The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (5 page)

"Ah," she replied
. "We have no one exactly like that in Vorhame, but there are Seithar who learn magic with runes and carvings, and who deal with the spirits. There are also a few people born with a little magic in their blood."

Talaos thought about that
. "I've seen and heard of people like that. I've never seen anything impressive, or that I was sure couldn't have been done with some sort of trick."

"My father fought a warrior who
se cuts would heal as you watched," replied Katara. "He was not a skilled warrior though, and did not heal when my father put an axe in his head."

"He's starting," said Sorya, who'd kept her focus on the plaza below.

Talaos and Katara turned.

Veratus
made complex motions with his left hand, while holding his staff  in his right. He swept his staff rightward around the silver circle. Light seemed to flow from the lamps in the circle, each a different color, and up and around his staff.

Katara made a low
, questioning sound like a hum or grunt. Talaos sipped his wine.

The magus down below raised his staff high, and the colors of light radiated upward from it. He moved both of his hands in intricate ways, almost like a painter
composing his work, and the colors overhead formed shapes. Rough at first, they coalesced into the forms of nine heroes in ancient armor of a kind seen today only on the obelisk itself. They stood tall, far over the head of the magus, in brilliant colors.

Then another shape emerged,
tall, black, shadowed, and ominous.

"Looks like you," said Sorya
to Talaos.

In reply,
he gave her a firm swat on the bottom. She made a little gasp, and pressed closer to him.

The black shape solidified into a
spectral, kingly warrior with a tall black crown of ebon spikes and a vast billowing cloak. Under the crown, its eyes flamed red. It towered over the heroes. The enemy raised a shadowy spear, twisting and flickering like a snake. Talaos wondered whether the actual enemy four millennia ago, if there was one, had been so obviously sinister.

"Yes, definitely you," said Sorya, "though you keep your spear somewhere else..."

With that, she reached a hand back to his crotch and tried to play. He casually, but firmly, grabbed her wrist, and put her hand back on the railing.

"Time soon enough after the show," he whispered in her ear, giving it a nip for emphasis.

The nine heroes shone with radiant gold and brilliant colors as they advanced fearlessly against the shadowed enemy. Then a spectacular battle of weapons and magic began. Katara pressed closer to Talaos, leaned over the railing like Sorya, and watched the fight with a kind of intense professional interest.

The fighting went on for some time, with daring deeds and close calls. At last, when the heroes were all wounded and seemed on the verge of
defeat, they came together, attacking as one to deal the death blow to the enemy. The black shape collapsed and the fires in its eyes went out.  The heroes raised their weapons to the sky in triumph, and the scene faded gently away.

Then followed a sentence in letters of brilliant golden flame. They were words carved here and there on
the older monuments in the city, and used occasionally on civic architecture. The letters were an archaic form of the Imperial alphabet, and the words they spelled were antique enough that few could read them. Talaos had memorized them once. They were themselves said to be a translation of words written in glyphs on the obelisk, in a language now lost even to scholars.

"What do those say?" asked Katara.

"It was here that the first battle was won," he replied.

Katara wondered at the words in silent thought.
For his part, Talaos had thought them poetic, but the legends he'd heard around their meaning were varied and contradictory.

The vast crowd, in the plaza and on the buildings all around,
erupted in cheers and applause. Though it was not the first time magic had been used to enhance the festival, Talaos thought it was by far the most spectacular he'd seen in his lifetime. He smiled in appreciation.

Katara however, seemed unimpressed
. "Why waste such great power on something with no real effect? So people can clap and cheer as if it was a juggling show? It makes no sense."

Talaos l
aughed appreciatively, then answered, "I suspect we have a lot more wealth and power to waste here in Carai than you you've got up in Vorhame."

The
Northwoman seemed to be working out whether that came out as mockery, but she never got the chance to finish as Talaos grabbed her by her braids with his right hand and pulled her back from the balcony into the room. He kissed her lips, and then put his teeth to her neck.

Sorya closed the slatted doors behind them and
pulled off her top. Talaos turned to kiss her, left hand cupping her bottom, then shifting to hold her tight by her tiny waist. She started working on her pants. Meanwhile Katara kneeled down between his legs, parted her lips, and undid the strings of his own.

3
. Downsides

Talaos made his way home to his latest little garret of an apartment. He planned to get cleaned up and then ready for his lunch with Daxar. It had the promise of a new path entirely, probably dangerous, but quite unlike the one he'd followed for nearly eight years. Eight years... The thought put him in a more philosophical frame of mind about his life and choices, and the consequences of those choices.

There was Sorya, who wanted more than he was ready to give, and Katara who asked for nothing, yet whose eyes were already hinting at more. There were all the other
women he'd known and loved, all the friends he'd made and lost, and all the trouble he'd found in a wild life on the streets. Still, it was the life he'd chosen, the life he'd made fighting his way up from a penniless urchin childhood. Whatever it was, it was his.

But that didn't mean it couldn't be better. War, on however small a scale, was
what he'd known, and war seemed to be looming everywhere. Palaeon, in his relentless way had kept up the pressure to help him take on Cratus.

