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 Gust De Weer
Crows of the Desert
Part I
-Any port, or a win-
Five hundred, well-equipped men-at-arms, under Captain Gel De Moss, plus a hundred ‘old spears’ – Scaldingport veterans of High King’s first, or second Foot-, a hundred bows, at least thirty crossbows, a hundred slingers and twenty Rangers, under Lode De Jager, eighty medium cavalry, fifty heavy –including ten Knights and their squires- under Sir Jan Reuten, three hundred support personnel, engineers, blacksmiths, adventurers and mercenaries mixed in there, four transports, two Barques and two hundred and fifty sailors. Over a thousand five hundred ‘Crows’. These were the men Sir Gust De Weer took with him to Eplas.
They left Scaldingport in the middle of the night and managed to clear the harbor before the sun had come up. The sinister figure of Blackcrow Pillar, was still visible on the horizon three hours later, but it is said, Sir Gust had turned his head away from it, away from Toe and Tongue and stilled his eyes west.
Never looked back once after that moment.
Lord Sirio Veturius
Circa 206 NC
The Fall of Heroes
Chapter IX
(Sir Gust De Weer,
-Crows in the Desert-
Miracle at Endless Dunes,
Summer 189 NC)
A gush of wind came from the Scalding Sea, it rapped on the mass of the Lazuli Peninsula, turning stone into dirt and daring plants, or young trees, into solid stone. It dried up the skin in minutes and made it crack and bleed, blinded your eyes. The old sailors had warned them and everyone was covered head to toe with long grey cloaks that reminded Gust of his Order’s robes.
Sir Mael Bolte, who knew Gust for almost twenty years, stood next to him on the deck of the Last Privateer, Captain Elco Ardes ship. Captain Ardes had been a pirate in his youth, but Lord Ruud De Weer had struck a deal with him three decades back and they’ve been friends ever since. The Last Privateer, the fully rigged ship he captained, was a three-masted Barque, older than the Conrad, the other Barque sailing with them, but bigger. It had made the journey several times in the past and Captain Elco had kept their small flotilla –four large transports were following them in a line- as close to the Peninsula as it was possible.
Veering near the Pirate Reefs, the old Captain had said, will make ‘em good fellows, itchy for a lickin’. Gust could see the foggy reefs directly to their south, black rocks sprouting out of the waters, the froth turning them white, where the waves broke on them without pause.
Mael raised his hand and pointed over the fore staysail.
“That’s Shark’s Tooth,” the loyal knight said, dark face covered under the grey scarf, only his light green eyes showing. “The clouds above them, smoke from the Burning Crests.”
Gust grunted, his mind preoccupied with logistics and a campaign on foreign ground, his only help the copy of an ancient map, drawn more than a hundred and fifty years ago. Bugs, his pet raven that had decided to follow them on the journey, croaked loudly to get his attention and jumped onto the deck’s rail, large beak staying open for a moment mockingly. Gust had brought many crows with him kept in cages and the large raven’s taunt was picked up by its smaller cousins and soon the ship’s deck was flooded with a cacophony of caws and even a couple of croaks mimicking Bugs more hoarse sound. The large bird put an end to it, an ear-splitting minute later, with a loud bark in perfect common.
“Enough!”
“Hahaha!” Captain Ardes guffawed, coming to stand with them, white thick brows dancing in the wind, above the weathered badly-blemished skin around his eyes. “Yer bird is right smart, Sir Gust.”
“Hmm,” Gust hissed, as Bugs could have just as easily yelled blasted cunt, or water-fuckin-melon, something he’d done in many a previous occasions in the past, one of those in front of the High Queen of Kaltha. His father had found the shocking expressions on the faces of the nobles present mirthful, but few had agreed with his assessment. “No sign of your pirates, Ardes.”
“There’s a Sloop-o-war shadowing us, since yesterday,” the aged Captain explained, with a smack of his lips. “But we’re too big a prey to catch, milord.”
“Will they follow us?”
