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
Glen
Tales from Rida
Part I
(The right decision)
Siege of Rida
-Day eleven-
“GET THAT WAGON SET RIGHT!” Marcus barked to the tired soldiers, pushing the laden with debris open carriage, in order to block the street.
There was a lot of debris around and smoke, since half the city was burning. Glen glanced towards the abandoned docks behind him, then at the smashed harbor gates beyond their barricade.
“Are they coming?” Stiles asked him, looking now more like the pirate he’d been, when Glen had first met him. Perhaps fatter now, as the man never missed a meal.
“Just some scouts,” Glen commented, wiping his face, the smoke blowing their way for the past hour. “The bulk of their forces have surrounded the palace.”
“You think your ship will come?”
Glen grimaced. By the time he’d returned to the harbors five days ago, all ships had set sail already. The news that the bombardment had started, enough to convince even the most fanatic amongst them. They’ve left behind tons of merchandise, rotting produce and a lot of people that had opted to head towards the bridge next, or even try the east gates. When the Cofols had broken through the destroyed West Gates, the Duke had pulled the bulk of his guards towards the walled palace, leaving the rest of the city to face the Khan’s horde.
Thankfully most of them had followed the Duke’s soldiers. But not all. Some had attacked the small force Glen had gathered around the streets leading to the harbor and slowly had pushed them back. The fact they still lived, had more to do with being deemed not a priority target by the Cofols, than their defense. The latter had brought some of the catapults inside the city intending to attack the Duke’s walls, but unfortunately had used one of them to bring down Glen’s gates. It took them two days and nights.
The Cofols were anything, but idlers, he thought, spitting down to clear his mouth.
He had brought everyone into the harbor, confiscating the first floor of the central customs building and turning it into barracks. Glen was trapped, but for a small alley starting behind the Customs Building that led -through the only part of the town not burning yet- to the now unguarded East Gates.
Unless the Marquette came.
“They will be here,” Glen said.
“What, if they are not?” Stiles insisted.
“We’ll work that struggle, when we face it,” Glen deadpanned and walked towards the finished portion of the barricade, blocking the last part of the street, before the more open loading area of the docks and the square before the Customs Building.
“Have they moved from the gate?” He asked Marcus and the ex-legionnaire glanced over the barricade. A mash of debris, boards, bricks and the laden carriage, its wheels now broken.
“Not really. They are taking a licking from the Duke it seems.”
“They destroyed the city Marcus,” Glen noticed.
“Not yet, milord. But they will,” He replied. “Getting that scorpions off the East Gates could come in handy, the way they’re hanging around ‘em pillars.”
“How many men, to do it?” Glen asked.
“What ye got here,” Marcus grimaced, then grunted. “I don’t see them holding more than a couple of minutes, if the barricade comes down.”
Glen couldn’t begrudge them that. He wouldn’t do it either.
“We’re not dying for a pile of rumple, Marcus.”
“I’ll hold ye to it, lad,” Marcus replied. “Even the desert gives us better odds.”
“Not with Sen and the girls coming along,” Glen sighed. “We’re too big a group.”
At least he’d gathered every horse he’d found, stripping the stables bare and had supplies on three mules ready to go. The biggest problem being, where to and how to stay ahead of a force that seemed to have brought all the horses on Eplas, in Rida.
Glen saw Ottis using a spyglass to look over the crudely constructed barricade and approached him. The sergeant had a bandage on his left arm, where an arrow had nicked him during their retreat.
“How is the arm, sergeant?” Glen asked him.
“It’s annoying, my Lord, but I’m glad it missed my face,” He replied and some of the guards listening in guffawed at that. Most of the guards left behind were young and either didn’t have family, or their families have left through the bridge and headed hopefully for Altarin. Glen didn’t know, if the Cofols were controlling the bridge over Yeriden now and it didn’t really matter. While less than a kilometer away, there was no way to reach it.
Glen turned to face them, some were standing behind the barricade, but most were resting in the shade provided, by one of the half-collapsed buildings street-facing wall. Just over twenty soldiers, as most had opted to head to the bridge escorting their families, when it became obvious they couldn’t hold the Cofols back and Glen had agreed to it. You can’t force a man to fight, if he doesn’t believe in it, or his mind is elsewhere. Perhaps a real Lord could, by threatening their lives, he thought. Whether it would work, or not, it’s debatable.
“Hey, listen up,” He said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. “We’ve enough horses back there as ye know, all saddled up. There’s no need to panic. The moment I see this is untenable, we’ll make a run for it, towards the East Gate.”
The men perked up at that, with a few glancing at each other a little surprised.
“But we won’t make it easy for them right?” Glen continued and most cheered this time. “Now keep your heads down and rest up as much as you can. Things can change in a moment’s notice.”
“We’ll not let you down, milord,” Ottis told him and Glen nodded uncomfortably. It’s one thing to play the commander for fun, totally different to try it during a real conflict. He’d no idea if he was doing a good job militarily, nor did he care and his primary goal since the siege’s start, was to save himself, his friends and as many people as he could from getting killed, or worse, for no reason.
“That’s some strange crap,” Marcus said and Glen glanced his way. The hale man was watching the Cofols moving about at the collapsed gates leading to the harbor, about three hundred meters away, from their own position in the bombarded street.
“What is it?” He asked him standing next to him.
“One of ‘em just climbed atop that broken column, the one still standing.”
Glen narrowed his eyes trying to see, what the ex-Decanus had spotted, amidst the smokes coming from the burning parts of the city. Ottis, who came to stand next to him, offered him his spyglass.
“Thank you, sergeant,” Glen said and accepted the bronze instrument, shaped like a thin tube.
“You’re welcome, my Lord,” The sergeant replied politely.
