Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Sir Lucius Alden
The Hot Springs of Winter
Part II
“Because of what ye did”
Sam O’ Dargan filled another tall silver cup, with the hot pale liquid and placed the bottle near the firepit, inside the longhouse they had retreated to, after the gathering at Maza Burg’s square. He then glanced towards a seated Lucius and asked in that raspy voice of his.
“Have ye ever tried mead, Lord Alden?”
“I believe I have recently,” Lucius replied. Sam placed the cup on the wooden table in front of him and sat on the opposite side, closer to the fire. “I partake in wine religiously myself,” The heir to Regia added.
“Haha. Not easy to find in the North. Not at this time, perhaps in the summer,” He pointed at the silver cup placed in front of Lucius. “It’s fermented honey for the most part and a selection of expensive spices. Give it a try.”
Lucius tasted the lukewarm drink.
“Is that cinnamon?” He probed and Sam nodded pleased.
“Aye, it is. We smuggle it via Sonya. These good-for-nothings east Northerners never stopped dealing it.”
“What does King Davenport do?” Lucius asked sipping from the fast cooling alcoholic beverage.
“Making a lot of coin turning a blind eye, I reckon. Much as he always did,” Sam O’ Dargan commented and Lucius nodded in turn. “High King be damned,” The second son of Jarl David added meaningfully, looking at him.
There it is then, Lucius thought, putting his cup on the table, having performed the customary ‘guest rights’. Politics at last.
He wasn’t looking forward to it, but some things needed to be discussed and agreed on.
“Regia always supported Kaltha,” Lucius started and Sam grimaced, his scarred face contorting. “King Alistair hasn’t changed that,” Yet, he wanted to add, but couldn’t. He was the one pushing for a war with the Khanate and now, months later, here he was stranded in the North, having attacked the High King’s men, without consulting with his father first.
All in an effort to save this man’s sister? Was that the reason?
The crushing guilt of what had happened, the tragedy with his late wife?
A sense of right and wrong possibly.
Perhaps it was as simple as that.
“Ye used Vanzon’s mercenaries to attack the Crulls at the Bridges,” Sam pointed.
“The end result, was what you describe,” Lucius replied. “There were things that had happened before that. It made the decision the right one.”
“At the time,” Sam added.
“No. I stand by it, even now,” Lucius insisted.
“There are rumors Zofia… was killed before the fight broke out,” Sam said, clenching the cup tight with his hand, right eye narrowing in anger.
“It is not true. A woman was killed, but not Zofia. I was there, when it happened.”
“Where is she then?” Sam asked, frowning. “My father, could use some good news.”
Lucius sighed. “I was tasked by King Alistair to return her, seek some kind of agreement, for the wars to come.”
“Numbers got in the way,” Sam pointed.
“He did.”
“His brother claimed something different.”
“I fought Benton for it,” Lucius countered. “The truth came out, before gods and men alike.”
Sam O’ Dargan nodded, a little impressed. “Aye, it did. I would’ve accepted yer word, you’re the heir to bloody Regia, but doubted you on the inside. I can’t now, yer in the right. ‘Gray’ Barret was there, holding a shield. He told us what happened.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to him,” Lucius said, remembering his name from the square. “He was at the Bridges.”
Sam sipped at his mead. “Aye. Don’t worry about it, he was a nasty man before that, can’t see that change anytime soon. Better men than him, were lost that day,” The latter affecting him and he stilled his eyes on the fire for a time deep in silence.
“My condolences for your brother,” Lucius said, after giving him a moment to regain his composure. “I’ve lost mine recently, so I can understand your pain.”
Sam O’ Dargan cleared his throat. “Everyone thought I would be dead, before my brother became Jarl. Saving the North of a potential problem,” He smiled bitterly. “People fear me, Sir Lucius, but don’t much like me, like they did my brother.”
“Do they like your father?” Lucius probed.
“Haha,” The Mad Wolf guffawed, his laughter a howl, or much close to it. “I see what ye did there, Sir Lucius,” He added, some of the tension leaving his face.
“Any news of Zofia?” Lucius asked and all that anxiousness came back. There was no other way around it. The young heir needed information.
“Nothing,” Sam crooked his mouth, the lines of his scar expanding. “How come they used her as a ruse?”
“A man promised to serve me, kidnapped her from my camp, after the battle at the Ridge.”
“What’s his name?” Sam asked.
“A mixed-blood Issir,” Lucius replied and Sam stood back alarmed. “Dirk Curd.”
“Devious Dirk.”
“You know him?”
Sam clenched his jaw. “Numbers said he’d caught him, after what they’d done at Ludr.”
“What did they do?” Lucius asked intrigued.
“A raid. They crossed Lud River and attacked the city. Only there were no warriors there,” Sam explained, sole blue eye looking at the engravings of his cup, a light tremor on his left hand the only sign of the rage he kept bottled up inside. “They killed the old they found, a few convalescing warriors, then the women and the children. Locked those that surrendered in their homes and set them on fire. Burned most of them alive inside.”
Lucius gulped down that ache in his stomach returning.
“How many?”
Sam O’ Dargan shook his head right and left a couple of times to overcome his emotion, blood-red mane coming alive. “Over a thousand. Two hundred children. A lot of warriors lost their kids that day, Sir Lucius.”
Lucius closed his eyes and nodded with his head, appalled at the atrocities committed by the High King’s men. Was the king to blame here though? Vanzon ruled semi-autonomous, being as he was so far from the rest of the kingdom.
Then there was Curd.
“What do you know of Dirk?”
