by Jason Kenyon
There was a noise from a nearby building, as though something had fallen from a shelf, and Archimegadon swiftly took a safe position behind Mellara. She, meanwhile, gave him an unimpressed stare.
Archimegadon met her gaze over her shoulder. ‘What?’
‘Never mind,’ Mellara replied.
Further along the road, they reached the barricade itself, a somewhat ramshackle barrier that had been thrown together by the Fallen Blade to ward off the Paladin Order. Built up of scrap collected from around the city, the barricade was unlikely to stand against an organised charge by paladin forces, but had so far dissuaded them from more casual attempts to enter the docks and retrieve any of the outlawed knights or mages. It was worth noting that this wasn’t the first barricade, either; two others had been dismantled already, but not without enough Order losses to cause the paladins to reconsider their strategy and hold off for a while.
As the group came closer to the barricade, a couple of heads popped up over a nearby rooftop and then gave Mellara and the group a cheerful wave.
‘Morning, Godslayers,’ one of the mercenaries said.
Mellara waved back with a slightly wry grin, and without need for further communication, the Blade members manning the barricade pulled open some of the metal boards and allowed the companions through. Archimegadon took in his surroundings as he passed the barricade. The magical street lamps were still working here, as most of the city’s remaining mages lived in these quarters, but the houses closest to the barricade were not used by regular families any longer, even if their owners still lived in Blade territory. The Blade had requisitioned the homes closest to the barricade for their barracks, and anyone ducking their heads inside would have found themselves faced by the armed mercenaries of the Fallen Blade readied for battle.
Archimegadon and Tharanor brought their collection of weapons over to one of these barracks. The mercenaries there wasted no time in gathering up the weaponry to distribute among themselves, either for new members from among those they had saved, or replacing weapons they had lost in their skirmishes. Insolent and tedious as paladins were, they unfortunately did not generally lack in martial prowess.
Once the companions were done, they decided to head on back to the mansion, their day’s work hopefully now finished.
*
‘Well, if it isn’t the heroes themselves, come to visit the lowly denizens of the city.’
Archimegadon glared. ‘Shut up, Obdo.’
‘Right you are, Sir Mage.’
‘Now serve up some food and begone,’ Archimegadon said.
After returning to Diojin’s mansion, Archimegadon, Mellara and Tharanor had descended into the winding tunnels underground, where many of the refugees fleeing Marr’s demons had taken up residence. Since Marr’s defeat the refugees had steadily moved out again into the city, though many still remained and a few others had returned since relations with the Paladin Order had turned sour.
Obdo and Neurion had joined the ranks of the cooks, as the former was not much good at fighting, and the latter had little interest in fighting members of his order directly. Neurion was the only one who did any actual cooking of the two; Obdo’s cooking, while functional, was usually done with as many shortcuts as possible, making even the simplest dish a potentially life-threatening experience.
‘Good afternoon, Godslayers,’ said a musical voice.
A woman stepped behind the counter, making Archimegadon jump, since he hadn’t noticed her enter the mess room at all. She was wearing a beautiful red robe, one so rich in material that Archimegadon was almost jealous, and had long, blonde hair that looked as though it had seen much, much better days. This wasn’t the first time Archimegadon had run into her, and he’d previously theorised that, like him, she probably usually styled her hair, since she had the manner of someone brought up in more salubrious conditions. Right now, however, her hair tended to spill across half of her face, giving her the appearance of someone who’d just woken up.
She apparently noticed Archimegadon’s inspection, as she quickly reached up and tucked the errant hair back into place.
‘Ah, good afternoon, madam,’ Archimegadon replied.
‘What’s up, princess?’ Mellara asked, with a suspect smirk.
The woman coloured slightly and pursed her rosebud lips. ‘Please, Miss Nightshot, my name is Ithalna.’
Archimegadon rolled his eyes. Mellara seemed to enjoy irritating the stately Ithalna, and made it a habit to annoy her at least once per conversation. As for Ithalna herself, she had taken on the apparent role of organising the Blade cooks, being the only person with any sense of propriety nearby. Her general manner and blue crystal eyes were a stark contrast to the rough mercenary Mellara, whose own irises, as the result of exposure to strange magic, had gone a deep crimson.
