Oh, Elfin Bridget was a wicked tease!

  Had her short chiton’s folds full of juicy peas!

  To get me some I reached in my purse for a single Sester!

  The smart lass told me; Why, me good sir, ye must be a fuckin’ jester!

  Me says darn it, but hey, kept digging in there ‘n found a silver dinar!

  But Bridget scoffed at the sum n’ said; ye ain’t smelling it mate, unless ye visit the fish bazaar!

  Then and there Luthos chuckled n’ me fingers found a whole gold Eagle!

  Milord! Elfin Bridget told me wit an impish blush;

  What yer asking sure sounds illegal but me poor will is feeble!

  -

  ‘Elfin Bridget’

  -Unknown composer, many variations-

  Common bawdy song of the realm

  -

  -

  

  Early summer of 271 NC,

  Near Mabindon’s Sources ‘Rich-Forest’,

  Across the Royal Waystation’s stables,

  On the ‘Wine Bridge’ road’s turn, heading either to Old-Fort or Sava (Flauegran-Lesia)

  A worn-down Vex plunged the stake into the grimy gravel and tied the rope tightly around it. Rising on weary knees, he checked yet again whether it was taut enough, the other end of the rope slicing vertically across the road, a foot off the ground. That should suffice, he mused, and made his way to the side path leading to the stables’ entrance, which was located about thirty meters beyond the makeshift tripwire. Holding another sharpened stake, Vex chose to conceal himself in the yellow scrubs nestled between the two roads and lay in wait.

  The patrol was going to pass through at any time now, hopefully bringing Timor and Ladus with them. It wasn’t the army patrol they had anticipated and their ambush on the bridge had failed that morning. Failed was an understatement. The heavily-armoured Regia knights just wouldn’t drop. Realizing they were doomed, Vex had gotten away in the confusion of the scrap, the band of young rebels crushed thoroughly.

  Few of his remaining comrades though were captured.

  He’d witnessed it.

  A nervous Vex glanced behind his shoulder at the open entrance of the stables adjoined to the waystation’s stone building and frowned. There were more horses parked in there. He stood up with narrowed eyes and looked further to his east at the usually empty since the start of the war waystation’s windows. Some kind of commotion was coming from inside and it appeared the local owners had opened up early for the season or had visitors.

  The four knights might have come from here, Vex thought sourly, trying to discern the colorful banners stabbed before the large building’s entrance, but the angle didn’t help.

  Curse their mothers. Are there more?

  You should move, he urged himself. This might not work.

  Vex cursed and walked towards the stables to see whether he could secure a horse. If no other guards are here, or god forbid more knights, then an attempt could be made inside the stables. Surely they won’t bring them into the main building?

  He heard something tapping on the ground and froze, raising the stake threateningly. Vex had a proper blade earlier that morning, but he’d lost it during the scuffle. The darn thing had stuck in the knight’s neck.

  Sudi had tried to fight with a stick, but was quickly disabused of the idea.

  A medium-height, well-built teenager came out of the shadows, limping through the corridor between the animal stalls with the help of a cane. Longish, very thick black hair, framing a pair of intense eyes, a dark jungle green -almost black that even so appear to emanate a strange light glow. The stranger’s left leg was somewhat swollen, firmly bandaged and trapped in a bulky wooden contraption protectively, but it was evident that despite all the reinforcement he couldn’t stand on it at all.

  Years later the leg stood ruined.

  For Vex was good with faces and remembered the young man’s —now wearing a much more strained expression— from Cartagen’s games more than two years earlier. They had almost come face to face again back then, but Vex had stood in the shadows. The young man had volunteered to stand in for Sir Remy’s opened spot during the festival, as the aged Issir Knight had been declared too-ill to participate at the very last moment, and much to the crowd’s surprise the game masters had granted him the honor. Unfortunately during the introductory riding and skills event, an eight fighter’s free-for-all, the teenager had been seriously injured falling from Sir Remy’s horse badly just after he’d unhorsed his much-older opponent.

  It was the horse’s fault as the old knight’s saddle had been tampered with by the Black Lotus rebel faction’s agents. A violent group sympathizing with Sovya’s war of independence that had committed several acts of sabotage both in Kaltha and Regia these past four years. The mostly young in age rebels didn’t have any personal beef with Sir Remy Prager, the High King’s envoy in Regia, but Vex did for years.

  “That stake won’t work against proper swords,” the hamstrung teenager in the expensive black doublet told him, now standing stooped and nowhere near as dashing as he’d been back then.

  Vex grimaced and then stared beyond the shorter man, to see whether more guards were present.

  “More guards are present,” the smart crippled man said, reading his mind. He raised his free hand to show Vex a piece of bloodied cloth, part of a scarf Timor had on that morning, recognizable by the black flower stitched on it. “A missive arrived earlier and has everyone hoping about all tensed alike horny rabbits. That’s a lot of plaguing swords to deal with, using this piece of wood.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vex grunted and took a sideways step to force the man on his hurt limb.

  “You should keep working that mantra,” the stranger smirked. “But you’re unfortunately of weird complexion. Too dark of skin and people will notice you. They might already have.”

  Vex narrowed his eyes. “I can remedy that.”

  “With a couple of stakes and a tripwire? You are either too-brave or too-desperate. Why take the risk? What’s the bloody cause here?”

  “These are my friends.”

  “Your friends are already dead. Sir Taurus executed them on the spot,” the man retorted. “Don’t look so gloom. It works for you. They didn’t have time to talk.”

  “They wouldn’t have.”

  “All men talk,” he cut him off with a grimace. “Pain is a difficult mistress to endure.”

  Vex swallowed and took a step forward threateningly. The man pivoted in reaction on his hurt leg, face distorting from pure agony, but then planted the cane down again and half-twisted the pommel to probably release a blade hidden inside. He kept it sheathed though. “You’ve arrived at a crossroads, oh ye half-breed wielding a stupid sudis like a giant scalpel. Attack me and risk lethal exposure even if you win, or stand down today and keep your mouth shut, to see where it might lead you on the fucking morrow. We can either be brief enemies right now, or long-time friends forever.”

  Whoa, ye could make a killing in the real-estate business!

  “You’ll eventually turn me in,” Vex rustled, hearing the armoured horses approaching from the main road. “To avenge your own people.”

  “Don’t be a short-sighted idiot. I try to survive in the court’s circles. Court creatures don’t do vengeance, even for personal reasons…” the young man had retorted, teeth clenched to combat the pain coming from his shattered knee. “Absent fucking gain!” But do you know I caused this injury? Will it change your mind, if ye learned? Vex thought. The unknown young man paused as if to ponder on the matter some, keeping an ear on the riders, and then added in a levelheaded manner. “These are not my people. I only serve the Queen’s interests.”

  “The Queen?” Vex had gasped not expecting it, although it made a certain amount of sense in retrospect.

  “She’s here. Pregnant but eager to be near her husband,” the man revealed with a hiss. “So the less you say henceforth, the better for you. Let me handle this, for you’re running out of time.”

  “Alright, who the fuck are you?” Vex had grunted.

  -

  “Young Stormire Nattas,” the robust knight growled, limping near them not five minutes later. A rare Lesia name meaning ‘the one who rustles’. The knight’s armour freshly dented and covered in dirt. “Some slimy ruffian had roped the blasted path. Lamed my horse and I almost broke my head in the fucking tumble!”

  “How unfortunate,” Stormire replied wryly, leaving it vague where the misfortune lay, “Sir Taurus, you should call me Lord Storm henceforth. It has a more sober note I prefer and the Queen was adamant about my title.”

  “Roderick ain’t around to bail you out boy, so don’t pull this crap on me,” Taurus grunted. “I’m telling ye more ruffians were involved!”

  “They wouldn’t have come here,” Stormire, apparently a lord of something, snapped austerely. “And I don’t need yer blessings, Sir Taurus, nor Roderick’s. Only our good Queen’s.”

  Sir Taurus crooked his mouth, went to respond in kind, but noticed Vex standing next to an empty stall’s shade trying to remain invisible and paused unsure. “Who’s that sneaky brigand lurking back there? Hey, do I know you? Stand forth!”

