The Long War 03 - The Red Prince (26 page)

He spoke to the Fire Giant often, needing the fear of Jaa to drive him on, to keep his mind sharp and his hand swift. Unfortunately, as he looked over his kris blades to the armoured Ro guardsman in front of him, Dalian Thief Taker, greatest of the wind claws, wished only to be able to take off his boots and warm his sore feet by a roaring fire.

The Ro lunged forward. It was a restrained attack and he kept his longsword close to his body and his elbows tucked in, not allowing Dalian an opening to counter-attack. He was forced to back away to avoid the blade and found himself against a rickety wooden wall.

‘Getting tired, grandpa?’ The man’s smile was filled with brown teeth and manic, staring eyes. ‘Heard you were dangerous. I ain’t impressed so far.’

Dalian leant against the wall and feigned fatigue, panting heavily and forcing himself to wheeze. He let his two kris knives drop slightly, opening up his guard, but keeping his arms taut for a quick strike. When the guardsman – young, arrogant and expecting a swift victory – moved to strike, Dalian darted to his left and opened the man’s neck. Then he turned and drove his second blade into his ribs. Panting, the Thief Taker allowed the body to fall away from him and clatter against the wall.

‘I think I should be allowed a glass of wine and a few hours sleep after I kill a man,’ grumbled the tired wind claw as he bent over and surveyed the three dead bodies.

‘If only we all had the gifts of Rham Jas Rami.’ Dalian hoped that Jaa would hear him and assist him with some phenomenal new abilities, though he knew this was unlikely.

Exhaling deeply, he pulled himself upright and strolled out of the alley, making sure to stay away from the main streets. The sun was high above Ro Weir and the day was becoming hot and sticky. The main street, leading down towards the Kirin Ridge, was rippling in the heat – a visual distortion that made Dalian shield his eyes from the glare. He had little time. After weeks of spying on the comings and goings of Saara’s minions, he had identified a Black cleric, Elihas of Du Ban, as her chief lieutenant. Dalian had followed the turncoat churchman for the last few days, staying in the shadows and witnessing Saara’s new power base.

The Mistress of Pain had hundreds of followers, some from among the Karesian merchant princes and mobsters, and some from the noblest families of Weir. All served her willingly, under the illusion that their continued wealth and prosperity depended on submission to the Dead God. She offered base pleasures and Dalian hated how easily her seductive preaching had spread. He had expected it from the idiot Ro, but to see the faithful of Jaa so easily swayed was distressing for the old wind claw.

‘For what it is worth,’ said Dalian, addressing the Fire Giant, ‘I am, as ever, your devoted servant. I will fear nothing but you.’

He caught his breath and started to walk off the bumps and bruises he’d collected from repeated combat. He had not had leisure to seek healing or to take any rest, and the Thief Taker was functioning on anger and devotion rather than energy. He needed to lean against a wall and take a few sharp intakes of breath before hastening down the street towards the small Black chapel. He knew that Saara had retreated to the catacombs a week ago – probably in consequence of Rham Jas having killed another of her sisters – but now the Thief Taker was faced with the challenge of locating the witch.

Dalian stayed off the main street, weaving between alleyways and sun-dappled yards. Ro Weir was always a hot city, but to a Karesian, used to the burning humidity of the south, it was rather pleasant. It was early morning and easy enough to stay hidden as the lethargic men of Ro did not rise early from their beds. Again the Thief Taker wondered how such a pathetic bunch of men had risen to such prominence.

‘You look tired, Karesian man.’

Dalian looked up and saw the smiling face of Tyr Nanon. The strange forest-dweller was perched on a wall in the shadow of a large tree with a small sack tied across his back.

‘Good morning, grey-skin,’ he replied. ‘Have you just arrived or did you watch me nearly get killed a minute ago?’

‘You were better than him, I knew you’d win,’ said Nanon, confirming that he’d witnessed the encounter.

‘Better maybe, but I’m also older... and much more tired.’

Nanon smiled again and hopped down to stand next to Dalian in the quiet side street. They were about the same height, but the forest-dweller was thin and had an otherworldly glint in his dark eyes. He still carried a longsword and wore Ro clothing of common design. With his hood up, the Dokkalfar looked no different from a hundred other wanderers and brigands in the city of Weir.

He peered at the Thief Taker, inspecting his face, before his mouth curved into a frown. ‘You do look tired. And... older than when I last saw you.’