Glen put the narrow part near his right eye, more careful this time, and pointed it towards the debris of the Harbor Gates. The iron doors had collapsed inwards, taking the right decorative stone column down, along with the upper portion of the gates, but the left one still stood, almost three meters in height and a meter in diameter, missing its top part.
How the heck, did ye climbed that?
The Cofol wore leather armour, covered in dust and had an equally dirty cloak on his back, blowing with each gush of wind all about him. Glen raised the spyglass to the Cofol’s face and all but dropped it, when Larn glared back at him.
“Fuck.”
“Milord?” Ottis probed, a little shocked at the obscenity.
“That’s him,” Glen said and raised the spyglass again to make sure, but found no one climbed on the broken column now. What in all hells? Did he just jumped down?
He turned to Marcus. “The… bounty hunter from Hellfort. He’s here.”
“Well then,” That was all Marcus offered.
“Who’s he?” Ottis queried.
“An assassin, probably working for the Cofols,” Glen replied and frowned. “Almost certainly.”
“They seem rattled now,” Marcus observed. “Better get the lads up, sergeant. Lord Reeves might have given them a target.”
What was that? He thought hearing the strange noise.
“Pssst.”
Glen stopped in his tracks and swung around, trying to find who it was.
“Over here,” Jinx’s voice said, coming from above. Glen raised his eyes and spotted the Gish sitting on the top of the Customs Building, her legs daggling over the edge.
“The fuck are ye doing up there?” Glen snapped, already too tensed up by the sudden reappearance of the Zilan assassin.
“I’m keeping track of the port,” She explained. “There’s a ship circling about for the last hour.”
“A ship?”
“Yep. Big thingy wit sails ‘n stuff?”
“Couldn’t you just shout out to inform me?” Glen griped, his neck hurting from having to strain, to talk to her.
“A shout might carry to the Cofols Glen. They might decide to attack us then.”
“Whisper the assassin is here, for crying out loud! They will attack either way!”
“Toss me a torch,” Jinx decided standing up, perilously close to the edge of the roof.
“Stiles!” Glen barked, watching taken aback, as the small bodied girl started climbing towards the upper ridge of the tiled roof, expecting her to slip and tumble down her death at any moment. She has some fine burglar skills, he thought, when Jinx made it there and stood up to take a better look at the unseen from where Glen stood vessel.
“I think they saw the fires burning and are spooked!” Jinx yelled, looking down her face hidden behind a sea of pink.
“You don’t have to shout now!” Glen yelled back at her. “Ye climbed a bloody roof, not a mountain!”
“Here milord,” Stiles said, holding two sticks he’d dipped in oil. Glen frowned and glared at him. “I made two o’ them.”
The hells does he expect, Glen thought. A bloody medal?
“I can’t just toss it up there ye fool,” He blasted him and then yelled livid. “Jinx!”
“Up here!” Whisper screamed back at him, the ‘e’ dragging for fake effect, as Whisper apparently found the whole situation hilarious.
Glen shook his head on the verge of despair and then looked up again, his neck protesting.
“Drop a rope down, Pretty. Remember to keep hold of one end, else we’ll spend the rest of the day here arguing about it.”
Until the Cofols broke through the barricade that is and butchered every single one of them.
“They’re dropping anchor!” Jinx yelled, still manically waving her half-burning half-smoking torches, jumping up and down the now fully burning rooftop of the Customs Building, she’d previously set on fire.
The Marquette was staying clear from the docks, it seemed, Glen decided.
“They are sending a boat!” Jinx reported, her throat hoarse from all the screaming and smoke she’d inhaled for the past half hour.
They’ve seen Whisper at least.
“They brought another catapult, lad!” Marcus yelled from the barricade and Glen puffed his cheeks out, sitting on top of three large wooden containers, trying to think, but already under immense pressure. He could see the boat approaching, two rowers and a man steering it. It would be an hour, before they got ashore. Out the corner of his eye, Glen saw Sen-Iv approaching followed by Iskay, Ninan and Stiles. Three, he counted, makes it six. Can this boat carry more than ten? Safely across the port?
Twelve is pushing it.
Him and Jinx. Soren and Zolan. Marcus, fuck Stiles and Crafton, but then again, he couldn’t just throw them to the wolves. Little Liko, for sure. Even the dwarfs.
They were too many.
Glen groaned frustrated and jumped down, his knees bending to absorb the landing absentmindedly. Sen-Iv raised her brows impressed, then frowned seeing his troubled expression and took a deep breath herself.
“There’s a boat coming,” Glen started and Sen blinked once, her striking eyes watching him intensely. “You’ll get on it,” Jinx climbed down from the burning roof in the meantime, opting to clear the final five meters or so, with a daring gymnast’s double summersault to one-up him, landing awkwardly with a grimace of pain, she quickly changed to a large frenzied grin. “Along with the girls…” Glen smacked his lips and glared at Stiles, then at the limping Gish that approached them. “Zola, Soren and Jinx.”
“And you,” Sen-Iv said simply.
“I need to get the rest of us out, Sen.”
“These people are not important,” She stopped, to hide her frustration. “The girls will stay back.”
Glen grabbed her by the elbow and led her a couple of meters away from the others.
“The girls will face the worst fate,” He hissed angry and seeing she was distressed and on the verge of collapse, took a deep breath and continued as composed as he could. “Jinx will make sure you make it to Altarin,” He stopped, pulled the old Lord’s ring out of his finger and pressed it into her soft hands. “The ship is yours, as are the men on it. You will rule in my name.”
Sen-Iv looked at him sternly. She’d managed to recover her composure, but for a fresh wrinkle on her forehead, nothing betraying her inner turmoil.
“I will not go to Altarin, Glen. My place is with you.”