However odd things seemed to be with Cratus now, and however bad the truth about the man, Talaos had worked with him for many years. He'd never taken the full oaths, but he'd been close, and he'd pulled off the near-impossible by breaking those ties without Cratus coming to kill him. At least until
the fights with Borras in this war, and he considered those a separate matter. Much as his skin crawled at Cratus's deeds past and present, Talaos wasn't fighting for a cause, and didn't see the current war as his.

Daxar's words from a few days past, about things changing for the worse, came to mind. They were certainly changing. More news was trickling in about the growing violence in
the east, and he'd heard rumors that the Republic might be dragged into it. He wasn't much for politics, but that could only bode ill.

He was a man of prime fighting age, and an exp
erienced fighter, but no way he'd let them, whether Palaeon or the government of the Republic, talk, bribe, or conscript him into someone else's war.

His life was his.

Whatever Daxar's offer might turn out to be, it was already looking more promising.

~

Lunch was good enough, but the main appeal had been the conversation. After many weeks away, Daxar had plenty of stories from his travels, and Talaos a few more about doings in Carai. Then they'd reminisced about earlier times, when Talaos was a newly hired sword in Cratus's organization, and Daxar, a few years older, was working a sideline as a fence for weapons taken by gangs from their dead rivals. Talaos had been good for business.

As they left the little dive of a restaurant,
both men were heavily armed; Talaos in his black gear, dueling swords, silver-fitted belt and baldrics full of knives and daggers. Daxar with his long ornate sword backed up by a long dagger and a pair of throwing knives.

Talaos
felt restless and impatient.

"Dax, tell me more about the job you might have."

The other grinned. "I thought we agreed to save the business talk until we got to my offices."

"Don't get respectable on me."

"I've been trying. Talaos, I'm trying to wash my hands of gang ties."

"Are you now?" said Talaos with an arched eyebrow and a darksome smirk.

"Well, present company excepted. Or more accurately, maybe now might be the time for you to get out of gang life yourself."

They turned a corner from the large street they'd been on, a bustling thoroughfare running back from the harbor district
, full of wagons and carts, and onto a somewhat smaller, but still busy, street that led toward Daxar's offices.

"All right, I've been thinking about it," admitted Talaos, "but what have you got?"

"Well, business was good in Hunyos, but the war there is going to be so large scale that the risks could outweigh the benefits for me of trying to operate there on any more permanent footing."

"More permanent?" asked Talaos, curious.

"I'd been thinking about a branch office," replied Daxar, "but I'm having second thoughts since investing in a branch office in a city that ends up taken by siege will not be good for profits at all, or my chance to live and enjoy them."

"So where then?"

"I don't know if you are aware, but Kalanthar, in the Southlands, has a new Trade Consul here in Carai," said Daxar.

Talaos laughed, "I
was aware, in fact."

Daxar gave him a quizzical look, but went on
. "Through my more respectable circles of friends, I secured an interview with him, and met his family. It seems they do a good business supplying various things to both sides of a civil war in their neighboring country to the east. One thing they are short on is high quality weapons, and we have those aplenty in the Republic."

Talaos
suspected where this might be going. "So where do I fit in?"

"Well, Kalanthar might not be at war itself, but that doesn't mean everything will be safe down there, and I need someone
I can trust, someone really deadly, to keep an eye on security, and keep watch on my people who handle the money when I'm not around."

As Talaos considered that, they turned another corner, deeper into the back streets but directly to Daxar's offices. They were in a rougher area, and near the border between Palaeon's territory and that of Cratus.  Instinctively, both men kept hands near their swords.

The Southlands, thought Talaos. That could be different, and anything but dull. The countries down there certainly had an exotic, beautiful, somewhat dangerous reputation, though he thought the same likely was true of Carai, as seen from a distance.

"All right Dax, unless you make me a bad offer, I'm in."

Daxar beamed, and considered, "Let's talk specifics, and gold, at my offices. This isn't a small step..."

They were interrupted by the
sudden arrival of Pallas walking in from a back street, resplendent in his black and gold brocaded cloak.

"Tal, Daxar
! How are you?" said Pallas.

They greeted him.

"Mind if I walk with you a few blocks? I'll be turning off before you get to your offices, Daxar, but it'd be good to catch up in the meantime."

Daxar shrugged, Talaos smiled and welcomed him.
As they continued on, a mischievous thought occurred to Talaos.

"Pallas," he asked, "How did things go with Injraya?"

Daxar twitched and skipped a step, but played cool. Pallas beamed.

"It went great! She loved meeting everyone, especially Katara. I've seen her a
few more times, when she can get away from her father. She works as an assistant for him, by the way."

"I'm glad," grinned Talaos. Inwardly, he was
glad Pallas had pulled victory from the jaws of defeat after all. He was equally glad to see Daxar's awkward expressions.

They walked on for a little while. Daxar resolutely avoid
ed bringing up his own far more respectable connection with Injraya's father. Talaos reflected with amused interest that Injraya herself knew of Dax's existence from both sides, but had presumably kept quiet.