“He’s a named warrior. Killed three men in the circle and many more, serving the Lord of Krakenhall,” Sam sipped from his wine and grimaced. “If he has Zofia… I’m afraid she’s gone.”
“You don’t know that,” Lucius protested.
“You don’t know Devious Dirk, Lucius,” Sam countered. “He’ll kill everyone else, before ye got to him. Zofia included, if he hasn’t already.”
“She’s the only leverage he has, O’ Dargan!” Lucius snapped losing his temper, then immediately made a sign to the man sitting before him and reached for his forgotten cup of mead. Downed its contents in a go, some of it spilling out the sides of his mouth, under the amused stare of Sam O’ Dargan. “Apologies, for the outburst,” Lucius said, when he finished his cup.
“I gather Zofia, made an impression?”
Lucius worked on an itch at the tip of his nose, before replying.
“Aye, she did. But it matters not in the grand scheme of things. I was tasked with a job,” He continued, returning the Mad Wolf’s stare, all serious. “I intend to finish it. Win or lose.”
“Using the mercenaries again.”
“Aye.”
“Were your mercenaries involved?” Sam asked casually.
In the raid was his meaning.
Lucius pressed his lips tight. “I don’t believe they were. Is this going to be a problem?”
“Depends on what you intent to do, Sir Lucius.”
“Do you intent to save your sister?”
Sam O’ Dargan pulled back, with a deep frown.
“I need to hurt the Issirs. Zofia will have to take a back seat.”
“In the middle of winter?” Lucius inquired taken aback. “How will you cross Lud River? It keeps flowing is the word.”
“It’s the truth,” The Mad Wolf stood up and walked towards the firepit. Reached with a hand, caught a burning coal and flipped it once in the air, caught it again and then drop it in the embers. “Part of the Northern Sea freezes over though.”
Lucius narrowed his eyes at the absurdity of the plan. “Has anyone done it before?”
Sam grinned at that, a wolfish smile if there ever was one. “The icebergs sail west for warmer waters, wiser men than me preach. We only need one to head west,” He started wiping his hand on his rough hide pants. “In theory, if one hops on it beyond Abrakas Rock, he’ll reach Krakenhall in a week.”
“You’re insane,” Lucius said and got up himself. “Is there a map of Lud River?”
“Vanzon tried going over the river, it didn’t end well for him,” Sam countered.
“Vanzon raided Ludr and lost his men because your hunters caught him on the return trip.”
“You’ve been keeping busy Lord Alden,” Sam O’ Dargan commented. “But you can’t bridge Lud River, the current is too great.”
“Is that so? But you can sail on an iceberg to Krakenhall, get yourself cut off, without supplies and die surrounded by your enemies. Bring me a map of the area, it’s always better to make the crossing closer to your lines.”
“You’ll help us then?”
Lucius returned his stare sternly. “I said, I shall look at a map, O’ Dargan.”
The cold outside the longhouse smacked him in the face hard and he had to stop and collect himself, while closing his overcoat proper. Galio, his own clothes frosted over standing outside, looked at him expectantly.
“Where’s Mamercus and Kaeso?” Lucius asked him.
“Over here, milord,” Kaeso called, wrapped in a woolen blanket. Mamercus who had worn another cloak made of hides over his normal one, just nodded with his head. Lucius looked at them both, the cold going right through him.
“Let’s continue this in the cabin,” He said, before his teeth started rattling.
“Wise choice, milord,” Kaeso agreed and Galio shook his head in despair.
“Speak your mind Captain,” Lucius told him, as they all hurried towards his modest cabin. The woman owning it, had moved in with her sister that had recently lost her husband.
“This won’t end well, milord,” The experienced soldier replied and Kaeso started laughing at his words, with Mamercus simply shaking his head, much as their Captain had previously.
“What is it, Kaeso?” Lucius queried narrowing his eyes.
“It’s already fucked up, milord. Our circumstances,” Kaeso replied. “Way I see it, things can only get better.”
Lucius sat on the only chair inside the cabin, the whole structure a simple four meters by three, with enough room for a crude bed and small table. He noticed the fireplace had gone out and Galio went to take care of it.
“Right,” He started not exactly happy no one had volunteered to help the Captain, but he wanted to get this over with. “You’ve served in the Legion for ten years.”
“Mamercus did,” Kaeso replied, still covered with that blanket. Truth be told, it wasn’t much warmer inside. “I only served eight years, milord.”
“You were dismissed?”
“Aye.”
“The reason?”
“I had a disagreement wit an officer. Milord,” Kaeso replied and the archer Mamercus rolled his eyes.
“Care to elaborate, mister Kaeso?” Lucius asked patiently.
Kaeso sucked on his teeth, thinking about it.
“Can I refuse, milord?”
“You cannot.”
“Ah, well in that case… it was a pair of gauntlets, Milord Alden.”
Lucius pressed hard with three fingers a spot on his forehead, to alleviate a headache. “A pair of gauntlets,” He repeated unsure, if he’d heard him correctly.
“Aye. Heavy, steel things, fit for a knight. Jeremiah Cart had them on, when he died,” Kaeso explained and Lucius glanced at Mamercus for a reaction, but he got none from the other ex-legionnaire.
“And he was?” The heir to Regia probed.
“Jeremiah? An outlaw, milord,” Kaeso explained. “The second Century was tasked with eliminating his warband. That is second Century, of the second Cohort, milord.”
“Go on,” Lucius said, his patience running thin.
“We did, so Mamercus here brought him down with an arrow and I managed to get closer and finish him off, took his gauntlets off him as spoils, milord.”