“Sen, I intend to try something insane,” Glen explained. “I need to know, everyone that matters is safe.”
“I need to know, you’ll be safe,” Sen-Iv replied and stepping forward rushed into his arms. “And you have a way out, if your plan fails,” She whispered in his ear.
Gods she smells so fucking good, Glen thought, pressing his mouth on her small ear, a little desperately, before he caught himself and pulled back. He stared at his wife’s face soberly, fighting to keep his head firmly at the task at hand.
“I’ll make a break for it, down the merchant path,” He explained to her, leaving the worst part out.
“They’ll patrol the roads leaving the city,” Sen countered. “It’s better to cut through the desert. More dangerous also.”
“You have a plan,” Glen said looking at her.
“I don’t,” Sen-Iv replied earnestly. “But I can bring your ship to a southern port, if that’s where you’re heading.”
Glen sighed and glanced towards the others silently watching them talk.
“What’s the next relatively safe harbor?” It’s not that his plan, had anything going for it, if he made it out of Rida.
“You’ll need to make it across the desert and follow Cofol controlled paths, Glen.”
“I’ll make it. We don’t have time Sen and I need ye on that boat. If that’s the only way, you’ll get on it, then fire away.” He’d urged the troubled woman and Sen, after a small pause, had answered.
“Eikenport. It’s mostly abandoned.”
Marcus stood back, the grimace distorting his face, almost turning him to a different person.
“You should be on that boat, lad,” He said brusquely, but Glen raised a hand to silence him.
“Can you make the scorpions work?” The young Lord repeated, flinching when a boulder struck a half-collapsed wall behind them, rattling the street.
“I’ll need all the men here,” Marcus grunted. “And an hour.”
“They’ll need an hour as well,” Glen agreed. “So I’ll ask for a parley.”
“Have you lost yer mind?” Marcus barked and a murmur was heard from the soldiers, listening in.
“You heard yer orders Decanus,” Glen said, clenching his jaw. “Make it happen.”
Marcus took a deep breath and then let it all out, to vent his frustration. His next words came out a growl.
“Ye heard him ladies! The fuck are ye staring at? Anyone not on his horse, when I get onto mine, will get kick in the arse!”
“Wow,” Jinx said, sounding impressed. “He sure lit up a fire in their pants! Hehe,” Glen threw her a glare.
“I need ye on that boat, Whisper.”
“Yeah, I heard ye earlier,” She replied. “I can refuse the contract, ye know. There’s not much room in the boat for my stuff.”
Glen closed his eyes.
“I want ye safely out of Rida, woman!” He blasted her.
Jinx blinked, then stared at her small boots. “Is it a good plan? Alix’s vote of confidence doesn’t count, so ye know.”
“Not sure. It depends,” Glen replied, staring over the barricade the Cofols reloading their catapults, the angle and narrowness of the street making it difficult to get a good shot at them. But it was only a matter of time, before they figured it out.
“On what?” She probed annoyingly.
“Whether she still wants me dead,” Glen replied.
“You have a strange effect on women, Glen,” Whisper noticed, with what was either a jealous pout, or a snigger of approval.
“Any other nuggets of wisdom?” He retorted wryly.
Jinx sighed, looked about them for anyone listening and finding no one, since Marcus had already pulled out the soldiers, she whispered.
“I need ye to take my egg.”
“What?”
“I need ye… to take my egg,” Jinx repeated blushing.
Glen stared at her numbly for a long moment. A rock soared over their heads in the meantime, flew over the docks and splashed into Yeriden.
“I need an answer Glen. Tis important,” Jinx insisted.
“Whisper, I…” He sighed giving up. “I’ve no idea, what yer talking about.”
Glen didn’t dare, even attempt to explore, what the Gish’s cryptic words meant.
“Oh crap! I haven’t told ye,” Jinx said, slapping her forehead hard enough to tear up. She stumbled on shaky legs, then grabbed her knee and hobbled a couple of meters away moaning.
“Are you okay?” Glen asked her with a smile.
“Tis nothing,” Jinx reassured him and walked gingerly his way. “Early morning cramps,” She explained, although it was almost noon.
“Let me guess,” Glen indulged her. “You have an egg.”
“Aye, haha,” Jinx grinned, wiping the tears from her face. “I do. I need ye to take it wit you, else I’ll bring a mule and leave Soren behind.”
“Why Soren?”
“I like the girls more?”
Glen shook his head. He couldn’t believe what bothered the Gish, in the middle of a real crisis.
“I’ll take your egg wit me,” He relented, feeling silly even as he uttered the words.
“Great! It’s in that box,” Jinx explained. “Ye don’t have to open it, and I’ll take it off yer hands, when we meet in Eikenport. You shouldn’t open my sack also.”
There’s a sack? Wait…
“What box?” Then he remembered. “That thing weighted a ton! The fuck you have in there?”
“Nothing much,” Jinx defended herself. “Tis a big egg.”
“How big?” Jinx pouted and showed him with her hands. “Are ye pulling my leg Whisper? This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t forget to bring it with you,” Jinx advised him, disregarding his outburst. “It’s very valuable.”
The plaguin’ egg? Are ye freaking kidding me?
Glen threw his arms in the air, wanting to end this frustrating talk. “Fine, good grief! Now get yer arse out of my face!”
Alix looked so much like a male Jinx, Glen thought of punching him in the face. Right between his stupid nostrils.
“This is very exciting,” Alix Walker said, standing up straighter on his saddle. Glen glanced back on Stiles standing on the opening, they’d created to get them through and frowned, when Fikumin’s head appeared next to his leg, to check on the street.
“Are you sure about the route?” Glen asked the Gish, holding the white flag of truce.
“Checked it again last night,” Alix replied, with a shrug.