The three
of them made small talk. They passed into a less busy area of warehouses and occasional seedy, rough taverns. This was a gang-haunted neighborhood that all of them knew well, and that knowledge kept all of them on their guard. Their talked quieted.

As they went along a twisting section of street that was entirely deserted,
Talaos had a sudden, bad instinct.

"Dax, Pallas...
Eyes open," he whispered, drawing his long blade in his right hand.

Daxar drew the great sword from his back, and Pallas his own dueling swords.

"Well, well..." grinned a tall, ugly man with hollow cheeks and scarred arms, as he came around a corner ahead of them.  Talaos knew him. One of Borras's men who'd lived.

"Astus," said Talaos,
smiling. "Come to ask for my help in seeing Borras again?"

"You
fucker. You won't have any archers to save you this time," replied Astus. As he spoke, four more men, three from Borras's old crew, and one Talaos didn't know, rounded the corner behind him. They had a variety of axes and iron clubs.

Daxar and Pallas took places to Talaos's
left and right. Astus stared at them with a sword in one hand and a hand axe in the other.  His men did likewise. It went on just a little too long.

There was a cold, harsh voice behind them. "Daxar, why are you keeping company with a couple of dead men?"

Talaos knew that voice, and knew what it meant. He turned to look.

There was Sorvion, Cratus's right hand for the last
couple of years. The towering, rangy, hawk-faced man had fine broad-bladed dueling swords and a deadly, cruel look in his sharp-browed eyes. Behind him were eight of Cratus's men with swords, axes, and maces.

Daxar didn't turn or respond.

Sorvion continued, even as he and his men walked slowly forward, "Leave now Daxar, and we'll stay on good business terms. Otherwise..."

"I decline your offer, Sorvion," said Daxar, backing with Talaos and Pallas to form a defensive circle.

Talaos, however, had more to say. "How'd you find us?" he added cheerfully.

"Did you think there wouldn't be payback, after Borras?
" hissed Sorvion. "Or that there wouldn't be eyes watching for the right chance? My only regret is that we didn't have enough warning to round up more men. Enough men to catch you alive, and kill you nice and slow."

"
Life is full of little disappointments," answered Talaos. As he dragged things out, he sized up the situation, and hoped Daxar and Pallas were doing the same. Sorvion was by far the most dangerous opponent they faced, and he had more men. If he could take Sorvion himself out at the start, or at least throw him and his men into confusion, they could probably take out Astus and his crew quickly enough to face a fight on a single front.

Luckily,
Sorvion seemed inclined to savor the moment. "Still think nothing could ever touch you?" he added.

"Women touch me willingly all the time, which is more than can be said for you."

"Your sins are not my problem, but you should be ready to pay for them."

That reply struck Talaos as odd, but with
all the strangeness going on in Cratus's organization of late, he wasn't inclined to ask about it. In answer, he pulled a dagger and threw it straight at Sorvion's throat. The latter dodged just in time and it went right into the eye of the man behind him. He screamed and fell as the others all around paused for a moment in surprise.

Astus cursed, and charged without waiting for Sorvion's men.

Daxar and Pallas took it for the opportunity it was. Daxar dodged a swing from Astus's axe, spun up and around, and brought his heavy sword down through the latter's head and shoulder. Pallas leapt forward with long blade in his right hand and short in his left. A man with a club charged him. He parried with the short blade in perfect dueling form, and brought his long blade through the man's stomach.

Talaos had hoped to join them and clear a quick way out of their situation
. However, Sorvion, unlike his men, reacted with instant action. He flew forward in two leaping strides and was on Talaos with blades whirling. Talaos blocked Sorvion's long blade with his own short, tried to bring his long blade under the other's ribs, only to find it blocked in turn. They stood there for a moment, locked in mutual hate, then Talaos leapt backwards with blades ready.

Behind him, Daxar kicked one of Astus's men sideways at the knee, and the man stumbled backwards roaring in pain. Daxar then dodged a short sword from another man and ran him through.
Pallas cut down another of Astus's men with a quick whirling flash of both blades.

Talaos thought it was time to form a line. He spun backwards with Sorvion in pursuit
, blades blocking defensively, left then right, then left. Daxar sheared the head from the man with the shattered knee, and Pallas spun to face Sorvion's men.

Sorvion's seven remaining men charged. Pallas parried an axe with his long blade and used it to pull the man's own guard away as he put his short blade clean between the man's ribs into his heart. Talaos dodged a sudden lunge by Sorvion, then
a strike from a man with a heavy spiked mace. Turning, he brought his long blade out to block both of Sorvion's at once and opened the maceman's throat up with his short. Blood spewed and the man fell.

Daxar arrived, blade low under Sorvion's guard, but the latter managed to drop in time to block. Together, Talaos and Daxar forced Sorvion back a step. Two more enemies closed on Pallas, and he
stood confidently ready for them. Then, without warning, he dropped, with a throwing axe cleaved through the back of his head.

Talaos raged, but kept his focus on the fight.
He had no choice.