by Jason Kenyon
The streets of the docks were lit with dim orange glows by the magically-maintained street lamps, but now Obdo could see other lights moving in from the distance. As those same lights came closer, the people on the ships noticed trails of smoke rising up from between the buildings. At first they’d thought that someone was setting the buildings on fire, but then they’d figured out that the smoke trails were moving, presumably from torches held by whoever was crossing the docks. The sound of drums was now carrying through the air to them, making Obdo very nervous indeed.
‘We’ve been tricked, or sold out,’ Tharanor said.
Black-bearded and clad in dark leather armour, the former city guard looked like a more formidable mercenary than the actual Blade members, with a few exceptions. He’d always been moody, but had been even gloomier over the past few months, and though Obdo usually lacked in insight, he could guess that the loss of their companion Yuriath still weighed heavily on Tharanor. While Obdo had not known Yuriath long at all, he’d developed a quick liking for the smart city guard, and recognised the shadow that her death still cast over their little band.
‘I hope Master Archimegadon and milady Nightshot make it back in time,’ said Neurion from behind them, and he stepped over to Obdo’s side and started muttering.
Moments later, a strange feeling brushed over Obdo’s left ear, and the sound of the drums became a bit louder, and he heard random scratching and the gentle splash of water that seemed out of place up here on the ship. He glanced at Neurion, who smiled almost apologetically.
‘Sorry, I was trying to help us hear what’s going on over there,’ Neurion said. ‘It’s a little spell I learned at the schools that lets us hear at great distances. I think I only got our hearing as far as the dockside down below.’
Obdo raised his eyebrows. Fancy that! He sometimes forgot that Neurion was a supposed paladin, supplied his qualifications by a cheap half-rate paladin school that had been created along with other rich-quick scam schools by Orgus Alhamis, the disgraced, late ex-archmage.
‘I did tell him we were leaving,’ Tharanor said. ‘Perhaps he misheard. Come to think of it, that would explain why he told me to bring him back some as well.’
As they peered across the docks at the ominous moving lights, Obdo became aware of heavy steps on the deck behind them. He turned to see the imposing, muscular form of none other than the boss of the Fallen Blade himself, the self-appointed Lord Diojin. Dressed for battle in minimalist leather straps with daggers around his bare chest, and an enormous belt with animal furs hanging from it that provided him with some vague decency, Diojin was a fearsome sight. He carried a two-handed axe with him as though expecting to have to fight everyone on the ship, and Obdo theorised that Diojin would likely kill everyone, with the possible exception of Tharanor – the former city guard was actually a decent fighter when he wasn’t drunk, something he’d managed for the past three months as far as anyone could tell. More importantly, Tharanor had a fancy magic sword, which Obdo knew from bardic tales generally meant Tharanor had to win every fight.
‘These paladins, they think they have the surprise on us,’ Diojin said. ‘They are too late. All our ships are ready, and our mages will provide the winds we need to outsail pursuit.’
Obdo watched Diojin warily, never quite sure where he stood with him.
‘Your mage, though – he is late, and we have not the time to be waiting for him,’ Diojin continued.
‘The paladins are surely even later,’ Tharanor said. ‘We can wait a bit longer. Your friend Mellara is out there too.’
‘It is a sad loss, but I am considering all of the people here,’ Diojin said.
‘You’re more worried about your treasures,’ Tharanor said, folding his arms. ‘And yourself.’
Diojin’s response was simply to smile, his thick black beard framing the toothy grin.
‘Can we not wait a bit longer?’ Neurion asked. ‘I know we ask a lot, but Master Archimegadon and milady Nightshot risked an awful lot to save Ferrina.’
Diojin shrugged, the casual action looking strangely childish from the muscular crime lord. ‘Then they will know not to be risking the lives of these ships just for themselves.’ He turned to face the mages, who stood assembled behind the sails of the ship. ‘Send the signal! We leave now! For the Blade!’