“I don’t think so, this isn’t a merchant path per se.”
“Uhm,” Gust hummed, with a nod. “How long before we see Eplas proper?”
“All this is Eplas, Sir Gust,” Elco replied. “Tomorrow noon, we’ll enter the Azure Gulf and pass next to Shark’s Tooth. We might catch a glimpse of the volcanoes of the peninsula over our starboard bow. The day after that, we’ll see Devil’s Cove, I reckon.”
Four days later twenty eight longboats, made the trip from their anchored ships to the mist covered white-sand beach of the desolate Devil’s Cove and back several times. Gust went with the first group, the waves rocking the vessel, the men rowing grunting, trying to keep a steady rhythm and the approaching terrain blinding to his hurting eyes. Ashen-limestone rocky slopes engulfed the modest cove and kept the Great Desert back, the small oasis sprouting on its north side almost pitiful and hidden amidst the sharp boulders and the misty vapors.
Gust jumped on the wet sand, boots sinking and soaked from the foamy waters and walked slowly, surrounded by yelling sea-weary men and soldiers. Captain Gel De Moss grabbed as many of them as he could, most of the men looking roughed up and drowsy, made a guard of about thirty and sent them to secure the -unseen from where they were standing- entrance to the cove, a long narrow gorge cut through the limestone that linked Devil’s Cove with the hidden desert.
“The map had it right!” Gust yelled at Mael and he nodded, walking with difficulty on the soft sandy beach. Soldiers were disembarking as fast as they could all around them, the clamor impressive, Bugs croaks coming from above them adding to the chaos.
“Keep your eyes open,” Mael roared back and then watched the second group, under Captain De Moss himself, marching towards the covered in mist Palm trees at the distance.
“No one is expecting us, Mael,” Gust grunted, coming to stop next to him.
But we need to move fast, just the same.
A gruff-looking Lode De Jager emerged out of the mist and the lush vegetation hugging the large pond created in front of the spring. He’d his long white hair caught at the nape, bone earrings dangling from both ears and wore tightly-sawn leather vest and pants, knee-high boots soaked and muddy. Captain De Moss, now standing with Sir Gust and Sir Mael, toned shoulders and barreled chest making him appear twice the size of the approaching slim Ranger, wiped his sweaty face with a damp cloth and snorted.
“Good grief, I thought you perished in there Lode.”
“It came close Captain,” the Ranger replied squashing a bug that was sucking the blood out of his neck. “There are snakes back there, milord,” this he said to Gust.
The powerfully built knight grimaced.
Gust had no time to waste here.
“Clean them up,” he ordered him brusquely.
“It might take a while,” Lode countered, but Gust would have none of that.
“You have until sunset,” he barked and turned to Captain De Moss. “I want men watching the gorge. Sent scouts outside to find the Merchant Path and rotate them every two hours. I want to know, if someone is coming well in advance.”
“As you wish, milord,” Gel replied and bowing, turned heel and jogged briskly away.
“There’s dark Mambas on ‘em branches and horned vipers in ‘em bushes, milord,” Lode pointed. “Most men aren’t inclined to walk near.”
“Find men that are,” Sir Gust cut him off. “If none is found, pick a man at random.”
“What if he refuses?”
Gust stilled his pine-green eyes on him.
“Cut off a finger,” he rustled loud enough for everyone to hear. “Every time he makes objection.”
The sooner the men realized they were at war, the better.
“You don’t want men turn—” Mael tried to say, but Sir Gust stopped him raising a gloved hand.
“If they are brave enough to challenge me, they can take on a nest of vipers. I want the beach secured Mael,” he said and stared at the longboats leaving empty to return to their ships. “Docks pushed out into the sea and our ships anchored closer. I want this set up in a week.”
Mael smacked his lips, long scar a pale white, where the old injury showed on his neck.
“You’ll need more men,” he finally said and Gust grunted pointing at the six large ships moored inside the gulf in a row.
“Use the sailors. Use every blasted spare man we have.”
