by David Combs
Nestor narrowed his eyes at Galen. “I’ve considered letting you live, boy. Watch your wagging tongue before I change my mind.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll die of old age long before your mind catches up to the idea of changing.”
“You scrawny whelp! You’re putting yourself in the wizard’s boots. His days are already numbered.”
Knarya grabbed Lorelei’s arm. “Lady, run to the door immediately and tell the guards there to summon whatever reinforcements are close at hand then get their backsides here as quickly as possible. We’re going to need some help very soon. Go now, lass.” The captain gave the young woman a gentle push towards the doorway. Knarya’s hand trembled as his sword rasped from its scabbard. He didn’t know if he felt grateful or insulted as the three arguing men completely ignored him. Lorelei jumped from her seat and rushed out of the room.
“Take the chip off of your shoulder, Canaith,” said Tyrell.
“Why don’t you knock it off?”
“I command you to stop this at once,” bellowed Knarya, but the men paid him no heed. Knarya’s years as an experienced soldier readily spotted the subtle shift in weight in the stances of the trio, as they all pitched slightly forward onto the balls of their feet ready to fight. They merely waited for someone to make the first move.
“I’d rather knock off the ugly lump on top of your neck!”
“The only good use for a wizard is as a decoration on the business end of a sword.”
“And bullheaded barbarians are only good for karg bait!”
Wizard and warrior suddenly lunged as one. They grappled with each other as Galen dashed around the end of the table. As Nestor pulled back to punch the mage, the thief jumped onto his arm, swinging the off-balance barbarian halfway around. Nestor shoved the thief aside but the delay gave Tyrell the first blow. He slugged the warrior hard across the jaw and knocked him back. Galen tried to throw the big warrior to the floor, but his world exploded in pain as Knarya dropped his sword hilt on the thief’s head. The rogue collapsed to the floor unconscious.
Nestor charged back at Tyrell. He tackled the mage, launching them both across the massive table sending plates and crockery crashing to the hardwood floor. Knarya scrambled around the end of the table and grabbed the warrior’s tunic. In vain, he tried to pull the two men apart, but his strength was nothing compared to the two battle enraged brawlers. He lifted his sword to bring it down on either one of them but some strange compulsion stayed his hand. A sort of fog fell over the watch captain’s senses, and he stood dumbfounded and motionless beside the two combatants.
Nestor’s furious instincts spied Knarya standing close at hand with sword drawn. He whipped his elbow backward and blasted the watchman’s nose into a bloody spray across the soldier’s cheek. Knarya tumbled to the floor. Tyrell took advantage of the reprieve to shove Nestor back and rolled away from the warrior. As he scrambled away Tyrell lashed out with his foot. His solid kick launched the barbarian across the floor.
Nestor slumped on the smooth wood, pressing his hand to the side of his head. Blood matted his hair where the wizard’s boot had sliced his scalp. He rolled to the side quickly to distance himself from any follow-up attack. The big warrior snatched up Knarya’s sword and leveled the deadly point at Tyrell as the two men both regained their feet.
“Time to finish this game, mage.” Nestor lunged, but suddenly found his feet tangled up. Again, he crashed to the floor, and the captain’s sword clattered across the wood. Galen, now conscious, jumped to his feet and flashed a quick grin to the wizard.
Nestor wasn’t done yet. He grabbed Tyrell’s ankles and jerked the mage’s feet out from under him. As the wizard’s head crashed against the base of the wall, the barbarian rolled to a crouch, whirled around, and blocked Galen’s punch purely on instinct. He grabbed the young thief, hoisted him high into the air, and slammed him onto the table with such force that it split in two. Galen writhed in pain among the broken boards, while Nestor caught his breath. The barbarian looked around quickly to make sure no one was sneaking up on him. Knarya still lay on the floor where Nestor had dropped him, but Tyrell had disappeared. The warrior dashed into the hallway, but it was empty.