“How did ye get out?”
“Climbed over the black iron fence, through the garden, used the rough brick corner of the villa, to go up two stories, down another two at the other side,” Alix explained with the aura of a professional schooling an amateur and pointed at a left turn, between two collapsed buildings. “Six houses that way.”
“Is that the fish guy?” Glen asked, who’d considered making an attempt that way in the night, but dismissed it since… well, not everyone could climb up a wall alike a cat burglar.
“Ayup. Make a right, down a straight side road, left again to meet the main road leading to the East Gates,” Alix replied, eyeing him approvingly.
“How far to the gates?”
“Ten-fifteen minutes. Ever charged yer horse, milord?” Alix asked with an annoying smirk.
“There’s an assassin, next to the Cofol officer,” Glen said, disregarding his taunt. “Jinx said, ye know about Silent Servants.”
Alix’s face sobered up and glanced at the shadowy, hooded figure of Larn, waiting for them to approach.
“Only what I heard in the guild. Don’t turn yer back on him.”
“He’ll attack me, under the flag of truce?” Glen asked him, not wanting another problem, on top of everything else.
The sight of his friends leaving on the boat had hit him hard, despite the efforts he’d made to mask it up. Some details of it comical, such as Jinx slobbering on his arm making a mess of it either unwittingly, or just wiping up her face and Soren refusing to enter the boat, fearing it might topple over. Others sobering, like Sen-Iv making a loop on her chain, to wear his ring on her neck alongside her Capricorn family pendant and the slave girls crying desperately in front of the Marquette’s stunned crew.
Was there a better way? Glen thought and Larn raised a bald brow, his face almost inhuman now that he could examine him under fresh eyes. Another Zilan, walking amongst them. This one definitely a monster.
Where’s Lith? Glen wanted to ask him. Is she still alive?
Is she behind all this destruction?
Was she working with them all along?
Your heart’s desire, Lith had said to him.
If you help me bring back hope, for my people.
I can now see yer people, Glen thought bitterly. But what I see darling, I don’t like at all.
The leading Cofol officer, wearing a yellow long cape, a black centaur holding a bow carved on his armor -right at his chest- the rest of it beautiful white leather, reinforced with steel chain. His horse wore a variation of it, but it had a Sagittarius prominently displayed as well. Glen had remembered it from the zodiac signs, Sen-Iv had taught him.
“I’m Naret-In Amin,” The Cofol officer announced in common. He was around twenty, perhaps a little older. Youthful face, strong jaw, piercing black eyes, not as slanted as the common Cofols and also surprisingly, he didn’t wear too much makeup. “You raised the truce colors. With whom am I speaking?”
“I’m Sir Glenavon Reeves, Lord of Altarin,” Glen replied, keeping Larn in his field of view. “Duke Winfield, had ordered me to defend the harbor. In light of your successes in the previous days and the situation in general, I find it senseless to continue.”
Naret nodded. “The harbor is worthless to the Prince, at this moment. What are your terms?”
“As long as the option is there, ships may still reinforce the city. One brought supplies just today, as you may well know.”
“Why didn’t you leave with it, Lord Reeves?” Naret asked.
“Are you married Lord Amin?” Glen countered again and the Cofol sat back on his expensive and richly decorated saddle impressed.
“Once.”
“Then you have yer answer,” Glen replied simply.
Larn grimaced, either surprised himself, or out of anger.
“I want my men to be spared and the same treatment for myself,” Glen added, as confidently as he could muster.
Naret glanced towards the silently watching Larn.
“I can’t free them, Lord Reeves. Nor yourself,” The Cofol officer said.
“I understand. I ask for an hour to inform my men,” Glen said coolly.
“And you’ll surrender the harbor?”
“I want your word of honor, my men won’t be harmed. You promise me that and you’ll have the harbor, within the hour.”
Naret sighed. “Well, in that case, I’ll accept Lord—”
“No.”
Larn had stooped forward and glared at him.
“Master Ralnor, these are excellent terms—”
Larn stopped him again, raising a gloved hand.
“Surrender now. Drop your sword and climb down your horse.”
“Master Ralnor, I can’t condone this!” Naret-In exploded. “He’s under the colors of truce! You’ll have us lose men charging a barricade, when they have asked to surrender?”
“It’s a ploy,” Larn hissed, looking at him disgusted. “You’re being played. Your father will be made a fool over this deal.”
Naret’s cheeks flamed up and the Cofol officer turned his horse towards the assassin and his own dark grey mount.
“Leave my father out of this, Master Ralnor. I don’t take orders from your mistress.”
Larn sighed, as if the young officer was talking nonsense.
“Do as you please,” He relented, giving Glen a smirk, as if to tell him he had him figured out.
“Lord Reeves,” A flushed Naret said, turning around. “I accept your terms—”
He paused, put a hand on his neck, a thin red line running slowly down his white armour, splitting that impressive Sagittarius right in the middle. Naret stared shocked at his fingers and let out a pained gasp, when he realized they were painted red as well.
“Run!” Alix yelled, but Glen was already twisting away, while pulling hard at the Outlaw’s reins to turn him around.
“HE KILLED LORD AMIN!” Larn bellowed, keeping his eyes on them, while backpedaling with his horse, so as to place the bleeding-out Naret and his stallion between them. A moment later he avoided -with an annoyed hiss- a small knife Alix had hurled against him. Reaching calmly, Larn got out a crossbow, armed it and fired at Alix who was galloping after Glen. The Gish though dodged the bolt, ducking on pure instinct.
Behind them amidst the stunned Cofol lines, who’d missed what had transpired, a frenzied clamor started rising as every able bodied warrior jumped on his horse to come after them.
So in a sense, the plan had worked.