You could feel the desert wind blowing through the passage, the wall of limestone, sharp and intimidating, running the east coast of Eplas from Eikenport to Ri Yue-Tu almost unbroken, but at the Yeriden delta and a couple abandoned, inhospitable spots like Devil’s Cove.
Hell of a place, Gust thought, not impressed and stooped to pick up the large headless snake Lode had tossed to his feet. Bugs landed on his shoulder the next moment, black beady eyes hungry and croaked his version of a beg, adding in common just to be sure.
“Like crap!”
“It is,” Gust agreed and dropped the slimy body down. “Have at it, see if you like it.”
The large Raven jumped down and cut a bloody piece out of the dead snake with its powerful beak.
“Water-fuckin-melon!” Bugs announced angrily.
“Damn right,” Gust agreed, a hint of a smile on his lips and hearing riders approaching from the gorge, turned his head that way.
Captain De Moss jumped from his horse –ten of them had been transported earlier, the longboats still going back and forth, bringing in men and supplies- and approached in his energetic light trot.
“You have news,” Gust said.
Gel glanced at the large raven feasting on the bloody snake carcass and then saluted briskly.
“We caught prisoners, milord!”
“Soldiers?”
“A merchant. Trying to sneak in into the gorge. He was thoroughly surprised.”
Probably to water his animals, he thought.
“Is the man alive?” Gust asked. De Moss was known for being rough on ‘prisoners’.
“All of them are, milord,” Captain De Moss reported. “His camels as well.”
The clad in rich yellow robes Cofol had a broken and bleeding nose, two black eyes and at least three fingers on his right hand were bend a weird way. He could barely speak. His slave though was more than willing to give them everything.
Times two.
The heavily-painted young man prostrated himself at Gust’s legs, taking him by surprise. Mael cursed and unsheathed his sword to cut him down, the Issir Knight stopping him at the last moment deflecting the blade, with his iron vambrace.
“Get up!” Gust grunted, his arm numb and Mael’s face showing his shock at what had almost happened. The slave started crying with heavy sobs, so he stooped and grabbed him by the scruff like a dog and lifted him up. “Don’t do this again,” Gust warned, his voice a menacing rustle.
“Yes, my Lord, as you wish—”
“BLASTED CUNT!” Bugs croaked and came to land next to the panicked slave, his beak bloody and pieces of flesh falling out.
This is ridiculous.
“Where were you heading?” Gust snapped and the young man blinked and started trembling.
“Xi Yil,” He managed to say in passable common. “Master… has wine and beer for the troops.”
“What troops?” Gust queried and the merchant tried to say something, but got a backhand in the face by a still troubled Mael, the iron gauntlet cracking his teeth and splitting his lower lip into two flapping pieces.
“You were saying?” Gust continued and the slave started peeing down his own leg.
“How many troops in the castle?” Gel asked, as Gust stepped away rubbing his forehead frustrated at the turn of events.
“Three hundred at least,” the shaking slave said, a part of his tunic dark and smelling of urine.
“All these supplies, wine, that’s twenty camels you have there,” Gel insisted and glared at the barely conscious and bleeding merchant. “Were you heading to Rida after that?”
“No… please,” the slave begged. “Rida is gone, this is for Kuntur—”
What?
“What did he say?” Mael growled, cutting him short of finishing. Gust turned his head, Bugs flying to his shoulder and then approached the pale slave. The man’s makeup was running down his face and Gust felt disgusted by him.
“Rida has fallen?” That was Gel, sounding as shocked, as the rest of them.
But for Gust.
“Who’s Kuntur?” He asked the slave brusquely.
“A great noble. Kuntur-Ki Tsuparin.”
The name meant nothing to Sir Gust. He licked his lips and stared at Sir Mael, the experienced Knight grimacing and his ignorance apparent.
“Where is this Kuntur now?” Gust queried.
“Less than a week behind us my Lord,” The slave replied.