‘I’ve not been sleeping much,’ replied Dalian, taking the opportunity to pause, leaning against a garden wall three streets from the main road. ‘I was careless and let my face be seen by a wind claw. The enchantress has everyone she can spare out looking for me. Weir is a big city, but I can’t stay hidden forever.’

‘Indeed,’ replied the Dokkalfar. ‘I’ve seen a few gangs of mercenaries wandering around this morning. Watchmen, too. They have a Wanted poster. I don’t think they captured your stare.’

Dalian coughed and slumped down the wall to sit in the dusty side street. His feet hurt, his back was sore and his arms were stiff. If he had to fight a bunch of swordsmen every time he turned a corner, the Thief Taker doubted he’d make it to the Black chapel. He glanced up at the sky and guessed that Elihas of Du Ban would be leaving his austere quarters within the hour.

‘Well, I can spare a few minutes’ rest,’ he wheezed.

Nanon joined him, sitting on the ground and looking up at the sky. ‘Killing yourself won’t please Jaa,’ he said. ‘The Fire Giant likes living people.’

Dalian snorted with amusement. ‘If I was less tired, I’d hurt you for being disrespectful.’

The forest-dweller tilted his head ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve been a respectful admirer of your god for many years, Karesian man. The Dokkalfar and Jaa are old friends.’

‘So you say,’ he replied. ‘How fares your forest?’

‘Poorly. We are holding them, but... the iron of my people begins to fade.’

‘All things eventually turn to sand, knife-ears,’ said Dalian.

A clatter of metal sounded from nearby and they both looked up sharply to see four men strolling into the side street. They were Ro guardsmen, city officials of some kind, and though they were armed and armoured none of them looked ready for a fight. Dalian guessed they were on a random patrol and had struck lucky.

‘Back to work,’ muttered the Thief Taker, beginning the process of pulling himself back on to his feet.

The guardsmen were startled for a moment at coming face to face with the notorious wind claw, but quickly drew their swords and stood at the ready.

‘You’re to come with us, old man,’ barked one of the men.

‘Fuck off,’ muttered Dalian, not having the energy to argue.

Nanon chuckled. ‘That’s what Rham Jas would say.’ The forest-dweller sprang quickly to his feet and stepped into the middle of the side street. ‘My friend Dalian is a little tired currently, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be killing you,’ he said, sounding sympathetic towards the guardsmen. ‘Though I suppose you could run away.’

Dalian managed to get to his feet. ‘They can’t run away. They need to die,’ he offered, drawing his kris knives.

‘Oh, sorry, apparently you need to die,’ said Nanon. A moment later he had his longsword drawn and a broad smile on his grey features.

The Ro hadn’t registered that their opponent wasn’t human and Dalian realized how skilled Nanon was at blending in. His height and the cloak he usually wore, along with a habit of staying in the shadows, made him appear no more than a grey-skinned man.

The leading Ro lunged first, extending his sword arm well away from his body, aiming at Nanon’s stomach. The Dokkalfar parried swiftly and offered a skilful riposte, shifting position and driving his own blade through the watchman’s chest. It was a smooth motion and the blade emerged through the man’s back, making blood spray from his mouth. Nanon then raised a leg and kicked out, sending the dead body to the floor.

‘Next,’ he said.

‘Just kill them, Nanon,’ snapped Dalian, worried that the men would get away.

‘All right, don’t get annoyed,’ replied the forest-dweller, advancing on the three remaining Ro.

Luckily, none of them seemed about to run. The next attack came quickly. A high strike launched at Nanon’s head. He sidestepped the blow and sliced open the Ro’s stomach, advancing again to meet an incoming lunge. The Dokkalfar twirled with inhuman skill and slapped away the blade, disarming the man and cleaving in his head with a downward swing. The last Ro stood in awe for a moment, before raising his sword and attempting to stop the forest-dweller. Nanon simply directed a feint at the man’s side and spun round, then decapitated the guardsman with a graceful swing of his longsword.

‘See, they’re dead. There was no reason to get annoyed.’ He moved over to Dalian and helped him upright.

The Thief Taker shook his head, but laughed at the Dokkalfar’s manner.

‘I hesitate to say this, but thank you,’ muttered Dalian, reluctantly conceding that he probably couldn’t have bested the four men of Ro in his current condition.