“The officer disagreed?”
“He wanted them for himself, milord.”
“Isn’t it customary, the officers to have first pick of the spoils, Mister Kaeso?”
“On an official Legion order, milord,” Kaeso replied. “This wasn’t. I told him so and he took offense.”
Lucius stared at Mamercus. “Where do you, come in?”
“He tried to run him through,” Mamercus replied calmly, as if he was ordering dates at the market. “So I took offense wit him, Lord Alden.”
“Did you kill him?” Lucius asked, with a frown.
“Shot him once,” Mamercus replied. “Through the eye. He didn’t make it.”
Lucius stood back appalled.
“They let you go?”
“It was self-defense, milord,” Kaeso intervened. “There were witnesses.”
“They threw us out of the Legion. Lost our pay and our pension,” Mamercus said monotonously. “It was, punishment enough.”
“You were lucky,” Lucius noted.
“Twas my meaning, Lord Alden,” Mamercus deadpanned.
Lucius sat back on his chair and stared at both of them.
“What happened to the gauntlets?”
“Sold them, to return to Alden, milord,” Kaeso admitted.
“Why Alden?”
“We knew the old man was there. Reckoned he’d help us find work,” Mamercus explained.
“And here you are,” Lucius said.
The ex-legionnaire shrugged his shoulders.
“Here we are, Lord Alden.”
“I want an honest opinion from you,” Lucius explained, getting up. There was a knock on the cabin’s door. “When I ask for it,” He continued. “I expect to get one, but when I’ve decided on an order, or action, there will be no disagreements.”
“Aye, milord,” Kaeso replied.
Lucius glared at Mamercus. The man shrugged his shoulders.
“As you wish, Lord Alden.”
Lucius smacked his lips, a little unsure, if he was doing the right thing.
“Come in!” He barked a moment later and Galio entered carrying a load of dry wood for the fireplace. “Were you waiting outside all this time?” Lucius asked the old officer.
“Aye, milord.”
Good grief.
“Help him with the load, for Uher’s sake!” He ordered his two slow moving advisors. The term sounding ridiculous to his ears.
There was a narrow snow covered ‘road’ leading towards the frozen slopes of the mountains engulfing the Maza plateau. Stormbolt followed it, frost on his mane and vapors shooting out of his nostrils. The path circled upwards and ended at an opening, the road ahead barred by a thick fog, the clouds stopping the sun light from reaching them. The moment they made the turn, the temperature had risen, as if they’d approached an active volcano.
Lucius glared at Faye’s back. “Are ye luring me into a trap woman?”
She chuckled in response.
“I was being serious,” Lucius murmured looking about him, as they cut through the fog, following the now unseen path.
“If I had yer men stay at the bottom,” Faye said, glancing back. “Yer worry might have been legitimate.”
“What is this place?” Lucius asked, noticing green bushes and trees without frost on them. Not a surprise, since he could feel the difference in temperature himself. The moist in the air heavy, it soaked his overcoat.
Faye pulled at the reins of her mount and then jumped down lithely, without answering.
“I thought we were going to see the road to Ludr from the top,” Lucius griped, climbing down himself, his boots sinking in the mud.
“Why would I want to show ye that?” Faye asked, a little surprised. “Tis but a line, now covered in show.”
Still it was important to familiarize himself with the local topography.
“Common sense?” He insisted.
“Hmm, that’s not what ye need, Alden.”
What?
“What do you mean, woman?”
Faye turned, half-lost in the fog and grinned.
“Tell yer men to stay here and watch the horses.”
“Didn’t you just say I’m to worry, if you ever asked me that?” Lucius queried, genuinely confused.
“I did.”
“Well?”
Faye pointed behind her with a thumb. “That’s the hot springs of Maza,” She explained that grin on her lips. “I’m fixin’ to take a dive in them, Alden. Thought it more decent, not to have ‘em watch.”
Lucius frowned not expecting that last part and Kaeso snickered behind him.
“I should stay back as well,” He declared.
“How are ye gonna see the springs then?” Faye asked. “I won’t get in, if ye don’t. Scared to follow me into the fog, Alden?”
Was she teasing him? What was this?
“Fine. Stay here,” Lucius asked his two advisors. He hadn’t yet decided on a more official name and they were rather long in the tooth to name them squires. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Can’t see two feet, milord,” Kaeso countered.
“Was I not clear, mister Sorex?” Lucius asked Mamercus and he nodded.
“Ye were, Lord Alden.”
There, Lucius thought and followed a fast moving Faye through the fog. Eventually they’ll come around.
Just don’t get yourself knifed in this bloody mist.
The springs created three small lakes, perhaps ponds was the closer word, Lucius decided, the biggest the length of a house, the waters bubbling at certain places and the visibility depending on the freezing wind that had picked up and pushed all that heat coming out away, ruining the illusion somewhat. The whole place was alive though, as if they had been transported from the North to a tropical oasis, surrounded by ice.
“How warm is the water?” Lucius asked, rather impressed with the mysticism and beauty of the place.
“Warm enough,” Faye replied and stooped to remove her boots.
“I don’t think it’s prudent—”
“Ye want me to help yer lordship, wit yer boots?” Faye cut him, looking up.
“No.”
“What’s the problem then? Because I’m going in,” Faye smiled, appearing carefree. “Haven’t washed properly in a month.”
Lucius sighed and looked around for a rock to sit on. He found a decently flat one and started removing his boots. Faye in front of him, loosed the cord tying her leather pants and let her drop, skin on her long legs a pale white underneath and hairless. The spot where the arrow had gone through, an angry red around the stiches.