‘Sorry, milady,’ Mellara said. She dropped her weapons on a table and then sat on it herself, earning another piercing glare from Ithalna. ‘What’s on the menu today?’
‘I am afraid that we are out of most of the novelties,’ Ithalna replied, turning to a cauldron that Neurion was tending to and nodding with apparent satisfaction. ‘We are, ah, short on stock – for reasons I imagine you shall soon find out. It will be stew again for lunch.’
Mellara groaned, and swung her legs impatiently. Obdo quirked an eyebrow at her from behind the counter.
‘Don’t complain,’ Obdo said, lounging on the counter while Neurion and Ithalna tended to the stew. ‘We’ve got the hard job here, trying to feed all you people.’
Ithalna loomed over Obdo, bringing back Archimegadon’s memories of his tyrannical old teacher a long, long time ago. ‘Shush, Master Obdo, if you please,’ Ithalna said, making even that command sound like a song.
Obdo ducked away from her and swerved around the counter, joining Archimegadon and company instead. He grabbed a chair opposite Mellara, swinging back on it and almost entirely losing his balance.
‘Well then, sirs and madams,’ Obdo said. ‘Did you have a good hunting trip?’
‘Ran into some trouble,’ Tharanor replied. ‘It feels as if there’s more paladins around lately.’
‘Bad times for sure,’ Archimegadon said. ‘I would rather be done with this city before things become even more inconvenient.’
He hadn’t given too much thought to what he’d do if he did leave, though. Since the Order’s measures applied across all of Valanthas, it left him with very few places nearby where he could comfortably settle down without looking over his shoulder every couple of minutes. He’d even briefly toyed with the idea of heading off to the distant Isles of Filikis, but sailing there was prohibitively expensive, and he highly doubted that Diojin or anyone else he knew would be willing to undergo the long voyage to the fabled paradise islands.
‘You’ll be glad to hear the news, then,’ Obdo said, adopting a more conspiratorial tone. He leaned forwards, and the others did so too, so they were all huddled together looking particularly obvious in their secret dealings. ‘Lord Beard’s gonna get everyone on the ships tonight. He’s been moving groups over while you were all out.’
‘That’s a bit sudden,’ Archimegadon said, taking a moment to recognise Obdo’s nickname for Diojin. ‘We’ve been waiting for this for weeks.’
‘Yeah, news came in that the Supreme Arse is fed up with how long it’s taking the pallies to clear up Ferrina,’ Obdo said. ‘They’re planning to do a final push tomorrow, before she has a temper tantrum, so the Blade’s panicked and started shoving everything onto the ships since a couple of hours ago.’
‘It doesn’t feel busy around here,’ Archimegadon said. For that matter, it didn’t seem particularly populated at all. He realised the answer to his own confusion too late to stop Obdo explaining it to him.
‘That’s because all the important fellas are already moving stuff onto the ships, and they wanted to get rid of the refugees since they’re likely to take the longest,’ Obdo said. ‘Just a few of the organisers still here, and some of t
he slow people.’ He earned a glare from Mellara. ‘Also us menials – can’t be escaping Ferrina on an empty stomach.’
‘Any idea where we’re heading off to?’ Archimegadon asked.
‘Word is it’ll be Ta-Shiang,’ Obdo replied. ‘Most of Lord Beard’s weapons trade is with them, so he’s got a few favours he can count on.’
‘If any of those thugs bother to honour them,’ Archimegadon said.
‘We have some honour,’ Mellara said. ‘It’s just… harder to notice.’
‘So we’re going to give up on Ferrina and Valanthas both,’ Tharanor said.
‘Unless you can find a lost heir who isn’t a pillock, or make the Central Council grow a spine, I don’t think you’ll be replacing Missy Salestis any time soon,’ Obdo said.
‘There must be somewhere quiet we can live,’ Tharanor said.
