Killstreak Book One Page 14

  The knight in charge of the platoon only glowered.

  “The prior will see you,” the young knight who had fetched the squadron said. The rest of the knights surrounded the three adventurers like they were a group of Agglor’s most feared assassins, and the young knight led them down two hallways to an open-air balcony overlooking the ocean below. The smell of saltwater mingled with two heavily perfumed candles mounted to either side of the balcony.

  In the center of the balcony, the prior waited with a smile on his face. He was an old man, probably close to the natural end of his life, but he held a strength and confidence about him that made him appear far more capable than his wrinkled skin would imply. “Thank you,” the prior said warmly to the young knight. Formal bows were exchanged, and then the retinue of guards clanked away to stand watch somewhere out of earshot.

  Kadorax noticed the impression of a sword hilt poking at fabric of the prior’s robe. He also took note of the distinct lack of armor the man wore, even down to the sandals on his feet. “I appreciate the audience,” he said as genuinely as he knew how.

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” the prior asked. His voice was old and strained, but it did not quaver. “It is a rare day indeed that the leader of the Blackened Blades pays a prior of the Knights a visit.”

  “I’m not their leader any longer,” Kadorax told him.

  “So I have heard,” the prior went on. “Slain by the jackals and their god, yes?”

  “There wasn’t a jackal alive in that temple when I died,” Kadorax answered.

  The prior’s smile widened. “Just their god, then.”

  “Right,” Kadorax agreed. “And that’s why we’re here. We heard you’ve aligned with the Blackened Blades and the Miners’ Union. We want to help.”

  The prior took on an inquisitive look. “At level six?” He let his gaze drift back out toward the ocean, an inquisitive hand on his chin. “The youngest knight I’m sending is level thirty. From what I’ve heard, the Blackened Blades are only sending their best as well. Perhaps you would try the Miners’ Union?”

  Kadorax couldn’t help but laugh. For as much as the assassins and knights refused to get along, virtually no one tolerated the Miners’ Union. Their reputation was that of petty thieves and highwaymen, always taking advantage of those who hired them and didn’t know any better.

  The prior laughed as well, letting the absurd suggestion die in the air. “I know you’re bound to be more capable than your level would indicate,” he said. “And if you die on the front lines, I do not think it would cost me any sleep.”

  “So there’s a job?” Kadorax asked.

  The old man’s smile took on an almost imperceptibly sinister quality. “I have something in mind, yes,” he answered. “I assume you have adequate means of transportation?”

  Brinna stepped up and pointed down the shoreline. Against the horizon, the Grim Sleeper’s central mast was barely visible. “We have a ship and crew,” she declared.

  “Good, good,” the prior said. “I have a message for you to deliver to the priory in Skarm’s Reif.”

  “I’m not your little messenger boy,” Kadorax scoffed. He turned to leave, shaking his head in disappointment. A simple delivery quest, especially by boat, wouldn’t yield anywhere close to a noticeable amount of experience.

  The prior laughed and wheezed at Kadorax’s back, making him turn back around with a scowl on his face.

  “Don’t you want to know what the message would contain?” the prior asked.

  Kadorax fixed him with an even stare.

  “Skarm’s Reif is where our forces are gathering for the real assault on the jackal god. The prior there is serving as our field general, and my letter would be a means of introduction for you and your little band of hapless adventurers,” he said, laughing all the while. “But if you don’t want it—if that sort of thing is beneath the mighty Kadorax—no one is forcing you to accept.”

  Kadorax’s face flushed with embarrassment. He should have expected at least one such caper from the man who had been his nemesis for so long. “Fine. We’ll take your letter to Skarm’s Reif. At least you aren’t trying to send us all the way to Vecnos.”

  “Are there dangerous, man-eating jackal gods in Vecnos, hmm?” the prior went on through more of his own laughter. “Last I heard, some upstart kid was trying to make a name for himself there. Trust me, if he ever becomes a threat, you’d be the first one I would look to send.”

  “If I ever set my sights on that forsaken land, I’m taking you with me. They’ll never find your body all the way out there,” Kadorax retorted.

