Farmers & Mercenaries (45 page)

"What is happening?"
The Prince brushed past his Warrior Servants and hovered over Alant, staring down at the boy with a mixed look of anger and terror.

Alant heard himself scream again. A scream cut short when his chest caved in, squeezing out all the air from his lungs. His body thrust forward and his spine snapped with mind numbing agony. His head pounded as though caught in a vice. Even through the anguish, he knew he would not survive. Realized he did not want to survive. All that was left to him was pain and suffering that stripped all hope from him, leaving death his only salvation. A fast succession of pops and cracks resounded through the chamber as the last of his bones snapped and broke. One last, loud crunch resonated in his ears, and he was aware that his skull was caving in. He could not contemplate the horror of what that meant for him.

Everything went black.

A
n icy-cold droplet of water smacked into the back of Arderi Cor’s head and snaked down his neck, sending a shiver cascading down his leg. Scowling, he held his torch high overhead and peered further along the dark stairwell descending into the bowels under Mocley. For near a quarter aurn, the stairs had descended without end, taking him further and further into the Undercity. The air stank of death, and a thick coating of filth now covered his tongue. Rivulets of water ran down the walls at irregular intervals, and large swaths of a greenish mold grew in the crevices between large stone blocks that formed the tunnel.

A shuffling sound—an image of a corpse being drug across the floor—echoed from below. “Ragnor?”

“Aye, lad. You be almost to me.”

Rounding a final bend in the stairs, Arderi entered a small corridor. As he stepped from the final stair, his feet submerged into water. Throwing out a hand, he grabbed Ragnor’s arm for balance when he slid on the thick, slimy substance covering the floor.

“Easy, lad. The floor under the water be slick as ice. It be easier to slide your feet across the bottom as opposed to walking.”

Arderi regained his footing, then motioned for Ragnor to release his arm. “What is this place?”

Turning, Ragnor held his torch in front of him, and Arderi saw that the same mold-etched stone lined the walls. The corridor ran off to disappear beyond the circle of light provided by their torches. Gliding his feet through the water, his movement creating a thick ripple that lapped against the walls, Ragnor began moving down the corridor without lifting his feet. “This be the Undercity. Very few know of its existence, no one knows its true history.”

On unsteady legs, Arderi mimicked the older man’s gait. Within a few steps, he found that his feet slid easily over the floor, and soon caught up with Ragnor, matching the older man stride for stride.

I cannot tell if
the floor here is stone like the stairs were. If
it were not for the smell of the stagnate water and the icky feel of it, this might well be enjoyable.

“What do you know of it?”

“Mocley, which do sit above us now, be near two thousand seasons old.”

Thinking back to Alant’s first Crystal, Arderi remembered his brother’s history lesson. The memory brought back the remorse of his brother’s death, and a sense of loss welled up inside him.

Brother, I have not even had the opportunity to mourn your passing into the aftermore.

Pushing the feeling away, he concentrated on Ragnor’s words.

“No one in living memory has any knowledge of a city at this location prior to Mocley’s foundation by the Elmorian, Artimus Mocley. As far as it did ever be told, this area did be grassland. Home to the Asgarthians who now roam the lands far to the east.”

“Yet, many winters after Mocley did be built, the Undercity did be discovered. Whatever the name of this ancient city, and whoever did build it, that knowledge vanished long ago.” Ragnor slid to a stop, forcing Arderi to do likewise. Turning, he looked into Arderi’s eyes. “Yet one thing be certain, whoever did build this place be far more powerful than any who do live now. There be… things down here.”

The two men continued down the hall, and an odd foreboding settled over Arderi. “Why do you say that?”

“You shall soon see. Suffice it to say that there be secrets to be found down here that no exist elsewhere that I know of.”

Plodding along, torchlight flickering off slick stone walls, Arderi paid closer attention to his surroundings. They did not travel down one solid hall. Many doorways or intersecting passageways appeared at irregular intervals. Stone and rubble blocked many of these areas where whatever lay beyond had collapsed. Still, Ragnor continued at a steady pace, taking a turn here, or ducking into a thin passageway there, until Arderi lost all sense of direction.

