Knowing a distraction when he saw one, cudgel-man judged the moment right to finally unleash his skull-splitting swing. It was a poor decision.
Ducking under the wild blow, Lucius sprang forward, lunging with his short sword. The blade buried itself in cudgel-man's stomach, and the man gave a curious mewing sound as his brain began to register that the wound was mortal. Knife-man started to back away, but Lucius reached forward with his outstretched hand and grasped him by the throat.
The rage of battle now well and truly upon him, Lucius dug within himself to find the darkest, most vile, and terrible of threads. He felt a chill sweep through his body as he channelled the force from his heart, down his arm, through his hand and into the man. The power mustered was the antithesis of life and it reacted with the living flesh it raced into. The man gasped as he futilely grabbed at the hand holding him, but his strength was already waning. Lucius stared into his eyes, watching them grow dim in seconds. The man's skin greyed and withered, while his cheeks sank into his face and muscles shrivelled, hair falling out in clumps. When Lucius released his grip the corpse looked as if it had been dead for months.
Angry at the men for attacking him, and for forcing him to use such power, Lucius ripped his sword clear of cudgel-man then rounded on the gambler. With blade held menacingly, he turned his free hand palm upwards and conjured wisps of fiery energy, his hand now wreathed in flames of lavender and turquoise.
"You've lost two friends tonight because of your folly," Lucius told the man. "Believe me when I say you got off lightly. Now go!"
Lucius jerked his head to reinforce his command, but it was wholly unnecessary. As far as the man was concerned, death itself stalked that alley, and he wanted no part of it. Spinning on his heel, the man scrabbled for the bright lights of the Street of Dogs, and a life that held no terror.
Briefly regarding the men lying on the ground, Lucius exhaled as the tension left him. Wiping his blade on the tunic of cudgel-man, he sheathed it then cursed. He had not intended to give knife-man so gruesome a death, no matter how much it might have been deserved or forewarned. Lucius knew many different ways to kill a man but, in the heat of battle, there was rarely time to plan and consider. He had reached for the most devastating attack needed at the time, and taken the first that came to his command. That it was the most loathsome of the energies he was able to use and control was almost pure chance, as he had reached blindly, by instinct. The coldness of its touch still caressed him, and he could feel the dark evil lurking just beneath the surface. He would be paying for its help with a couple of sleepless nights at least, as the old dreams flooded back.
Trying to stem images of past haunted nights, he gathered his wits and resolved to put as much distance between himself and the bodies as possible. Heading away from the Street of Dogs, he briefly considered trying to find another tavern friendly to gamblers, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The earnings tonight would keep him for a day or two at worst, and he was in no shape to beguile anyone after the fight. All they would see would be a rogue, a desperado. Or murderer, maybe.
He decided to head away from the lights and aim for the merchant quarter. The inns there were usually sombre affairs, dedicated to traders and other businessmen visiting Turnitia. They catered for higher classes who demanded peace, security and thrills less blatant than those on offer in the Street of Dogs. The peace and security at least were things Lucius could appreciate at this moment.
Stepping cautiously out the other end of the alley, Lucius scanned the wide road it spilled onto. From old memories, he believed this to be Lantern Street, which ran down the hill parallel to the Street of Dogs before jinking north toward the merchant quarter. Houses lined both sides of the street, punctuated with the occasional bookseller, jewellers, or other trader dealing in luxuries. This area marked the boundary between the masses living alongside the cliff-side warehouses and those in the considerably wealthier area higher up the hill. Drawing his cloak about him, he set off with a safe room, warm bath and comfy sheets in mind.
"A display some would find impressive."
The casual remark caused him to whirl round, his hand instinctively reaching up behind his cloak to grasp his sword once more. A woman stepped from the alley he had just left, slipping easily from the darkness as if she had been there all along. Lucius was not so certain that was not the case.
"Who are you?" he said warily, expecting any kind of trouble after events this evening.
"Do you not recognise me?"
Lucius stared at the woman for a moment, racking his mind. Her dark hair was tied up high on her head, in the style common to women used to fighting, and both her poise and manner indicated she was well accomplished in battle. In age, she was beginning to reach her middle years, but he thought she was no less attractive for that, for the leather tunic studded with small metal discs could not conceal the fact her body was extremely well-toned. Lucius had met such women before and he knew they could drive a blade through a man's body as easily as he could. A tell-tale and familiar bulge in one of her boots told him she was armed with at least one blade and he began to wonder what other weapons may be concealed.
Her eyes were the most striking feature though, dark pits that seemed impenetrable and yet likely missed nothing. They assessed him and the potential danger he posed, even as he weighed her in return. Upon seeing that gaze cast upon him once more, he knew exactly who he was talking to.
"Aidy," he said finally. "I hadn't counted on you still being here."
CHAPTER 2
Eyeing Aidy warily from across the table as she sipped her wine, Lucius was a little unnerved to realise she was returning his own suspicious stare. It had been eight years since he had last seen her but under the lanterns of the inn, the years had seemed only to brush against her. Those dark brown, almost black, eyes watched him with the same disapproval he began to remember all too well. They were bordered by a few lines he thought had not been there before, but the biggest change was in her demeanour. She seemed… harder. Colder. Half a decade older than he, Adrianna Torres was obviously just as dangerous as she was in the past.