“It’ll leave a mark,” Lucius commented and turned around, when she went to remove her undershirt.
“It’ll have company,” Faye replied and then he heard the splash, as she went in.
“Are ye gonna join me?” She asked, spitting water. The Northern girl could stand on her toes touching the bottom. The water caressing her jaw. “It’s not as shallow further in,” She explained.
Lucius sighed and looked about him, then at his feet, naked toes sunk in the lukewarm mud. The feeling rather pleasant.
“I want nothing untoward,” He warned the chuckling woman and then started removing his clothes fast. You don’t want to get caught by a gush of icy wind, he thought, hesitating when he reached his breeches. Lucius wasn’t prude around women.
But it had been a long time.
“Ye can stay where ye are, Alden,” Faye teased. “I rather enjoy the view.”
“Move aside,” Lucius ordered her and jumped inside the bubbling pond. The water warmer than he expected it, almost hot and strange to the taste. He sunk once and then pushed the hair off his face, after he rubbed it clean.
“Hah,” He laughed overcome with enthusiasm, enjoying the luxury of a relaxing warm bath, after months on the road. “That’s really great! Flawless. It worth’s all manner of praise!”
“It does,” Faye replied groggily, keeping a couple of feet away from him.
“What?” Lucius asked, easily walking on the rocky surface of the pond, the water just reaching his muscular shoulders. The young heir had lost whatever little fat he’d carried these past months, the journey and all that riding and hardships leaving his body chiseled like the god Tyeus. “Listen you were in the right. Just wish we had something like this in Regia! Haha,” He dipped his head again reaching back and allowing himself to sink, coming back up a moment later.
Faye waited for him, when he resurfaced, having closed the distance, a strange look in her eyes.
Don’t tell me, you got mad…
She stooped fast, as if not to regret it and planted her mouth on his, the tips of her soft breasts brushing against his chest. Lucius made to pull away, his mind numb, but his hands grabbed her shoulders instead and steadied them both. He felt the slippery skin underneath, cool but warming up, her taste as unique as overwhelmingly similar. It unbarred the floodgates of memory.
He opened his eyes and Faye’s hair grew in an instant, lush red curls dropping to her naked shoulders, her eyes a shade of green now, with touches of gold. The tigress eyes stared back at him. Desire turned to lust, before drowning in bottomless hatred.
“Ye cut him down!” Macia screamed, sounding hysterical and pushed him away. “I curse ye lineage, Lucius Alden. I curse you, all gods as my witness!”
“He tried to have me killed, woman!” Lucius snapped and tried to grab her arm, but she slipped away, put a table between them. “Pulled a blade on me—”
“Ye callous monster! Yer a trained ‘n bred killer,” She hissed, her eyes feverish. “He didn’t stand a plaguin’ chance! A kid, over words,” Macia started crying at that and it shocked him, as he hadn’t seen her cry again. Not in this manner and not as hard. Not for him.
Lucius clenched his jaw and pushed his long hair back with a hand.
“He was old enough, to bed you.”
“Aww,” Macia purred looking up, her face a mess. “He did more than that, husband.”
I’m wit child, she’d told him, three months back. I feel it. It’s a boy.
Everyone rejoiced at the news, most of all his father. King Alistair had a spring in his step since then. As if he’d found again, what he’d lost when Lucius’ mother died.
“You’re lying,” Lucius gasped not wanting to believe it, but the truth was staring him in the face and what remained was laying outside his summer villa, in a pool of his own blood. His face had hardened then and put sentiment aside. “Even if you’re not,” The heir to Regia had said. “The boy will be an Alden. When the term is over, you’ll never see him again.”
Macia’s rage filled eyes turned into the striking smoky blue of Faye, silently pulling away from him. Lucius could still taste her on his lips. Faye, not Macia. His wife was dead.
“Is it Zofia?” Faye asked, now a good three feet away again, a resigned tone in her voice. “Difficult to best an O’ Dargan,” She laughed at that, but it never reached her eyes.
Neither will you, Macia whispered in his ear and despite the noise coming from the springs, he could still remember the sound of the dagger cutting through soft skin. Lucius pushed the horrific memory away, a grimace distorting his handsome face.
“Yer wife,” Faye said, recalling the words of Sir Reggy Crull. She shook her head sadly, then sighing set her shoulders straight. “Nigh impossible to compete wit a ghost.”
“It wasn’t me,” Lucius said hoarsely, emotion clogging his throat. “I didn’t kill her,” His eyes blurred, so he had to look away and tried desperately to take a deep breath, to get his wits back. Faye’s hand touched his right shoulder, then her forehead.
“What did they say ye did?” Faye Numbers queried, her breath burning his skin.
“It was best for Regia,” Better to have a killer as heir, King Alistair had decreed, not an ounce of pity in his voice, when he’d learned the news, than a darn fool.
“I believe ye, Alden,” Faye whispered and pulled away again.
“It was clever, keeping the men away,” Lucius said, after a contemplating long interval. No one had said a word, as if by a silent agreement. Nothing more needed to be said about the matter.
Well, actually… one more thing.
“Why did you do it?” Lucius asked her, when they had dried up their bodies enough, to wear their clothes. Each more comfortable now, around the other.
The kiss, was his meaning.
His eyes drifting on those luscious lips unwittingly, before he caught himself.
How haven’t I noticed that before? Lucius wondered.
“Because of what ye did,” Faye replied affectionately, tiniest hint of a smile back on that mouth.
And it was clear what she meant.
Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Sir Lucius Alden
The Hot Springs of Winter
Part II
“Because of what ye did”
Sam O’ Dargan filled another tall silver cup, with the hot pale liquid and placed the bottle near the firepit, inside the longhouse they had retreated to, after the gathering at Maza Burg’s square. He then glanced towards a seated Lucius and asked in that raspy voice of his.
“Have ye ever tried mead, Lord Alden?”
“I believe I have recently,” Lucius replied. Sam placed the cup on the wooden table in front of him and sat on the opposite side, closer to the fire. “I partake in wine religiously myself,” The heir to Regia added.
“Haha. Not easy to find in the North. Not at this time, perhaps in the summer,” He pointed at the silver cup placed in front of Lucius. “It’s fermented honey for the most part and a selection of expensive spices. Give it a try.”
Lucius tasted the lukewarm drink.
“Is that cinnamon?” He probed and Sam nodded pleased.
“Aye, it is. We smuggle it via Sonya. These good-for-nothings east Northerners never stopped dealing it.”
“What does King Davenport do?” Lucius asked sipping from the fast cooling alcoholic beverage.
“Making a lot of coin turning a blind eye, I reckon. Much as he always did,” Sam O’ Dargan commented and Lucius nodded in turn. “High King be damned,” The second son of Jarl David added meaningfully, looking at him.
There it is then, Lucius thought, putting his cup on the table, having performed the customary ‘guest rights’. Politics at last.
He wasn’t looking forward to it, but some things needed to be discussed and agreed on.
“Regia always supported Kaltha,” Lucius started and Sam grimaced, his scarred face contorting. “King Alistair hasn’t changed that,” Yet, he wanted to add, but couldn’t. He was the one pushing for a war with the Khanate and now, months later, here he was stranded in the North, having attacked the High King’s men, without consulting with his father first.
All in an effort to save this man’s sister? Was that the reason?
The crushing guilt of what had happened, the tragedy with his late wife?
A sense of right and wrong possibly.
Perhaps it was as simple as that.
“Ye used Vanzon’s mercenaries to attack the Crulls at the Bridges,” Sam pointed.
“The end result, was what you describe,” Lucius replied. “There were things that had happened before that. It made the decision the right one.”
“At the time,” Sam added.
“No. I stand by it, even now,” Lucius insisted.
“There are rumors Zofia… was killed before the fight broke out,” Sam said, clenching the cup tight with his hand, right eye narrowing in anger.
“It is not true. A woman was killed, but not Zofia. I was there, when it happened.”
“Where is she then?” Sam asked, frowning. “My father, could use some good news.”
Lucius sighed. “I was tasked by King Alistair to return her, seek some kind of agreement, for the wars to come.”
“Numbers got in the way,” Sam pointed.
“He did.”
“His brother claimed something different.”
“I fought Benton for it,” Lucius countered. “The truth came out, before gods and men alike.”
Sam O’ Dargan nodded, a little impressed. “Aye, it did. I would’ve accepted yer word, you’re the heir to bloody Regia, but doubted you on the inside. I can’t now, yer in the right. ‘Gray’ Barret was there, holding a shield. He told us what happened.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to him,” Lucius said, remembering his name from the square. “He was at the Bridges.”
Sam sipped at his mead. “Aye. Don’t worry about it, he was a nasty man before that, can’t see that change anytime soon. Better men than him, were lost that day,” The latter affecting him and he stilled his eyes on the fire for a time deep in silence.
“My condolences for your brother,” Lucius said, after giving him a moment to regain his composure. “I’ve lost mine recently, so I can understand your pain.”
Sam O’ Dargan cleared his throat. “Everyone thought I would be dead, before my brother became Jarl. Saving the North of a potential problem,” He smiled bitterly. “People fear me, Sir Lucius, but don’t much like me, like they did my brother.”
“Do they like your father?” Lucius probed.
“Haha,” The Mad Wolf guffawed, his laughter a howl, or much close to it. “I see what ye did there, Sir Lucius,” He added, some of the tension leaving his face.
“Any news of Zofia?” Lucius asked and all that anxiousness came back. There was no other way around it. The young heir needed information.
“Nothing,” Sam crooked his mouth, the lines of his scar expanding. “How come they used her as a ruse?”
“A man promised to serve me, kidnapped her from my camp, after the battle at the Ridge.”
“What’s his name?” Sam asked.
“A mixed-blood Issir,” Lucius replied and Sam stood back alarmed. “Dirk Curd.”
“Devious Dirk.”
“You know him?”
Sam clenched his jaw. “Numbers said he’d caught him, after what they’d done at Ludr.”
“What did they do?” Lucius asked intrigued.
“A raid. They crossed Lud River and attacked the city. Only there were no warriors there,” Sam explained, sole blue eye looking at the engravings of his cup, a light tremor on his left hand the only sign of the rage he kept bottled up inside. “They killed the old they found, a few convalescing warriors, then the women and the children. Locked those that surrendered in their homes and set them on fire. Burned most of them alive inside.”
Lucius gulped down that ache in his stomach returning.
“How many?”
Sam O’ Dargan shook his head right and left a couple of times to overcome his emotion, blood-red mane coming alive. “Over a thousand. Two hundred children. A lot of warriors lost their kids that day, Sir Lucius.”
Lucius closed his eyes and nodded with his head, appalled at the atrocities committed by the High King’s men. Was the king to blame here though? Vanzon ruled semi-autonomous, being as he was so far from the rest of the kingdom.
Then there was Curd.
“What do you know of Dirk?”