“Chicken-hearted dandy,” he muttered as he went back into the dining room. “He should have known better than to mess with a real warrior.” As he stepped back across the threshold, he saw too late from the corner of his eye the chair that Tyrell swung at him. With no chance to dodge, the chair slammed into Nestor’s face and knocked him flat on his back into the great foyer.
“Thick headed bastard,” said Tyrell as he dropped the splintered chair. “When are you going to learn to quit leading with your face?”
Nestor slowly pushed away from the floor and shook his head. He glared at the mage, his lips curling back in a furious snarl. Each man tensed and waited for the next attack. Slowly they circled each other with masks of hatred on their faces.
“That will be quite enough, gentlemen,” bellowed a commanding voice from the top of the grand stairway. The two combatants looked up to see a powerfully built man leaning against the stair rail casually regarding the spectacle. Just then the front door opened as Lorelei rushed in with half a dozen city guards.
She bowed low. “I’m sorry my lord, but it took time to round up Captain Knarya’s reinforcements. The heavy rains made treacherous footing.” The young woman shivered as water matted down her coppery tresses. Her once fine dress was now heavy with rain and mud, and it clung to her like a second skin.
“That’s quite alright, Lorelei,” he said. The newcomer was a middle-aged man with long black hair tied into a ponytail. He studied each man with dark eyes that sat perched over a hawk-like nose. He ran his strong fingers over his clean-shaven square jaw, and then rested his hand on the hilt of a jewel-encrusted rapier. The fine black velvet cloak, white silk tunic, fine blue trousers, and highly polished black leather boots left no doubts that this was the lord of the manor.
The nobleman walked gracefully down the long stairway, wordlessly pushed past the two men, and entered the dining room. His keen eyes surveyed the damaged and destroyed furnishings. The corner of his mouth turned up when he saw the unconscious watch captain. Galen had pulled himself into a chair and held his lower back.
“Well, you’ll cost me a small fortune in repairs, but you’ve also proven to me that you have all of the necessary skills that I require. Lorelei,” he said to the girl, “see that the kitchen staff cleans this mess up including the puddles that are ruining my foyer floors. Ask for Captain Knarya’s men to carry him into my study, and then see too that these soldiers receive some hot food and drink. Get yourself changed into something warm and dry as well. ” He turned, and carefully regarded each of the battered prisoners.
“Gentlemen, and I do use the term with caution, I order you once and once only to set aside whatever petty differences you have between yourselves. For what I require, the three of you shall have to work with the utmost cooperation if you have any expectation of survival.
“My name is Kellen Ambrose, and I have a job for you.”
CHAPTER THREE
Ambrose walked to the chamber across the hallway, and silently beckoned for the three men to follow. “What’s this all about,” asked Nestor. Ambrose stopped and sighed.
“All of your questions will be answered if you will just indulge me for a few minutes.” The nobleman entered a grand library, then lit a few candles. Nestor, Galen, and Tyrell followed, each sitting down in large, uncomfortable wooden chairs. The City Watch soldiers dropped the unconscious watch captain onto a small couch and then scurried off.
“Now, gentlemen, as you’ve probably figured out by now, you are currently alive only because of me.”
“Are you expecting some kind of reward,” growled Nestor. The barbarian ignored the scowl Tyrell shot at him.
“Oh, don’t worry, Canaith. I shall be rewarded by you, but not in any way you might imagine. You see, I have need of men of your diverse
abilities to help me stop a menace that not only currently threatens the city, but one that I personally have been chasing from one end of this land to the other for the better part of my adult life.”
“What sort of menace,” asked Tyrell.
“The murderous kind. Specifically, I refer to the same fiend who has been killing people in the city for several weeks now.”
“You mean the Dockside Slayer, then,” said the mage. At the very mention of the name, Knarya stirred uneasily on the couch.
“Well, that would certainly be a relief to those of us who work late nights,” said Galen. “I know I’ll feel much safer when the Guards are the only ones I have to worry about trying to sneak up on me.”
Ambrose smiled sadly and rubbed his brow. “I wish, my young friend, that this task was as mundane as your flippancy would make it appear.”