“Gust, if Rida has fallen, we might get stranded here,” Mael warned.
“If Rida has fallen, the Khan’s armies are in Raoz, months away,” Gust replied. “Is Kuntur trying to reinforce Xi Yil?”
“I don’t know my Lord, it’s the truth,” the Slave said quickly.
“What’s your name?”
“Manu, my Lord,” the Cofol replied.
“On my word, as a De Weer, you’re a free man,” Gust grunted, his nostrils protesting at the heady ‘aroma’ coming from the stunned man. “Get yourself cleaned up. There’s a place for you aboard one of the ships, if you want out of here.”
“What about the merchant, he has family with him. Two wives, if I’m not mistaken,” Gel asked, a gleam in his eye.
Right.
“Get them to the ships. Patch him up, keep the women locked and away from the crew,” Gust took a deep breath and turned to glare at the men standing around him. A moment went by and he remained silent, mulling on what he’d learned in his mind. Then he eyed the laden camels and the sailors working on laying down the wooden foundations for the docs, the narrow entrance to the gorge and the corridor cut through the limestone, leading to the desert.
“Milord,” Captain De Moss asked, as the moment dragged and Gust breathed out and returned his pine-colored eyes on his ‘Crows’.
“We need a port and a win,” he started, crooking his mouth, black skin gleaming in the strong Eplas sun. “This is no god-darn port, but I smell a win. Kuntur is coming to find water and a rest, before going to Xi Yil. We stop him here, before he gets reinforcements, and open up Eplas’ coast again.”
There were no cheers to his words.
Crows are calculative creatures, rarely prone to outbursts.
Mael smacked his lips, a frown making deep lines on his forehead. Captain De Moss showed his teeth in a grotesque scowl and Bugs flapped a pair of coal-black wings once, threw his head back and let out a sonorous croak that scared the living daylights out of a visibly shaken Manu, who had probably never seen such a large raven before.
“Water-fuckin-melon,” Bugs said, looking at the scared slave, adding with a wink.
“Savvy?”
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 Gust De Weer
Crows of the Desert
Part I
-Any port, or a win-
Five hundred, well-equipped men-at-arms, under Captain Gel De Moss, plus a hundred ‘old spears’ – Scaldingport veterans of High King’s first, or second Foot-, a hundred bows, at least thirty crossbows, a hundred slingers and twenty Rangers, under Lode De Jager, eighty medium cavalry, fifty heavy –including ten Knights and their squires- under Sir Jan Reuten, three hundred support personnel, engineers, blacksmiths, adventurers and mercenaries mixed in there, four transports, two Barques and two hundred and fifty sailors. Over a thousand five hundred ‘Crows’. These were the men Sir Gust De Weer took with him to Eplas.
They left Scaldingport in the middle of the night and managed to clear the harbor before the sun had come up. The sinister figure of Blackcrow Pillar, was still visible on the horizon three hours later, but it is said, Sir Gust had turned his head away from it, away from Toe and Tongue and stilled his eyes west.
Never looked back once after that moment.
Lord Sirio Veturius
Circa 206 NC
The Fall of Heroes
Chapter IX
(Sir Gust De Weer,
-Crows in the Desert-
Miracle at Endless Dunes,
Summer 189 NC)
A gush of wind came from the Scalding Sea, it rapped on the mass of the Lazuli Peninsula, turning stone into dirt and daring plants, or young trees, into solid stone. It dried up the skin in minutes and made it crack and bleed, blinded your eyes. The old sailors had warned them and everyone was covered head to toe with long grey cloaks that reminded Gust of his Order’s robes.
Sir Mael Bolte, who knew Gust for almost twenty years, stood next to him on the deck of the Last Privateer, Captain Elco Ardes ship. Captain Ardes had been a pirate in his youth, but Lord Ruud De Weer had struck a deal with him three decades back and they’ve been friends ever since. The Last Privateer, the fully rigged ship he captained, was a three-masted Barque, older than the Conrad, the other Barque sailing with them, but bigger. It had made the journey several times in the past and Captain Elco had kept their small flotilla –four large transports were following them in a line- as close to the Peninsula as it was possible.
