The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Because it only takes one failure to get him killed,” Kevin politely states. The veteran places wine bottles on the table, checking the labels to make sure the stronger ones are kept away from the gypsy. “Special occasion and none of you are students, so I say damn the rule. Just don’t tell Duggan about this. He’d never speak to me again, which means I’d no longer have any intelligent conversations here.”

  Selenia grabs a bottle of white wine and pours it into her glass, the smooth taste relaxing her nerves. The headmistress takes the scroll back and returns it to the dragon’s head before opening the circular windows. She looks over her academy that is bathed in the red light of Vir, the summer moon. Several stars shed narrow beams of yellow that are devoured by the crimson cloak that makes the night feel hotter. A smirk appears on her face as she remembers the times she tried to teach Delvin basic knowledge such as math and history. Everything was absorbed on the spot, but he only retained the things that he thought could be used in the future. It took two years to get him to understand that one never knows what will be useful, so it is smarter to gather as much knowledge as possible.

  “Maybe it’s my fault. I always told him not to be cocky against a superior opponent, but I still tried to instill confidence in him,” Selenia explains as she returns to her seat. She scoops up a forkful of mush, but drops it when she realizes how cold it has gotten. “You’ve seen the document and know what I was grooming Delvin for. I have no children and I’m too busy to go through the motions of birthing and raising a kid. For lack of a better term, he is my heir and will get the academy when I die. Unfortunately, I can’t tell him about his inheritance.”

  “Why not?” Sari asks, cutting Nyx off by a second.

  The headmistress takes another long swig of wine, licking the last few drops off her rough lips. “He hasn’t earned it yet. I want him to be the best warrior that he can be, which means he has to surpass me. It isn’t good enough that the potential is there. If Delvin is to take over my legacy then his deeds must be exposed to the world. After all, his reputation and prowess will be what propels this academy after I’m gone. The champion prophecy will help with this, but there is another piece of the puzzle. Delvin needs to believe he is my equal, which means this remains our secret. Even if you think he’s proven his worth and broken his restraints, you will all keep your mouths shut.”

  “Then you probably shouldn’t have told us,” Luke says, cringing in preparation of something getting thrown at him. He is surprised when the blow never comes and opens his eyes to see that Selenia is still relaxing in her chair. “I really thought you would hit me. Actually, I’ve been here for a day and nobody’s punched me. That doesn’t seem right.”

  “Keep talking and I’ll make you feel at home, Callindor,” the lavender-eyed half-elf says with a smirk. Refilling her glass, she swirls the alcohol and watches a few bubbles gather in the middle of the liquid. “The reason I shared this with you is because I want your help. See if you can help him improve. I know you all depend on him for his leadership and planning, but don’t believe that he’s perfect. Let him falter and find his own way out of trouble a few times.”

  “I think I’m going to get some sleep,” Nyx bluntly declares before walking toward the trapdoor. The channeler is stopped by Dariana, who gracefully leaps and stands on the exit. “Go back to the table and listen to her. I don’t want to hear it because she’s going to tell us to stay out of his way. She wants us to let our friend get himself out of whatever mess he finds in the plains, which I’ve already agreed to. I’m not happy about it and I’d appreciate it if people stopped telling me to back away.”

  “At least we’re on the same page,” Selenia says from her chair. She raises her drink to the channeler and waves for Dariana to return to the table. “Let her go and cool off, telepath. I’m not in the mood for stories anyway. Though I should answer my questions from this morning. We nearly burned the cafeteria down and Betty told me never to teach a person to cook again. She trained him, which is why he knows his way around a kitchen. Duggan took a few weeks to warm up to the friendly kid while Kevin took a shine to him immediately. Delvin was kind of scared of both of them for some reason. His nickname was Tortoise of Death because he spent many of his sparring matches defending himself and would win with one blow. I think that covers everything I promised. Rest well and have a good journey, Ms. Masterson. I’ll probably be overseeing the morning run when you depart.”

  Nyx bows and waits for Dariana sit down again before looking at the headmistress. “Have a nice night, everyone. Thank you for the food and lodging, Ms. Hamilton. I’ll see you in the morning, dad.”

  The channeler yawns and drops through the trapdoor, a burst of hot air slowing her descent to the floor. Kevin limps over to the window to watch his daughter walk across the courtyard and disappear into the teacher dormitory. By the time he turns back around, he notices that all of their guests have fallen asleep at the table.

  “They really are helpless without him,” the veteran mentions with a crafty smile.

  “And he’s lost without them,” Selenia replies before finishing the wine. She gathers the bottles and locks them in a drawer, earning a stern look from Kevin. “No alcohol allowed outside of graduation day and your birthday. So consider the collection confiscated until one of those events turns up. If you have a problem with that then argue against it when there’s a new headmaster around here.”

  “As if any of us will outlive you.”