Tyrell rose from his chair, slowly pacing before the fireplace. “Why us? Don’t mistake me, for I am truly grateful to be free of that cell, but why don’t you simply take your information to the city authorities? Help them hunt down this man?”
“Because they would think I was a raving lunatic.”
“Why?”
“It isn’t a man committing these heinous crimes. The Dockside Slayer is an ancient and horribly powerful vampire. Years ago, this fiend murdered my father and drove my mother to an early grave. I have hunted this demon for what feels like ages, but he always manages to elude my revenge.” Ambrose’s eyes grew sad and distant.
A heavy silence fell over the room until Nestor broke the quiet with a derisive snort. “A vampire? Gods above, perhaps we can start the by looking under the beds at the orphanage? I won’t waste my time listening to ghost stories or any other such foolishness.” The warrior rose and marched towards the doorway.
“Just a moment, Canaith. One small detail escapes you.”
The barbarian whirled on the nobleman. “And that is?”
“You are still a condemned man. The three of you aren’t even supposed to be here. Unless you agree to help me, you’ll all be swinging from the gallows by morning.” Ambrose sat down behind a large, intricately carved desk, and let his words sink in. “The reason I chose you was not simply because of your talents, but also because you have no choice in the matter. You may assist me, or die.”
Nestor glared at the nobleman, but, to his credit, Kellen never flinched from the barbarian’s fierce scowl. Slowly, the barbarian returned to his chair, slowly lowering himself back into it. Tyrell stared thoughtfully into the fireplace and ran his hands through his hair. Galen’s eyes surveyed the room as if he were appraising everything near him.
“Now that I have your attention,” continued Ambrose,” let me tell you what I know. This creature calls itself Darian. This is not his real name, but rather what he has been called ever since my father’s association with him. As I said, he is ancient and powerful, old long before my father ever entered into business with him. In life, he was a fearsome warrior, and his strength is even greater in death. I myself have seen him bend steel bars, and crush stone with his bare hands. His eyes glow like embers in the shadows.
“My chase began many years ago in a tiny barony that no longer exists. Darian came to my father as a trade partner, proposing trade contracts from all the far-off exciting ports that piqued my father’s greed. One day, my father caught on that his partner was stealing money and merchandise from their trade caravans. When my father confronted him, this thief proceeded to grow fangs and plucked my father from the floor by his throat. Then he hurled him out of a third-story window to his death. Darian turned to attack my mother as well, but the house guards arrived before he could harm her. The beast then left through the same window he had thrown my father from. The fright and sorrow were too much for my mother to bear. She spent her remaining days clutching her bed sheets and jumping in terror at every flickering shadow. Consequently, she followed my father to the grave within a fortnight.
“I took it upon myself to hunt this monster down, and personally avenge my parents’ deaths. I’ve chased him from one end of this continent and back again, but he always manages to keep one step ahead of me. I’ve never been able to recruit help since no one would believe my story. Now, however, I have you. Together, the four of us will trap Darian, and destroy him once and for all.” Kellen looked at each man for a reaction.
“You’ve never answered my question,” said Tyrell. “Why us? I mean, besides the fact that we have no choice. We’ve never worked together. We don’t know what to expect from one another. Why do you think we can succeed?”
“Each of you possesses a talent to counter one of Darian’s attributes. You, Nestor Canaith, are the foil for the beast’s strength. For centuries, he has honed his fighting skills, which when backed by his superhuman power, makes him a very formidable warrior. I need someone that can be just as dangerous.
“You, Tyrell Amalcheal, are a counter to his magic. His arcane prowess has also developed through centuries of devoted study. What Darian can’t accomplish through brute strength, he can achieve through his fell spellcraft. You will also be able to locate his traps and thwart any magical surprises.
“Which brings me lastly to you, Galen Thale. Like Darian, you are a denizen of the night. Your group will need a master of stealth and cunning. He will attack with darkness and surprise. Someone with your experience in the shadows will better protect your companions by seeing this soulless bastard coming.”
