Dark Winds

by Christopher Patterson

  “Can one truly trust a sell-sword?” Cho asked before he took a sip of his wine.

  “If the group with the dwarves is a group of mercenaries, does that not mean they lied to you?” the seneschal asked.

  Cho knew where this was going. He narrowed his eyes and straightened his back.

  “I cannot very well kill those who are in the employ of my employer.”

  “As you say, my lord,” his seneschal said with a quick bow.

  Cho threw his cup to the ground. The silver chalice clinked along the floor, and a healthy amount of wine splashed along a gold and red rug he had bought from Wüsten Sahil some years ago. The stain made him growl. How much had that rug cost?

  The thrown cup caused two guards to flinch and sent Cho’s manservant rushing in with a cloth. He fell to his knees and aggressively dabbed at the stain. The seneschal didn’t move a muscle. Those half-closed eyelids infuriated the master of Aga Min. They made him want to punch the man in the face, or perhaps take a pick to the back of his head. However, there was not another man he could trust more, trust to be truthful, trust to help make his mine profitable, trust to keep the Lord of the East at bay and out of his business.

  “Did they enter the mountain?” Cho composed himself. He looked at his manservant, still desperately trying to remove an unmovable stain from the rug. “Stop that, Anton. Leave it be. Fetch me more wine.”

  “Which party, my lord?” the seneschal asked.

  Cho folded his hands under his chin, “Either one.”

  The seneschal sighed. “We have reason to believe the first, those with the dwarves, did enter the mountain, either early this morning or late last night. The second has not been seen since early evening yesterday.”

  “Where would they be going?” Cho asked. “The first lot.”

  “There are parts of the mine that have not been explored for some time,” his seneschal replied. “It has been here for many years, before you arrived, my lord.”

  Cho squinted hard at the seneschal, to which the bald man replied, “Of course, its true success arrived with you.”

  It was true. Aga Min had sat relatively unproductive until Cho had arrived a decade ago. It was also true that many parts of the old mine had lain unexplored and unmined for some years now. It was plausible, however unlikely, that some hidden passageway existed there in the darkness, unused or undiscovered.

  “I don’t like agents of the East coming through my camp,” Cho said. “Do you think he’s spying on us, Li?”

  The seneschal shrugged his shoulders. “I would not put it past him, my lord.”

  “What do you think, Anton?” Cho asked his manservant.

  The seneschal lazily looked over to the manservant with contempt, still on his knees dabbing at the rug despite the command of his master. The servant quickly looked up at Cho, something akin to fear in his eyes.

  “I . . . I don’t know, m’lord. I think . . . I think he might.”

  Cho loved Anton, but he was a fool. Li was a better choice as his seneschal, for sure, despite his pompous airs. He was smarter, bolder, unafraid of upsetting Cho. He rubbed his knuckles hard against his chin. He stood.

  “My lord?” Li questioned.

  “Get my armor, Li,” Cho commanded. “Anton, ready my horse. Those mercenaries have given me an uncanny feeling. I will ride to Aga Kona and meet with Arnif. It has been a while since we have talked.”

  “Is that wise, my lord?” Li asked.

  “I don’t care if it is wise,” Cho said. “It is my wish. Make it so.”

  Both Li and Anton bowed.

  Cho walked along the golden-bricked walkway of his villa, his cuirass reflecting less of the noonday sun than it did a dozen years ago. It fit tighter around Cho’s waist and not as tight around his chest as it once had. It felt heavier than he remembered.

  Li handed him his mace, a long piece of hotong—a tree many in the west called hickory—capped by a large, steel ball. Cho knew hotong for two things: smoking meat and making weapons. It gave off a smoky flavor when burned and was the toughest wood he had ever seen. He lifted the weapon up and inspected it.

  “How many years has it been, my friend?” Cho asked his weapon.

  Anton brought Cho his horse, a gray Durathnan with a black nose and white fetlocks. With the help of two other servants, Cho climbed into his high saddle. Three men joined him in front of the fence that surrounded his villa, all armored in mail shirts and carrying long spears. Anton brought them horses as well.