‘Yeah, I mean, I’ll probably head back over after a bit and see if I can’t find my cousin Albarte, if he’s not lost the farm while I’ve been away,’ Obdo said. ‘I know Neurion wants to try to finish up some business paying off his parents’ debts, and he was saying he might try to work on making the Order not be bastards.’
‘Fat chance,’ Mellara said.
‘It’s such a… a…’ Tharanor began.
‘It sucks, I know,’ Obdo said. ‘What’re you gonna do, though? We can’t change the minds of the ruling folk. If they think the Order’s arsery is what’s needed to calm down the chaos our Cleric buddies caused, then I don’t believe we can make them change their minds because we think they’re being a bit strict.’
‘They’re killing our people in the streets!’ Tharanor said.
‘Well, yeah,’ Obdo said. ‘But they aren’t their people, and you can’t make ‘em care. I didn’t care when I heard the King was dead.’
‘You don’t care about anything but beer,’ Mellara said.
‘That’s not true,’ Obdo said. ‘Don’t forget cider, and wine, and...’
Archimegadon folded his arms. Ta-Shiang, the frozen northlands, where they didn’t even speak Valanthian. Was learning a new language a realistic option for him now? He’d certainly been no master at it when he’d had tutoring as a child. Would he be able to find or afford passage to somewhere else where they spoke Valanthian, like Deyna? Ta-Shiang was a rough place, with a violent culture of might-makes-right – even the mythical and dreaded realm of Elgebra would probably be preferable to live in, if it even existed.
His thoughts turned regretfully to the blissful period of peace just a month ago. If only things never changed.
Chapter Four: Farewell to Ferrina
Archimegadon sat in the darkness of the room he’d shared with Obdo, Neurion and Tharanor for the past month. As the vaunted Godslayers, they’d managed to negotiate their own small room in the tunnels under Diojin’s mansion, while others who had stayed with the Blade were forced to share crowded chambers with people they didn’t know. Mellara, presumably, still had her own chambers, or at the very least shared with other members of the Fallen Blade.
He thought over the events of the past month, and how he had grown both from his experiences fighting Bartell and Marr’s forces, and then dealing with the loss of a place he’d come to consider his home. What a change had come over him, taking up responsibilities where once he would have fled without a second thought, heedless of his companions. It was a source of pride to him that he had left behind his careless past, and finally become the true mage he was supposed to be.
Indeed, as he sat there alone in the gloom, he pondered the course that they would soon take, leaving Valanthas on Diojin’s ships and settling in the distant land of Ta-Shiang. It had seemed a daunting change earlier, but now perhaps he could see it in a better light. Another sign of his progress from his old ways. He was now someone to be proud of, somebody to look up to, and he could let others learn from his new responsible nature. It was surely time for him to…
The door flew open, and he beheld the stately Ithalna, and alongside her was a particularly irritable Mellara.
‘Ah, Master Forseld, you are here,’ Ithalna said. ‘Miss Nightshot said you would most likely be found in your room.’
Archimegadon blinked. ‘Ah… what seems to be the issue?’
Mellara pushed past Ithalna. ‘You idiot, everyone left for the ships half an hour ago! You’re lucky our cook here noticed you weren’t with the others or I’d not have bothered coming back for you.’
‘Erm, oh,’ Archimegadon said. He looked around at his unpacked belongings. ‘I suppose I should… ahm… get ready to leave?’
‘You are the worst sort of person,’ Mellara said, grabbing his satchel and swiftly tossing as much as she could reach into it. Once she’d finished, she shoved the satchel into his chest, while he stared at her in awe of her packing skills.
‘If there is nothing else, we should make haste to the ships,’ Ithalna said, waving for the others to leave the room. ‘I believe that Lord Diojin intends to set sail on the hour, and I do not expect that he plans to wait for stragglers.’
‘You can bet he won’t wait,’ Mellara said, rushing past Ithalna and heading off along the corridor. ‘Especially not if he has a chance to get rid of us Godslayers.’
‘And you told me he liked us,’ Archimegadon said, stumbling as he tried to catch up.
‘I’ll tell you anything to stop you complaining all the time,’ Mellara said.
‘How immeasurably rude.’
