direction for guidance. Gunder responded by drawing his sword and walking towards the Chosen. It was only when he was almost on top of them they finally noticed. Even then he wasn’t sure they realised he was flanked by ten lethal warriors.

  “Wass thisss?” slurred one of the men. “Whass hap’ning?”

  “Drop your weapons, swear fealty to the Queen and we’ll let you live. Surrender or die,” said Gunder in a voice loud enough to penetrate their alcoholic fog. “This is your only warning.”

  The other man had finished pissing in the alley and came up behind his friends. All three stank and were having trouble standing up.

  “Who do you think you are then?” asked the new arrival, oblivious to the danger. “We’re in charge around here.”

  “Not any more,” said Gunder, putting the point of his sword against the throat of the speaker. “Last chance.”

  Perhaps it was the alcohol, or their belief that as Chosen they were untouchable, but two of the men reached for their weapons. Gunder jabbed the Chosen in the throat, opening his windpipe. He quickly stepped back as blood gushed out and the man began to choke to death. The other two were cut down in seconds. One was run through and the other beheaded. They left the bodies in the street and pressed on towards the tavern where their next targets lay.

  Normally at this hour the everyday noises of the street, and those around it, would have made it impossible to hear what was happening elsewhere. The unusual quiet across the whole city allowed Gunder to hear that the cull had already started. In the distance he heard shouting, the sounds of breaking glass and then a few brief screams. Gunder was about to barge into the tavern when Xhan grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up short.

  “A moment, please.”

  Four of the Drassi sprinted away down an alleyway parallel to the tavern to secure the back door. Given the calibre of the men they were hunting, he knew they wouldn’t run, but he said nothing and waited. Xhan waited a short time then released his arm, gesturing for him to go ahead. The few locals drinking in the tavern were initially alarmed, but when he pointed at the group of six Chosen they relaxed. Remarkably, most of the customers decided it was the right moment to go home for the night, leaving in a great huddle. The Drassi let them go, and by the time the Chosen realised what had happened they were alone. The man cleaning glasses behind the bar stared at the back when four Drassi came in through it.

  The group of Chosen were as Gunder had described. Ugly, brutal men with ill-fitting uniforms and lumpy, scarred faces. Their weapons were a mix of axes and short swords, but each of them would be carrying several daggers. The squad leader was easy to identify, as he’d recently had a wash. He also resembled a real soldier, unlike the others who were former thieves and killers. While the other Chosen carried on talking among themselves, unaware or uncaring of their predicament, the officer turned pale.

  “Surrender or die.” Gunder’s voice echoed off the wooden floor, cutting across their conversation. This group were some of the worst. The lowest form of street scum that other criminals despised. Desperate greedy men who brutalised their own people, in the name of an adopted God and emperor, just for the money.

  “That’s not much of a choice,” said a broad man with a grin that showed crooked yellow teeth. He was the same bald-headed yellow-toothed man who had searched and smashed up the home of a fat merchant in the name of justice. As Yellowtooth stood up Gunder noticed his hand stayed on the hilt of a dagger.

  “Maybe we should give up our weapons—” said the officer, but he was promptly cut short when one of the men sat with him slit his throat. As the officer gasped his final breaths, the thugs drew their weapons and spread out. They’d obviously been waiting for an excuse to do that and now had nothing to lose.

  As soon as Gunder threw a dagger the Drassi leapt into action, moving in unison aga
inst their opponents. Gunder pretended to aim for the big man at the front, but as anticipated he moved to one side. The blade buried itself in the back of another man, who squawked in pain, stumbling forward in surprise. The Chosen fought as he’d expected, with ruthless and brutal skill, but the Drassi were disciplined warriors who trained every day, using techniques that had been developed over centuries. They were untouchable.

  Xhan danced to one side of a vicious strike, took the arm and then the head of the nearest Chosen with two moves. His sword effortlessly cut through skin, muscle and bone. One of the thugs had somehow managed to disarm the Drassi facing him, but he didn’t anticipate one of his own weapons being turned against him. In less than two heartbeats the Drassi took a dagger from the thug’s belt and stabbed him in the chest four times. The strikes seemed excessive until Gunder realised each had pierced a vital organ. The Chosen was dead before his face hit the floor.

