Chains of a Dark Goddess (24 page)

“Thank you for the information.” Breskaro handed him three Issalian gold coins then whistled.

The barkeep weighed them in his hand with astonishment. 

The rest of the Knights of the Dark, Esha, and Amrasi entered the bar.

“I get the sense that it’s time for me to move on.”

“You should use that money to buy your way out of the city,” Breskaro told him, “and into some place better. The Issalians will be here in weeks rather than months. Much blood will be spilled even before then.”

The man nodded and called out that the bar was closed. The three men hustled out as soon as the Rrakans cleared the doorway. The barmaid strolled back in and dropped a tray in astonishment, seeing all the rough, armed men who had entered.

“Don’t worry about them, babe,” the barkeep told her.

He grabbed her by the ass, bent her back, and planted a big kiss on her lips. She was too stunned to kiss back. He flashed the gold coins and said, “Marry me.”

“What about your wife?”

“The shrew can have the bar and that spoiled little brat that I know ain’t mine. Do you like Eprosian wine? We could set up a bar there.”

“Is it enough gold?”

“I’ve got three more of these I’ve saved up.”

“Best to leave now, anyway,” Larekal said to her.

She smiled stupidly and kissed the barkeep. “Let’s go, then!” They ran off to pack their things.

“That was generous,” Perolo commented.

“He doesn’t recognize me now,” Breskaro replied, “but he saved my life last time I was here. I’ve paid my debt.” 

Breskaro led them to a back room and opened a secret panel that led to another room. There he triggered a hidden switch and lifted a floorboard that led to a passage of stairs. Breskaro warily moved down the stairway. At the bottom landing lay a guard in a puddle of blood. The door beyond was shut.

Breskaro cast the
spell of detecting presences
and discovered seven men ahead with mindsets of violence. 

“Brace yourselves,” he said to Esha and the Rrakans. “Harmulkot, come forth.”

The ghost of the goddess billowed like smoke from the qavra. Seeing her glowing eyes and ghostly visage, several of the Rrakans gasped in surprise. Nearly all of them stepped back. Breskaro eyed Esha who showed no response but to purse her lips and narrow her eyes. Breskaro wasn’t sure why he trusted this girl. Something about her was wrong.

“Scout, please,” Breskaro told the goddess.

“I do not appreciate your commanding tone,” Harmulkot replied.

She drifted into the wall, was gone a minute, then reappeared.

“Fifteen men are dead within. Judging by what I heard within, they’re not of the faction you wish to ally with. They spoke of taking out the Darkheart’s son.”

“We’re going in,” Breskaro said. “I want at least one alive for questioning.” He pointed toward the bar. “Esha, Chentius, Perolo. Go upstairs and watch our backs.”

Harmulkot faded back into the qavra. Breskaro drew his sword, nodded to his knights and Amrasi, then charged into the room.

The first man never turned around in time. Breskaro’s sword hacked deep into his neck, nearly striking the head from his shoulders. Breskaro disemboweled a second one before the Rrakans rushed past him. They made quick work of the unprepared assassins. 

Breskaro caught a man for interrogation. Amrasi pinned the man to the brick wall. Breskaro used the
spell of compelling obedience
.

“When did the Lord Darkheart die?”

“Three years ago.”

“Where’s Whum? Does he lead the guild now?”

“He’s been trying to consolidate his power. There’s a war on. Three factions, but he took one out last week.”

Breskaro pressed his sword against the assassin’s throat. “Which faction are you in?”

“I’m a follower of Yurisi. He’s the rival Darkheart leader. The old Darkheart’s third man.”

Through his unlikely friend Whum, Breskaro had met the Lord Darkheart and some of the operatives.

“Where is Yurisi?”

“They just went after Whum. Set a trap with the pretense of a truce.”

“Whum wouldn’t buy it.”