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
Glen
Tales from Rida
Part I
(The right decision)
Siege of Rida
-Day eleven-
“GET THAT WAGON SET RIGHT!” Marcus barked to the tired soldiers, pushing the laden with debris open carriage, in order to block the street.
There was a lot of debris around and smoke, since half the city was burning. Glen glanced towards the abandoned docks behind him, then at the smashed harbor gates beyond their barricade.
“Are they coming?” Stiles asked him, looking now more like the pirate he’d been, when Glen had first met him. Perhaps fatter now, as the man never missed a meal.
“Just some scouts,” Glen commented, wiping his face, the smoke blowing their way for the past hour. “The bulk of their forces have surrounded the palace.”
“You think your ship will come?”
Glen grimaced. By the time he’d returned to the harbors five days ago, all ships had set sail already. The news that the bombardment had started, enough to convince even the most fanatic amongst them. They’ve left behind tons of merchandise, rotting produce and a lot of people that had opted to head towards the bridge next, or even try the east gates. When the Cofols had broken through the destroyed West Gates, the Duke had pulled the bulk of his guards towards the walled palace, leaving the rest of the city to face the Khan’s horde.
Thankfully most of them had followed the Duke’s soldiers. But not all. Some had attacked the small force Glen had gathered around the streets leading to the harbor and slowly had pushed them back. The fact they still lived, had more to do with being deemed not a priority target by the Cofols, than their defense. The latter had brought some of the catapults inside the city intending to attack the Duke’s walls, but unfortunately had used one of them to bring down Glen’s gates. It took them two days and nights.
The Cofols were anything, but idlers, he thought, spitting down to clear his mouth.
He had brought everyone into the harbor, confiscating the first floor of the central customs building and turning it into barracks. Glen was trapped, but for a small alley starting behind the Customs Building that led -through the only part of the town not burning yet- to the now unguarded East Gates.
Unless the Marquette came.
“They will be here,” Glen said.
“What, if they are not?” Stiles insisted.
“We’ll work that struggle, when we face it,” Glen deadpanned and walked towards the finished portion of the barricade, blocking the last part of the street, before the more open loading area of the docks and the square before the Customs Building.
“Have they moved from the gate?” He asked Marcus and the ex-legionnaire glanced over the barricade. A mash of debris, boards, bricks and the laden carriage, its wheels now broken.
“Not really. They are taking a licking from the Duke it seems.”
“They destroyed the city Marcus,” Glen noticed.
“Not yet, milord. But they will,” He replied. “Getting that scorpions off the East Gates could come in handy, the way they’re hanging around ‘em pillars.”
“How many men, to do it?” Glen asked.
“What ye got here,” Marcus grimaced, then grunted. “I don’t see them holding more than a couple of minutes, if the barricade comes down.”
Glen couldn’t begrudge them that. He wouldn’t do it either.
“We’re not dying for a pile of rumple, Marcus.”
“I’ll hold ye to it, lad,” Marcus replied. “Even the desert gives us better odds.”
“Not with Sen and the girls coming along,” Glen sighed. “We’re too big a group.”
At least he’d gathered every horse he’d found, stripping the stables bare and had supplies on three mules ready to go. The biggest problem being, where to and how to stay ahead of a force that seemed to have brought all the horses on Eplas, in Rida.
Glen saw Ottis using a spyglass to look over the crudely constructed barricade and approached him. The sergeant had a bandage on his left arm, where an arrow had nicked him during their retreat.
“How is the arm, sergeant?” Glen asked him.
“It’s annoying, my Lord, but I’m glad it missed my face,” He replied and some of the guards listening in guffawed at that. Most of the guards left behind were young and either didn’t have family, or their families have left through the bridge and headed hopefully for Altarin. Glen didn’t know, if the Cofols were controlling the bridge over Yeriden now and it didn’t really matter. While less than a kilometer away, there was no way to reach it.
Glen turned to face them, some were standing behind the barricade, but most were resting in the shade provided, by one of the half-collapsed buildings street-facing wall. Just over twenty soldiers, as most had opted to head to the bridge escorting their families, when it became obvious they couldn’t hold the Cofols back and Glen had agreed to it. You can’t force a man to fight, if he doesn’t believe in it, or his mind is elsewhere. Perhaps a real Lord could, by threatening their lives, he thought. Whether it would work, or not, it’s debatable.
“Hey, listen up,” He said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. “We’ve enough horses back there as ye know, all saddled up. There’s no need to panic. The moment I see this is untenable, we’ll make a run for it, towards the East Gate.”
The men perked up at that, with a few glancing at each other a little surprised.
“But we won’t make it easy for them right?” Glen continued and most cheered this time. “Now keep your heads down and rest up as much as you can. Things can change in a moment’s notice.”
“We’ll not let you down, milord,” Ottis told him and Glen nodded uncomfortably. It’s one thing to play the commander for fun, totally different to try it during a real conflict. He’d no idea if he was doing a good job militarily, nor did he care and his primary goal since the siege’s start, was to save himself, his friends and as many people as he could from getting killed, or worse, for no reason.
“That’s some strange crap,” Marcus said and Glen glanced his way. The hale man was watching the Cofols moving about at the collapsed gates leading to the harbor, about three hundred meters away, from their own position in the bombarded street.
“What is it?” He asked him standing next to him.
“One of ‘em just climbed atop that broken column, the one still standing.”
Glen narrowed his eyes trying to see, what the ex-Decanus had spotted, amidst the smokes coming from the burning parts of the city. Ottis, who came to stand next to him, offered him his spyglass.
“Thank you, sergeant,” Glen said and accepted the bronze instrument, shaped like a thin tube.
“You’re welcome, my Lord,” The sergeant replied politely.