  5

  The ebony crystal spires of Darkmill can be seen over the nearby hills as the stretching clouds pass overhead. The village of Roeth is nothing more than a collection of one-story homes and businesses that have grown around the border outpost. Miles of guarded fence run along the stark division of the land where one side is short, green grass and the other is covered in the tall stalks of the plains. Soldiers move in pairs as they patrol the simple barrier, each duo given a ten foot area to watch. The defenses are not to keep the tribesmen in, but to prevent citizens of Serab from venturing into the wild region. Unlike the Bor’darukians and the barbarians, there is a long history of distrust among the Yagervan tribes and their neighbors. Stemming from an early attempt to absorb the nomadic people into Serab, the only contact the two nations have is the occasional exile or a desperate group trading with the outposts for food. Even Darkmill and the Snow Tiger tribe have had very limited dealings with the elusive people that live on the other side of their eastern borders.

  “I know your job is to keep people out and avoid an incident,” Delvin explains with his hands over his head. He slowly turns around to count how many guards have him and his friends surrounded. “I’m also sorry my friend here called you and your family such terrible names. He gets very grumpy when he’s hungry.”

  “I wouldn’t be hungry if any of us knew how to hunt,” Pelo grumbles, his arms crossed instead of in the air like the others. “I told you we should have taken more supplies from Fort Journeyman, traded for some horses, or detoured to a village for food. It may have cost us a day or two, but we wouldn’t be so hungry.”

  “Is this really the time, Mr. The Swift?”

  “Well you weren’t listening on the road, Mr. Cunningham.”

  “You’re supposed to be cunning and quick.”

  “And you’re supposed to be a capable leader.”

  Two of the guards tap the bickering warriors on the head with their spears, getting the pair to be quiet. A lightly armored captain stands behind the circle of soldiers and thumbs through a thick stack of papers. She is no longer reading the pages in order, but opening to random sections to either groan in exasperation or whistle in surprise. Several times the white-haired woman glances at one of her prisoners and loudly sucks on her lower lip while thinking about what she should say to them. With a snap of her fingers, the soldiers put their spears at their sides and let their leader approach the mercenaries. The woman drags a stool behind her and places it within reach of Delvin, but takes a seat before
the young man can move.

  “It’s been a long day, gentlemen,” the captain states with an exaggerated sigh. She is about to lean back when she remembers she is not sitting in an actual chair. “My name is Captain Susan Lemure and I still have six hours on my shift. I’ve already had two other attempts to get into the plains and a hooded lion decided to take a nap on the other side of the gate. Those beasts do not wake up happy and I have a man in the infirmary because his arm is trapped in crushed armor.”

  “Then you should let us go and pretend you never saw us,” Gerdo suggests, flashing the woman a friendly smile. She returns the expression before yawning and shaking her head clear of some mental cobwebs. “We’re only here to handle a small job. Part of it involves avoiding the tribes, so we won’t cause an incident.”

  The captain holds out a sheet of paper that is covered in notes, the handwriting barely legible to anyone who is not used to the sloppy scrawl. “Gerdo Rintz has been arrested for bar fights, stealing horses, three counts of public nudity, and at least ten counts of wife . . . they actually wrote borrowing on this report. Pelo the Swift has at least twenty drunken disorderly arrests and even more incidents where he responded to guards with . . . lewd and not even remotely suggestive behavior. You really told a halfling guard to kiss your butt and proceeded to wiggle said rear in his face? Only reason you were not arrested was because of the resulting hospital stay being longer than your time in jail would have been. Scorpion, who refuses to give his real name, has been repeatedly arrested for carrying illegal poisons and stealing potions from various temples. At least you’re straightforward. Finally, we have the famous Delvin Cunningham and his habit of trespassing, which really doesn’t put my mind at ease here. Apparently, signs that say ‘restricted’ or ‘do not enter’ are only suggestions to you. I saw mention of you being involved in a few fires too.”

  “Those were accidents,” Delvin politely interrupts while running his hands through his knotted hair. Slowly lowering his arms, he clasps his hands in front of his stomach. “I fell asleep while planning for a job and knocked over the lantern. It only happened three times and I made sure to pay for the damages. I should point out that the only one who ever got hurt in those incidents was me.”

  “Also Tavris, which is why he wore a hat for a year,” Scorpion whispers, remembering the tall warrior’s decimated hair. The black-clothed man bows to the captain and ignores the subtle shift of several spears. “With all of that, I’m surprised you haven’t arrested us. The fact that you haven’t tells me that this is nothing more than a bluff. Please stop this display of power and let us go on our way.”

  “The reason I don’t arrest you is because you also have commendations from some influential people including Mayor Highrider and Tzefira,” Captain Lemure states, her eyes drifting to Gerdo and his wide grin. She smiles at the charming man, which visibly unnerves him. “Don’t be too happy about that, handsome. It just means I’d be cursed with a lot of paperwork and headaches if I tried to arrest you. I don’t even want to think about what your leader being a champion would bring to the table.”

  Delvin looks at the wooden fence that blocks his view of the plains, but he can see a few birds flitting through the sky. He takes a slow, deep smell of the breeze that carries the grassy scent of his homeland and cringes at a pang in his chest. None of the scents can be placed, which makes him feel like he truly is an outsider trying to get into foreign territory. For a second, the warrior considers giving up and returning to the other champions. A distant shout and a chorus of roars from the plains sends a shiver down his spine, which tells him that he no longer has a choice but to keep moving forward.