‘I thought that the Lord Diojin was most grateful for the noble work you all did for the city,’ Ithalna said, having trouble moving fast herself in her red dress.
Mellara paused just long enough to throw Ithalna a crimson glare. ‘I fancy I know a bit more than you on this, princess. Get too powerful for your own good and you make yourself a threat.’
‘I am sorry, Miss Nightshot, I did not intend to speak out of turn,’ Ithalna said.
‘What were you before this?’ Mellara asked, shouldering a door open. ‘Some sort of butler? Stop being so damn snooty all the time.’
‘Pardon me, I am afraid that this is just my way of speaking,’ Ithalna replied. ‘I was not a butler, no, though I confess I did spend my time in more… refined circumstances than these.’
‘Hmph, refined,’ Mellara muttered. ‘Must be a real drag having to come down here and live with us ruffians.’
‘On the contrary, I have found it most refreshing,’ Ithalna said, looking not in the least bit flustered by Mellara’s hostile air. Archimegadon preferred to stay on Mellara’s good side if he could help it, and quietly hoped to avoid trouble.
They reached the main hall of the mansion, which was eerily empty and silent. Mellara hadn’t been joking, it seemed; everyone was already long gone, loading onto the ships that Diojin had quietly spent the last month repairing. Even the main gates of the mansion grounds were unmanned for the first time Archimegadon remembered, and it felt very odd to think that he would never be setting foot here ever again. Bit by bit he was losing Ferrina all over again, and he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or upset about it. So far, he’d settled on a spot in between, which mostly resulted in sulking.
Mellara stopped once they had passed the gates and put her hands on her hips. She had her bow and arrows with her, and her short sword sheathed horizontally across the back of her waist, always expecting trouble these days. She turned to Archimegadon and Ithalna and tugged at her ponytail.
‘We left a bunch of blockades up, so don’t go wandering,’ she said. ‘We figured we could slow any pursuers a bit if we shut down random streets.’
‘Lead the way, madam,’ Archimegadon said. ‘I am always happy to leave the navigation to someone who is not myself.’
Mellara smirked at him. ‘You do s…’
A loud blaring horn interrupted her, and while it sounded fairly distant, it was also a lot closer than was comfortable. As the three companions looked at one another in surprise, a steady drumbeat followed, seeming almost to make the very streets shake
with each strike. The drumming did not let up, either, filling the air with a solemn march that made Archimegadon feel unusually anxious.
‘Damn, those bastards are coming for us early,’ Mellara said. She grabbed Archimegadon and yanked him after her as she started running.
‘It’s the paladins?’ Archimegadon asked.
‘Who do you think?’ Mellara returned, with a scornful snort. ‘One of their battle tactics, scaring everyone with their war drums.’
‘Well, I’m most certainly not afraid,’ Archimegadon said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
They ran down a couple of streets before coming across the first junction where Mellara dragged them off the direct route. Archimegadon was about to question this before remembering what she’d said about blockades, and thanked whatever deity was available that he’d not spoken up and incurred Mellara’s anger. He listened to the steady drumming of the paladins and wondered how close they were. Hopefully, if they were taking the time to play with their instruments, they were doing a slow march, and not rushing like he was.
‘I can’t believe nobody but the damn cook noticed I was missing,’ Archimegadon said.
‘I wish she hadn’t,’ Mellara said, pausing to remember which way to turn at a crossroad. ‘Chances are Lord Diojin’s going to set sail without us, and then where will we be?’
‘Ferrina, still,’ Ithalna replied, and it took Archimegadon a moment to realise that she was being quietly facetious, something he’d not expected of her.
Mellara was displeased, but looked stressed out enough that she didn’t spare any extra time to reply. With the walls resounding with the sound of the paladin war drums, Archimegadon raced after Mellara, hoping against the odds that they’d make it to the ships in time.
*
‘So, uh, that’s bad, right?’ Obdo asked.
He was looking across the docks from one of the Fallen Blade ships, but Ferrina was dark enough normally, let alone right now. There was a large opening at the very edge of the cavern waterfront that led outside, and while it provided some limited light by day, the moon’s ethereal rays barely reached through it into the city.