  “Enough! You don’t know him,” Lord Storm replied sternly. “This is Sudi, my new assistant in the Ministry of Silence. He was with me and the Queen at Old-Fort.”

  “Him? Good grief. The man looks like a vagrant ruffian and I’m being courteous!” Sir Taurus roared in disbelief.

  Vex licked his lips nervously.

  “Indeed he does come with a certain form, eh?” Lord Storm agreed with an evil smirk that perhaps revealed some of the man’s true character underneath and then stared his way mirthfully. “It’s a great fucking skill our court sorely lacks and all the realm’s ruffians shall never see the bastard coming!”

  -

  ‘Sudi Lotus’

  ‘Socius Principalis’

  First Associate or ‘The Associate’

  Alchemist's Trail | the barrel

  -A valuable person sometimes stands a right monster-

  Volume I

  -Luikens’ trail-

  Cartagen,

  Late Spring of 196NC

  Merchant District, the Nattas Villa.

  Saul, the ‘Reformed’ ranger, pulled at the saddle’s straps tighter to secure it on the horse, while Grin was busy loading the two mules with supplies. The animals brought inside the yard, as Sudi wanted them to hit the road as soon as the assassin arrived. Rhys Vardran had taken his sweet time to depart, probably trying to find someone to help his injured girlfriend and Sudi had gone ahead from him, as he had some business to attend to in Cartaport and the capital.

  Mainly to discover whether Grogan’s former comrades were in on the plot or aware of their former boss’ side-activities.

  Easier to find gold in the bottom of a grain barrel, than getting the truth out of those scumbags, he thought sucking on his denture whilst keeping an eye on the Queen Regent playing with Maja’s baby. The activity equally sweet and arousing as Storm would say.

  The Boss was mostly right in many things, especially when it came to women.

  The sober figure of the aged Sir Barnard Rottas standing guard at the verandah behind the two women ruining the scene for him.

  “This Rhys dude,” Grin said. He’d approached shuffling his feet on the tiles. “What kind of freak he is? Moore told me the motherfucker has weird gold teeth?”

  Sudi smacked his lips and eyed the nervous lackey intently. “Rhys is a contract killer. He was present when we fought the Illirium’s Marines.”

  “Sons of bitches. Don’t remember him. Are you sure?”

  “Do you perceive I fancy chitchatting with you right now?”

  “Reckon ye don’t. I’m sorry, Mister Lotus,” Grin grimaced. “I’ll check on the animals again.”

  Sudi nodded, and heard a nervous horse thundering towards the villa’s entrance. A rider clad in a black cloak appeared beyond the gates, the hood covering his head concealing part of his face, but as the man and horse came to a stop outside the closed iron doors, Sudi recognized him.

  “Open the god-darn doors, you window-lickers!” Rhys boomed, his lack of subtlety legendary. Sir Rottas stirred in his armour, Saul turned to glare at the uncouth leader of the Silent Servants Guild, and little Bianca started crying scared.

  “Be quiet Rhys!” Maja snapped and got up.

  “Maja,” Rhys retorted aggressively, but then his eyes settled on Miranda, who returned his stare annoyed whilst she tried to pacify the baby. “Praise the vile gods, woman! Where did you find such refined company?” The Assassin’s mouth split to offer a shiny golden smile, the large fangs making it equally disturbing. “Domina, the name’s Rhys Vardran,” Rhys told the silent Miranda. “I stand enthralled.”

  “Good grief Rhys. She is… her grace. This is the former Queen Regent!” Maja informed her old colleague heatedly and the grimacing Rhys twisted his horse’s head this way and that to keep it from bolting as the gates opened by Saul. Then he retorted with an even bigger and fierce leer.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” the irritable Maja hissed. She had just gotten out of bed after barely surviving a very difficult birth. “I’m also not in the mood for your rashness!”

  “Shut the fuck up! Nobody gives a darn about you, Maja,” Rhys roared and then mellowed up some returning his attention on Miranda. “But some motherfucker should just put this beauty back on the blasted throne!”

  Everyone stood frozen inside Nattas’ yard, until Miranda’s throaty chuckle broke the awkward stalemate and Sudi breathed out, flipped the long dagger he’d gotten out and sheathed it again.

  “Grin,” he ordered the open-mouthed lackey, the latter still stunned at the killer’s display of sheer bravado and utter stupidity. “Get on your plaguing horse. We are departing afore we all get arrested for inciting an insurrection!”

  “HA-HAH! That’s right!” Rhys bellowed and sharply bowed his hooded head at the chuckling Miranda. “Bountiful Ma’am. Alas, I’ve to take leave of you,” he said in a charming, ridiculously-deep voice and baby Bianca, the former Queen rocked in her arms, stopped crying with a small gasp and then looked around her puzzled.

  “May Luthos bring you the best of luck, Mister Vardran,” a pleased Miranda wished at the grinning killer.

  “In our line of business,” Sudi hissed under his breath –a bit jealous with how the matter had unfolded and Maja turned her eyes on him intently. “We just say, good hunting.”

  Two days later.

  “I don’t like this creep,” Grin murmured riding next to the silent Sudi. Rhys had ridden ahead to discuss ‘matters of the North’ with Saul. It was doubtful the scout had any real knowledge of current Northern matters.

  “Um,” Sudi murmured keeping an eye on the narrow tunnel path and the dark opening they approached. This part of the journey he didn’t fancy at all. Going through a mountain’s bowels wasn’t high on the things he appreciated doing. It wasn’t even on the list as a matter of fact.

  Growing up, tends to narrow the list down considerably, he thought running a tongue over his ivory denture. The mouth hurt still, but at least most of the remaining teeth had stabilized enough to hold the apparatus stable, according to the Dottore. He owed Rhys for the potion, even if the foul concotion couldn’t repair all the damage to his face in the end.

  “What did you say?” He hissed and Grin grimaced nervously.

  “He talks to himself,” Grin said after a moment. “The man is not right in the head boss.”

  “Keep your distance,” Sudi cautioned the lackey and ended their conversation. Rhys was weird, no question about it, but it was his insistence to follow them that had put Sudi on edge. Without a contract, he’d no reason for it and Storm had found it strange as well. Only the boss had a different reason to be suspicious of the assassin. Nattas believed Rhys should have stayed near his pregnant girlfriend or rather opted to, than go after an alchemist of all plaguing things.

  “That’s Clodius’ place?” Rhys roared a couple of hours later, after they cleared the tunnel and approached the Settlement. The hostel was one of the more impressive buildings and it seemed to have quite the crowd gathered in front of it.

  “Keep it discreet,” Sudi grunted and clicked his tongue to make the horse approach the locals. A couple of turbaned Cofol merchants in the mix, and several guards from the tunnel’s nearby garrison were also present, which sort of explained why they had gone through so easy given the amount of weapons they carried.

  “Clodius Remus?” He asked and a flabby in stature, bearded Lorian wearing an apron stepped forward. “We sent a bird three days ago.” Sudi had recognized the old rebel and retired smuggler immediately.

  “Hah, if it isn’t our dear Mister Lotus himself,” Clodius retorted after a long pause, opening his eyes in surprise the moment he identified his old comrade in arms and long-time business associate. “Years have been much unkind to our Socius Principalis.”

  “My cock still works. Ask yer wife,” Sudi deadpanned, getting a roaring response from Rhys and Clodius shook his head at the jibe. “What’s all the tumult, Clod?”

  “Lost a man. Park,” the tavern owner replied with a grimace of anger. “The big fool just up and dropped dead in one of them cabins back there. A client found him. I called the sergeant and that stuck-up idiot marched in here, cast half-a-glance inside the cabin and got all spooked for some plaguing reason. Then ordered the whole back area cordoned for safety reasons! Safety, my donkey’s arse! That idiot fears some virus or other, might’ve sprung out of the water barrels. Can you believe this shite?”

  “You keep the water back there?” Sudi asked, looking at the concerned people talking about the incident and a patrol of soldiers standing at the north corner of the tavern looking bored as all hells.

  “Sure. Next to the stables,” Clodius replied gruffly. “It’s apparently a health hazard. Might get a fine from the magistrate for that. Fucking bullshit! What a horse can drink, a man can also! Right?”