  “We are to travel to Aga Kona,” Cho explained.

  His three men nodded.

  “Anton, Li will be in charge in my absence.”

  The manservant bowed low again, and if he held any contempt for the master’s decision—he had been with Cho for two decades after all, and Li had only been in his employ for three years now—he never showed it.

  They hadn’t ridden but a few paces when he heard a “Ho!” and the jingle of belled reins. He sighed when he saw six men, all clad in polished armor, riding down the camp’s main road towards him. Their light, gilded quarter horses bounced nimbly, even under the weight of iron breastplates, round shields, and long swords. These six men represented a constant thorn in Cho’s side—half the guard donated by the Lord of the East himself, given to the master of Aga Min to protect his investment. Cho wouldn’t mind the men if they didn’t want to know his every move. He had, after all, successfully run mines for most of his life without the constant intervention of some other man’s soldiers.

  “Trying to leave without us?” one of the guards asked.

  Cho growled to himself. The guard must’ve been twenty-four years old at the most, and as pompous an ass as he had ever met. The sergeant’s close-cropped, black hair, fair features, and noble lisp pegged him as a member of Golgolithul’s elite. His father had probably bought his rank for him, and this dull post was a temporary one meant to hold his family over until a better position opened up, one with more prestige—at which time the sergeant would leave, and The Lord of the East would grace Cho with yet another pompous shit born into more money than he would see in his lifetime.

  “Of course not. I was just coming to get you,” Cho replied.

  “I am sure,” the sergeant replied with narrowed eyes. He walked from behind the six horsed guards and looked up at Cho. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to meet with Master Arnif, in Aga Kona,” Cho replied.

  “Why?” the Sergeant asked.

  “Because it has been a while, and that is what we masters of mines do,” Cho replied. “We meet every once in a while. Li will be in charge in my absence.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call yourselves masters,” the sergeant said with a short snort. “You are anything but.”

  “My apologies, Sergeant Andu. It is a small compensation for the meager lives we live.” Cho bowed from the back of his horse, a sly smirk on his face.

  “I will stay behind,” Andu proclaimed, “and help Li.”

  “A wise decision,” Cho replied.

  Andu bowed and turned to the guards. “You will follow Cho’s lead. Travel well.”

  “As if they had a choice,” Cho muttered.

  Cho led his men through his camp. Yes, his camp. He saw a squat, Goldumarian man leading a group of miners towards the mine’s main tunnel, barking orders and cursing every other word. Apart from his short stature and limp, he looked like a bull.

  “Shall we dig deeper today, Osl?” Cho called.

  “Aye, my lord.” Osl squinted through one eye involuntarily and spat the stinky, black residue of Night Leaf. “Gonna find Dwarf ’s Iron today. Make you a rich man.”

  Cho laughed. It would indeed make him a rich man. It would also be impossible. Only dwarves had an eye for Dwarf ’s Iron.

  “Step to, you lazy pigs,” Osl called back to the miners following him, “and bow to master Cho as you pass him.”

  Cho smiled as each man passed him and either bowed or tipped their hat. How sweet it would b
e if Osl ran into those fool mercenaries in his tunnels? He would show them a thing or two.

  “It will be good to travel again,” Cho said to himself. “It has been too long since I’ve taken a little journey like this.”

  Cho halted to take a final, easy breath before his ride to Aga Kona. A light breeze blew off the neighboring mountains and touched his face. The smell of the mountains was the smell of his youth. He smiled. Harder times. Better times. Something hit his nose, and his smile disappeared, his lip curling into a slight snarl. It was a foul smell, something from a distant memory. It started slow, faint, but then hit him in the face like a gauntleted fist.

  “No!”

  A distant cry, and the sound of timber and earth crashing and crumbling met his word. He turned to see the limp body of Osl, lying just feet from where the mouth of the camp’s main tunnel had stood a mere moment before, now blocked by rock and wood. He looked up, to the slopes of the Southern Mountains, and saw what he had hoped he would not see.

  “Mountain trolls!” Cho cried. He looked to his three, armed servants. “Gather what women and children you can. Ride with them to the north.”