  It took a little longer to deal with the ringleader, but once he was sliced in two the inn fell silent. One of the Drassi had a cut on his arm, but the others were unharmed. The wound was quickly wrapped and once Xhan was satisfied it wasn’t serious, he declared them ready to continue.

  For the next two hours Gunder led the Drassi against groups of Chosen and several individuals on his list who were, apparently, collaborators. Even if any of them recognised him or realised what was really happening, it didn’t matter. He gave them no warning and no one escaped. Each target was killed without hesitation, and when the river of blood eventually dried up, several nations would find themselves blind, deaf and dumb in Perizzi.

  On occasion Gunder was forced to offer a Yerskani who had become Chosen a chance to surrender. None accepted, perhaps because they realised their time was over, and even if they escaped prison they would be pariahs. Some of the Drassi picked up wounds, but none were serious enough to prevent them fulfilling the contract.

  Across the city, ranking officers and Guardians of the Peace led units of City Watch and Drassi warriors against targets, all of which had been coordinated by Roza. The local citizens had played their part in the conspiracy, hiring the Drassi and keeping them hidden until tonight, but they were not allowed to lead. Few of them had any military experience, and eliminating all of the Chosen in one night was too important to gamble on good-intentioned amateurs.

  Several times they encountered other squads carrying bloody weapons, and as the night progressed he saw more and more dead bodies lying in the street. A few hours previous the city had been unusually quiet, but now the streets rang with the sounds of battle and the heavy tramp of the City Watch on the march.

  “What is our next target?” asked Xhan, as Gunder led them towards a seedy-looking establishment in a very run-down neighbourhood. Gunder had been here twice before on business but never set foot inside.

  Gunder stopped at the mouth of an alley and pointed towards a large two-storey building that had light showing in every window. “That’s a brothel.”

  Xhan’s mouth twisted in a puzzled fashion. Until now none of the Drassi had commented on the targets. It was not their place or their business. They were weapons, nothing more. His hand guided the Fist, at least for the duration of the contract. Even so, they were not stupid men and they knew what tonight was about.

  “They smuggle in girls from across the west. Even as far as the desert kingdoms,” said Gunder.

  Xhan’s puzzled expression remained in place. Sadly, kidnapping women from abroad and forcing them into prostitution was nothing new. It was even worse when the slavers got them hooked on venthe or black crystal to keep them compliant and desperate for their next fix.

  “I said, girls, not women.”

  Gunder didn’t need to elaborate as Xhan’s mouth tightened into a hard line. Many considered Drassi culture to be archaic and stagnant, but certain crimes, like child prostitution and slavery, were not tolerated on any level. While some countries claimed them as problems that could not be eliminated, the Drassi made no such excuses. Any such criminal would be killed in front of the entire town, with the perpetrator’s family made to watch. The criminal’s home would be burned to the ground and the land salted. Honour was at the heart of Drassi culture and it bound people more tightly than any law. Entire families had been known to kill themselves out of shame.

  “What are your orders?”

  “No one leaves,” said Gunder.

  “A moment, please.” Xhan turned to his men and quickly explained the situation. One was sent to scout the building and surrounding streets while they waited in silence. When he returned, Xhan listened to the man’s description of what he’d seen, then beckoned Gunder to approach.

  “There are three ways into the building. Through the front, a back door, and a third entrance that can only be opened from the inside. With only two Fists I cannot guarantee no one will escape.”

  “We don’t have time to bring in more,” explained Gunder. “This must happen tonight. By tomorrow this place will be protected. Some of its patrons are quite influential.” Xhan’s mouth twisted again as if he’d tasted something bitter. “I will fight.”

  So far the Drassi had done their best to keep him away from the fighting. Although he’d pretended not to notice, there were always two men within arm’s reach at all times. It didn’t make very good business sense if the person holding your contract died.