If
we become separated, I will never find my way out!

So Arderi followed as the older man jutted down one passage until he turned down another intersection that led them off on a new route. For nearly another aurn—Arderi was sure it was no more than an aurn, it was hard to tell in the cramped, dark tunnels of the Undercity—they slid along in silence.

Finally, when Arderi was about to ask for a respite, he noticed a glow emanating from somewhere in the distance. It lay well beyond the light cast by the torches they carried. The glow shone red and pulsed off the slime-coated walls in the way a campfire might.

We are not alone down here!

“What is that ahead?” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet it echoed off in every direction.

Turning to look at him, Ragnor pointed his torch ahead. “That, lad, be the reason we did risk entering the Undercity.”

The corridor ended in a massive arch. Carved stones, each engraved with strange runes and glyphs, adorned the top of the archway. Stepping through, Arderi saw a massive round chamber. Its domed ceiling stretched high overhead, and at regular intervals, five additional archways led out of the room. Yet, it was the center dais that captured his attention and held it firm.

Circular stairs set in the center of the room rose up from the brownish-green water to stand about a pace from the floor. Six large pillars, as smooth as silk and blacker than pitch, rose up from the edges of the platform, and each arched in, like the fingers of a giant hand. At their tips, they held aloft a massive red Crystal about the size of a small child.

Unconsciously, Arderi dropped his hand to his sword’s hilt. “It is also like the Ka’gana in Dorochi!”

“Aye, lad. It be, at that.” Sliding up to the dais, Ragnor stepped out of the water. Stopping at the top step, he turned and motioned for Arderi to join him. “This be a Quay’ka’gana—a sending stone.” The older man held out a hand to steady Arderi as he stepped from the water. “It did be discovered by our Order some thousand seasons past. This be the gateway to Bin’Satsu.”

“So this is not Bin’Satsu? Where is it, then?” Arderi stared into the deep facets of the large red Crystal suspended over his head by the thin black pillars.

“It be a citadel. The only safe haven the Tat’Sujen have to call their own.” A loud clack echoed from one of the other passageways and Ragnor snapped his head around. “Quick, now. Although our journey here did be uneventful, this be no the place to tarry. There be things down here that you no want to meet, if you can avoid it. Once you be safe in Bin’Satsu, all of your questions will be answered.”

“Me? Are you not coming as well?” The thought of losing his newfound guide disturbed Arderi more than he wanted to admit.

Ragnor is my one connection to whatever this new life is.

The older man shook his head. “Nix, lad. My duties for the now be here, taking care of Sindian Rillion. Yet, I did bond to you. If you do have any need of me, I will be at your disposal.” Taking Arderi by the arm, Ragnor guided him into the center of the dais, then stepped back onto the bottom stair. Extending his arm, he pointed to Arderi’s hip. “Unsheathe your blade and unwrap the hilt.”

Arderi did as instructed. As he freed the Ka’gana nestled within his hilt, a blinding flash of red light cascaded out and up, merging with the light radiating from the larger stone above. He gave a questioning look at Ragnor. “What do I do now?”

A look of remorse filled Ragnor’s eyes. “Now you have nothing to do except wait. I be sorry. This will no be pleasant for you, lad.”

Snap!

Dorochi slipped from Arderi’s hand as pain shot up his arm. Gripping his wrist with his other hand, it horrified him to see that several of his fingers had bent backwards, the bones within them breaking.

Through the agony of his hand, fear reached out and gripped Arderi. He looked wild-eyed toward Ragnor, who took another step away, a sad look upon his face.

I have been betrayed!

Crack! Crack!

His knees buckled, and Arderi fell to the floor as both of his legs warped into a perverted, twisted shape. The agony of his broken bones caused him to writhe upon the floor. Unable to control himself, he screamed out in anguish until his chest caved in, crushing all the wind from his lungs. Crumpling into a ball, Arderi rolled over onto his back and stared up at the Quay’ka’gana. Streaks of red slashed across the room and bore into his eyes, blinding him to all else.