Veering near the Pirate Reefs, the old Captain had said, will make ‘em good fellows, itchy for a lickin’. Gust could see the foggy reefs directly to their south, black rocks sprouting out of the waters, the froth turning them white, where the waves broke on them without pause.
Mael raised his hand and pointed over the fore staysail.
“That’s Shark’s Tooth,” the loyal knight said, dark face covered under the grey scarf, only his light green eyes showing. “The clouds above them, smoke from the Burning Crests.”
Gust grunted, his mind preoccupied with logistics and a campaign on foreign ground, his only help the copy of an ancient map, drawn more than a hundred and fifty years ago. Bugs, his pet raven that had decided to follow them on the journey, croaked loudly to get his attention and jumped onto the deck’s rail, large beak staying open for a moment mockingly. Gust had brought many crows with him kept in cages and the large raven’s taunt was picked up by its smaller cousins and soon the ship’s deck was flooded with a cacophony of caws and even a couple of croaks mimicking Bugs more hoarse sound. The large bird put an end to it, an ear-splitting minute later, with a loud bark in perfect common.
“Enough!”
“Hahaha!” Captain Ardes guffawed, coming to stand with them, white thick brows dancing in the wind, above the weathered badly-blemished skin around his eyes. “Yer bird is right smart, Sir Gust.”
“Hmm,” Gust hissed, as Bugs could have just as easily yelled blasted cunt, or water-fuckin-melon, something he’d done in many a previous occasions in the past, one of those in front of the High Queen of Kaltha. His father had found the shocking expressions on the faces of the nobles present mirthful, but few had agreed with his assessment. “No sign of your pirates, Ardes.”
“There’s a Sloop-o-war shadowing us, since yesterday,” the aged Captain explained, with a smack of his lips. “But we’re too big a prey to catch, milord.”
“Will they follow us?”
“I don’t think so, this isn’t a merchant path per se.”
“Uhm,” Gust hummed, with a nod. “How long before we see Eplas proper?”
“All this is Eplas, Sir Gust,” Elco replied. “Tomorrow noon, we’ll enter the Azure Gulf and pass next to Shark’s Tooth. We might catch a glimpse of the volcanoes of the peninsula over our starboard bow. The day after that, we’ll see Devil’s Cove, I reckon.”
Four days later twenty eight longboats, made the trip from their anchored ships to the mist covered white-sand beach of the desolate Devil’s Cove and back several times. Gust went with the first group, the waves rocking the vessel, the men rowing grunting, trying to keep a steady rhythm and the approaching terrain blinding to his hurting eyes. Ashen-limestone rocky slopes engulfed the modest cove and kept the Great Desert back, the small oasis sprouting on its north side almost pitiful and hidden amidst the sharp boulders and the misty vapors.
Gust jumped on the wet sand, boots sinking and soaked from the foamy waters and walked slowly, surrounded by yelling sea-weary men and soldiers. Captain Gel De Moss grabbed as many of them as he could, most of the men looking roughed up and drowsy, made a guard of about thirty and sent them to secure the -unseen from where they were standing- entrance to the cove, a long narrow gorge cut through the limestone that linked Devil’s Cove with the hidden desert.
“The map had it right!” Gust yelled at Mael and he nodded, walking with difficulty on the soft sandy beach. Soldiers were disembarking as fast as they could all around them, the clamor impressive, Bugs croaks coming from above them adding to the chaos.
“Keep your eyes open,” Mael roared back and then watched the second group, under Captain De Moss himself, marching towards the covered in mist Palm trees at the distance.
“No one is expecting us, Mael,” Gust grunted, coming to stop next to him.
But we need to move fast, just the same.