  “Do you see this?” said Gunder, gesturing at the rank sewn on his uniform. “That means I’m a Captain. I have no powerful friends or relatives, no family name on which to barter. I earned this. I can guard the door.”

  Xhan took a moment to weigh up his choices. He could refuse to attack the brothel, but not following orders would go against the contract and sully the Drassi name. Internationally they were known for being the best swords money could buy, and they always followed orders. There was also the unpleasant truth that after tonight the brothel would continue trading children’s flesh unless destroyed. On the other hand, if they did attack there was a risk Gunder might be injured or even killed.

  “Lei will stay with you,” said Xhan, gesturing at the Drassi who had scouted the building.

  The rest of them checked their weapons, then split into two groups, moving silently to encircle the brothel. Gunder followed Lei towards an iron door which had no keyhole or handles on the outside. There was a small slot at eye level, but it was sealed tight.

  A few seconds later he heard a crash, then another as the Drassi broke down both doors and entered the building. A series of screams followed and some back and forth of steel ringing against steel. Even from where he was standing Gunder could hear the fight was gradually moving through the building towards him. When he heard a scraping sound of bolts being drawn back, Gunder and Lei prepared themselves. A bald fat man, wearing only a belt and a pair of shoes, stumbled out clutching a pile of clothes. Coins rattled down from a loose purse, but he paid them no attention. When his frantic eyes settled on Gunder’s sword they widened in terror. Even as the man tried to turn around and go back, others inside were shoving their way forward. He stumbled and fell onto his face, before being trampled by several other men whom Gunder recognised as influential figures.

  Lei looked towards him for a signal.

  Gunder’s sword swept down, slicing through the fat man’s neck, severing his head from his body. “No one leaves.”

  With death coming for them from behind and in front, the worms did the only thing they could. They begged, pleaded and made promises to fulfil every wish Gunder could imagine, if only he’d spare their lives. As he chopped down the deviants, Gunder imagined scything corn on the farm from his youth, instead of slicing people into chunks of meat. Working together, he and Lei cut down eight men in the doorway before they could flee.

  Xhan and the others found Gunder wiping the last spots of blood from his sword. Although he didn’t say anything Xhan was obviously pleased to see Gunder without injury. Most of the Drassi were covered with splatters of blood and patches of gore, but all of the
m moved as if the brothel had been the first target of the night.

  “What is our next target?” asked Xhan.

  “There’s just one more,” said Gunder and this time he allowed himself a smile. It took a while to reach the building, but before long they stood in front of its elaborate doors; Xhan and the others knew where they were headed.

  The newly completed Temple of the Chosen was a hideous monstrosity that loomed over the city. Its golden walls, vast white dome and four blue minarets were inoffensive, but the enormous statue of Taikon sickened everyone. The sculptor had taken a number of artistic liberties, and the handsome and benevolent figure had very little in common with the real Mad King of Zecorria.

  Despite the chaos elsewhere in the city, two dozen Chosen were guarding the temple. As Gunder stepped into the street he wasn’t surprised to see several officers of the Watch emerge from side streets. At first the Chosen didn’t look worried, until the number of Drassi warriors swelled to outnumber them four to one. Every man was bruised and bloody, yet he could see each was utterly determined to destroy the eyesore that blighted the city.

  “Tear it down,” whispered Gunder. A moment later the signal was given and he charged forward with his sword held high.

  CHAPTER 43

  The sun beat down on Vargus’s head as he walked through a field of ripe wheat. Unbroken blue sky stretched as far as he could see in every direction. Sweat trickled down his back making his skin itch, but he didn’t mind. Today he was coming home. His last visit had been so long ago he could barely remember it. Despite his discomfort and aching muscles, a smile would not stay away from his face.

  Small birds wove in and out of the hedges, twittering as they went. The only other noise in the world was the wind rattling through the grain. The quiet peace of the land was broken by a distant cry. At first Vargus thought it was a child, but the sound was constant. It stretched on and on, and then suddenly stopped as soon as it had begun.