“Doesn’t matter. He has to go to save face. Thinks he’s got the edge in numbers, but Yurisi’s got support from the Council. Some guardsmen will be there. Whum won’t stand a chance.”

“The Council? Why?”

“Some on the Council want to surrender the city to the Issalians.”

“Where are they meeting?”

“Warehouse on the corner of Jiggle Street and the Divine Way.”

“When?”

“Now. It’s going down now. We came to take out the men he’d left behind here. Wanted to take them all out.”

Breskaro stabbed the man through the throat. He fell gurgling blood. 

Whum had caused the old Breskaro much heartache. How could he be friends with an infidel? With a sinner and worshiper of Harmulkot? And a thief and assassin at that. And yet friends they had been after Whum saved his life and helped him on a quest. Penances, prayers, guilt, all because of a
friend
. Now to Breskaro it seemed pointless and stupid. The value of a friend should have been more important than any of the Church’s teachings.

“Amrasi, go get the Valiants. Quickly.” He explained to the undead warrior how to get to Jiggle Street and Amrasi took off running.

~~~

Breskaro, Esha and the Rrakans tore through the city until they reached Jiggle Street. Breskaro took one step out of the alley they’d come down then darted back. 

“Esha, step out and look down the street. Tell me what you see. But act casual. Be a street urchin.”

Esha nodded and strolled out across the street and slumped down against a wall. After a minute, she glanced down the street. She buried her head between her knees for another minute. Then she returned to alley, moving with disinterest.

“Good job,” Breskaro told her. “What’d you see? How many of them?”

“Fifty or so men wearing city guard uniforms. About a dozen rough-looking men were leading them.”

“We’re too late to warn them,” Breskaro said. “The numbers inside will be even. That’s how they do these meetings. They’ll be outnumbered by at least fifty.”

“Doesn’t look good, master,” said Larekal. “Is it worth it?”

Breskaro brooded for a moment. “Yes,” he said at last. “We have to eliminate the ones who want to let the Issalians in. Whum owes me a debt and his underworld contacts are important. Plus, this will give us a chance to get rid of all the cowards on the Council.”

“So what do we do? We can’t offset fifty men.”

“See the alley nearest the warehouse? Go there now. As soon as those guardsmen burst into the building, I want all of you to open fire with your crossbows. Attack, but keep your distance. Don’t engage them. Wait for Amrasi to arrive.”

“You think he’ll get here in time?”

“No. But what choice do we have?”

“Where will you be?”

“I’m going to enter from the rear of the building and see if I can get Whum and his men out of there. Esha, you’re coming with me. I want you to cover my back.”

Chapter 33

Men shouted beyond the wall. Blades were drawn. 

Esha took position on top of a crate and kept watch on this little used backstreet. Breskaro tested the door at the back of the warehouse. It was chained shut. Elbows bent, he held his hands in front of him and chanted the
spell of the maddened ram
. 

A creature composed of energy and in the shape of a savage-looking ram appeared just beyond his hands. Breskaro extended his elbows and thrust his hands forward. The creature charged ahead, lowered its horns, and shattered the door and a large section of wall surrounding it. The chains tore free. The creature disappeared in the ensuing cloud of dust and debris.

Breskaro stepped through into a warehouse in which two sides
had
been facing-off, weapons drawn. Breskaro spotted Whum in his dark crimson armor and night-blue cloak. He and his men were on the other side of the warehouse. Positioned by Yurisi so they’d be stuck in a vise when the guardsmen arrived.

Two dozen astonished eyes were locked onto Breskaro.

“Yurisi?” Breskaro asked, staring at a man with a powerful frame and a large gut, who had a battle-axe in one hand and a smaller hand-axe in the other.

“What — What of it?” the man asked fearfully.

“Just didn’t want to kill the wrong man.”

Breskaro unleashed the
spell of Torment’s flames