  “What was Park doing inside the cabin?” Sudi asked with a sigh and signed for his group to dismount.

  “Went to get payment for a horse I sold,” Clodius explained and offered his forearm in greeting. Sudi shook it. “That’s a good grip. You work out still?” Clodius queried.

  “Never stopped working. Or fucking,” Sudi retorted with a knowing pause. “Who was the buyer?”

  “An Issir. He had a kid with him, mostly Lorian… the kid that is,” Clodius replied. “I got the gold here.” The tavern owner searched his pockets, and got a piece of metal out. A crude nugget gleaming like gold. Sudi frowned and reached for the gold piece. It was gold, for the most part.

  “He paid with this?” Sudi asked and Rhys turned his head to perceive the gold nugget intently. “This isn’t… this pointy corner part, is either copper or brass. Not gold. What kind of weird shit is this?”

  “Still valuable, weird or not. And it’s seventy percent gold. Hefty motherfucking piece, heavy as a brick,” Clodius replied and reached to retrieve the nugget. “For a horse. Not a bad deal.”

  “It sort of was a big deal… for your man, Park,” Sudi murmured. “Where is the body?”

  “Still inside the cabin,” Clodius replied. “Half in and half out that is. I need to wait for the Sergeant to make up his mind, so I can move him and empty the place to rent it. This means he needs to write to Knight’s Fall Waystation for instructions and this might take a couple of days. I have customers waiting—”

  Sudi stopped him with a gesture. “Come with me,” he told Grin, who frowned not eager to follow him inside a virus infested cabin.

  “Chief, maybe we should let the officers do their job?”

  Queen Regent’s big tits!

  “I’ll come along,” Rhys intervened with a grunt. “Whatever Park caught, them fools have also. Us too, I reckon.”

  Great.

  Big Park had died puking bloody yellow froth out of his crooked in agony mouth and grotesquely-expanded nostrils. His eyes ogled open and dark veins popping on his neck and forehead, more green than black.

  “Oras shades. It smells of arsenic,” Rhys commented, stepping over the dead body to enter the cabin. He immediately went to open the only window, covering his mouth with a cloth. “Don’t breathe too-much mate!”

  “Hmm,” Sudi grunted, taking the advice to heart and searched his pockets for something to cover his mouth.

  “Some other foul shit mixed in,” the apparently well-versed in deadly poisons assassin murmured, looking about the place quickly and then used a materialized out of thin air dagger to lift a discarded bucket from the floor by its handle. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Alright. What’s with the fucking bucket?” Sudi growled the moment they rushed out of the noxious reeking cabin. Both started coughing hard, their lungs burning while they moved towards cleaner air near the stables.

  “Ergh,” Rhys growled, and spat down after he’d worked his throat muscles to expel most of the phlegm caught there. “Get to the water trough. We need to wash our face and skin. Tell Clodius to burn the cabin!”

  “Fucking hells,” Sudi cursed and followed Rhys’ example. The assassin had plunged his head abruptly inside the horse trough and then splashed more water on his neck and garbs.

  “Yeah.” Rhys grunted, while Sudi finished cleaning himself from whatever they had encountered inside the cabin.

  “Yeah, what?” Sudi asked, wiping his face with an old cloth hanged from a hook next to the stables doors.

  “Just that,” Rhys retorted.

  Sudi spat down, still smelling the foul gasses. “What’s with the blasted iron bucket?” He queried again. Rhys let it drop only to kick it mid-air towards him. Sudi grabbed the empty bucket just before it connected with his chest and turned it about. “The insides are coated…” Sudi murmured. “…it’s not any type of paint. Hmm, is this gold splatter?”

  “He used the bucket to turn another metal into pure gold,” Rhys explained. “The inner iron surface was affected also by the reaction, but not as much as the copper, which he’d probably connected to the stone with a wire. Water was used as a chemical solution to speed up the procedure… as I said, with the help of a well-known energy-producing medium… let us call it here… an ‘Alchemist Stone’… aye.”

  Sudi blinked, after Rhys had finished his lengthy diatribe. The assassin had talked with stops, as if reading from a script or from a too-tightly written essay someone else was dictating.

  Rhys was always weird, but this was too-weird even for him.

  “How in Maiden’s tits, can you possibly know this?” Sudi grunted and Rhys grimaced, then crossed his arms before his chest.

  “The Issir was yer Alchemist,” Rhys finally said, after glaring in silence for a long moment in Sudi’s disfigured face. “We must move after him.”

  Sudi puffed out and then glanced at the bucket again. “Why get involved, Rhys?” He asked the guild’s assassin evenly. “Should I be worried?”

  “You can’t afford not to be worried,” Rhys retorted crooking his mouth this way and that, afore it formed a golden grin. “But take solace that the worst of the potential damage, you’ve already suffered!”

  “Very funny,” Sudi grunted and Rhys nodded in agreement still chuckling.

  “Right? I thought so… Heheh.”

  Clodius stared at the iron bucket with sober eyes, not five minutes later. “Son of a gonorrhea-afflicted hyena! The blind bastard went and did it!”

  “You knew?” Sudi queried angrily and slapped the bucket out of the tavern owner’s hands. He sent it clattering down. “Fucking idiot! I might have killed myself!”

  “Did I tell you to go inside the cabin? No, I didn’t!” Clodius protested and stooped to pick up the bucket from the floor of the tavern. “And for what’s worth… never believed him. Who would?”

  Rhys apparently did.

  Clodius stood up with the bucket in his hands. “This shit might worth something too. Yeah?”

  “Forget about the bucket. Where were they headed?” Sudi grunted.

  “I’ll tell you what I told the other guys,” Clodius retorted and placed the iron bucket on the bar in front of him. The inner lip does appear to be gold, Sudi thought with a grimace. If this crazy story comes out, people will flock here to see the ‘gold bucket’ firsthand. This bloody bastard knows what he’s doing for once! “He’s heading to Cartagen.”

  “What other guys?” Sudi asked, snapping out of his trance.

  -

  Next day,

  Noon of the 29th

  Dokamna* Camp village.

  Corona Vallaris Inn & Restaurant

  Main road across the Command & Post office building

  *Constructed near Legio III’s ‘forward command offices’ and roughly at the historical campsite Dokamna’s mercenaries had erected and used, before and during the battle for Oras Navel. The site of Legatus Merenda’s heroics.

  “Oh, Elfin Bridget… was a wicked tease! Had her short chiton’s folds full of juicy… peas!” The drunken patron taunted the grimacing bard, who probably hoped to get another free drink out of the provincial venue’s less-lewd customers and not be forced to go along with the uncouth fool.

  “To get me some… I reached in my purse for a single… Sester!” The loud-mouthed customer insisted in order to goad the undecided Lorian bard to sing along with him. “The smart lass told me; Why… good sir, ye must be… a fuckin’ jester!”

  Sudi paused at the door of the packed with people having launch tavern and restaurant, just as the bard gave in after the Nord-dressed and Nord-looking customer went to sit at his table with a large goblet of ale.

  “Stay out there,” Sudi ordered Saul and the others waiting by the horse’s trough in front of the venue, his eyes on the two armed and rather dignified Issirs sitting at a table near the south wall of the packed tavern. Just Grin that is, as Rhys had disappeared the moment they entered the village into an alley.

  The two Inquisitors weren’t the only Issirs present, as four tables before them another stately and much younger in years Issir sat, Sudi could tell his age despite the hood covering the man's head. He was in the company of a flabby Lorian woman that carefully fed carrot soup to an Issir girl with striking jade-colored eyes. The semi-concealed man had his attention turned on the two Inquisitors, but Sudi’s entry into the restaurant caught his interest, so the unknown Issir half-turned on the seat to glance at the half-breed.

  Sudi couldn’t help but notice the longsword’s pommel on the stranger.

  “Me says darn it, but hey… kept digging in there ‘n found… a silver dinar!” The bard finally took over amidst loud laughter by several patrons that appeared to enjoy the comedic scene, none more than the inebriated Nord who enthusiastically slammed the goblet on the table with each turn of phrase. “But she scoffed at the sum n’ said; ye ain’t… smelling it mate, unless ye visit… the fish bazaar!”