‘You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends, remember.’

Another snort of amusement and Dalian replied, ‘Yes, I suppose we are, grey-skin.’

Nanon helped Dalian out of the street and in moments they were skulking through a multi-levelled garden, well away from the main street of Weir. He could hear raised voices behind them, muffled by intervening buildings, but unmistakably the sounds of men discovering the guardsmen they had recently killed.

‘We should hurry up and find somewhere to skulk,’ Dalian muttered, brushing away Nanon’s help and standing more easily on his own.

‘I think I’m quite good at skulking. If that means being quiet and stealthy,’ replied the forest-dweller.

‘Precisely,’ confirmed Dalian, pointing to a wide street that led away from the central road.

Their pace quickened. Within a minute they were bounding across the garden and down wide steps. Dalian’s boots struck cobbles and they turned sharply away from the port side of Ro Weir. A few locals – men of Ro up and about their business at an early hour – were startled by the two running figures, but the blood on their clothing and weapons at their sides made the common folk turn away and pretend they hadn’t seen anything. There were no sounds of pursuit and the Thief Taker slowed down, preserving his energy and looking for a place to stop.

The street climbed ahead of them at a steep incline and was flanked by low stone buildings, windowless and in bad repair. They were far from the port here, the populace were mostly destitute and, it appeared, largely foreign. Kirin and Karesian faces regarded them as they stopped running, but no one looked too closely or with any suspicion.

‘Now we skulk,’ Dalian said, wrapping his cloak around the two sheathed kris knives in his belt.

Nanon ducked into a narrow alley beside a crumbling and empty stable. He made sure no one saw him and then drew his sword and began to clean the blood from the blade. ‘We should probably skulk over here. Out of the way.’

Dalian joined him and took up a watchful position just inside the alley, though his breath was coming fast and his limbs ached. A few minutes of running, it would seem, was too much now for the greatest of the wind claws.

‘Relax,’ offered Nanon, sitting down on a barrel well away from prying eyes. ‘You work better when you’re in control.’

‘And how would you know that, risen man?’ The response was barbed and tinged with irritation.

Nanon chuckled. ‘A minute ago I was your friend and now I’m a risen man. That kind of attitude shift is the sign of a man not in control.’

Dalian glared at the forest-dweller – a dark-eyed stare that had made men cry in the past. However, his companion’s reaction was one of laughter. It seemed Nanon was both difficult to kill and difficult to scare.

‘We have half an hour until my quarry leaves his chamber,’ said Dalian through gritted teeth.

‘And who are we following?’

‘A Black cleric, he’s the Mistress of Pain’s creature and he should lead us to the witch herself.’

‘She’s gone to ground?’ Nanon had only recently arrived in Weir and was not abreast of the situation.

‘I suspect that the Kirin executed another of her sisters,’ replied the Thief Taker, smirking at the thought of Saara in distress. ‘Their deaths seem to affect her. All I know is she’s somewhere in the catacombs. I need the cleric to lead me to her if I’m to help Rham Jas do his work.’

Nanon finished cleaning his sword and stood up, stepping close to Dalian and inspecting his face. ‘You need to rest, Karesian man.’

‘While I can walk, I serve Jaa. I don’t need rest, food, sleep or any help from you. I fear nothing but Jaa.’

‘That’s admirable, but you are a man of flesh and blood. Flesh and blood needs rest... and all that other stuff you mentioned.’

He puffed out his cheeks and looked around for somewhere to sit. Seeing only dirty barrels and refuse, Dalian decided to lean against the wall.

‘I am tired, grey-skin. I’m tired of fighting and killing. I want a beach, several glasses of wine and a woman to massage my feet. Unfortunately, none of this can happen until my people are freed from the Seven Sisters, who have made the worship of my god illegal.’ He almost shouted the last few words, but maintained sufficient control to realize that stealth was still important.

The forest-dweller paused before responding. He tilted his head and searched for something in Dalian’s face. His eyes had no pupils and resembled deep wells of multilayered black.

‘I like you, Karesian man. I hope you survive this and get to your beach and your wine.’

‘I intend to,’ he replied. ‘But first I need to follow Elihas of Du Ban.’

Nanon smiled suddenly – a toothy grimace that would have been comical if it had come from a less dangerous creature. ‘So, let’s get moving,’ he said.