  “Perhaps we’ll take a trip there sometime, only the two of us.” He sighed, a slight smile on his face. “But Skarm’s Reif isn’t far enough to get my hopes up that you might not return. I would send a contingent of my knights to guard you along the way—the gods know you’d need them at level six—but I wouldn’t want one of them to get greedy and claim the bounty on your head, so you’ll have to make the trip of your own accord, I’m afraid,” the prior said.

  “Perfect,” Kadorax mumbled. “We’ll wait at the door for the letter.” He left the balcony, assuming the other two would follow close behind.

  Back in the interior of the building, the squad of guards snapped to attention, then quickly fell into step alongside the three adventurers. The ring of their boots echoed off the high walls and vaulted ceilings.

  Only a minute or so later, the prior appeared at the foyer. The armored knights stood as straight as they could possibly manage, not a hair was out of place as they solemnly waited for the final bits of formality to conclude. Somewhat satisfying to Kadorax, the prior didn’t even seem to notice the soldiers as he passed by with a wooden scroll case in his hands.

  “Here,” the old man said. “I marked the case with Skarm’s Reif as the destination, though I’m not convinced you can read, so do try to remember the name. And when you get there, the priory will be the tall building dressed in blue and gold. I’ll pray that you find it before the Priorate Knights return victorious with the beast’s head. I wouldn’t want you stumbling around Skarm’s Reif like a lost puppy when my army comes marching through.”

  “And my bounty?” Kadorax asked, trying his best to ignore the stream of insults thrown his way.

  The prior dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “The bounty was only for the leader of the Blackened Blades, not a level six would-be hero.”

  “And when the Gar’kesh is dead, you’ll just go back to the old ways?” Kadorax wondered.

  With a devious smile, the prior answered, “Of course. Priorate Knights have hated the Blackened Blades since long before either of us were ever born. Though we’ve put aside our differences for now, the truce means nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

  “So be it,” Kadorax stated. He didn’t offer the prior any formal goodbye—he just turned on his heel and pushed his way out the driftwood door.

  “Well, that was as fun as I had expected,” Syzak announced when the door was fully closed behind them.

  “I take it you two have tried to kill each other in the past,” Brinna said.

  Kadorax shook his head and tried to rid himself of the dour mood the prior had brought down on his head. “Knights and all their high-minded notions of honor and hierarchy,” he spat, pointedly avoiding the question. “Assassins are free men and women, beholden to very little. Membership in the Blackened Blades was paid in blood, not gold, and everyone was equal. I was their leader, yes, but no one else had a rank, no chain of command. The assassins were free to come and go as they pleased, accepting only those contracts they really wanted. No one can order them to do anything. They either chose to go, or they chose not to go. Knights take orders like obedient dogs—slaves, really.”

  “And the Miners’ Union?” Brinna went on. “How do they fit into everything?”

  The mention of such an inept group of mercenaries went a long way toward lifting Kadorax’s spirits. “They’re a b
unch of idiots,” he laughed.

  “I thought they just worked the Boneridge Mines. They fight?” Brinna asked.

  “Just a bunch of orcs, hermits, goblins, and other brutes loosely organized under the banner of some elf lord who lives so high up the mountains he sees snow every day of the year. They work the mines, that’s for sure, but they’ve been known to hire out conscript militia to certain causes,” Kadorax explained.

  “The cheapest, rowdiest, and worst-trained mercenaries in all Agglor,” Syzak added with a snicker.

  Kadorax agreed, and Brinna just laughed.

  The journey back down to the main portion of Oscine City was just as slow and arduous as the ascent had been. They had to move backward, constantly checking their footing and taking dozens of breaks to ensure their balance on the side of the jagged rocks.

  “We have a day to kill,” Kadorax announced when they were all on solid ground once more. The waves lapping at his boots played a gentle rhythm underneath his words.

  “You need better gear,” Syzak told Brinna. “Skarm’s Reif is about as remote a place as you’ll find in Agglor. The animals living in the woods are all at least level ten. You’re not a fighter, not yet.”

  The rogue agreed. She took her daggers from her boots and handed them over for inspection. “These are all I’ve ever had,” she said sheepishly.