  The two older Issir Inquisitors had similar dark cloaks on adorned with Uher church’s symbols in white, fiercely red padded shirts under fine leather armour, and both had gold ankh pendants hanging from their necks. One of the two Issirs actually carried a crossbow on his back. They both looked disgusted with the lewd choice of music by the other patrons and glared at the bard as if they considered him responsible.

  Sudi cleared his throat and then approached their remote table, using his cane to whack aside anyone getting too-enthusiastic and deciding to test his dancing skills instead of just singing along with the Nord and the bard.

  One of the two Inquisitors noticed the half-breed approach, Sudi’s skin was dark-enough to pass for a proper Issir, and raised his bearded face.

  “Then and there Luthos chuckled,” the Bard roared and most of the tavern’s bucolic crowd roared with him. “N’ ME HAND FOUND… A WHOLE GOLDEN EAGLE!”

  Sudi halted in front of the table and gave a nod at the two Church members, more soldiers and enforcers than monks. Although with Uher’s many different Orders, it is difficult to discern which one does what –more than the other, Sudi thought.

  “Milord! Elfin Bridget told me wit an impish blush!” The Bard buzzed, thumbing his lute’s body as a drum afore picking expertly at the strings. “What yer asking sure sounds illegal… but me poor will is feeble!”

  “Uher's Light shines upon you child,” one of the Inquisitors chanted and Sudi grimaced at the term, as he stood older than the pure Issir. “Even in the lowest of venues.”

  “Let’s hope it does,” Sudi agreed.

  “I’m brother, Wouter Egger,” the Inquisitor with the crossbow said and offered Sudi one of the empty chairs. “They call me Brother Wout. This is Brother Bas Reims. He’s ranked in the Order.”

  An officer, Sudi translated and Bas, a more austere Issir of about thirty years, nodded in silence, while Sudi took a seat. “I’m Sudi Lotus,” he told the two Issirs and afore any of them could comment a voice was heard over his shoulder.

  “That’s a peculiar surname,” a man wearing monk’s robes said and took the other empty chair next to Sudi. “For an Issir, even if he’s a part Lorian,” the young monk continued, looking Sudi under thick white-eyebrows and a well-combed white beard that contrasted on his unwrinkled dark skin. The monk or priest couldn’t be over thirty… more like twenty-five at the most, the youngest man at their table, with Sudi nearer fifty than forty already.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Time had moved too-fast for him to fully grasp it and the Inquisitor Wout Egger’s next words confirmed it. “This tensed barrel of laughs, is Magister Jop Prager. Mister Lotus, rest assured that Uher stands forgiving for yer tainted lineage, if that is the case for your affliction.”

  

  “How many left?” The sergeant had queried and the Issir knight looked at the longish row of prisoners’ lined up behind the gallows.

  “Around a dozen, I reckon.” Ser Remy Prager rustled and sucked on his yellow teeth.

  “You want to question anyone else, sir?” The Issir sergeant asked, staring nervously at the gathered crowd that had flooded Caspo O’ Bor’s east harbor’s docks to hear the royal arbiter’s ruling.

  “It’s a cold morning and I heard enough,” Ser Remy had retorted and used his gloved fingers to fix the order’s coif on his head. “Hang them all.”

  A shaken Sudi licked his dry lips in silence. The vivid memory of that gloomy dawn resurfacing thirty-five years into the past had caught him unawares and felt it like a vicious punch in the gut. The left corner of his mouth that still drooped at times, years after Maja’s lethal poison had almost ended his life, moved to form an ugly sneer as he finally replied hoarsely.

  “It was a war accident.”

  “What about the strange name? Because the last time I heard it or something similar from my father, it was about a rebel group of godless fanatics,” Magister Prager insisted. Yeah, a different Prager this… much younger. Sudi had reached under the table to grab his long dagger. Bas Reims’ eyes were watching him intently from across the table, the higher-ranked Inquisitor’s long face, bereft of any warmth for the half-breed.

  Uher’s forgiveness comes in small doses, Sudi thought.

  “It’s a place in Lesia,” Sudi replied, and for a moment realized he’d forgotten his real name. The one his late mother had given him. “Where my mother was from.”

  “What of your father?” Bas Reims queried.

  “Never met the man,” Sudi lied, finding his composure and pressed his back on the chair. “I’m here on official business.”

  “What kind?” Bas Reims rustled.

  “I’m after the trail of a murderer.”

  “A bounty hunter?” Wout Egger asked, not too-surprised.

  “No bounty. He just killed a man in the Worker’s Settlement back at the mouth of the Tunnel Pass,” Sudi retorted. “Poisoned him. I know who he is.”

  Bas Reims pursed his mouth. “Is that so?”

  “The same man you Holinesses’ are after. The alchemist. An old colleague of yours, as I recall.”

  The Inquisitor regarded Sudi sternly. “There are many on the loose,” he finally said vaguely.

  “It’s either Luikens or Stam. Not the girl,” Sudi smirked in response to the Issirs uneasiness. “The cat is out of the bag, them lewd locals love to say.”

  “You work for Regia,” Bas Reims noted.

  “I work for Governor Nattas,” Sudi retorted.

  “A man of pristine reputation.”

  Sudi shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “You won’t get him first,” he taunted, in order to rattle them into revealing what they knew.

  “This is a Church matter, Mister Lotus,” Bas Reims grunted warningly.

  “Church. The army. Lots of interested parties,” Sudi retorted. “Is it true? Are the rumors of what he did in Uher’s name real?”

  “You’ll do well not to get in our way,” Bas Reims warned him again.

  “I’ve sent a bird to Old-Fort. They’ll have him picked up in no time,” Sudi hissed and it was Wout Egger that stood back with a loud chuckle.

  “You can’t capture the Assayer,” Wout said forebodingly. “Jori Keiter already tried it. The accursed man stands smarter than anyone else. A soulless genius that has a library in his mind. All the realm’s knowledge is the word. Devil works in him. He can melt inside a crowd, become someone else just like that or just disappear into the wilderness. There’s a good chance, you’ll never see him.”

  They were talking about Luikens then, Sudi thought.

  “I have,” Rhys said, his voice coming over Sudi’s head. The bastard had decided to make an appearance after all. “Rode past us yesterday at the tunnel’s north entrance. Had a kid driving his horse, which was plenty weird and borderline disturbing, but far from me to comment on another man’s business, or pass judgement!”

  The last part strangely had a personal note for some reason.

  Rhys was one weird dude.

  “Uher’s grace,” Wout gasped, probably shocked at Rhys’ grin, assuming the assassin had attached one at the end of his words. “What are you?”

  “I’m a fellow priest of sorts,” Rhys deadpanned, not missing a beat. “Only, I serve the other guy.”

  “That’s enough Rhys,” Sudi cut in and stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’ll pray for your soul, Mister Lotus,” Wout Egger said and Sudi grimaced, but decided not to say anything. Two strides later, Magister Jop Prager’s voice stopped him.

  “It is strange now that I recall it, but Lord Nattas happened to visit Riverdor,” the young Magister said on Sudi’s back. “The day my father was murdered. That’s a lot of coincidences, Mister Lotus.”

  Sudi turned around to perceive the Issir’s face with sober eyes. “Not really,” he finally rejoined evenly. “Just the one, your holiness.”

  “Who was that? Former boyfriend?” A smirking Rhys asked as they exited the restaurant.

  “How the fuck such an unserious character does the job you do?” Sudi groaned in despair, while they walked towards the dozing off by the horses Grin and the scowled Saul.

  “I’m a consummate professional,” Rhys flashed him a disturbing gold smile, then added raising his voice an octave. “And have a great sense of humor! Right, Grin?”

  “Right, Mister Rhys,” the forced out of his stupor Grin blurted out.

  “Cut the crap! Where the fuck have you been?” Sudi snapped irate.

  “The army mausoleum. It’s a big cemetery really, once you walk past the fancy gates,” Rhys replied, with a smack of his lips.

  “What in maiden’s tits where you—?”

  “I know where Luikens is heading,” Rhys interrupted him.

  Do you now?

  Sudi crooked his mouth, used the back of his palm to wipe a bit of drool from the sides and then cast a warning glare at the always confident assassin. Confident, but also rather worn-out lately. Rhys looked like he’d trouble sleeping or the miles had finally caught up with him.