Glen put the narrow part near his right eye, more careful this time, and pointed it towards the debris of the Harbor Gates. The iron doors had collapsed inwards, taking the right decorative stone column down, along with the upper portion of the gates, but the left one still stood, almost three meters in height and a meter in diameter, missing its top part.
How the heck, did ye climbed that?
The Cofol wore leather armour, covered in dust and had an equally dirty cloak on his back, blowing with each gush of wind all about him. Glen raised the spyglass to the Cofol’s face and all but dropped it, when Larn glared back at him.
“Fuck.”
“Milord?” Ottis probed, a little shocked at the obscenity.
“That’s him,” Glen said and raised the spyglass again to make sure, but found no one climbed on the broken column now. What in all hells? Did he just jumped down?
He turned to Marcus. “The… bounty hunter from Hellfort. He’s here.”
“Well then,” That was all Marcus offered.
“Who’s he?” Ottis queried.
“An assassin, probably working for the Cofols,” Glen replied and frowned. “Almost certainly.”
“They seem rattled now,” Marcus observed. “Better get the lads up, sergeant. Lord Reeves might have given them a target.”
What was that? He thought hearing the strange noise.
“Pssst.”
Glen stopped in his tracks and swung around, trying to find who it was.
“Over here,” Jinx’s voice said, coming from above. Glen raised his eyes and spotted the Gish sitting on the top of the Customs Building, her legs daggling over the edge.
“The fuck are ye doing up there?” Glen snapped, already too tensed up by the sudden reappearance of the Zilan assassin.
“I’m keeping track of the port,” She explained. “There’s a ship circling about for the last hour.”
“A ship?”
“Yep. Big thingy wit sails ‘n stuff?”
“Couldn’t you just shout out to inform me?” Glen griped, his neck hurting from having to strain, to talk to her.
“A shout might carry to the Cofols Glen. They might decide to attack us then.”
“Whisper the assassin is here, for crying out loud! They will attack either way!”
“Toss me a torch,” Jinx decided standing up, perilously close to the edge of the roof.
“Stiles!” Glen barked, watching taken aback, as the small bodied girl started climbing towards the upper ridge of the tiled roof, expecting her to slip and tumble down her death at any moment. She has some fine burglar skills, he thought, when Jinx made it there and stood up to take a better look at the unseen from where Glen stood vessel.
“I think they saw the fires burning and are spooked!” Jinx yelled, looking down her face hidden behind a sea of pink.
“You don’t have to shout now!” Glen yelled back at her. “Ye climbed a bloody roof, not a mountain!”
“Here milord,” Stiles said, holding two sticks he’d dipped in oil. Glen frowned and glared at him. “I made two o’ them.”
The hells does he expect, Glen thought. A bloody medal?
“I can’t just toss it up there ye fool,” He blasted him and then yelled livid. “Jinx!”
“Up here!” Whisper screamed back at him, the ‘e’ dragging for fake effect, as Whisper apparently found the whole situation hilarious.
Glen shook his head on the verge of despair and then looked up again, his neck protesting.
“Drop a rope down, Pretty. Remember to keep hold of one end, else we’ll spend the rest of the day here arguing about it.”
Until the Cofols broke through the barricade that is and butchered every single one of them.
“They’re dropping anchor!” Jinx yelled, still manically waving her half-burning half-smoking torches, jumping up and down the now fully burning rooftop of the Customs Building, she’d previously set on fire.
The Marquette was staying clear from the docks, it seemed, Glen decided.
“They are sending a boat!” Jinx reported, her throat hoarse from all the screaming and smoke she’d inhaled for the past half hour.
They’ve seen Whisper at least.
“They brought another catapult, lad!” Marcus yelled from the barricade and Glen puffed his cheeks out, sitting on top of three large wooden containers, trying to think, but already under immense pressure. He could see the boat approaching, two rowers and a man steering it. It would be an hour, before they got ashore. Out the corner of his eye, Glen saw Sen-Iv approaching followed by Iskay, Ninan and Stiles. Three, he counted, makes it six. Can this boat carry more than ten? Safely across the port?
Twelve is pushing it.
Him and Jinx. Soren and Zolan. Marcus, fuck Stiles and Crafton, but then again, he couldn’t just throw them to the wolves. Little Liko, for sure. Even the dwarfs.
They were too many.
Glen groaned frustrated and jumped down, his knees bending to absorb the landing absentmindedly. Sen-Iv raised her brows impressed, then frowned seeing his troubled expression and took a deep breath herself.
“There’s a boat coming,” Glen started and Sen blinked once, her striking eyes watching him intensely. “You’ll get on it,” Jinx climbed down from the burning roof in the meantime, opting to clear the final five meters or so, with a daring gymnast’s double summersault to one-up him, landing awkwardly with a grimace of pain, she quickly changed to a large frenzied grin. “Along with the girls…” Glen smacked his lips and glared at Stiles, then at the limping Gish that approached them. “Zola, Soren and Jinx.”
“And you,” Sen-Iv said simply.
“I need to get the rest of us out, Sen.”
“These people are not important,” She stopped, to hide her frustration. “The girls will stay back.”
Glen grabbed her by the elbow and led her a couple of meters away from the others.
“The girls will face the worst fate,” He hissed angry and seeing she was distressed and on the verge of collapse, took a deep breath and continued as composed as he could. “Jinx will make sure you make it to Altarin,” He stopped, pulled the old Lord’s ring out of his finger and pressed it into her soft hands. “The ship is yours, as are the men on it. You will rule in my name.”
Sen-Iv looked at him sternly. She’d managed to recover her composure, but for a fresh wrinkle on her forehead, nothing betraying her inner turmoil.
“I will not go to Altarin, Glen. My place is with you.”