"Damned chance us running into each other," he said, beginning to feel uncomfortable at the easy way in which she carried the silence.
"Fool," she said dismissively. "Have you forgotten already the lessons of Master Roe? There is very little in this world that happens by coincidence."
"Then how…?"
"Your arrival here was like a beacon. I would be surprised if every Shadowmage remaining in the city did not feel it."
Lucius was perplexed at that but did not feel like pushing the point and risking a lecture. Adrianna had been more advanced in the craft than he had ever been, and she was certainly more committed. He had always seen his control of the magical threads that made up the Shadowmage's art as a tool, a means to an end. For Aidy, it had been something more akin to a religion, with their shared Master the high priest. Still, at least there was some common ground there.
"So, still learning under Master Roe?"
Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and he mentally kicked himself. He should have guessed things had taken a turn for the worse after he had left Turnitia.
"No, I am not."
It was a leading statement, but Lucius found himself hesitating over the obvious question. Not for the first time, he felt as if he were being led by Aidy in the direction she wanted.
"What happened?"
"What do you think happened? The Empire of Vos increased its grip on the city after their occupation, and the Shadowmages were at the top of their list. Some fled." At this she looked pointedly at him. "The rest of us tried to fight. Without support, we were crushed. Master Roe, as one of the most visible among us, was captured by the Vos guard and taken to the Citadel."
"They killed him?"
"Well, they don't pamper you with whores and wine in the Citadel," she said, caustically.
"I'm sorry," he said. She let it pass but continued to stare at him wither
ingly over the rim of her glass. Her self-righteousness was beginning to grate on him.
"You do remember I had some problems of my own back then?" he said, trying not to sound defensive. "The war affected everyone in this city, not just the Shadowmages. The Final Faith was their vanguard, and they made damned sure the Brotherhood was in no position to raise objections. I lost my whole family, Aidy, and I would have been next. They knew who I was. I had no choice but to leave."
"You always had a choice."
"What, stand and fight?" he asked incredulously.
She leaned across the table, setting down her glass. "Yes," she said fiercely. "We needed every friend we had. Instead, you chose to run. And for what? What are you now? A vagabond, thief for hire, mercenary?"
"What possible difference could I have made? If you were not powerful enough to stop them taking the Master, what could I have done?"
Adrianna did not answer straight away. Finally leaning back in her chair, she broke eye contact with him for the first time since they had sat down. "It might have made all the difference in the world. You have no idea what you…"
She paused and seemed unwilling to continue.
"What?" he prompted, but she did not answer. As the silence between them grew, Lucius began to feel uncomfortable again. He cleared his throat.
"So, what are the Shadowmages doing now?" he asked.
"We are a pale… shadow of our former selves. Hunted by Vos, whose nobles are convinced we are unstoppable assassins, and used by Pontaine nobles who think much the same thing. The guild is directionless with so many members dead and no one training young blood."
Lucius frowned. "Aidy, it was never much of a guild…" he started.
"It was more a guild than many others in this city. We pledged to never attack one another, to re-assign ourselves when contracts clashed, and to take any and all action when one of us was in danger. Some of us still adhere to the old ways." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Old ways! It has only been eight years, and yet it seems like ancient history."
Draining her glass, she seemed in no hurry to order another, and Lucius presumed their meeting was drawing to a close.
"So, Lucius, just why have you returned? Come to claim your inheritance? Cause more trouble for your former allies? Why have you come back to Turnitia?"
Lucius shrugged. "I've spent the past eight years wandering the Anclas Territories and Pontaine. I wanted to see home again. I've kept out of the strife between the Empire and Pontaine, but I thought there might be someone here who could use my talents."
"Ha!" Adrianna cried, drawing the attention of the few remaining merchants and traders scattered on the tables around them. "I was right — playing the mercenary."
"I have a right to make a living," said Lucius, giving her an injured look. "The guild could help me with that. Just a few jobs, and then I'll be out of here."
"The guild no longer exists, Lucius," Adrianna said firmly. "Not for you. Not for those who ran."
She stood abruptly and threw a few coins on the table to pay for their wine. "You are not welcome in Turnitia, Lucius Kane. Leave. Now. You are not wanted."
Left staring at her back as she departed, Lucius nursed what remaned of his wine, wondering just how he would continue working in the city if Adrianna decided to make life difficult for him.
The sun was peering past Kerberos as Lucius paced Ring Street, its full daylight strength beginning to warm Turnitia as the citizenry stirred. As the fiery ball moved inexorably clear of Kerberos' shadow, its rays warped and shimmered through the clouds of its giant companion until it coalesced into a solid sphere.
Ring Street was the thoroughfare that bound the Five Markets together, and it was heaving with traffic. Lying east of the merchant quarter and the docks, the Five Markets were the centre of commerce in Turnitia and on any given day they would be thronged with traders and peddlers, all calling and shrieking for custom, be it from the city's own population or foreign merchants looking to secure new goods for their own home markets.