“He’s a named warrior. Killed three men in the circle and many more, serving the Lord of Krakenhall,” Sam sipped from his wine and grimaced. “If he has Zofia… I’m afraid she’s gone.”
“You don’t know that,” Lucius protested.
“You don’t know Devious Dirk, Lucius,” Sam countered. “He’ll kill everyone else, before ye got to him. Zofia included, if he hasn’t already.”
“She’s the only leverage he has, O’ Dargan!” Lucius snapped losing his temper, then immediately made a sign to the man sitting before him and reached for his forgotten cup of mead. Downed its contents in a go, some of it spilling out the sides of his mouth, under the amused stare of Sam O’ Dargan. “Apologies, for the outburst,” Lucius said, when he finished his cup.
“I gather Zofia, made an impression?”
Lucius worked on an itch at the tip of his nose, before replying.
“Aye, she did. But it matters not in the grand scheme of things. I was tasked with a job,” He continued, returning the Mad Wolf’s stare, all serious. “I intend to finish it. Win or lose.”
“Using the mercenaries again.”
“Aye.”
“Were your mercenaries involved?” Sam asked casually.
In the raid was his meaning.
Lucius pressed his lips tight. “I don’t believe they were. Is this going to be a problem?”
“Depends on what you intent to do, Sir Lucius.”
“Do you intent to save your sister?”
Sam O’ Dargan pulled back, with a deep frown.
“I need to hurt the Issirs. Zofia will have to take a back seat.”
“In the middle of winter?” Lucius inquired taken aback. “How will you cross Lud River? It keeps flowing is the word.”
“It’s the truth,” The Mad Wolf stood up and walked towards the firepit. Reached with a hand, caught a burning coal and flipped it once in the air, caught it again and then drop it in the embers. “Part of the Northern Sea freezes over though.”
Lucius narrowed his eyes at the absurdity of the plan. “Has anyone done it before?”
Sam grinned at that, a wolfish smile if there ever was one. “The icebergs sail west for warmer waters, wiser men than me preach. We only need one to head west,” He started wiping his hand on his rough hide pants. “In theory, if one hops on it beyond Abrakas Rock, he’ll reach Krakenhall in a week.”
“You’re insane,” Lucius said and got up himself. “Is there a map of Lud River?”
“Vanzon tried going over the river, it didn’t end well for him,” Sam countered.
“Vanzon raided Ludr and lost his men because your hunters caught him on the return trip.”
“You’ve been keeping busy Lord Alden,” Sam O’ Dargan commented. “But you can’t bridge Lud River, the current is too great.”
“Is that so? But you can sail on an iceberg to Krakenhall, get yourself cut off, without supplies and die surrounded by your enemies. Bring me a map of the area, it’s always better to make the crossing closer to your lines.”
“You’ll help us then?”
Lucius returned his stare sternly. “I said, I shall look at a map, O’ Dargan.”
The cold outside the longhouse smacked him in the face hard and he had to stop and collect himself, while closing his overcoat proper. Galio, his own clothes frosted over standing outside, looked at him expectantly.
“Where’s Mamercus and Kaeso?” Lucius asked him.
“Over here, milord,” Kaeso called, wrapped in a woolen blanket. Mamercus who had worn another cloak made of hides over his normal one, just nodded with his head. Lucius looked at them both, the cold going right through him.
“Let’s continue this in the cabin,” He said, before his teeth started rattling.
“Wise choice, milord,” Kaeso agreed and Galio shook his head in despair.
“Speak your mind Captain,” Lucius told him, as they all hurried towards his modest cabin. The woman owning it, had moved in with her sister that had recently lost her husband.
“This won’t end well, milord,” The experienced soldier replied and Kaeso started laughing at his words, with Mamercus simply shaking his head, much as their Captain had previously.
“What is it, Kaeso?” Lucius queried narrowing his eyes.
“It’s already fucked up, milord. Our circumstances,” Kaeso replied. “Way I see it, things can only get better.”
Lucius sat on the only chair inside the cabin, the whole structure a simple four meters by three, with enough room for a crude bed and small table. He noticed the fireplace had gone out and Galio went to take care of it.
“Right,” He started not exactly happy no one had volunteered to help the Captain, but he wanted to get this over with. “You’ve served in the Legion for ten years.”
“Mamercus did,” Kaeso replied, still covered with that blanket. Truth be told, it wasn’t much warmer inside. “I only served eight years, milord.”
“You were dismissed?”
“Aye.”
“The reason?”
“I had a disagreement wit an officer. Milord,” Kaeso replied and the archer Mamercus rolled his eyes.
“Care to elaborate, mister Kaeso?” Lucius asked patiently.
Kaeso sucked on his teeth, thinking about it.
“Can I refuse, milord?”
“You cannot.”
“Ah, well in that case… it was a pair of gauntlets, Milord Alden.”
Lucius pressed hard with three fingers a spot on his forehead, to alleviate a headache. “A pair of gauntlets,” He repeated unsure, if he’d heard him correctly.
“Aye. Heavy, steel things, fit for a knight. Jeremiah Cart had them on, when he died,” Kaeso explained and Lucius glanced at Mamercus for a reaction, but he got none from the other ex-legionnaire.
“And he was?” The heir to Regia probed.
“Jeremiah? An outlaw, milord,” Kaeso explained. “The second Century was tasked with eliminating his warband. That is second Century, of the second Cohort, milord.”
“Go on,” Lucius said, his patience running thin.
“We did, so Mamercus here brought him down with an arrow and I managed to get closer and finish him off, took his gauntlets off him as spoils, milord.”