  “How far?” one asked.

  “As far as you can go. To arms!” As he yelled, a large rock caught one of the eastern guardsmen in the chest and knocked him from his horse. “Arm yourselves with whatever you have.”

  Cho saw Andu, the other six guardsmen with him, running about, yelling at frantic miners, and cursing them when they ran away, weaponless.

  “Andu, don’t worry about them,” Cho said. “Those who will fight will fight. Rally your men to you. There are two trolls in the cliffs. I expect there will be more attacking the camp from ground level.”

  The cries behind him said the trolls were attacking the camp from all sides. In front of him, he saw four more of the evil-smelling giants crashing through the camp, Four men—one horsed—were behind them, all clad in purple cloaks and barking orders in some archaic language. Horses, goats, women, children, the trolls cared little for whom or what they bludgeoned with their crude clubs, which were barely more than broken tree branches. Cho saw another guardsman go down under the weight of a troll fist and yet another break and ride hard north, only to be caught by another large rock hurled from the arm of one of the trolls hiding up in the cliffs.

  “Fight if you will!” Cho cried. “Flee if you will not fight!”

  Within what seemed like moments, the volleys of boulders and swinging clubs reduced his camp to rubble. The dead numbered more than the master miner could count as he urged on his horse to go here and there, seeking to rally support or save the unarmed and defenseless. He ducked as another rock came his way and then saw The Golden Miner and Madame Ary’s go up in flames.

  Other purple-cloaked men ran both the surly barkeep and the mistress through with swords before tossing torches through broken windows. He saw his villa in flames as well. Poor Anton. A woman clutching three children close to her body ran in front of his horse.

  “Woman, flee north,” Cho commanded. “Take your children and flee into the Plains.”

  Who knew what would happen to her out there, but at least there, she had a chance. Here, she and her children would only feed these beasts.

  “We must flee as well,” Andu cried.

  “Flee and then what?” Cho replied climbing down from his horse and helping the woman up into the saddle, handing her each one of her children in turn.

  Andu simply stared at him.

  “Do you think the Lord of the East will welcome us with open arms after losing him the wealthiest of mines in the Southern Mountains?” Cho slapped the flank of the horse and, with a loud whinny, it raced north. “Do you think your father will welcome you with open arms? You will be a disgrace, and the Master of Golgolithul will do far worse to us than these monsters ever could. Gather your remaining men and prepare to fight and die as a noble soldier of the east.”

  Andu looked back at him, chin quivering, hands shaking, eyes watering with tears.

  “Fear will do you no good here, boy,” Cho said. “Meet your last moments with courage, not fear. Fate has dealt the cards this way and, even though we wish they were different, we can’t do anything about it.”

  Cho walked towards the attack, Andu and his men—eight still stood—following. What few miners remained and had the courage to follow their master joined their brigade, taking up positions behind the guards. The trolls saw the makeshift army and howled in delight. Their growls seemed like chuckles.

  The volleys of boulders stopped upon the order of the horsed attacker. With the flick of his finger, the two trolls in the cliffs climbed down, one joining their comrades and the other sneaking around to the rear of the defenders. It growled, and those miners in the rear turned to face the beast just as it pummeled through most of them with its vicious fists. A dark-haired guard gripped his sword, ready to meet the creature head on. Even though he drove his sword deep into the troll’s chest, it struck him so hard in the face that the blow snapped his head back so hard his neck broke. The troll had no time to celebrate, though.

  Cho and the guardsmen attacked the beast. The troll caught one of the servants by the neck and squeezed until its fingers ripped into the soft flesh, but as it turned its back to Cho, he took a mighty swing, bringing his mace against the back of its head. The beast stumbled forward, falling to a knee. Two more quick blows crushed its skull, killing it.

  A club crushed the skull of one guard while another troll threw its stone-tipped spear at another guardsman. The spear struck him in the middle of the chest and hit him so hard it sent him off his feet and back several paces. The three miners who remained, along with a guardsman, panicked and ran. They got to the northern boundaries of the camp before purple-cloaked men cut them down.