  “I understand your position, but we have a job to do. Our employers were very specific about this having to get done,” Delvin states as he turns back to the soldiers. His serious tone causes the spearmen to stiffen, one of the more tired guards even standing at attention. “I can’t tell you who has hired us, but I will say it is a job coming out of Gaia. They’ve heard rumors of danger brewing in Yagervan and want us to scout the area. Unfortunately, it’s a situation where we’re . . . unaffiliated if captured by a tribe. So I don’t have the papers that normally come from an official border crossing. Those would defeat the purpose of hiring outside and expendable agents. So can you help us out, Susan?”

  “That is a problem and I’d love to be a friend, but my hands are tied,” she answers before standing and letting one of her men take the stool. The mercenaries look worried and nervous, which makes her suggest something that she knows she may regret. “The best I can do is send a message to Queen Ionia and see if I can get you permission. That will take up to a week because she might not be in Darkmill and this won’t be a high priority. Beyond that option, I can’t do anything else to help you.”

  “That would be perfect,” Gerdo states before Delvin can reply. The lanky man’s eyes shimmer as he takes the captain’s hands. “Do you mind if I ask what time you finish your shift, Captain Lemure?”

  The white-haired woman slips free of his grasp and blushes. “Two hours after dark when the graveyard shift is settled. After that I go back to my home and crawl into bed with my husband who is the local blacksmith. He’s a half-orc with arms that are as thick as your body. So I’ll have to pass on the offer even though I’m flattered by your attention.”

  “Such is my fate of loneliness.”

  “Then let’s ignore that fate with some ale and food, old man,” Pelo hisses into his companion’s ear. He points to where Delvin and Scorpion are already walking away, the circle of guards having opened to let them back into the village. “We have a long and boring wait ahead of us. Maybe we can find a few local jobs to do.”

  Bowing to Captain Lemure, the swordsmen hurry to catch up to their friends, who are whispering to each other. Delvin holds up his hand to stop them from talking until they are out of sight of the guards. They turn into a nearby alley and make their way to the edge of town where there is nobody to overhear them. Only a small group of pigs are within earshot, the muddy beasts making enough noise to drown out any whispering. Scorpion draws a dagger from a hidden pocket and juggles it while they wait for their leader to speak.

  “I wish Tavris was here to help us fight through those guards,” Pelo says after a few minutes of silence.

  “That would make our journey more difficult and our return a disaster,” Scorpion points out with a chuckle. Slipping the dagger into his sleeve, the mercenary massages his aching lower back. “You mentioned that this is to face your past, Delvin. You’ve also made it clear that this has to do with Nyx as well as yourself. I must ask the question that has been on all of our minds. After all, the answer will decide on how rash we act here. Is she-”

  “Entirely,” Delvin interrupts before his friend can finish speaking. “Still you’re right that we can’t fight the guards. We’d be arrested upon our return and in a lot of trouble if we have to call for help out there.”

  “That’s why we sneak in once our dear captain retires for the night and the guards are less experienced,” Gerdo states, slapping the champion on the shoulder. He nods his head at the distant wall where the mercenaries can see some of the tired soldiers. “If this place works like other outposts then most of the veterans take the less taxing hours. The captain called it a graveyard shift instead of a night watch, which is very telling about the mentality here. Nobody likes guarding the wall after the sun goes down, so you won’t have many volunteers. Those on duty will be a little lazy and disgruntled, especially with the summer heat.”

  Delvin smiles and rubs his chin, embarrassed that he missed all of the subtle clues that the cunning swordsman has pointed out. “I’m really out of practice. In that case, we sneak in tonight and go for the main gate. They might be waiting for us to do something tonight and most people would try to climb the wall far away from the village. We’d find more alert and experienced guards out there. I noticed there are torch sconces along the main road. Do you have any of your brightening
powder, Pelo?”

  “I have enough to make those torches bright enough to daze anyone who looks directly at them, but that’s it,” the weasel-faced man answers, patting a small pouch on his belt. He scratches at a loose part of his leather armor, his eyes falling on Delvin’s chainmail. “The problem will be moving silently and blending into the shadows. Even with the enhanced torches, some guards might be able to see us if they adjust quickly. Scorpion has extra hoods for us to cover our faces and hair, but I’ve no idea what to do about your chainmail, boss. Not to mention our weapons can hit things since they’re so long.”

  “I have a bottomless pouch, so I’ll carry everything,” Delvin replies before heading back into the village. The warrior points at a crooked sign above what he guesses is a tavern, the thought of food making his stomach churn. “We’ll rest there and talk only about our past adventures. To remind people that we’re here on business, we discuss our job in vague terms or general complaints. That should give me time to think of a way to cover us up. No recent rain for mud and Vir creates a red glow that always seems to tint the shadows. That makes all of our clothes the wrong color, except for Scorpion.”