All is red! There is nothing except the red! Like blood! I am covered in it! The entire Plane bleeds!

A loud crunch reverberated in his ears and he knew his skull was caving in. One last scream escaped him as the pain and torment bore him into nothingness.

T
he trip out of the warehouse was a hazy blur. Klain remembered Charver leaving for a while as he lay against a box waiting for death.

It would have been a welcome release.

Yet the boy returned before death had taken him into the aftermore. Charver had half-helped, half-dragged Klain outside into the bright noonday sun. Through begging and cajoling, Charver loaded Klain into a wagon that waited in front of the warehouse.

Lying in the back, watching the clouds play in the clear-blue sky, Klain had no other memories of their journey until he awoke here, in a small stone room. Charver sat slumped in an unpadded ladder-backed chair at his bedside.

When the boy noticed Klain stir, he jumped up and ran to his side. “Master Klain! You are awake!” Slipping his tiny hand into Klain’s paw, he gave it a squeeze.

A calm feeling of restfulness covered Klain like a warm blanket.

I feel as if
I have slept for days!

Reaching up, Klain waved a paw over the spot Estular’s sword had penetrated. Young Master Vimith smiled, a twinkle glinting in his eye. “There is not even a scar! The Shaper who mended you did a wonderful job.”

Just then, the door cracked open and a balding Human poked his head inside. Seeing the two next to each other, the man smiled and stepped into the room. “I thought I heard voices.” The man was dressed in a plain brown robe. Thin, brown leather sandals and a rope belt finished his outfit. Shutting the door behind him, he looked down at Klain. “How do you feel?”

Klain propped himself up on his elbows. He felt neither aches nor pains. “I feel fine. Like waking from a restful sleep.”

The man in brown looked down and smiled. “You should. You have been asleep since the eve before last.” He pointed to Charver. “The boy has not left your side.”

Giving Klain a sheepish grin, Charver let go of his paw and stood. Reaching into a small pouch that hung from his waist, he fished out a fat gold coin and held it awkwardly toward the man. “For your help.”

The man seemed genuinely shocked by the gesture.

Or the amount. I still do not understand the value of Human coin.

Still, the man overcame his momentary astonishment, reached out and plucked the coin from the boy’s fingers. Bowing his head slightly, he opened the door. “If you are ever in need of my services again, young Master Vimith, you have only to summon me. I wish you both well.”

The door closed behind the man, and Klain sat up and swung his paws to the floor. “I stink!”

Giggling, Charver crossed the room and opened the door. “There is a bath down the hall. Be quick, however. I would like to make it home before sundown.”

Taking in the room once more, Klain cocked his head. “Where are we?”

“Still in Mocley. We are at one of my father’s shops in the Merchantillian. This is my father’s apartment. We stay here sometimes when we are in Mocley.”

“Does your father know we are here?”

“Nix, there are no servants here if we are not present.” Tapping his little foot on the floor, Charver pointed down the hall. “Now go! Daylight is wasting.”

After he cleaned the vomit and urine from his fur, Klain felt like the events of the past day had not happened, as if he had simply been told of them. Following Charver downstairs, they entered a small front room with a few plush chairs scattered about. Before they had reached the bottom stair, Klain’s heart leapt into his throat. The blade the Honored One had given him, sheathed in its scabbard, lay on a small round table in the center of the room. “My sword!”

The boy ran forward and snatched it up before Klain could reach it. “Oh, Aye! I found it outside the warehouse where they held you in that awful cage.” The boy presented it with a flourish. “Are you happy to see it?”

Clinching his jaws, Klain fought back the urge to weep. “I thought it gone. Aye, I am happy to see it. I am grateful.” He crossed the small room and picked the boy up into the air. “My thanks for this, and for coming to my rescue!”

He set the boy down and they left the shop. Klain was pleased to see the sun still lay closer to the dawn than midday. “We will easily reach the villa before halfmeal.”