  Sudi expected to hit the wall himself sooner rather than later.

  “Fine. Where is he going?” He probed with a sigh, in order to wipe the stupid smirk off of Rhys’ lips.

  -

  Volume II

  -The shifting blame-

  ‘Goat Plains’ valley,

  Five days later,

  Night of the 5th

  Three kilometers from the granite wall of Stonemaze Peaks.

  Sudi planted his boot on the brittle ground and used the cane to move some of the dead tall grass away. In the distance the mountain’s sides casted a heavy shadow over the rocky terrain that blocked moonlight completely. He could see nothing up ahead but different shades of black. With a grimace he pushed the horse’s snout back, as the animal had approached him spooked by the silence of the barren valley. The flat ground had turned treacherous since that morning and the days chasing the alchemist’s supposed trail with no real sign of the man himself had made everyone jumpy and foul of mood.

  “There’s a group of goats staring at us, chief,” Grin whispered keeping their animals together, not to allow them to wander off in the dark. While the horses could sniff their way back eventually seeking better food and water, waiting for them was the last thing Sudi wanted.

  “Is Saul back yet?” Sudi grunted and considered using a lightstone to illuminate their campsite.

  “Aye,” the Nord scout was heard.

  “Are they still after us?”

  “They follow our tracks. Stopped at the horse’s carcass,” Saul replied. “Probably thought the same we did and kept at it. Four Lorians and the two Inquisitors. Must’ve hired them back at the settlement.”

  “Could this horse belong to someone else?” Sudi hissed trying to discern any light up ahead. This was the end of the trail, or pretty close to it. Unless the blasted Assayer is a freaking mountaineer or has a real fucking goat in his cursed lineage, then this shite is over!

  They had missed him.

  “That weird dude bought another horse. It was an old horse,” Saul replied while Sudi searched the saddlebags for his sword. “The rough terrain killed it. So they left it behind. Everything checks out.”

  Anyone could have brought a horse here.

  “Eh,” Sudi grunted. “Has any of you rascals seen Rhys this last hour?”

  The assassin had vanished in the dark yet again.

  “He kept saying we need to reach the wall afore them,” Grin said. “Argued about it.”

  “With whom?”

  “Don’t know, chief.” Grin cleared his throat. “Himself? I don’t want him sleeping near me.”

  “Aye, who does? And has anyone truly laid eyes on this cursed Luikens fellow, apart from the fanged freak?” Saul exclaimed in frustration. “We've been running in circles for days, boss, and we may have trapped ourselves in the process. Those priests could misbehave given the opportunity!”

  “They are Church Inquisitors damnit, not fucking brigands!” Sudi retorted and signed for them to keep quiet.

  “That local crew they hired ain’t some holy folk, is all I’m saying,” Saul insisted, much to Sudi’s ire.

  “Guys, I think the goats got spooked,” Grin murmured sounding worried and Sudi turned towards his voice to admonish him, but the breeze brought a not so distant neigh to his ears.

  “Was that one of ours?” Sudi whispered with a tensed grimace.

  “Nay,” Saul murmured as he stood closer to their horses and then the unknown animal was heard again.

  Less than three hundred meters away perhaps, give or take a hundred. Sudi froze, waved his hand even more intently for the others to keep silent and then walked towards the familiar sound.

  (…)

  “Hah,” Saul guffawed, upon hearing the deceitful little man’s words. “Ha-ha. Get us to Lesia, the bespectacled cunt says. You take us for fools?”

  Sudi breathed out trying to gather his thoughts, still angry with Luikens for almost killing him in Alden and unable to forget the fate of poor Arietta some months afore that. The woman had been accused for witchcraft by Uher’s Church, dragged to Maiden’s River, tied to a post under the bridge and then a younger version of this slimy, bespectacled creature had blown her up to smithereens in front of Sudi’s eyes. It was one of the key events that had created the ‘Long Knives of Summer’ massacre, as it had forced Nattas’ hand to act against the Church of Uher.

  Had Sudi known this was that same man, then he would have argued against or even tried to convince Nattas not to spare him. Bringing Luikens back to the Governor seemed like the worst idea suddenly, despite what Rhys appeared to believe for some reason.

  “The sweaty little man is truthful. There is a way,” Rhys expounded somewhat endorsing the alchemist’s wild claim, whilst Sudi still contemplated what to do with him.

  “How?” Saul asked.

  “A dwarf city exists somewhere inside this mountain range. Some big cave or other,” Rhys replied. “Assuming we find the entrance.”

  “I know how to get us inside,” the bloodied Luikens offered and raised a weak hand as if to point, but Rhys slapped it down. “Argh!” The alchemist protested.

  “Goats, dwarves and unholy fucking inquisitors,” Saul griped. “The bonus better worth the trouble, Socius! I much rather revisit the darn Zilan freak’s garden at this point!”

  “Shut yer mouth,” Sudi grunted. “And you little fuck,” he told Luikens. “Ain’t getting inside no dwarf city. Here or in blasted Lesia! You’re going on that saddle instead and hauled back out of the canyon!”

  “You need to evade the priests,” Rhys rustled with a warning glare at Luikens, who had sneakily started slipping away. The assassin tossed a cylindrical object to Grin, who grabbed it and examined it unsure. “Bag this. He had it on him.”

  “What is this new shit now? An oil container with a hose?” Grin asked, mainly because the upper part of the bronze artifact had a narrow glass neck.

  “I don’t know, but it’s heavy,” Rhys retorted. “Don’t stick yer dick in it!”

  “Lord’s mercy! It’s a Thermolampe!” Luikens explained. “It is rather harmless. Let me handle it for you.”

  “You know…” Rhys cautioned the Alchemist with a smirk. “Many a folk might take yer words a certain way, Dottore.”

  Fuck’s sake!

  “Grin, put the fucking lamp inside the saddlebags!” Sudi barked and turned to Rhys. “Did you search this sneaky prick thoroughly? I saw him turn a woman into a bloody mist and still have nightmares about it!”

  Luikens stood back stunned, then raised an index finger to push the glasses up his nose. “Hmm. I recall the event, but I still don’t remember you, only perhaps vaguely.”

  “Well, I remember you plenty well!” An irate Sudi growled, grinding his teeth and Luikens blinked as if shocked at his outburst.

  “Mister Sudi,” the alchemist protested. “This was done under Sir Reus’ insistence and sanctioned by an Arch-magister. I was forced sir! Not to mention here that the unfortunate event almost turned fatal for myself, if you well remember. That’s right. Surely, thou shall not slot the almost aggrieved, in the same hole as the perpetrators? How is this justice?”

  What?

  “You dishonest piece of shite,” Sudi hissed and went to stab Luikens in the gut, intent on continuing to carve him up until all of the bookish man’s inside organs had emptied out completely, but Rhys stepped between them yet again to stop him. “Rhys, at some point ye need to stop milking the fact you helped me once.”

  “More than once. Here, he had this on him,” Rhys retorted and then tossed Sudi a glass phial filled with some kind of black powder.

  “What is this?” Sudi asked the caught scowling Luikens, who instantly changed his expression to indifference and replied steadily.

  “Black pepper and a mix of other seasonings. Totally safe. Allow me brief demonstration,” Luikens offered.

  “You sneaky knave! I’ll show ye a blasted demonstration. How about I use this cane to break all yer fucking teeth? Um?” Sudi snapped, not taking the bait and having enough of his bullshit. “Have you pick them all up next, to nail them back into yer ruined gums?”

  “Shameful! That would be an act of barbarism, sir!” A petrified Luikens protested, whilst retreating onto to Rhys, who cuffed the bookish man once over the nape, to bring him to an abrupt stop.

  Sudi pursed his mouth, slotted the phial in an outer pocket and then stared away from the black mass of the mountains and the many standing boulders barring their way south. Going to a dwarf city was never an option for him, especially at the Assayer’s suggestion.

  “Can you handle Uher’s lackeys?” Sudi asked Rhys, who shifted on his feet, face unseen in the night’s darkness.

  “You can’t justify the contract, mate. Bad karma,” Rhys finally said.

  “These are not exactly virtuous priests you know,” Sudi argued.

