The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (9 page)

Palaeon, however, interrupted
the past with talk of the future.

"Talaos," he said
coolly, "you'll get your cut of all this. Fair is fair. Keep in mind though, with what looks to me like a newly organizing gang, and a lot of gold at your disposal, you'll have options. Think carefully about how you use them."

Talaos turned to look at his ally and
possible future rival. Palaeon's eyes were cold, watchful, and appraising.

"
Palaeon, Cratus must once have sized you up in the same way, " Talaos said.

"He did, and for similar reasons," replied Palaeon coldly, "but there is a lot more to consider with you. I was just a sharp-eyed climber, with an eye for the main chance and a head for the odds. I won a war, but I'd much rather count my dishonest gains in peace.

"But you
Talaos, you're the storm's own son. You can claim you're looking for peace, but you spent years doing rough work for Cratus, and made your own bloody path after that. You're made for war and change."

As Palaeon spoke, Talaos
had turned again to watch the room below. Palaeon's men entered in numbers, and were already at work collecting corpses and valuables. Some of Cratus's men were hauled in, tied, and seated roughly along the sides, while others walked in and stood in a line. They were being reviewed by one of Palaeon's captains. The twins were among them.

"
Who's to say my war is here on the streets?" replied Talaos at last.

"Who indeed? But it would be unfortunate if it were," said Palaeon in words of ice.

5. A Change in the Weather

Talaos walked alone down a wide main street on a darkening night. Lights shone from the windows of shops and taverns, and through doors at balconies above. Clouds had gathered overhead, the wind was picking up, and he felt the first drops of rain hitting his face. He heard it striking the tiled roofs high on either side. All around, shops were closing up and people on the street were pulling their cloaks around them, hurrying home to escape the weather.

Not him. He felt
exhilarated, as he always did when a storm came.  He threw his cloak back and lifted his face to the sky. He could almost feel the electricity gathering in the air and flowing through the ground, rushing to join together in the beauty that was lightning.  He'd always wondered why so few others seemed to enjoy it as he did.

He walked on, and his mind turned to more practical concerns.

He'd collected himself and his brooding thoughts these past days. With Cratus gone, things might be quiet, at least for a while. Talaos's still-unfolding share of Cratus's wealth was turning out to be considerable, and even after lavishing it on his friends, his gang, on what people were starting to call his organization, he had plenty of gold left.

Palaeon had mentioned options, and Talaos had them
. However, they weren't all obvious. He could almost feel change in the storm-tossed air.

On the one hand
was power, long in the making, now clearly before him and ready for the taking. He could follow a path like Palaeon, or Borras, or Cratus and all the others, and build a little empire of blood here on the streets of Carai. But he'd be no freer than they. Any more than Palaeon, even in victory, was free of his worries.

On the other, he could leave, as he'd planned when Daxar was still alive.

But now with no idea where he might go.

And then there was the question of what he'd do. Even his plans with Dax
ar, he thought, had centered on fighting or the threat of it. At other times he'd talked of seeking more peace, but did he really want it? All he knew and seemed to be made for was conflict. War and change, as Palaeon had said in his insightful way. Like the storm and like his nickname.

Perhaps it didn't matter where he went
or what he did, only that he went and did. He thought of Sorya and Katara. Would they follow him into the unknown?  Katara at least was already far from her own home. Sorya was a daughter of Carai, and despite her earlier words, her heart was in its ancient streets. Either way, they'd have their own choices to join him, or not.

For good or ill, the choices he'd made in life were his, and he
now fully accepted the consequences. He'd make his future choices and accept their consequences too. No evasions, no compromises and no regrets. If change came, whether from him or to him, what he did with it would be on his terms. Whatever course he took in life, or whatever the world threw at him, his life was his.

His life was his.

Then the first thunderbolt lit up the clouds, and all thoughts but joy were driven from his mind. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the welcoming sky. Flashes of light illuminated sheets of windswept rain falling from the roiling clouds.