The Blade crew members roared in response, and the mages raised their arms and began to speak words of magic. Obdo watched in fascination, in spite of his concern at their departure without Sir Mage, and at first he could not make out what the mages were doing. He then followed their focused line of sight and saw the sails billow out, and felt the ship begin to set off. It seemed that these mages were to get this ship moving, rather than any oarsmen.
‘Should we jump out?’ Obdo asked the others. ‘We can’t leave Sir Mage behind!’
Neurion looked over the edge of the ship at the cold, dark waters, and swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know… it looks freezing. And I think I’d sink.’
Obdo gave him a shove. ‘That rusty armour would wash away if any more water touches it.’
‘Neurion’s right,’ Tharanor said. ‘It would be reckless to jump into the harbour.’
‘I don’t like leaving him,’ Obdo said.
‘He’s with Nightshot,’ Tharanor said. ‘She’ll take care of him, I bet. She’s smart, she can outrun paladins, and there’s no doubt she can out-think them too.’
Obdo wondered about that. Sir Mage and Mellara had turned down leaving the city before, but only their silly morals had stopped them that time. If they dodged the paladins, maybe they’d get out safely. He only hoped they would, but the still-advancing line of lights and the deep rumble of the war drums gave him a bad feeling.
To either side, the other ships began to set sail as well. Diojin’s ship took the lead, and Obdo looked up to see the Fallen Blade’s emblem, a sword hilt with a broken blade, flying in defiance at the top of the mast. A few of the crew who weren’t busy helping with the ship leaned over the back of the ship to yell abuse at the distant paladins. Obdo would have joined them if Sir Mage was here, but instead he felt quite deflated about the whole thing.
If nothing else, at least he hadn’t had to climb around the cliff-face this time like he had when they’d quietly returned to Ferrina during Marr’s dominion. If there was one thing Obdo didn’t like, it was actually having to do something.
Obdo was just bidding Ferrina a quiet farewell when he heard shouts, and he briefly wondered if the paladins were shouting their outrage at missing the Blade. Then it registered that the shouting was a lot closer than the shrinking dockside. He looked off to the right to see the mast of one of the ships yanked to an awkward angle, before swinging to the side and colliding with the ship next to it. The mast of the second ship pushed the collapsed mast aside before it, too, swayed to one side.
‘What the…’ Tharanor began.
The second ship swerved and sailed at speed towards Diojin’s own ship, almost as though the very vessel itself had come to life and turned traitor. Obdo fell onto his backside and then scrabbled away as fast as he could manage only to be flung forward as the other ship crashed into them. He came to an undignified halt as he slid into the mast, and looked around to see the other ship swing back at a sharp angle, like a hand had grabbed it by the rear and begun to tug it underwater.
There was shouting all around, and Obdo had no clue what was going on. Were there traitors on the other ships? Was someone firing magic at them? Most importantly, how was he going to manage to avoid drowning? His ship had steadied since the collision, and Obdo carefully pulled himself to his feet, looking around to see if Lord Beard had worked out what was happening.
Diojin didn’t seem to have any better clue, though; he was bellowing at the mages to get the ship sailing again, but the mages looked terrified. Being shouted at by Diojin was cause enough for fear, but the devastation of the other two ships had clearly shaken them, and they didn’t want to move. Eventually the volume of Di
ojin’s voice won them over, and they began to cast more wind spells at the sails. Slowly, the ship creaked into motion.
Obdo knew it wouldn’t last. He felt a strange vibration pass through his feet, as if the ship was grinding across rocks, and then his world span. The ship swung onto its side and Obdo vaguely noticed that he was flying towards the black waters of the harbour before he hit the surface heavily and water filled his senses.
Chapter Five: Scraps to Gather
The forces of the Paladin Order gathered around the edges of the harbour, shields at the ready and weapons drawn, and the drumming came to a halt, leaving silence of a sort. Impassively, they watched as the ships of the Fallen Blade were destroyed one by one, and then they stared upon the waters of the harbour, waiting patiently. If they were surprised by the destruction of the ships, it did not show, for not a single holy knight stood out of place.