  Kadorax twirled one of them over in his hand, then tested the sharpness of the blade against his palm. It didn’t draw any blood. He tilted the point against the meat between his thumb and first finger and pushed down, gently at first, and then harder. It still didn’t draw any blood.

  “This is basically a knife you’d use to cut meat in a tavern,” Kadorax concluded. “And it wouldn’t even be adequate for that.”

  “I know,” Brinna said, her eyes cast down at the rocky shore. “I never really needed much, you know?”

  “Let’s get to Darkarrow as soon as we can,” Kadorax told her. “The Blackened Blades always kept some weapons stashed there, and we’ll be able grab a few things. For now, let’s go see how the captain is faring. Maybe we can get Ayers to at least add an edge to these daggers.”

  Enjoying the stiff, cool breeze coming in off the ocean and basking in the undeniably serene beauty of Oscine City, the three took their time as they headed back to the Grim Sleeper. The ship felt a bit out of place moored next to the other, mostly larger ships in the harbor. Such a gruesome figurehead stuck out like a whore at vespers.

  Ayers was hard at work in his cramped smithy, and a thin plume of dark smoke escaped from the chimney he had built into the deck above his head. Without windows, he had to use a pair of taper candles and the light of his forge to see. “The captain has me working on a couple projects for him,” he said when Kadorax and the others entered. “I won’t be able to make you anything new until those are finished.”

  Brinna tossed her pair of daggers on the man’s anvil next to the iron he was working. “Think you could sharpen these?” she asked.

  The blacksmith didn’t need more than a glance to know the quality of the daggers. They were beginner weapons, and they hadn’t even been maintained. “Aye,” he answered. “Leave ‘em here. I’ll get an edge on the pair, though you really need new ones altogether.”

  “What would it cost?” she asked, though she had no gold of her own.

  Ayers thought for a moment, scratching his head. “Hold up your hand,” he said.

  Brinna complied, and Ayers measured the size of her palm and fingers against one of her own daggers. “You’ve got small hands,” he told her. “There are enough scraps here for me to make something that tiny, I’m sure.”

  Kadorax drew his blade and held the hilt in Ayers’ direction. “Any chance you could add a deeper fuller?” he asked.

  “Not on such a thin weapon,” Ayers answered. “It would break the first time I hit it.” He shook his head and sighed. “You lot are sorely in need of better weapons.”

  “There’s no doubt about that,” Kadorax agreed.

  “Give me a couple days, and I’ll see what I can do. And I could use some better iron, if you come across any. The ingots I brought from Coldport are so impure they might as well be lead.” Ayers took the two daggers on his anvil and set them on a new wooden shelf behind him, then twisted the bar he was working into the coals.

  Back on the top deck, a handful of sailors were making their way slowly up the gangplank, the captain hobbling between them. Lord Percival was flushed, and both of his legs were bandaged with fresh, white linen, though he did appear in far better spirits than before.

  “How’d it go?” Syzak asked from the railing.

  The first mate grunted as he hefted the captain by the shoulder over the last section of the ascent. “Cost him all he made from killing the werewolf and then some, but he’ll walk unaided again. Maybe even soon,” the man replied.

  “Fancy a trip to Darkarrow?” Kadorax asked when Percival finally recovered his breath.

  The captain regarded him with weary eyes. “My… yes, I… Where? I suppose,” he muttered incoherently.

  “Have a plan after Darkarrow?” the first mate asked. “I’ll do the thinking for the crew over the next couple days. Just until the captain regains his wits.”

  “Good idea,” Kadorax answered.

  “We’ve no more contracts, and Oscine City will basically be asleep all winter. I’d like to get us out of port sooner rather than later,” the first mate replied.

  Kadorax put his arm around the captain to steady the man’s feet as he hobbled to a chair near the wheel. “Darkarrow for a day, then on to Skarm’s Reif. Have you ever been there?”

  The first mate nodded. “Skarm’s Reif is a good ways out, but that’ll give the captain here a few needed days to recover.”