“Sen, I intend to try something insane,” Glen explained. “I need to know, everyone that matters is safe.”
“I need to know, you’ll be safe,” Sen-Iv replied and stepping forward rushed into his arms. “And you have a way out, if your plan fails,” She whispered in his ear.
Gods she smells so fucking good, Glen thought, pressing his mouth on her small ear, a little desperately, before he caught himself and pulled back. He stared at his wife’s face soberly, fighting to keep his head firmly at the task at hand.
“I’ll make a break for it, down the merchant path,” He explained to her, leaving the worst part out.
“They’ll patrol the roads leaving the city,” Sen countered. “It’s better to cut through the desert. More dangerous also.”
“You have a plan,” Glen said looking at her.
“I don’t,” Sen-Iv replied earnestly. “But I can bring your ship to a southern port, if that’s where you’re heading.”
Glen sighed and glanced towards the others silently watching them talk.
“What’s the next relatively safe harbor?” It’s not that his plan, had anything going for it, if he made it out of Rida.
“You’ll need to make it across the desert and follow Cofol controlled paths, Glen.”
“I’ll make it. We don’t have time Sen and I need ye on that boat. If that’s the only way, you’ll get on it, then fire away.” He’d urged the troubled woman and Sen, after a small pause, had answered.
“Eikenport. It’s mostly abandoned.”
Marcus stood back, the grimace distorting his face, almost turning him to a different person.
“You should be on that boat, lad,” He said brusquely, but Glen raised a hand to silence him.
“Can you make the scorpions work?” The young Lord repeated, flinching when a boulder struck a half-collapsed wall behind them, rattling the street.
“I’ll need all the men here,” Marcus grunted. “And an hour.”
“They’ll need an hour as well,” Glen agreed. “So I’ll ask for a parley.”
“Have you lost yer mind?” Marcus barked and a murmur was heard from the soldiers, listening in.
“You heard yer orders Decanus,” Glen said, clenching his jaw. “Make it happen.”
Marcus took a deep breath and then let it all out, to vent his frustration. His next words came out a growl.
“Ye heard him ladies! The fuck are ye staring at? Anyone not on his horse, when I get onto mine, will get kick in the arse!”
“Wow,” Jinx said, sounding impressed. “He sure lit up a fire in their pants! Hehe,” Glen threw her a glare.
“I need ye on that boat, Whisper.”
“Yeah, I heard ye earlier,” She replied. “I can refuse the contract, ye know. There’s not much room in the boat for my stuff.”
Glen closed his eyes.
“I want ye safely out of Rida, woman!” He blasted her.
Jinx blinked, then stared at her small boots. “Is it a good plan? Alix’s vote of confidence doesn’t count, so ye know.”
“Not sure. It depends,” Glen replied, staring over the barricade the Cofols reloading their catapults, the angle and narrowness of the street making it difficult to get a good shot at them. But it was only a matter of time, before they figured it out.
“On what?” She probed annoyingly.
“Whether she still wants me dead,” Glen replied.
“You have a strange effect on women, Glen,” Whisper noticed, with what was either a jealous pout, or a snigger of approval.
“Any other nuggets of wisdom?” He retorted wryly.
Jinx sighed, looked about them for anyone listening and finding no one, since Marcus had already pulled out the soldiers, she whispered.
“I need ye to take my egg.”
“What?”
“I need ye… to take my egg,” Jinx repeated blushing.
Glen stared at her numbly for a long moment. A rock soared over their heads in the meantime, flew over the docks and splashed into Yeriden.
“I need an answer Glen. Tis important,” Jinx insisted.
“Whisper, I…” He sighed giving up. “I’ve no idea, what yer talking about.”
Glen didn’t dare, even attempt to explore, what the Gish’s cryptic words meant.
“Oh crap! I haven’t told ye,” Jinx said, slapping her forehead hard enough to tear up. She stumbled on shaky legs, then grabbed her knee and hobbled a couple of meters away moaning.
“Are you okay?” Glen asked her with a smile.
“Tis nothing,” Jinx reassured him and walked gingerly his way. “Early morning cramps,” She explained, although it was almost noon.
“Let me guess,” Glen indulged her. “You have an egg.”
“Aye, haha,” Jinx grinned, wiping the tears from her face. “I do. I need ye to take it wit you, else I’ll bring a mule and leave Soren behind.”
“Why Soren?”
“I like the girls more?”
Glen shook his head. He couldn’t believe what bothered the Gish, in the middle of a real crisis.
“I’ll take your egg wit me,” He relented, feeling silly even as he uttered the words.
“Great! It’s in that box,” Jinx explained. “Ye don’t have to open it, and I’ll take it off yer hands, when we meet in Eikenport. You shouldn’t open my sack also.”
There’s a sack? Wait…
“What box?” Then he remembered. “That thing weighted a ton! The fuck you have in there?”
“Nothing much,” Jinx defended herself. “Tis a big egg.”
“How big?” Jinx pouted and showed him with her hands. “Are ye pulling my leg Whisper? This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t forget to bring it with you,” Jinx advised him, disregarding his outburst. “It’s very valuable.”
The plaguin’ egg? Are ye freaking kidding me?
Glen threw his arms in the air, wanting to end this frustrating talk. “Fine, good grief! Now get yer arse out of my face!”
Alix looked so much like a male Jinx, Glen thought of punching him in the face. Right between his stupid nostrils.
“This is very exciting,” Alix Walker said, standing up straighter on his saddle. Glen glanced back on Stiles standing on the opening, they’d created to get them through and frowned, when Fikumin’s head appeared next to his leg, to check on the street.
“Are you sure about the route?” Glen asked the Gish, holding the white flag of truce.
“Checked it again last night,” Alix replied, with a shrug.