  “Leave Oras out of it,” Rhys suggested. “And you still need to find a way to keep the Alchemist safe or I’m not helping.”

  “Fine,” Sudi grunted and Rhys smacked his lips, then shoved Luikens forward towards Grin, who was still inspecting the Thermolampe.

  “Hold on to him like yer mother’s tit,” the manly assassin cautioned the hesitant Grin with a gravelly rustle and a trailblazer’s beam of his own. All gold fangs and bravado. “And keep an eye on the passed out boy. The rascal is faking it! Now then, us three…” he told Sudi and Saul, “More dashing lads, are going to hit the inquisitors’ camp.”

  -

  Volume III

  -A proper bloodbath-

  There was no camp. Uher’s acolytes were already on the move and had sneaked up very close -less than a five hundred meters- from where Sudi and the others had left their horses in order to approach. But for the steep darkness inside this narrower part of the canyon, one could have seen the Alchemist’s jumbled nearby encampment as well, which was half that distance away to the south.

  “I’ll make some noise,” Rhys rustled taking over the planning part, and at least this time he didn’t holler his intentions so their opponents could listen, but kept his voice low. “Then pop up behind them when they react. By the time they reach to your position, I’ll have cut their numbers in half.”

  Sudi made the count quickly in his head, but Saul was quicker to react.

  “That leaves three against us two,” the scout grunted.

  “You have a bow,” Rhys hissed back a curt retort. “Drop one of them. It’s not that far. Just pick the guy wearing the less armour princess.”

  “Tis too-plaguing dark,” Saul argued crooking his mouth.

  “Aye. For them too. Ha!” A mirthful Rhys smirked, then abruptly bared his teeth in a weird spasm that almost split his face in two and then breathed out ruggedly. The paranoid-looking assassin had raised his closed fist in the meantime. “Now, you two ugly ladies try not to scream with too-much excitement,” Rhys taunted the solemn pair of Saul and Sudi still watching his antics in tensed disbelief. “This might get a tad weird for yer palate.”

  More than it is already? Sudi wondered.

  “This is madness, Socius,” an equally unsure Saul hissed, but Sudi unsheathed his Lorian arming sword, keeping it glued to his right leg and pointing downwards not to gleam their presence away too-soon, then signed for Saul to load up his bow. There was no talking their way out of this part anymore. The priests wouldn’t let them have Luikens and they just couldn’t give him up, since killing the bastard wasn’t an option.

  The most valuable fucking person in this blasted wilderness is a right monster, deserving a painful death and not bloody protection.

  Eh.

  When it is time to fight, you fight. The Northman grimaced recognizing there was no going back now and took a step away from them in order to open up his field of view. Bas Reims’ group had paused in a small opening at the edge of the rockier part of the terrain, probably to orientate themselves in the dark. The moonlight made them appear like shadowy figures with the occasional flash of skin, either face or limb, breaking the monotony.

  Two of the Lorians had swords and various pieces of mail armor, another carried a bow and plain garbs, with the last hefting an army warspear and a shield on his back. The two Inquisitors were the better armed and had the best armour, with Wout Egger carrying that crossbow, which didn’t appear to be useful in a close quarter combat or an ambush.

  Both Issirs had arming swords though. Plus shortswords and even bashing weapons under their long robes.

  This will go down fast, a nervous Sudi thought, letting a breath out and drawing a fresh one, stooped on a knee behind a broken boulder. Either for bad or for fucking good, but fast.

  It most probably won’t go according to plan, as most things of this nature oft tend to do.

  While even good plans failed and the poorly thought-out ones sometimes did work, it was the general consensus in their trade, far as Sudi was aware, the latter more frequently than not just devolved into proper bloodbaths.

  A strong smell of burning incense reached his nostrils and snapped Sudi out of his mini-trance. The culprit, the half-breed assassin going by the name of Rhys Vardran, walked out from their cover, signing for them to reveal themselves also and let out a sharp taunting whistle that startled their opponents.

  “What’s the stone for, girl?” A strangely-numb Rhys rustled under his breath and then dissolved into a petrified, but still standing, ancient dead tree’s shadow.

  “What did he say? Fuck, he’s gone!” Saul grunted, as the voices from their anxious opponents reached them from twenty meters away.

  “Heard that, Tibs? Was that a darn whistle?” Someone grunted and the Lorian archer snapped his head towards their position, where the loud whistle had come from.

  “Those fucking goats… wait! Is there something up front?” Another cursed. “Nemo?”

  “There!” Nemo the archer yelled spotting Saul and Sudi standing numb near the boulder, still waiting for Rhys to ‘pop out of the darkness’ and sneak attack their opponents.

  “Chief…” Saul hissed, casting a side glance his way increasingly worried, after he raised his loaded bow. “What’s the plan here?”

  In case the current plan is scuffed, was Saul’s meaning.

  Queen Regent’s sweet fucking teats! A snarling Sudi thought.

  I’ve no plaguing idea!

  “Where?” Bas Reims growled, trying to locate them as well and flinching nervously, when he did.

  “Get that bloody chopper out,” Sudi hissed and moved to avoid getting shot with an arrow to the face by the alert Nemo, as the Lorian archer had plucked one out of his quiver and loosed it without a second thought. The next moment all six of their yelling opponents rushed towards them.

  Rhys, you stupid fuck!

  You just killed us all!

  -

  

  Rhys Vardran

  -Interlude-

  Shadow Desert’s Plains

  The In-between Realms

  Rhys almost turned an ankle when his foot sank into the glowing ashen road that carved the wilderness, throat burning from the sulfuric fumes inhaled, the moment he stepped through the Shades Portal, already scanning the luminous path formed by the spell, for the blasted exit.

  Rhys! Have you placed them together! Bekare screeched as the shadow-walking assasin stumbled forward into the in-between realms.

  The finger bone and the Alchemist’s Stone, was her meaning.

  Rhys had to dig up an old military grave to find the de-fleshed finger with her nagging to the point of madness assistance, as the old Gish had done a great job at destroying most of the Alafern’s bones or mix them up with others.

  The stone Rhys had pick-pocketed from the beaten up Assayer, when no-one was looking.

  “I’ve done that already! It’s inside my satchel!” Rhys growled, then snapped his jaws shut hearing the howling of Fiends heading for their portal. “We need to move fast!”

  Wait! Bekare yelled in his head. I can feel it!

  “What do you mean wait? Feel what?” Rhys grunted and saw a vapory apparition forming in front of him. He got a straight-bladed dagger out without hesitation and stabbed the still ghostly creature’s chest with it. The dagger clattering on the rough pebbles under their feet, as the illuminated path had moved two meters to the left, and would go further away if they stood idle.

  Their feet, because Bekare had reformed in front of him in all her naked glory, an equally alluring and disturbing visage of ivory skin, and well-shaped undead womanly bits.

  Apparently her body was still in ghostly form.

  “God damn it!” Rhys roared, when the Female Alafern flashed him a pleased vampire smile, her thin incisors longer than his. “Are you serious? What is this malarkey?”

  “The stone’s energy revitalized the bone,” Bekare explained and then reached for his satchel, but paused as her hand was of course still incorporeal. Rhys smirked at the annoyance in her face. “Shit.” The Alafern griped. “We need to turn it to noble metal. Not enough gold stuck on the bone to create a phylactery, Rhys!”

  A bemused Rhys grimaced staring at her, then got another —shorter— throwing-knife out and tried to stab Bekare with it through the ear, while the frustrated female agonized in the attempt to pull stuff out of his satchel, and constantly failing.

  In his turn, Rhys just wanted to make sure her real head wasn’t there per chance.

  Well, it wasn’t… so he failed as well, the knife and his left hand going right through Bekare’s skull and then tearing the edge of Rhys’ leather coat’s sleeve right above the wrist.

  Oras Hells!

  “Fine. Henceforth, ye stay out of my fucking head—” Rhys snarled, saw Bekare’s mouth opening wide in warning and stopped midsentence in order to dive sideways.