  “Perfect.” Kadorax shook the first mate’s hand, excited to be returning to his home for the first time since the wretched jackal god had sent him back to a respawn. Well, it wasn’t his home, he reminded himself. One of the other Blackened Blades would have taken over. On Earth, the prospect of someone else sleeping in his bed would have been a horrible affront. On Agglor, it didn’t actually bother him. That was the way of life. He had been killed in combat, had lost everything, and his former title alone awarded him absolutely no luxury. Darkarrow was not his.

  Chapter 8

  The Grim Sleeper cut through the ocean, its bow pointed east. They had to round the edge of the Boneridge Mountains, then they’d dock at either Virast or Black Harbor. From either city, Darkarrow was a two days’ hike inland, or three if the heat was bad, which it likely was. The southern end of the Boneridge Mountains was speckled with low volcanoes, and the wind coming over the peaks from the west trapped all their heat in the basin below. Summers in Darkarrow were brutally hot. The winters weren’t much cooler, at least not during the day.

  Despite the overall inhospitable nature of the region, Kadorax had loved living there. Black Harbor and Darkarrow had both been named for their presence next to the volcanoes, since the ash clouds produced by every eruption—even the minor ones that barely brought any lava—hung low in the sky and cast dark, eerie shadows over everything for several days. Some of the older legends said Black Harbor had been cursed by a banshee, and the thick blankets of ash that gave the place its namesake were actually her death shroud. Whenever the city became dark, the old folk would shutter their windows and hang flowers from their eaves in an attempt to ward away the spirit.

  Kadorax had never been particularly interested in science during his time on Earth, but he knew enough about volcanoes to have never feared a banshee. That folksy superstition had made Darkarrow the perfect location for the Blackened Blades. If a would-be attacker wasn’t deterred by the mere fact that they were assaulting an estate full of assassins, they were probably insane enough to buy into the mysteries of the darkness. Plus, the veil helped keep some of the Blackened Blades’ more questionable activities safe from prying eyes.

  When the Grim Sleeper pulled into
port at Virast, the skies were clear. In terms of beauty and splendor, the smaller port town couldn’t compare with Oscine City. Virast was much older—built, destroyed, and rebuilt dozens of times over the last several centuries so that the architecture was a hodgepodge of different styles and techniques. “Think anyone will recognize you, my lord?” Syzak asked with a playful tone.

  Even before, when Kadorax had been a lord, he had never required Syzak to use the honorific. “In Virast, I doubt it,” the man replied. “But they’ll know me in Darkarrow, that’s for sure.”

  “Let’s just hope the new leader has more fond memories of us than grudges.”

  The two had been equal parts beloved and notorious during their tenure at the head of the organization. Succession, after all, was rarely initiated via retirement. Kadorax had taken his title with a bit of thin wire in the middle of the night. There had been a few members, even after all the years, who remembered his ascension with a grimace.

  Kadorax, Syzak, and Brinna stepped off the Grim Sleeper around midday. The weather was cool and cloudy, but they could feel the heat whenever the sun broke through to find their backs. It was going to be a hot journey inland, of that they had no doubt. Carrying supplies exacerbated the high temperatures. Before long, Kadorax and Brinna were both sweating.

  “If you’re ever back in Virast without us,” Syzak explained to the rogue, “never go in there.” He pointed to a rickety tavern with mold and moss growing on the slanted roof. The sign hanging above the door was so old that all the paint had faded away.

  “I don’t think you’d have to worry about me willingly entering a place like that,” Brinna answered. She turned her nose up at the smell of the place as they walked by. Luckily, there were no windows.

  It took them a couple hours to walk the entire length of Virast. There were no guards posted or gatehouses manned at the edge like Oscine City had to regulate those entering and leaving. Instead, the buildings simply became more and more sparse until all that was left was farmland accented by the occasional house breaking up the monotony of crops. A road, poorly built and never repaired, cut north through the heart of the farmland toward Darkarrow. For whatever reason, the road had been built twenty feet or so to the right of a decently sized ridge, causing more and more of the paving stones to wash away every time it rained. A fresh layer of mud coating the path told Kadorax that such a rain had passed recently.