Closing the door behind them, the boy reached into a pouch and pulled out a tiny purple stone. Pressing it flat against a silver plate just above the door handle, Klain heard the sound of a bolt clicking into place. “What is that?”

“This?” The boy rolled the stone over his palm for a moment before slipping it back into his pouch. “Have you never seen a lockingstone before?” Klain shook his head. “Most of the shops here in the Merchantillian have them.” He patted the wall of the shop. “Shapers Meld the Essence of a building, creating a sort of bubble around them. Once the stone activates it, nothing can enter.”

Reaching out, Klain dragged a paw down the door. His claws stopped just short of touching the wood, and did not mar its white-painted surface. “That is amazing! Why do not more have this lockingstone?”

“My father says it is very expensive to have a Shaper create one. He told me it takes a team of them working day and eve for many moons just to get it ready.”

The wagon they had used earlier stood waiting for them outside. Telling Klain to wait, Charver ran down the street. When he returned a few moments later, he led a young Human pulling a horse behind him. Once the young man hitched the horse to the buggy, Charver handed him a coin, and the two climbed into the front seat. Taking the reins, the boy drove the wagon out of the city.

Although it annoyed Klain to have people gawk and stare at them, which did not end until they were well out of the city and surrounding buildings, no one made any attempt to hinder their progress. For the most part, Klain traveled in silence. Much to his chagrin, Charver did not. The boy chatted away the aurn it took to reach the villa, speaking about Mocley and all of the places he had been while there. Klain was not happy to hear that the boy had gone alone into the city while he had been incapacitated. He spoke of his favorite bakery in Gatetown and all the wonderful sweets they carried. He talked of many other things that Klain let slip past his troubled thoughts without comment. Yet, when the boy’s topic turned to Master Timms and what he thought should be done, Klain cut him off in mid-sentence.

“I have not yet decided.”

The fact that Klain said more than a one-word answer or a grunt stunned Charver into silence. It did not last long, however. “What do you mean? He sold you into slavery!”

“Aye, he did. And for that I should feast on the marrow in his bones.”

“Should!” Giving Klain an incredulous stare, Charver snorted.

A long moment passed between them with only the crunching of the wagon wheels grinding the crushed stone of the highway to fill the void.

“Well, I know what my father will do when he learns of it. He will—”

A vicious growl erupted, and Charver jumped, nearly slipping from the wagon bench. Klain almost felt remorseful and sat trying to regain control of his emotions. “I said I have not yet decided.”

It surprised Klain that the young boy rode the rest of the way to the villa in relative silence. This was fine with him, for he found himself lost in his own troubled thoughts. The sun had reached its zenith in the sky by the time the horse-drawn wagon made the turn from the main road and headed down the skinnier dirt path leading to the villa. Once the horse’s hooves echoed off the paving stones covering the entrance courtyard, a large lump formed in the pit of Klain’s stomach.

Ascending the stairs and passing through the double-doors of the manor, the two walked into a bee’s nest of activity. Upon seeing them, one of the servant girls—Klain knew she worked in the kitchen and thought her name was Tisna—let out a scream and ran for the boy. Immediately, the staff of the household surrounded the two with a dozen questions flung at them all at once.

“What is the meaning—” Master Vimith burst into the room from his study, and noticing his son, ran over to scoop him into his arms. “I have been so worried!” Rohann glared at Klain. “Where have you been?” His words were harsh, yet Klain did not begrudge the man.

“Father!” Charver gave him a hug. “When did you return?”

“Only just, and found that no one had seen you since two days prior!” Rohann’s smile dropped when he shot another glare at Klain. “Well, you have some explaining to do, Master Klain.”

Squirming from his father’s arms, Charver jumped down to the marble-tiled floor. “It all started with Master Timms!”

“Oh? What does he have to do with this?” Taking the boy by the hand, Rohann headed back into his study. Padding along behind, Klain saw several of the bodyguards who had stayed behind and probably knew what had transpired.

Neither Timms nor Narn are anywhere to be seen!