  The headless creature shaped like a big dog with six legs and a large mouth where the head and neck should have been bulldozed through Bekare’s ghost, but missed Rhys’ retracting foot for a harlot’s groin hair. The grunting assassin rolled on the ground for three meters, but managed to get both of his longer blades out before coming to a halt. When the creature turned with a roar, using a single nostril -or an ear- hanging under its gapping mouth —shaped like a shifting elongated tube— to locate him, Rhys met its wild charge stepping forward and plunging both blades just behind the huge mouth from both sides.

  “Eat cold steel!” A snarling Rhys bellowed, just before the dead abomination crashed onto him head on. It cut his boastful retort short and turned it into a protracted howling groan of pain, mixed in with plenty of vibrant curses, as both abomination and assassin tumbled together in a pile of many limbs, several meters into the dead wilderness.

  -

  Bekare's hand was inside his forehead, her ghostly nipple poking at his eye.

  “ARGGH!” Rhys came about with an angry groan and tried to shove the Alafern away, but failed. “Hells are you doing?”

  “I tried to get you up!” Bekare screamed behind him, as Rhys had gone through her as he jumped to his feet.

  “By the fucking hair?” He growled and she shrugged her naked shoulders, ghostly tits jingling up down.

  His own mauled chest felt caved in a bit.

  It was more than enough actually. “Gah!” He coughed once, felt bones shifting painfully and decided not to do it again. He instead looked about for his dropped swords. “Fucking hells! What was that thing?”

  There they are.

  This beast smells like a cow’s fart!

  “They are friendly in life,” Bekare defended the creature, getting a wild-eyed glare from him. “A pack of undead Varg usually aren’t though.”

  “Yer point being?” Rhys queried a little confused.

  “They are on their way here?”

  “Fuck…” an alarmed Rhys grunted and looked about them for the glowing road. Nowhere to be seen. “Where’s the god darn road, woman?”

  “Over there,” Bekare pointed about a hundred and fifty meters away. Shite. “Stop stalling. We need to get out and try again, Rhys!”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Rhys growled and started running towards the distant path. “Stay here with yer plaguing friends!” He yelled back, grimacing from severe chest pains with each breath and stride.

  “I’m not leaving you, Rhys!” Bekare yelled, now running in front of him. More gliding through rocks and obstacles that is than actually sprinting. “And you can’t leave me. We are connected, you and I. Can’t you feel it in the blood?”

  “Aye, I do ye crazy cunt. And it’s blasting painful!” The winded Rhys growled and faltered to his knees when they reached the illuminated road, struggling to draw breath. He glanced back and saw the Desolate Desert’s creatures coalescing near the shrinking portal.

  You need to get out of here mate. Seriously, Rhys advised himself. Figure out the injuries later!

  A deformed dead Varg stopped a couple of meters from the ashen road. It stared at the assassin and the naked apparition breathing heavy for a while, before turning its monstrous wolf head to perceive an awkwardly walking creature also coming to a halt half-a-dozen meters away. This creature looked like a werewolf also, but upon closer inspection Rhys realized it was just a tall person hidden inside the cut from neck to groin and hollowed out Varg body. The hairy beast was still conscious somehow and its ghastly appearance elicited a cry of sympathy from the first Varg, who seemed too-scared of the stranger wearing the meat-suit to help its own kin.

  “Fuck it, I’m out of here,” Rhys grunted and stood up on shaky knees.

  “It can’t be,” Bekare gasped hoarsely sounding shocked. The Assassin halted taken aback by the distress in her voice as not much could faze the vampire and twisted about in alarm unsheathing his scimitar. “The Warlock of Doriath O’ Poldorea Nore. You are dead.”

  The recently arrived freak had also halted at the path's edge, where the most grotesque abominations ceased to tread. His otherworldly but handsome face, emerging from the butchered werewolf's still twitching carcass, appeared ghostly in the strange light radiating from the ashes. The darker lips of his sinister mouth parted in reaction to the female Alafern's words, exposing the flawless but beastly teeth of a Zilan. Rhys’ own dental work, an almost exact replica crafted in gold, had set him back a blasted fortune in Rin An-Pur.

  For a moment the shadows and the abominations quieted down as if in anticipation, with only the constant but soft breeze coming from the massive mountain range to the north, whistling all around them.

  “Girl,” Rhys muttered breaking the stalemate, as he was eager to get out of there, but also finding himself a tad unwilling to just abandon Bekare to her fate. Eh, you are a sentimental idiot! He cursed himself furious. Just admit it! “Everything in here is already dead lass, but us,” Rhys continued with a grunt. “Well, you…ahm, sort of.”

  “He’s not a senseless echo,” Bekare insisted. “But fully conscious! You… the Council had you killed!” She roared at the masqueraded abomination, who took a taunting step forward and planted his foot on the ashen road.

  Rhys grimaced and eyed a curious cockatrice that had appeared on the other side of the road, two more six-legged headless ‘dogs’ right next to it, before turning his stare on the first undecided Varg warningly. “Bekare,” he next said hoarsely, trying to get the female Alafern to snap out of her spell. “This place got you all confused girl. I get it, you have issues, but we need to leave now.”

  “The Raza Sapthan survived,” Bekare hissed and made to move against the smirking freak, forgetting she couldn’t really harm anyone in her condition, but this Raza dude stopped her just the same raising his left hand in a commanding manner, a wave of recognition flashing in his washed-out green and glowing eyes.

  “Fledgling Vinya Losse,” he told her in a condescending manner, and speaking in the much older Zilan tongue. The same archaic accent Aelrindel used from time to time. Only the witch made them words sound much less ominous, bless her heart! Rhys thought with a worrying glance at the shimmering portal that appeared just about to close shut on them.

  “Will you run again, I wonder?” Raza rustled, and Bekare stood back with a blink, seemingly out of her daze. Rhys exhaled in relief and turned to leap out of the Shadow Realms, trusting the ghost to come with him –or not, but the glowing portal lost its form –turned transparent, and then quickly faded away before his astonished eyes. When it vanished, it took the illuminated path of packed ashes with it creating a fresh problem from the usually rich in answers and elegant in retorts assassin leader.

  Ugh? The befuddled Rhys mentally gasped, feeling empty all of a sudden.

  “Oops,” the freak grinned. “You guys took a wrong turn, it seems. Even so, thou should not cower in shame, for it's easy to confuse one path for another in this realm.”

  Vengeful damnation! Rhys cursed, clenching his jaw in impotent rage. The assassin realized he had a mountain of unfinished business still to attend to, but then again, no one who was told they had just died ever had all their affairs in order. So, there’s that. “Mister,” Rhys grunted, extremely pissed off and in too-much pain to be intimidated about weird meat costumes and fancy archaic accents. “You asked for pain and pain ye shall receive!”

  The unflustered freak raised his arm again and pointed at the shifting abominations all about them. As if to remind the boastful assassin that he would have to fight everything else also.

  Not that Rhys cared.

  “Stay away from him, Rhys!” Bekare yelled a warning and half-leaped half-glided his way, reached him in an instant, and then melted inside the grimacing assassin’s body, making Rhys’ skin tingle all over in a weird manner.

  I can get us out. Bekare assured him. It’s just a mind trick. The door is right there still, she added.

  Right.

  “Come on hu-man!” Raza bellowed a drawn-out taunt, tipping his head back and almost discarding the torn in half werewolf from his shoulders. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Floor nail in the blasted gonads!” The still rattled by the sudden invasion Rhys, muttered stumbling back.

  Where? He asked the female and Bekare replied nonchalantly.

  Dear Rhys, I’m an Alafern. We’ve got a foot inside and the other outside the Desert of Souls!

  Pinch me, for I don’t give a crap! How? Rhys asked again, not feeling adequately educated on the matter.

  I don’t believe you! Listen, the door to this place is very near to where I grew up. These shadows, illusions and creatures were my childhood playground!

  It wasn’t the time nor the place to further argue the matter with her.

  Well, it’s no fucking wonder ye turned out how ye did! Rhys commented wryly to get the last word in, just as the portal reappeared again, much to the snarling freak’s chagrin.

  -

  ‘Sudi Lotus’

  Ten minutes later

  Saul had loosed his arrow only to miss badly, and Nemo had gone for him at the last moment, which was a good thing, but had immediately nailed the Nord scout at the left collarbone when the latter dropped his bow to go for the chopper, which wasn’t.