“The officer disagreed?”
“He wanted them for himself, milord.”
“Isn’t it customary, the officers to have first pick of the spoils, Mister Kaeso?”
“On an official Legion order, milord,” Kaeso replied. “This wasn’t. I told him so and he took offense.”
Lucius stared at Mamercus. “Where do you, come in?”
“He tried to run him through,” Mamercus replied calmly, as if he was ordering dates at the market. “So I took offense wit him, Lord Alden.”
“Did you kill him?” Lucius asked, with a frown.
“Shot him once,” Mamercus replied. “Through the eye. He didn’t make it.”
Lucius stood back appalled.
“They let you go?”
“It was self-defense, milord,” Kaeso intervened. “There were witnesses.”
“They threw us out of the Legion. Lost our pay and our pension,” Mamercus said monotonously. “It was, punishment enough.”
“You were lucky,” Lucius noted.
“Twas my meaning, Lord Alden,” Mamercus deadpanned.
Lucius sat back on his chair and stared at both of them.
“What happened to the gauntlets?”
“Sold them, to return to Alden, milord,” Kaeso admitted.
“Why Alden?”
“We knew the old man was there. Reckoned he’d help us find work,” Mamercus explained.
“And here you are,” Lucius said.
The ex-legionnaire shrugged his shoulders.
“Here we are, Lord Alden.”
“I want an honest opinion from you,” Lucius explained, getting up. There was a knock on the cabin’s door. “When I ask for it,” He continued. “I expect to get one, but when I’ve decided on an order, or action, there will be no disagreements.”
“Aye, milord,” Kaeso replied.
Lucius glared at Mamercus. The man shrugged his shoulders.
“As you wish, Lord Alden.”
Lucius smacked his lips, a little unsure, if he was doing the right thing.
“Come in!” He barked a moment later and Galio entered carrying a load of dry wood for the fireplace. “Were you waiting outside all this time?” Lucius asked the old officer.
“Aye, milord.”
Good grief.
“Help him with the load, for Uher’s sake!” He ordered his two slow moving advisors. The term sounding ridiculous to his ears.
There was a narrow snow covered ‘road’ leading towards the frozen slopes of the mountains engulfing the Maza plateau. Stormbolt followed it, frost on his mane and vapors shooting out of his nostrils. The path circled upwards and ended at an opening, the road ahead barred by a thick fog, the clouds stopping the sun light from reaching them. The moment they made the turn, the temperature had risen, as if they’d approached an active volcano.
Lucius glared at Faye’s back. “Are ye luring me into a trap woman?”
She chuckled in response.
“I was being serious,” Lucius murmured looking about him, as they cut through the fog, following the now unseen path.
“If I had yer men stay at the bottom,” Faye said, glancing back. “Yer worry might have been legitimate.”
“What is this place?” Lucius asked, noticing green bushes and trees without frost on them. Not a surprise, since he could feel the difference in temperature himself. The moist in the air heavy, it soaked his overcoat.
Faye pulled at the reins of her mount and then jumped down lithely, without answering.
“I thought we were going to see the road to Ludr from the top,” Lucius griped, climbing down himself, his boots sinking in the mud.
“Why would I want to show ye that?” Faye asked, a little surprised. “Tis but a line, now covered in show.”
Still it was important to familiarize himself with the local topography.
“Common sense?” He insisted.
“Hmm, that’s not what ye need, Alden.”
What?
“What do you mean, woman?”
Faye turned, half-lost in the fog and grinned.
“Tell yer men to stay here and watch the horses.”
“Didn’t you just say I’m to worry, if you ever asked me that?” Lucius queried, genuinely confused.
“I did.”
“Well?”
Faye pointed behind her with a thumb. “That’s the hot springs of Maza,” She explained that grin on her lips. “I’m fixin’ to take a dive in them, Alden. Thought it more decent, not to have ‘em watch.”
Lucius frowned not expecting that last part and Kaeso snickered behind him.
“I should stay back as well,” He declared.
“How are ye gonna see the springs then?” Faye asked. “I won’t get in, if ye don’t. Scared to follow me into the fog, Alden?”
Was she teasing him? What was this?
“Fine. Stay here,” Lucius asked his two advisors. He hadn’t yet decided on a more official name and they were rather long in the tooth to name them squires. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Can’t see two feet, milord,” Kaeso countered.
“Was I not clear, mister Sorex?” Lucius asked Mamercus and he nodded.
“Ye were, Lord Alden.”
There, Lucius thought and followed a fast moving Faye through the fog. Eventually they’ll come around.
Just don’t get yourself knifed in this bloody mist.
The springs created three small lakes, perhaps ponds was the closer word, Lucius decided, the biggest the length of a house, the waters bubbling at certain places and the visibility depending on the freezing wind that had picked up and pushed all that heat coming out away, ruining the illusion somewhat. The whole place was alive though, as if they had been transported from the North to a tropical oasis, surrounded by ice.
“How warm is the water?” Lucius asked, rather impressed with the mysticism and beauty of the place.
“Warm enough,” Faye replied and stooped to remove her boots.
“I don’t think it’s prudent—”
“Ye want me to help yer lordship, wit yer boots?” Faye cut him, looking up.
“No.”
“What’s the problem then? Because I’m going in,” Faye smiled, appearing carefree. “Haven’t washed properly in a month.”
Lucius sighed and looked around for a rock to sit on. He found a decently flat one and started removing his boots. Faye in front of him, loosed the cord tying her leather pants and let her drop, skin on her long legs a pale white underneath and hairless. The spot where the arrow had gone through, an angry red around the stiches.