A gruff-looking Lode De Jager emerged out of the mist and the lush vegetation hugging the large pond created in front of the spring. He’d his long white hair caught at the nape, bone earrings dangling from both ears and wore tightly-sawn leather vest and pants, knee-high boots soaked and muddy. Captain De Moss, now standing with Sir Gust and Sir Mael, toned shoulders and barreled chest making him appear twice the size of the approaching slim Ranger, wiped his sweaty face with a damp cloth and snorted.
“Good grief, I thought you perished in there Lode.”
“It came close Captain,” the Ranger replied squashing a bug that was sucking the blood out of his neck. “There are snakes back there, milord,” this he said to Gust.
The powerfully built knight grimaced.
Gust had no time to waste here.
“Clean them up,” he ordered him brusquely.
“It might take a while,” Lode countered, but Gust would have none of that.
“You have until sunset,” he barked and turned to Captain De Moss. “I want men watching the gorge. Sent scouts outside to find the Merchant Path and rotate them every two hours. I want to know, if someone is coming well in advance.”
“As you wish, milord,” Gel replied and bowing, turned heel and jogged briskly away.
“There’s dark Mambas on ‘em branches and horned vipers in ‘em bushes, milord,” Lode pointed. “Most men aren’t inclined to walk near.”
“Find men that are,” Sir Gust cut him off. “If none is found, pick a man at random.”
“What if he refuses?”
Gust stilled his pine-green eyes on him.
“Cut off a finger,” he rustled loud enough for everyone to hear. “Every time he makes objection.”
The sooner the men realized they were at war, the better.
“You don’t want men turn—” Mael tried to say, but Sir Gust stopped him raising a gloved hand.
“If they are brave enough to challenge me, they can take on a nest of vipers. I want the beach secured Mael,” he said and stared at the longboats leaving empty to return to their ships. “Docks pushed out into the sea and our ships anchored closer. I want this set up in a week.”
Mael smacked his lips, long scar a pale white, where the old injury showed on his neck.
“You’ll need more men,” he finally said and Gust grunted pointing at the six large ships moored inside the gulf in a row.
“Use the sailors. Use every blasted spare man we have.”
You could feel the desert wind blowing through the passage, the wall of limestone, sharp and intimidating, running the east coast of Eplas from Eikenport to Ri Yue-Tu almost unbroken, but at the Yeriden delta and a couple abandoned, inhospitable spots like Devil’s Cove.
Hell of a place, Gust thought, not impressed and stooped to pick up the large headless snake Lode had tossed to his feet. Bugs landed on his shoulder the next moment, black beady eyes hungry and croaked his version of a beg, adding in common just to be sure.
“Like crap!”
“It is,” Gust agreed and dropped the slimy body down. “Have at it, see if you like it.”
The large Raven jumped down and cut a bloody piece out of the dead snake with its powerful beak.
“Water-fuckin-melon!” Bugs announced angrily.
“Damn right,” Gust agreed, a hint of a smile on his lips and hearing riders approaching from the gorge, turned his head that way.
Captain De Moss jumped from his horse –ten of them had been transported earlier, the longboats still going back and forth, bringing in men and supplies- and approached in his energetic light trot.
“You have news,” Gust said.
Gel glanced at the large raven feasting on the bloody snake carcass and then saluted briskly.
“We caught prisoners, milord!”
“Soldiers?”
“A merchant. Trying to sneak in into the gorge. He was thoroughly surprised.”
Probably to water his animals, he thought.
“Is the man alive?” Gust asked. De Moss was known for being rough on ‘prisoners’.
“All of them are, milord,” Captain De Moss reported. “His camels as well.”
The clad in rich yellow robes Cofol had a broken and bleeding nose, two black eyes and at least three fingers on his right hand were bend a weird way. He could barely speak. His slave though was more than willing to give them everything.
Times two.
The heavily-painted young man prostrated himself at Gust’s legs, taking him by surprise. Mael cursed and unsheathed his sword to cut him down, the Issir Knight stopping him at the last moment deflecting the blade, with his iron vambrace.