A few passing others, hunched down and running from the storm, shot him strange glances, but he didn't care. Life was good, life was here, all about him and in his outstretched hands. He could feel the crackle of it on his skin and the joy of it in his soul.
  He stood there transfixed, alone on the street, as lightning flashed across the sky.

As time passed, the thunder subsided
and the storm became mere rain. Talaos collected himself and pressed on toward home. He was soaking wet, but cared not at all. Bereft of lightning, the night grew even blacker. He turned down the side street and saw his home, such as it was; one window and a rickety balcony three stories up a crumbling brick wall. Gold was for experiencing life's joys, not for sleeping in a nice room. Well, he smiled to himself, except for those nights where sleep wasn't the point.

He turned the questionable little lock at the front door, ascended the
battered stairs, and made his way down the narrow shabby hallway to his door. Unlocking it in turn, he made his way in the dark toward the lamp. Then he sensed it. Something was wrong. Someone was...

"Good evening, Talaos."

It was the low, dangerous voice of Palaeon, and it sounded deadly cold.

In a flash, Talaos drew his sword, but the other
's blade was already at his throat.

"Calm down, Tal."

"I don't recall inviting you," quipped Talaos, his temper getting the better of his surprise.

"
Nor did you tell me where you now live."

"What do you want?"

"I've figured some things out, Tal. Things about why that stupid, if profitable, war started and where Cratus's gold might have come from. I doubt most of those on the other side ever knew. But that isn't the only thing. There is another, possibly related. Men came to talk to me, Tal. Foreign men, Eastlanders, offering a lot of gold... for you."

Talaos laughed
, "Foreign? I didn't know I was so famous. Why not kill me now, then?"

"They wanted you alive
, and..."

"Good luck with that. Slice the blade now, or leave, but stop
threatening."

"
Talaos, this blade is at your throat so you wouldn't try to run me through before I finished talking.  Now listen... I'm here to help you."

"If you're still on my side, let's go kill them."

"Not so simple," replied Palaeon, with icy intensity creeping into his cold voice. "I can guess they're just one paw of a vastly bigger beast. I will, and you ought to, think twice about climbing up that paw toward the fangs. I think something much deeper is going on."

"Deeper? There you go with that word again. Don't turn philosopher on me."

"This time, you might want to think about turning philosopher," replied Palaeon.

"
Eh?"

"
I'd suggest seeing the larger picture, the potential consequences, and alternatives to facing them directly. Because if you do plan to fight them, you'll have choices to make, about who to protect and who to leave exposed. Possibly unpleasant choices."

"And you've made yours," said Talaos coldly.

"That's right. To keep my people alive
, while they're still plausibly neutral."

"Why help me at all then?"

"Count this as my one noble act. Or perhaps self-interested in a long-term sense. Those men were either magi, or some other kind of sorcerers. They had magic all around them. There was something more about them, too. They made
my
skin crawl, and if they could do that, I figured it was a bad thing they have you, however unfathomable it is why they want you."

"What
if they decide you aren't plausibly neutral?"

"
Then we'll have another war to fight side by side after all," replied Palaeon.

"
While we're pondering being brothers in arms, would you take that sword down?"

"
Don't get sentimental."

Talaos
made a low black-humored laugh, then suddenly halted as the room seemed to fade for a moment into utter darkness. He felt the slightest rush of air.  On instinct he brought his blade up in a sweeping defensive circle around him, but he was alone.

~

In the pitch black rainy night, Talaos walked with a pack holding his gold and the few possessions he needed or cared about. The most important of all, his weapons, were strapped to his body and ready.

He struggled to understand what had just happened, and wrestled with what to do next. If Palaeon had wanted him
out of the way just then, he'd be dead, so he had little reason to doubt the warning itself. But the reason for the warning made no sense. Why would some unknown sorcerers from the Eastlands want to capture him? How could they know or care who he was? And, he mused, his humor returning, who in all the world and all the hells could make Palaeon's skin crawl?