One of the paladins, his armour more opulent than the rest, rolled his shoulders back. ‘Take all who reach the harbour!’ he called out, and any Blade members who had attended the same announcement as Archimegadon would have recognised him as Malthanes. ‘Any who resist are to be killed and thrown back into the harbour. No exceptions! These are criminals and outlaws who have murdered our brothers and sisters who served under the Light to clean this city. Remember them now.’
It took a while, but eventually members of the Blade swam up to the ramps and small boardwalks that were low enough to reach from the water. The first group of mercenaries simply sat next to each other, shivering, before one of them spoke up.
‘There’s a bloody monster in there, I swear,’ she said. ‘A monster. You ain’t gonna kill us, are ye?’
The assembled paladins stared back from their expressionless visors.
The mercenary got to her feet shakily and tugged a dagger from its sheath, glancing frantically between the paladins who guarded the harbour. After a tense few moments, one of the paladins stepped forwards.
‘Throw it in the harbour,’ he said.
The mercenary took several deep breaths and stared back, her eyes wide.
‘Throw it in,’ the paladin repeated. ‘Or you die, and we throw your corpse in with it.’
Cursing in frustration, the mercenary threw her dagger into the water and raised her hands in submission, lowering her head. Her companions, silent during the brief exchange, all drew their own respective weapons and threw them back into the water as well. Once this was done, two of the paladins stepped forwards and took hold of the first mercenary. They led her past the wall of paladins to an open area next to a tavern, where they pressed her left palm against the wrist of her right arm, and then bound it there with an unusual shackle.
As more mercenaries were dragged over from the waterfront, they too had their hands and arms bound in the same weird fashion, and were each then attached to a chain and slowly made to walk down a side road into a square with a fountain at its centre. Bit by bit, the line of captured mercenaries increased, and regular city folk who had also tried to flee the paladin rule joined them. Occasionally, members of the Blade who were fished out of the harbour were taken off to another area, where they had special shackles attached to their necks as well as their wrists.
Some fights broke out, but not many. After the first few mercenaries were cut down and thrown into the water, the rest of the survivors learned fast not to resist. Some cheers rose from the paladins as Diojin himself chose the peaceful route and allowed himself to be shackled, and they jeered as he was added to the main chain of prisoners like any other Blade member.
The operation took hours. Some Blade members swam ashore further afield, but the paladins had ensured they had plenty of coverage, and were ready to capture them as well. Elsewhere, some survivors chose to tread water rather than climb ashore into the hands of the paladins, but time eventually wore down their resolve.
It was a long time before the paladins considered the operation complete. Some guards were left to watch the dark waters, while the others were re-assigned to keep an eye on the main chain of prisoners. A select few, with blue and gold plumes on their helms, took the captives with neck shackles off to one side. Malthanes led this group, and though it was not visible through his helmet, he smiled as the prisoners hissed insults at him.
Malthanes led the group into another open area of the docks, where various market stands had been moved off to one side to clear a space. He nodded at two other blue-and-gold-plumed paladins and took a seat between them, facing the assembled group of prisoners. With a sigh of relief, he pulled off his helmet and set it to one side, rubbing briefly at a red mark under his nostrils.
‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Slowly now, let’s have a look at you. One by one.’
The other paladins quickly reshaped the mass of prisoners into a line, and slowly each prisoner stepped in front of Malthanes, many of them glaring and defiant, but a large number of them shivering and afraid. Malthanes leaned forward in his chair, one arm resting on his knee, and after slowly looking each prisoner up and down, he waved them past. Anyone looking for a pattern would have been disappointed; apparently unwilling to give away what he was checking for, Malthanes took the same time inspecting each prisoner, and his expression did not change for the entire time he did it.
After just over half an hour had passed, his inspection came to an end, and he stretched back with a yawn, flexing his arms to either side.
‘This is no good,’ he said to one of the paladins next to him, whose plume was just white. ‘Lyssina, try to be useful and go have a look at the others, would you?’
‘As you wish, sir,’ she replied, and she marched off with a frown.