“Get up!” Gust grunted, his arm numb and Mael’s face showing his shock at what had almost happened. The slave started crying with heavy sobs, so he stooped and grabbed him by the scruff like a dog and lifted him up. “Don’t do this again,” Gust warned, his voice a menacing rustle.
“Yes, my Lord, as you wish—”
“BLASTED CUNT!” Bugs croaked and came to land next to the panicked slave, his beak bloody and pieces of flesh falling out.
This is ridiculous.
“Where were you heading?” Gust snapped and the young man blinked and started trembling.
“Xi Yil,” He managed to say in passable common. “Master… has wine and beer for the troops.”
“What troops?” Gust queried and the merchant tried to say something, but got a backhand in the face by a still troubled Mael, the iron gauntlet cracking his teeth and splitting his lower lip into two flapping pieces.
“You were saying?” Gust continued and the slave started peeing down his own leg.
“How many troops in the castle?” Gel asked, as Gust stepped away rubbing his forehead frustrated at the turn of events.
“Three hundred at least,” the shaking slave said, a part of his tunic dark and smelling of urine.
“All these supplies, wine, that’s twenty camels you have there,” Gel insisted and glared at the barely conscious and bleeding merchant. “Were you heading to Rida after that?”
“No… please,” the slave begged. “Rida is gone, this is for Kuntur—”
What?
“What did he say?” Mael growled, cutting him short of finishing. Gust turned his head, Bugs flying to his shoulder and then approached the pale slave. The man’s makeup was running down his face and Gust felt disgusted by him.
“Rida has fallen?” That was Gel, sounding as shocked, as the rest of them.
But for Gust.
“Who’s Kuntur?” He asked the slave brusquely.
“A great noble. Kuntur-Ki Tsuparin.”
The name meant nothing to Sir Gust. He licked his lips and stared at Sir Mael, the experienced Knight grimacing and his ignorance apparent.
“Where is this Kuntur now?” Gust queried.
“Less than a week behind us my Lord,” The slave replied.
“Gust, if Rida has fallen, we might get stranded here,” Mael warned.
“If Rida has fallen, the Khan’s armies are in Raoz, months away,” Gust replied. “Is Kuntur trying to reinforce Xi Yil?”
“I don’t know my Lord, it’s the truth,” the Slave said quickly.
“What’s your name?”
“Manu, my Lord,” the Cofol replied.
“On my word, as a De Weer, you’re a free man,” Gust grunted, his nostrils protesting at the heady ‘aroma’ coming from the stunned man. “Get yourself cleaned up. There’s a place for you aboard one of the ships, if you want out of here.”
“What about the merchant, he has family with him. Two wives, if I’m not mistaken,” Gel asked, a gleam in his eye.
Right.
“Get them to the ships. Patch him up, keep the women locked and away from the crew,” Gust took a deep breath and turned to glare at the men standing around him. A moment went by and he remained silent, mulling on what he’d learned in his mind. Then he eyed the laden camels and the sailors working on laying down the wooden foundations for the docs, the narrow entrance to the gorge and the corridor cut through the limestone, leading to the desert.
“Milord,” Captain De Moss asked, as the moment dragged and Gust breathed out and returned his pine-colored eyes on his ‘Crows’.
“We need a port and a win,” he started, crooking his mouth, black skin gleaming in the strong Eplas sun. “This is no god-darn port, but I smell a win. Kuntur is coming to find water and a rest, before going to Xi Yil. We stop him here, before he gets reinforcements, and open up Eplas’ coast again.”
There were no cheers to his words.
Crows are calculative creatures, rarely prone to outbursts.
Mael smacked his lips, a frown making deep lines on his forehead. Captain De Moss showed his teeth in a grotesque scowl and Bugs flapped a pair of coal-black wings once, threw his head back and let out a sonorous croak that scared the living daylights out of a visibly shaken Manu, who had probably never seen such a large raven before.
“Water-fuckin-melon,” Bugs said, looking at the scared slave, adding with a wink.
“Savvy?”