“It’ll leave a mark,” Lucius commented and turned around, when she went to remove her undershirt.
“It’ll have company,” Faye replied and then he heard the splash, as she went in.
“Are ye gonna join me?” She asked, spitting water. The Northern girl could stand on her toes touching the bottom. The water caressing her jaw. “It’s not as shallow further in,” She explained.
Lucius sighed and looked about him, then at his feet, naked toes sunk in the lukewarm mud. The feeling rather pleasant.
“I want nothing untoward,” He warned the chuckling woman and then started removing his clothes fast. You don’t want to get caught by a gush of icy wind, he thought, hesitating when he reached his breeches. Lucius wasn’t prude around women.
But it had been a long time.
“Ye can stay where ye are, Alden,” Faye teased. “I rather enjoy the view.”
“Move aside,” Lucius ordered her and jumped inside the bubbling pond. The water warmer than he expected it, almost hot and strange to the taste. He sunk once and then pushed the hair off his face, after he rubbed it clean.
“Hah,” He laughed overcome with enthusiasm, enjoying the luxury of a relaxing warm bath, after months on the road. “That’s really great! Flawless. It worth’s all manner of praise!”
“It does,” Faye replied groggily, keeping a couple of feet away from him.
“What?” Lucius asked, easily walking on the rocky surface of the pond, the water just reaching his muscular shoulders. The young heir had lost whatever little fat he’d carried these past months, the journey and all that riding and hardships leaving his body chiseled like the god Tyeus. “Listen you were in the right. Just wish we had something like this in Regia! Haha,” He dipped his head again reaching back and allowing himself to sink, coming back up a moment later.
Faye waited for him, when he resurfaced, having closed the distance, a strange look in her eyes.
Don’t tell me, you got mad…
She stooped fast, as if not to regret it and planted her mouth on his, the tips of her soft breasts brushing against his chest. Lucius made to pull away, his mind numb, but his hands grabbed her shoulders instead and steadied them both. He felt the slippery skin underneath, cool but warming up, her taste as unique as overwhelmingly similar. It unbarred the floodgates of memory.
He opened his eyes and Faye’s hair grew in an instant, lush red curls dropping to her naked shoulders, her eyes a shade of green now, with touches of gold. The tigress eyes stared back at him. Desire turned to lust, before drowning in bottomless hatred.
“Ye cut him down!” Macia screamed, sounding hysterical and pushed him away. “I curse ye lineage, Lucius Alden. I curse you, all gods as my witness!”
“He tried to have me killed, woman!” Lucius snapped and tried to grab her arm, but she slipped away, put a table between them. “Pulled a blade on me—”
“Ye callous monster! Yer a trained ‘n bred killer,” She hissed, her eyes feverish. “He didn’t stand a plaguin’ chance! A kid, over words,” Macia started crying at that and it shocked him, as he hadn’t seen her cry again. Not in this manner and not as hard. Not for him.
Lucius clenched his jaw and pushed his long hair back with a hand.
“He was old enough, to bed you.”
“Aww,” Macia purred looking up, her face a mess. “He did more than that, husband.”
I’m wit child, she’d told him, three months back. I feel it. It’s a boy.
Everyone rejoiced at the news, most of all his father. King Alistair had a spring in his step since then. As if he’d found again, what he’d lost when Lucius’ mother died.
“You’re lying,” Lucius gasped not wanting to believe it, but the truth was staring him in the face and what remained was laying outside his summer villa, in a pool of his own blood. His face had hardened then and put sentiment aside. “Even if you’re not,” The heir to Regia had said. “The boy will be an Alden. When the term is over, you’ll never see him again.”
Macia’s rage filled eyes turned into the striking smoky blue of Faye, silently pulling away from him. Lucius could still taste her on his lips. Faye, not Macia. His wife was dead.
“Is it Zofia?” Faye asked, now a good three feet away again, a resigned tone in her voice. “Difficult to best an O’ Dargan,” She laughed at that, but it never reached her eyes.
Neither will you, Macia whispered in his ear and despite the noise coming from the springs, he could still remember the sound of the dagger cutting through soft skin. Lucius pushed the horrific memory away, a grimace distorting his handsome face.
“Yer wife,” Faye said, recalling the words of Sir Reggy Crull. She shook her head sadly, then sighing set her shoulders straight. “Nigh impossible to compete wit a ghost.”
“It wasn’t me,” Lucius said hoarsely, emotion clogging his throat. “I didn’t kill her,” His eyes blurred, so he had to look away and tried desperately to take a deep breath, to get his wits back. Faye’s hand touched his right shoulder, then her forehead.
“What did they say ye did?” Faye Numbers queried, her breath burning his skin.
“It was best for Regia,” Better to have a killer as heir, King Alistair had decreed, not an ounce of pity in his voice, when he’d learned the news, than a darn fool.
“I believe ye, Alden,” Faye whispered and pulled away again.
“It was clever, keeping the men away,” Lucius said, after a contemplating long interval. No one had said a word, as if by a silent agreement. Nothing more needed to be said about the matter.
Well, actually… one more thing.
“Why did you do it?” Lucius asked her, when they had dried up their bodies enough, to wear their clothes. Each more comfortable now, around the other.
The kiss, was his meaning.
His eyes drifting on those luscious lips unwittingly, before he caught himself.
How haven’t I noticed that before? Lucius wondered.
“Because of what ye did,” Faye replied affectionately, tiniest hint of a smile back on that mouth.
And it was clear what she meant.