“He sent Klain into town!” Charver made that phrase sound as if it was a horrible punishment. “That is where—” The boy fell silent in mid sentence, prompting Klain to speed into the study.

Standing in the middle of the room, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else, stood Satner Timms.

Rohann stopped next to his son. “That is where what, Charver?”

Satner stood with his feet slightly apart. Although his hand did not directly rest on the hilt of his sword, it lay close enough for it not to matter. He watched Klain with an intensity that Klain knew all too well. Charver seemed uncertain as to what to do. It was obvious the boy did not want to enter the room, yet with Klain in the doorway, he could not withdraw either. Klain simply stood fixated upon the other man’s eyes.

Now is the time having an Elmorr’Antien’s power would serve me well.

As if he did not notice the tension in the room, Rohann crossed the study to the small table that held a decanter of brandy. Picking up the crystal vial, he poured himself a small amount in a glass, turned, and held it up in offering. “Would anyone care to join me in a drink? I think there are explanations to be heard.”

“Nix, Master Vimith.” Satner did not take his eyes from Klain’s.

Setting the decanter back on its silver tray, he sat down. “Master Timms? Master Klain? There seems to be an issue here.”

Several moments elapsed as the two continued to stare at each other, waiting for the other to move first. It was Satner who finally broke eye contact and looked at the carpet. Shoulders slumping, he drew in a deep breath. “The Young Master is correct. I did send Master Klain into town. He was to be—”

“Enough!” Klain practically roared the word out. Turning to Master Vimith, Klain thrust a thumb to his chest. “I became lost in the city.” Returning his attention to Satner, Klain was pleased to see the look of surprise on the man’s face. “I am sorry, Master Timms, I was unable to retrieve that which you sent me for.”

“Hey, wait!” Charver’s voice, high pitched normally, rose several octaves.

Glaring at the boy, Klain exposed his front fangs for a split moment. “Aye. I will not forget you, Young Master.” Focusing on Master Vimith once more, Klain laid a paw upon the boy’s shoulder. “If it had not been for the Young Master here, I may never have found my way back.”

Sipping his brandy, Rohann looked first at one, then the other of his two employees. He studied them for long moments, and whatever conclusion he reached, Klain was sure he had not believed the story. “Very well.” He stood. “If there is nothing else to tell, it seems that all has worked itself out. Charver, go and find out what Cook is preparing for halfmeal. Mayhaps we can go riding if there is time before then.”

“Aye, father.” Eyeing both Klain and Satner with the same look of irritation, the boy scuttled off.

With Charver gone, Rohann set his glass onto his desk and stepped between Klain and Timms. “I understand then, there will be no more issues with this matter?”

“Aye, sir.” Satner’s answer was quick, causing Rohann to raise an eyebrow.

Satner cleared his throat. “There will be no more instances. By the Twelve, I do swear.”

Turning his gaze to Klain, the merchant gave him a quizzical look. Nodding once, Klain spun on his hindpaw to stalk from the room, yet stopped when Rohann grabbed his arm.

“Master Klain, if you ever make a decision that puts Charver in danger again,
I do swear
that I will find a way to kill you.”

Clinching his jaws, Klain knew the man spoke true. A smile exposed his front fangs and he turned his gaze to Satner. “Aye. And if I ever make such a poor judgment call again, I just might let you.”

Crossing the entrance hall, he bounded up the stairs closest to him and headed down the hall to his room.

“Master Klain!” Klain had known Satner trailed him by the man’s unique smell. “Wait a moment.” Turning, Klain watched the bodyguard ascend the last few stairs and close the distance between them. “I do not see you as someone who forgives a debt so easily.”

This caused Klain to laugh aloud. “Nix, I am not.”

“Then why?”

“If you had not intervened, Charver would most likely be dead.”

“Aye. Still, if not for me Charver would have never been in danger.”

Shifting one hindpaw to the side, Klain took up what he knew Satner would recognize as a fighting stance. “Are you trying to change my mind? I have no issue with killing you if that is your desire.”