“How did ye get out?”
“Climbed over the black iron fence, through the garden, used the rough brick corner of the villa, to go up two stories, down another two at the other side,” Alix explained with the aura of a professional schooling an amateur and pointed at a left turn, between two collapsed buildings. “Six houses that way.”
“Is that the fish guy?” Glen asked, who’d considered making an attempt that way in the night, but dismissed it since… well, not everyone could climb up a wall alike a cat burglar.
“Ayup. Make a right, down a straight side road, left again to meet the main road leading to the East Gates,” Alix replied, eyeing him approvingly.
“How far to the gates?”
“Ten-fifteen minutes. Ever charged yer horse, milord?” Alix asked with an annoying smirk.
“There’s an assassin, next to the Cofol officer,” Glen said, disregarding his taunt. “Jinx said, ye know about Silent Servants.”
Alix’s face sobered up and glanced at the shadowy, hooded figure of Larn, waiting for them to approach.
“Only what I heard in the guild. Don’t turn yer back on him.”
“He’ll attack me, under the flag of truce?” Glen asked him, not wanting another problem, on top of everything else.
The sight of his friends leaving on the boat had hit him hard, despite the efforts he’d made to mask it up. Some details of it comical, such as Jinx slobbering on his arm making a mess of it either unwittingly, or just wiping up her face and Soren refusing to enter the boat, fearing it might topple over. Others sobering, like Sen-Iv making a loop on her chain, to wear his ring on her neck alongside her Capricorn family pendant and the slave girls crying desperately in front of the Marquette’s stunned crew.
Was there a better way? Glen thought and Larn raised a bald brow, his face almost inhuman now that he could examine him under fresh eyes. Another Zilan, walking amongst them. This one definitely a monster.
Where’s Lith? Glen wanted to ask him. Is she still alive?
Is she behind all this destruction?
Was she working with them all along?
Your heart’s desire, Lith had said to him.
If you help me bring back hope, for my people.
I can now see yer people, Glen thought bitterly. But what I see darling, I don’t like at all.
The leading Cofol officer, wearing a yellow long cape, a black centaur holding a bow carved on his armor -right at his chest- the rest of it beautiful white leather, reinforced with steel chain. His horse wore a variation of it, but it had a Sagittarius prominently displayed as well. Glen had remembered it from the zodiac signs, Sen-Iv had taught him.
“I’m Naret-In Amin,” The Cofol officer announced in common. He was around twenty, perhaps a little older. Youthful face, strong jaw, piercing black eyes, not as slanted as the common Cofols and also surprisingly, he didn’t wear too much makeup. “You raised the truce colors. With whom am I speaking?”
“I’m Sir Glenavon Reeves, Lord of Altarin,” Glen replied, keeping Larn in his field of view. “Duke Winfield, had ordered me to defend the harbor. In light of your successes in the previous days and the situation in general, I find it senseless to continue.”
Naret nodded. “The harbor is worthless to the Prince, at this moment. What are your terms?”
“As long as the option is there, ships may still reinforce the city. One brought supplies just today, as you may well know.”
“Why didn’t you leave with it, Lord Reeves?” Naret asked.
“Are you married Lord Amin?” Glen countered again and the Cofol sat back on his expensive and richly decorated saddle impressed.
“Once.”
“Then you have yer answer,” Glen replied simply.
Larn grimaced, either surprised himself, or out of anger.
“I want my men to be spared and the same treatment for myself,” Glen added, as confidently as he could muster.
Naret glanced towards the silently watching Larn.
“I can’t free them, Lord Reeves. Nor yourself,” The Cofol officer said.
“I understand. I ask for an hour to inform my men,” Glen said coolly.
“And you’ll surrender the harbor?”
“I want your word of honor, my men won’t be harmed. You promise me that and you’ll have the harbor, within the hour.”
Naret sighed. “Well, in that case, I’ll accept Lord—”
“No.”
Larn had stooped forward and glared at him.
“Master Ralnor, these are excellent terms—”
Larn stopped him again, raising a gloved hand.
“Surrender now. Drop your sword and climb down your horse.”
“Master Ralnor, I can’t condone this!” Naret-In exploded. “He’s under the colors of truce! You’ll have us lose men charging a barricade, when they have asked to surrender?”
“It’s a ploy,” Larn hissed, looking at him disgusted. “You’re being played. Your father will be made a fool over this deal.”
Naret’s cheeks flamed up and the Cofol officer turned his horse towards the assassin and his own dark grey mount.
“Leave my father out of this, Master Ralnor. I don’t take orders from your mistress.”
Larn sighed, as if the young officer was talking nonsense.
“Do as you please,” He relented, giving Glen a smirk, as if to tell him he had him figured out.
“Lord Reeves,” A flushed Naret said, turning around. “I accept your terms—”
He paused, put a hand on his neck, a thin red line running slowly down his white armour, splitting that impressive Sagittarius right in the middle. Naret stared shocked at his fingers and let out a pained gasp, when he realized they were painted red as well.
“Run!” Alix yelled, but Glen was already twisting away, while pulling hard at the Outlaw’s reins to turn him around.
“HE KILLED LORD AMIN!” Larn bellowed, keeping his eyes on them, while backpedaling with his horse, so as to place the bleeding-out Naret and his stallion between them. A moment later he avoided -with an annoyed hiss- a small knife Alix had hurled against him. Reaching calmly, Larn got out a crossbow, armed it and fired at Alix who was galloping after Glen. The Gish though dodged the bolt, ducking on pure instinct.
Behind them amidst the stunned Cofol lines, who’d missed what had transpired, a frenzied clamor started rising as every able bodied warrior jumped on his horse to come after them.
So in a sense, the plan had worked.