Malthanes chuckled to himself and, with nothing else to do for now, he retrieved his helmet and idly brushed dust off it.
It was a long time before Lyssina returned, but that was to be expected given the number of prisoners they’d managed to fish out of the harbour. At her side was a shorter paladin, whose armour was gleaming silver, complemented by a white tunic and golden cape. This paladin held her helm at her side, and she looked to be in her late thirties, with her brown hair partially braided and kept short, so that not a strand brushed her shoulders. As she passed the line of Malthanes’s prisoners, she cast unimpressed looks over each one, but her inspection too seemed to have no results, as she ignored them all and instead walked over to Malthanes.
Malthanes rose from his chair, only to lower himself right away to one knee, solemnly keeping his eyes fixed on the cobbles. The short paladin looked down on him for several seconds before making an indistinct noise of impatience, and Malthanes raised himself to his feet again. Though she was smaller than him, this short paladin managed to outdo him in presence and poise, and it was clear to the prisoners watching even without the kneeling that this paladin was the one in charge.
‘Your Radiance, greetings,’ Malthanes said. ‘We believe that the operation has been mostly a success. They appear to have sailed into one another in the harbour, and we have captured the survivors as they attempted to reach safety.’
Her Radiance, Supreme Commander Salestis de’Cirana, looked searchingly at Malthanes, and then nodded. ‘It is to be expected of thieves and scoundrels. Lacking sense, they blunder into one another to escape, only for none to succeed.’
‘Indeed, ma’am,’ Malthanes said.
Salestis turned and regarded the prisoners again, before leading the other two a short distance away from them.
‘What of this lot?’ she asked as they walked. ‘Have you investigated them all?’
‘I have,’ Malthanes replied. He lowered his voice. ‘That mage was not among them.’
‘Lyssina felt it best you confirm your findings to me yourself,’ Salestis said, and the other paladin fidgeted at her side.
Malthanes smiled. ‘My loyalty is ever yours, Your Radiance. This setback only increases my resolve to do your will.’
Salestis stared at Malthanes, unimpressed by his flowery reply. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Have we foun
d any others of note?’
‘We have their ringleader, “Lord” Diojin,’ Malthanes replied. ‘He is with the other prisoners. I preferred him not to have any special treatment.’
‘I like it,’ Salestis said with a smile. ‘Yes, keep it that way.’
‘I checked over the other prisoners but our target was not there either,’ Lyssina said. ‘I don’t know what you want to do with them next. Do you want to check them over yourself?’
Salestis sighed. ‘I suppose I must, but I trust your word. Best to have two pairs of eyes on it, though.’
While the other two spoke, Malthanes rubbed a finger under his nose. Salestis briefly glanced over at him, but then turned her attention back to Lyssina.
‘We’ll need to call in the night watch to search this quarter,’ Salestis said. ‘Round up every remaining person, and use magic shackles on all of them. We can work out which are mages later.’
‘Yes, Your Radiance,’ Lyssina said, saluting.
Malthanes snorted at her enthusiasm audibly, and tried to cover it too late with a sneeze. Again, Salestis’s eyes flicked over to him, but she said nothing. She put a hand on Lyssina’s armoured shoulder.
‘I appreciate the efforts that you have put in tonight, Sira Lyssina,’ Salestis said. ‘I know that others have had their… doubts… but they are simply jealous of how much you have achieved in spite of their harsh words. It was right for me to trust you, and I hope that you will continue to impress me going forwards.’
‘Of course, Your Radiance,’ Lyssina said. ‘May the Light bless you for your kind words.’
Malthanes rolled his eyes but managed to resist a snort this time. Salestis turned on him and her eyes flicked up and down him, taking in every imperfection in his armour and tunic. She untucked her helm from under her arm and handed it to Lyssina without looking away from Malthanes. Then, without a change in expression, she backhanded Malthanes with her plated gauntlet, sending a spatter of blood across the cobbles. As Malthanes let out a yell of surprise and put a hand to his bloodied cheek, Salestis patiently waited for him to look back at her.