  Motherfucking lucky shots, can win the most improbable scraps sometimes.

  Most times of course, they just didn’t.

  Eh.

  Saul twirled with a pained howl and disappeared from Sudi’s peripheral vision the next moment, so he had to charge the archer absent another alternative, afore the Luthos-loving knave could reload and fire at them again.

  The snarling Sudi sprinted over rocks and rough terrain, didn’t turn an ankle in the dark, but his hack upon reaching the reloading Nemo was off by some inches and chopped off three of the archer’s right hand fingers instead of the arm itself.

  Fuck you Luthos!

  Lacking a loftier plan of action —given that he had to deal with six adversaries— Sudi had planted a shoulder on the howling Nemo’s chin to shove him out of the way and into Tibs path, which was successful, but felt Bas’ sword screaming near his right ear and ducked for the semi-dark ground letting out a disturbing yelp of anger.

  And plenty of panic.

  Which of course put him at a disadvantage.

  A game of fucking dice!

  “GAAH!” Both Tibs and Nemo screamed, as the already maimed latter had pushed the former’s blade in Tibs face opening a sick gash next to the stunned Tibs nose that bled profoundly.

  Sudi rolled on the ground, banging his shoulder on a sharp rock and got up into the third Lorian’s path, the second man carrying a sword. The local Lorian hired thug, went to slash at the half-breed, but Sudi stabbed his opponent’s forearm with the long dagger clean through, then swung with the sword held in the other hand for the Lorian hefting the warspear.

  The man panicked and turned away from the wild slash instead of using the spear to block, probably because he saw it coming too-late, and Sudi’s blade clanged on the shield the Lorian carried on his back. Sudi cursed the Lorian’s extended family, getting plenty of vitriol out -sparing no one, until the flushed man, stumbled from the blow whilst turning around spectacularly and crashed on the half-breed with his head.

  “Argh!” Sudi growled, feeling a forehead smack his sternum and almost bit off his own tongue. The next moment all three adversaries went down, and the vehement bout turned into a blind half-melee, half-wrestling match in the semi-darkness.

  Sudi connected with a right elbow, got kneed or punched in the gonads repeatedly, and both spat and got spat on by foul-breathed men, whilst they rolled on the ground yelling curses at each other and screaming in agonizing pain.

  He managed to cut something with the barely moving sword underneath an armpit, felt warm blood and smelled it, but it could also have been piss, as whilst he attempted to extricate himself from the pile of moving limbs, a savage blow cracked his nose.

  So Sudi couldn’t smell shit for a while.

  “Gah,” he coughed, grabbing a boot and turning it until the ankle broke inside and his hurt opponent tried to snake away on his back like an upturned crab, crying for his mother. Sudi stabbed him between the kicking legs to shut him up and shoved the blade deeper savagely, fresh blood and watery feces spraying out the guttered and gurgling man.

  “Oh, I’m done!” He cried hoarsely and Sudi left the sword in him, twisted over his own hurt shoulder, and stopped on a knee, in order to reach for the cane he had on his back. The pommel clicked and the blade popped out the wooden scabbard, but the Lorian with the warspear was already up to his right, and the snarling manically Sudi had to flinch sideways, feeling the longer weapon’s pointy end plunging in him and stopping on a rib.

  Lost the blade as it had slipped out the cane/scabbard and was left holding just the meter-long wooden case.

  “Queen’s… huge… melons!” An injured Sudi growled angry with his scowling opponent and rotten luck. The man tried to shove more of the spear in Sudi’s innards in retaliation, with the half-breed turning away from the nasty weapon, not to let him do more damage.

  “Cursed fiend’s uncouth bastard!” The unknown Lorian roared –thinking he was of better stock than Sudi, and stood up to put both his arms to good use. Only he couldn’t get any purchase, as he was also badly bleeding under the right armpit.

  Ha! You nailed the right man at least! Sudi found a glimmer of hope and tried to get up himself, a hand on the slippery with his blood spear shaft, and the other holding the cane’s long and thin, also empty scabbard.

  Beggars and half-breeds can’t be choosers!

  “Almost had me there, ye piece of shite! Which plaguing Queen?” The Lorian asked, hefting the stuck in Sudi spear better with one hand, and the half-breed gathered as much spit and blood as he could, then spat it all in the man’s face instead of a reply.

  “Mister Garo!” Bas yelled from somewhere behind him. “Stop fooling around and finish this godless apostate off! We are going for Luikens, I can see their camp.”

  Garo wiped the splatter from his face with the hurt hand and then punched the spear into Sudi, the blade breaking that rib and exploding out of the other way.

  Oi. It is pretty bad, and the mission had gone to shit fer sure, Sudi thought, trying to see matters with a calm head given the circumstances. But Garo had brought himself closer to the snarling half-breed and with one hand on the blasted spear, the other half-useless, Garo didn’t exactly have a way to stop Sudi’s plunging and rather sharp sword case.

  Sudi aimed for the Lorian’s shit-grinning sweaty face and spared nothing in the stab.

  And this time, the man with the wooden stick –in a certain poetic sense- won.

  “Eh,” Sudi groaned, blood in his mouth, sometime later. His face covered in gore as well and feeling the broken piece of shaft moving near his spleen. Could have been a broken rib, but you don’t want to think about such details upon coming about.

  He cracked his eyes open, nose touching his upper lip and still bleeding in his mouth and stared at a horse’s large head, munching on dried grass. The horse’s mouth moved, teeth grinding and froth-lathered lips opening to show the gums.

  “Are you alive, Mister?”

  UH?

  Ayup. Fucking gone to hell, a dazed Sudi thought confused. Just tossed there without hesitation ye bastards, like a piece of trash, he cursed the gods. Sudi was never much of a believer, but also wasn’t outright blasphemous, and at that very moment the hurt half-breed felt betrayed.

  “You should get that broken spear out,” the horse insisted in its rather fine and much cultured voice. Very fitting. “Uher spared you. What happened here?”

  Wait a minute. Do horses believe in Uher?

  Sudi’s blackened eyes stared past the munching horse’s head to its rider. The Issir man stood straight on the saddle, wearing thick old robes, but a knight’s heavy gauntlets. The guy from Corona Vallaris, Sudi realized and coughed a good amount of bloody phlegm out.

  Vex had always been good with faces.

  Who the fuck is he? A wandering hedge knight?

  “These men… are criminals,” Sudi rustled with difficulty.

  “You are probably correct. But these bawdy men were hired by the Inquisitors,” the unknown mounted Issir said. “Right after you departed the Inn. I found it peculiar and followed after them.”

  “You need… to stop them,” Sudi groaned and clenched his jaw, trying not to faint and give that fool Grin a chance. Rhys, you son of a bald goat! “For the good of the realm… and all that’s holy, good knight.”

  “Do you know, what Luikens did?” The man asked, a strange expression on his otherwise noble and covered in a well-maintained white beard face.

  Who are you? Sudi wondered as the man’s deep knowledge of such matters shocked him.

  “The Church was behind most of it… They can’t have him… Sometimes… the most valuable man is a monster… but he’s all you got to survive…” the half-breed muttered channeling the biggest influence he had in his life, a man much misunderstood even reviled for good reason, named Lord Stormire Nattas, and the unknown knight stooped forward curious to listen to his words. “And other times… a good man is forced to do horrible things… for the greater good.”

  The Issir stood back on the saddle thoughtfully. His eyes wandered towards the massive mountain sides casting their black shadows over the end of the canyon –the direction Luikens camp was, then breathed out appearing worried, and cast another glance to the north –the direction he’d come from.

  “I happened to be tethered to a task for life by my own volition,” the unknown Issir had told him. “But a true knight can’t shy away from a true plea for assistance properly reasoned, even if it’s inconvenient for him. Instead of asking me to save yourself, you are concerned with nobler matters. Pray to Uher for your soul half-breed and I’ll see to resolve these matters for you.”

  I’ll be damned, the stunned Sudi thought, as he didn’t really expect to convince him with a serving of Nattas’ patriotic bullshit. Then again, Storm had convinced Sudi aplenty and that must have given the half-breed a proper warning on the credibility of the former Baron’s words.

  And their sheer potency.