Nestor made a low growl in his throat. “Where will you be while we’re jumping at shadows? I don’t suppose you’ll be standing shoulder to shoulder with us as we try to drive a stake through him, will you?”
“My greatest contribution is information. I have resources and spy networks across the many lands that Darian and I have both traveled. I shall be able to provide our efforts with counsel and insights that should hopefully keep us one step ahead of the fiend’s next moves. Do not concern yourselves with how. Simply accept what I tell you as the truth, and know that you will have my resources at your disposal to see you properly equipped and informed. Know, however, that I will be present when the final blow is delivered.”
“Sounds wonderful,” muttered the warrior. “We do all of the dirty work, face all of the danger while you sit in the background, and take credit for avenging your family.”
“Think of it in those terms if you wish, but the truth tells a different story. I will use my time to gather information to assist us against him. Knowledge is indeed power, and the better informed we are, the better prepared we shall be when we face him. It is imperative to your survival. If that reasoning still doesn’t satisfy you, Canaith, then let me simply remind you that you have no choice in the matter, and we will call this discussion closed.” Kellen smiled.
Galen jerked his thumb at the still unconscious Captain Knarya. “What about the city guard? It won’t be overlooked that three condemned men have suddenly vanished from their cells, especially if they see us roaming the streets looking for your fanged fiend. Sounds like we’ll be doing a lot of looking over our shoulders.”
“The city watch will do as I ask, with the proper persuasion, of course.”
“Going to refuse to attend their annual gala, are you,” said Nestor.
Ambrose chuckled. “Nothing so scandalous as that, Canaith. Rest assured that you will have only the vampire’s minions to contend with.”
“I’ll sleep easier knowing that,” replied the barbarian dryly.
“So what do we do first,” asked Tyrell.
“A group of Darian’s henchmen is traveling now to Tarnath from Daltivar. If you leave tomorrow, you should meet them along the road through the Karghome Fen. These men carry with them a list of the locations of Darian’s lairs within Tarnath. I want you to kill these men, and then bring the list to me. I will then set myself to destroying these hideouts.”
“I’m not an assassin,” said Tyrell. “I don’t care what Darian is, or what he’s done. You are speaking of murdering men in
cold blood. I have a problem with that.”
“Even when these men worship a vampire as their deity? Men who bring innocent women and children to their dark god so that he won’t go hungry for the night? These men are every bit as foul as the beast that they serve.”
“You’ll have to excuse him, Lord Ambrose,” said Nestor. “These delicate types have neither the taste for blood nor the thirst for justice like some men.”
“Or perhaps I just have enough sense not to do anything else that could get my miserable neck stretched, you jackass! We were about to be executed for thievery. Do you think they will do less with charges of murder leveled against us,” yelled the wizard. Nestor came out of his seat, prepared to leap at Tyrell again.
“Enough,” roared Kellen. “If you two want to kill each other, that is fine, but at least wait until Darian is no longer a threat. After that, you may send each other to Alhambra’s waiting arms. Tyrell, you must believe me when I say that these men deserve to die.” Kellen’s voice softened. “Enough innocent people have died by their hands, let alone their dark master’s. They must all be stopped. All of them.”
Tyrell looked at Kellen for a long, quiet moment. “I will bring you the list of lairs, but I will find a way to do it with as little bloodshed as possible.” he spat.
“As you will, then,” said Kellen. “I respect your sense of morality, but understand that no quarter shall be given to you by these servants of evil.”
“Should fighting prove to be the only way out, then no quarter shall be given by me either.” The mage sighed. “So how will we recognize these vampire cultists?”
“They will be wearing red sashes that symbolize the blood of the victims they bring to Darian. They are a knighthood of sorts, although a sinister one, so they will know how to use their weapons well. They are fierce and well trained so that they can defend their dark master.”
“So we just hack up any red sash wearing, armor-plated, bloodthirsty maniacs? They shouldn’t be too hard to spot,” said the barbarian.