  “Stand down, Cho, master of miners.” The horsed attacker spoke perfect Shengu. He removed his helm and rode to the front of his attacking beasts. His shaven face showed a man with a Golgolithulian look, and his pointed nose seemed to hook. The bit of gray just brushing the edges of his hair spoke of a man in his early middle years.

  “You know my name,” Cho replied.

  The man squinted his small, brown eyes. “One would be a fool to not know Cho, Master of Aga Min.”

  “Noble pleasantries will do you no good with me. Try them on this sergeant here.” Cho nodded to Andu. “But do me the courtesy of saving your breath.”

  The man seemed to inspect Andu. “His family holds allegiances with the traitor.”

  Cho looked at Andu’s breastplate, seeing three moons rising over a clenched fist emblazoned on his armor. Andu looked at the horseman with a questioning curve of his brow, but Cho laughed.

  “Aztûkians,” Cho said. “You are Aztûkians. Haven’t you figured out that you have lost?”

  The horseman growled.

  “I have been commanded to accept your surrender. I will let you live,” the horsed soldier said. “My lord, the merciful and just Patûk Al’Banan, has commanded it. Give up your treasures, and I will stay my beasts from eating you alive. You cannot win. With the snap of my fingers, all of you will be dead before the first drop of blood hits the ground.”

  “You know that I will not live long,” Cho replied. “The Lord of the East will do far worse to me.”

  “He is not the Lord of the East!” the man cried, indignation rich in the tone of his voice. “He and his family are usurpers, thieves, nothing more.”

  “Nevertheless,” Cho replied, “you know what he will do to me.”

  “Lord Patûk will take you into his employ,” the man said.

  “I know your Lord Patûk,” Cho replied. “Trade one slaver for another? I think not.”

  As Cho shrugged off the man’s offer, a young blond guard looked around at his comrades. He shook uncontrollably in his armor, and his bladder loosened. He caught the blue eyes of another young guard. His chin bore the signs of an attempt to grow a beard, several weeks in the trying. Simultaneously, they threw down t
heir shields and swords and walked towards the horsed man. The corners of the horsed man’s sharp mouth curled into a smile. The trolls they passed growled at them but left them alone, and they walked behind the horse of the obvious leader of this attack.

  “At least there are some in your group who know what is best,” the horsed man cried out. “What about you, Master Cho? Will you not throw down your weapons and choose reason over madness?”

  “I am no fool,” Cho yelled.

  “You are,” the attacker replied. “Oh yes, you are. You had men come through your camp that work for that imposter who pretends to rule our land. They work for your lord as mercenaries, and you are too stupid to know they were here. Did he not tell you they would be coming? Doesn’t it infuriate you that he so readily employs vermin? Doesn’t it sicken you?”

  Cho knew they were there, but it wasn’t worth the argument. These fool Aztûkians. Idealists. A real man knows when he has lost. Cho knew he had lost.

  “I am no fool, traitor,” Cho hissed.

  “Better a traitor than someone’s lapdog,” the soldier said. “And that’s all you are. Now, you are a fool if you choose to fight. So, I will give you one more chance to surrender.”

  Cho shook his head, but as he did, Andu threw down his sword.

  “I wish to surrender,” Andu shouted.

  “Even a nobleman loyal to the Stévockians knows when he has been beaten,” the horsed soldier said.

  Cho shook his head. Disgusting. Andu wouldn’t look at him. Of course not, he was a coward. Never worked a day in his life.

  “Oh, I know I’ve been beaten,” Cho muttered to himself. “I just have some pride left in me.

  Cho stood there with one other man, an older guard who had the look of a man perhaps only ten years Cho’s junior. This was a man worth dying next to. This was a man who worked and bled.

  Cho would’ve guessed the guard had no chance against the charging troll, but he held his footing for a good while. Eventually, the beast ripped the shield from his arm and tossed the man’s sword aside. He met his death with a cry of “Your mother’s a pig whore!” and then leapt into the troll’s waiting arms where the thing crushed him until he stopped breathing. Cho smiled. Good man.