, targeting Yurisi and the three men closest to him. The three thugs fell to their knees, dropped their weapons, and grasped at their chests as the spiritual fire tore through their insides. In a moment, they were dead. Yurisi staggered then shook it off, with a painful grimace. His willpower was strong enough to resist it.

“Get that man!” Yurisi yelled, though motes of fear danced in his eyes.

Breskaro drew his sword and yelled. “Whum! It’s a trap! There are guardsmen outside who’re allied with Yurisi! Fight your way to me and let’s get out of here.”

Breskaro broke into a full run and lunged forward. 

Yurisi deflected the sword-stroke with his battle-axe and chopped with his smaller hand-axe. Breskaro twisted away from the strike and then sliced an ear from Yurisi’s head.

Whum didn’t care who it was that had warned him. He and his men went into action immediately. Still stunned by the attack, Yurisi’s men lurched into action slowly. 

Breskaro drove Yurisi back. The man snarled and raised his axe for a renewed attack, but then a sword jabbed out through his chest and he fell.

Whum drew his sword free and glanced quickly into Breskaro’s eyes before Breskaro surged forward and struck down one of Yurisi’s men. Whum’s Darkhearts won through to the other side right as the city guardsmen poured into the entrance.

The opening Breskaro had punched through the wall was the width of three men. Out through this Whum’s men poured, while Breskaro and Whum held back the assassins. 

“Shouldn’t we go?” Whum asked.

“And let them escape?” Breskaro replied. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re a madman if you think we can beat them.”

The guardsmen charged into the warehouse, though a few staggered in, having crossbow bolts sticking out from them.

“Who’s attacking them?” Whum asked.

“I have a few men on the outside with crossbows,” said Breskaro as he stabbed a rebel Darkheart in the chest.

Standing beside him in the hole in the wall, Whum deflected a sword slash. “I know your voice.”

“As you should, old friend. I have risen from the dead.”

Whum glanced into those sickly viridian eyes, looked to the qavra that dangled from Breskaro’s neck, scanned the funeral mask, and went back to parrying sword strikes and countering. 

“Breskaro?”

“Yes.”

“Can you prove it?” he asked Breskaro.

“You saved my life years ago while I was on a quest and you were on a mission to assassinate a merchant in Takaraka. I later returned the favor. After that you adventured with me and my squire Kedimius several times. We were companions then.”

“Any demon could know that,” said Whum. “Though I don’t mind the aid of demon right now.”

“We were on the Mountain of Pain with Kedimius. He vowed he would always protect my daughter, Orisala. And I told you, and you alone, of my greatest sin and you laughed at me for an hour and mocked me for days.”

“
Breskaro
!” Whum skewered a man through the eye. “How have you managed to come back? Shouldn’t you be in Paradise?”

“I should be.”

“How many men do you have back there?”

“Twelve.”

“Not enough. We can’t hold this doorway forever. We’ll tire out eventually.”

Breskaro’s blade clove through a guardsman’s skull. “I have more men coming to my aid. We must only hold out for them. And I don’t tire easily.”

“Well, you are a lot faster and stronger than I remember. Frankly, that’s scary.”

“Undead strength and magic.”

The guards stopped rushing them and peeled back. Five crossbow bolts zipped toward them. Breskaro stepped in front of Whum and was struck twice, one bolt in his shoulder and one in his left leg. A third bolt went by him and grazed Whum across his cheek. 

“Are you
mad
? We’ve gotta pull back.” Whum grabbed Breskaro and drug him backward before another volley of crossbow bolts found him.

Breskaro pulled the bolts free. “No, I am unharmed.”

Whum shook his head. “I don’t know—”

“Master Whum!” cried one of the thieves. “Soldiers!”

A dozen riders were tearing down the alleyway in dark cloaks and tattered armor. Breskaro had thought that bringing in all eighty at once would draw too much attention.

“Run!” Whum cried, but Breskaro stopped him. 

“Wait! These are my men.”

A volley of bolts fired through the empty doorway.