Regardless, and magi or not, he planned
to find these men and find out what they wanted. In the process, he intended to make them regret coming for him.

Then a more
worrying thought crept into his mind. Sorya, and Katara! If he was in danger, they might well be too. So might many others, but those two were closest to him, and so likely most at risk. Palaeon had talked of choices. Talaos didn't want his choices leading them to the same fate as Daxar, Pallas, Arax, and so many of his other friends. He would try to get the two of them to leave the city... and far from whatever was coming his way.

There was no time to waste
.

~

"You're kidding?" hissed Sorya, still sleepy, as she clutched her sheet around her bare slender body. Her tiny, yet clean and comfortable room was lit by a candle in the corner.

"I wish I was. Palaeon
spoke in deadly earnest."

"And you trust him?"

"Do you want to find out if I'm wrong?"

"Ah..."

"You'd been thinking about leaving town for somewhere quieter," added Talaos with a  smile and a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

"Yes,
probably, under more planned circumstances, and... with you."

"I doubt we have much time. You need to get ready."

She looked up at him with sudden defiant fury, which just as suddenly melted away. She raised herself on her toes, the sheet dropping to the floor, and tried to kiss him. He leaned down so she could. Her dark hair flowed loose down her back. He held her tight by the waist. Her small breasts pressed against his chest and he dropped his other hand to her taut, rounded little bottom. She forced back tears.

"Now, Sorya."

Without another word, she sprang into action, a lifetime of dangerous survival serving her well as she threw on clothes, gear and weapons, then stuffed a few items in her own small packs.

"All right..." she
took a long, deep breath. "I'm ready."

He turned,
drawing a blade under his cloak, and led the way.

~

Talaos knocked on the door of Katara's room.  She stayed at a cheap inn, just cheap enough to be affordable with what she made from training others in her fighting style, and tavern bets on her own sparring matches against woefully unsuspecting drunks.

There was light showing
under the door, and through it came a quick answer.

"Yes?"

"Katara, it's me."

There was motion, and the door opened.

Talaos was surprised to see Katara dressed and armed. It was less surprising to see her fairly large pack of gear ready, as she rarely completely unpacked.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I am not sure. You?" replied Katara, eyeing him and Sorya doubtfully.

"What do you think?"

"Then no."

She looked
up at him, and he could see worry in her eyes. She continued. "Tal, I had a feeling I was being followed on my way back tonight. It was like being shadowed by wolves in the forest, when they do not want to be seen... but I could not be sure.  Since then, I have been thinking about what I should do."

"The trouble is worse than any wolf. We need to go now
. I'll explain along the way."

"Yes," she said sadly
. "I hoped, and feared, you might come."

Katara clung to him with unexpected intensity, and he tilted her head back to kiss her parted lips. Then, she took a half step back, said something in her harsh-sounding language, and embraced him in a strangely formal way. Her face became sadly grim, and she
translated.

"To the very end, it means."

~

With cloaks about them and hoods drawn low, Talaos, Sorya and Katara
made their way down bleak and gritty back streets in a steady rain. They took varying routes, ducking through alleys and around corners. All three had weapons drawn under their cloaks.

Sorya
drew close to him and whispered in a low, worried voice. "Couldn't we try a ship?"

"At this time of night?" replied
Talaos. "And, who do you know that you can trust?"

"No one
really, I guess, but do you trust that gate guard?" replied Sorya.

At that,
he pulled her even closer, whispering directly in her ear. "Unlike aboard a docked ship, we won't be waiting all night to find out."

"But after
the gate?"

"
Shh."

Talaos knew his plan.
He was not, however, about to explain it here in the city, within potential earshot. He'd spent a lot of time wandering the coastal hills when he was younger, especially during weather, and he knew a few out of the way, sheltered places to hide. If they were really lucky, they might have one last night together, before he sent them on their way.