At the centre of the Five Markets lay the Citadel, a giant fortress that leered over the city and its people. As he looked up warily at its ramparts and the guards that lined them, Lucius recalled that it had been merely a single tower used by the watch when he was last in Turnitia. When Vos had fought with Pontaine, the city had been quickly conquered and the Empire, keen not to lose any territory of value, had dedicated its energies to rebuilding the tower, turning it into an unassailable fortress. A double line of high walls had been thrown up around the tower, causing many to speak of terrible crimes being committed within the hidden interior. The tower itself was expanded into an entire keep within just three years, and a law was passed that no other structures in Turnitia were permitted to be built taller than the Citadel. The message was clear; nothing was above the Empire of Vos.
The original tower still stood, but it had been reinforced and built, to match its four companions, each of which loomed over one of the Five Markets. At the pinnacle of each tower, a flagpole rose bearing the fluttering standard of Vos, a black eagle on a red field.
Lucius felt the presence of Vos in the streets too as he wandered this part of the city. Patrols of the guard, now cloaked in the livery of the Empire, were frequent and terribly efficient. Wherever he found himself on Ring Street or within one of the Five Markets, a patrol of five or six red-tabarded guards were always in sight. What he found curious was that the people of Turnitia seemed to readily accept the presence of the guard, even act friendly towards them. Some chatted amiably with one patrol, while others stood dutifully to one side as another hurried past on some errand.
It seemed as if he were the only one to remember the dreadful days after the army of Vos had routed Turnitia's pitifully small guard and entered the city. The persecutions, the dismantling of the existing law and order, and the carefree violence; women violated in the streets and in their homes, men killed casually while trying to defend them, shops looted then burned. The religion of the Brotherhood wiped out and the Shadowmages decimated.
Looking around as he passed through the Five Markets, Lucius began to understand why the people of his city had been so quick to forget those times. Despite the many guards patrolling the streets, despite the constant, foreboding presence of the Citadel in the heart of Turnitia, business was clearly going well.
The Five Markets were packed with crowds, and there were not enough stalls for all the traders, many being forced to set up shop in alleyways and on street corners. Fine Pontaine wines brought in from the captured Anclas Territories were sold alongside clothes of the highest fashion worn in the Vos cities of Malmkrug, Scholten and Vosburg. The people of the city moved easily, dressed in clothing finer than he remembered them wearing eight years before, and the traders themselves seemed to be doing a great deal of business.
He had to admit, it was not the city he had grown up in. The population had forgiven Vos for its crimes in return for an economy that had flourished, the city's coffers swelled by the presence of the invaders. So what if a little freedom had been curtailed and new taxes imposed? Everyone was better off.
Except himself, Lucius thought. Perhaps the old saying was true, and you really could never go back home. Turnitia was no longer the place he had thought it was, and it was unlikely to welcome one of his sort. Adrianna had been right in one thing; he had grown into an adventurer and mercenary.
He was not entirely sure when it had happened, but he thought of his time in Pontaine and the Anclas territories, working as a sword for hire, trading his skills for gold and silver as the opportunity struck. It had not been a bad life, he decided, and he certainly appreciated the freedom he had experienced more than the people of Turnitia mourned its loss.
As he wandered through a crowd gathering around a stall whose rotund trader cajoled them into buying trinkets all the way from Allantia, or so he claimed, Lucius made the decision to make what money he could in the city, then leave. He needed gold for a horse and supplies. Th
en he could perhaps lose himself in the Anclas Territories once more, or perhaps journey deep into Pontaine to discover what lay within the Sardenne. Maybe head north to Allantia, he thought as he eyed the trader. Why not? He was free to do as he wished. Money permitting.
Lucius flicked his eyes to each side as he paced the Five Markets, looking for an opportunity, some sign of the old city he would find familiar and could turn to his advantage. An old acquaintance, perhaps, who could push work his way. A rich trader in need of a capable guard. A ship's captain recruiting marines to work the dangerous trade routes. Anything that provided quick and ready gold.
Much of his morning was spent in this way, but Lucius found little that presented itself. He feared he might be reduced to gambling as a means to an end, but even his special skills might not guarantee win after win. There was a reason they called it gambling, of course, and there was always the risk he might meet someone whose luck or skill at cheating might exceed his own abilities; and then he would be back to square one.
Trying to think a little more laterally, he began to eye up the various stores he passed, and his gaze fixed upon a trader whose accent gave him away as Vos born and bred. His stall was bedecked with chains of gold and silver, bracelets and brooches sparkling in the strengthening sunlight as their gems glinted with every colour Lucius could imagine. He stopped in the street and stared, thinking fast. A quick distraction would be easy enough to create, and a faster hand could sweep a cluster of jewels under his cloak before the trader's attention was brought back to his wares. Glancing about, he looked for the telltale red of guard patrols and, sure enough, he saw two at opposite ends of this market. However, they were both at least a hundred paces away, and would have to fight their way through the crowd.
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