The streets of the brothel district were littered with passed out men slumped against the walls, empty flasks in their laps. Valdo pondered why so many drunks decided to end their night here. These stone sidewalks had just as much piss and grime as the rest in Solun.
The man he was currently looking for lived on these streets. Perhaps, he would ask him.
When Balisk gave him the task of finding someone capable of killing both Jemeen and Barog, he had practically jigged right then and there. Not because he wanted them dead, the truth couldn’t be any more the opposite. They were the only two people he still cared for. No, the desire to jig came from an incredible piece of information an informant gave him three wiqs ago (30 days).
In the alley behind two of the least popular brothels in Solun, a vagrant man had set up a small animal skin tent. Such an act was not incredible in of itself. In fact, it was becoming more and more common as the creatures denied entry to Dracon flooded Solun’s gates instead. A sad thing it was, to have no home, nothing to protect you from the pounding sun or the puncturing rain. He told Balisk of the problem, but the Count had waved it away, as if the suffering of these vagrants was something they were meant to endure.
Is this just the way of the land, or the way of humans? Another question he knew would go unanswered.
Returning to the Vagrant, the events following his occupation of the alley were what currently fueled Valdo’s excited gait through the dark streets. The next night, a group of thugs—or drunks, more likely drunk thugs—threatened the man, claiming the alley as their own. They told the Vagrant he would have to give them everything he owned if he wished to stay.
The Vagrant said nothing in response to the threat. He simply lifted up his robe’s sleeve, revealing a bandaged hand and arm. He dug his black fingernails into his forearm, deep into the flesh, until his hand had sunken in entirely. Then, he pulled. From his bloodied arm, he took out a green crystalline sword, the sides of the blade shaped like the currents of the sea. The thugs, Valdo reasoned, made the smartest decision they had likely ever made, and ran for their lives. The Vagrant returned to his tent.
The astonishing tale pointed to a conclusion that Valdo, and a few others in Solun who had knowledge of the places beyond this land, were capable of making. The man was a Nerodae, one of the Sea-Dwellers. An ancient and forgotten people who lived under the waves and wielded weapons they pulled from their own bodies. Fujus, a widely disliked historian of ages long past, compared them to the Pyre in volume two of his bestiary: “The Nerodae are much like the Pyre, creatures bound by their blood, ever yearning to break free from such chains.” Scholarly circles held the historian in contempt for his notoriously ambiguous statements. In a specificity unlike him, Fujus also claimed the Sea-Dwellers used to inhabit the bone-sea, the closest large body of water to Solun.
Upon hearing the story of the Vagrant, and recalling Fujus’s claims, Valdo’s mind raced through a thought-path that explained a number of things. Five wiqs ago (50 days), a blue-skinned woman washed up on the bone-coast. For reasons unknown to Valdo, General Halding was present in the area at this time. The superstitious locals fervently desired to throw the unconscious woman back in the sea. Instead, Halding stuck an icicle through two of their heads and brought her back to be one of his servants. Better the woman had drowned. Three wiqs ago, the Nerodae vagrant settled in Solun. It seemed all but impossible that the woman was not a Nerodae, and that the vagrant was not related to her in some manner.
Upon hearing the news of the vagrant, Valdo paid two of his informants quite generously to do what they already did, drink, only he ordered them to do so in the taverns Halding frequented and look for any strange figures following the man. Four days, at four different taverns, they spotted a figure in tattered robes seated alone, flagon still full. The figure’s hands were bandaged.
Just as his father and the academy had taught him, Valdo patiently sat on this information, awaiting the perfect moment to put it to use—now.
He spotted the chipping green paint of the snake that slithered across the white plaster backdrop of the Serpent’s Tongue Brothel. Next to it, peeling white paint on dark brown wood, the clouds of the Sky Kiss Brothel. Passing two men in tunics stitched together from rotting burlap who pounded on the doors of the Serpent’s tongue, he looked down the alley in between the two brothels. It was difficult to see due to the street lighter neglecting his duties of lighting the lanterns on this street, but he could dimly make out the rough shapings of a brown animal skin tent in the middle of the alley. He marched loudly through the trash-strewn alley, not wishing to sneak up on the Nerodae. Ten steps away, a man in tattered brown robes crawled out from the tent.
Valdo ran his hands through his unkempt curled hair and nervously cleared his throat. “As you can see, I am not a thug.”
The thick blue wool cloak he wore and its silver emblazoned suns at the bottom made him instantly recognizable as a part of Balisk’s troops—for those who lived in Solun anyway.
He continued. “I wish you no harm, but I do have a proposition. I think you will be very interest-”
The man turned and began to crawl back into his tent.
Valdo shouted. “TO KILL GENERAL HALDING!”
He anxiously glanced behind him toward the street. “Shit…I did not intend to say that so loud.”
The man rose and faced him again; his bandaged index finger twitched erratically.
“That is what you want, is it not?”
The vagrant’s hooded head slowly nodded.
“I thought so. Here is my proposition. Count Balisk, the ruler of this city, is looking for a warrior, a powerful one, to use in his impending war with the Niven of the Black Forest. I believe it likely he will send this warrior along with General Halding on a…violent mission.”
“If you come with me, I can make sure you are a part of this. You will have ample time with Halding, and in the midst of the inevitable shrill screams and spraying blood that will fill this mission, one more dead man is nothing to question. Will you agree to this?”
The bandaged finger ceased its restless twitching.
In a quiet, guttural voice, the Nerodae spoke. “...yes.”
Walking through the length of the city quickly, they arrived at the giant lumber double doors to the Count’s castle. Valdo had foregone his usual lecture on the importance of saying nothing that would aggravate the Count. The Nerodae said so little it seemed pointless.
A massive brown rockman, who wore no uniform because none would fit its jutting boulder shaped body, let them in. They ascended a tight stairway of aging gray stone steps, walked through a hallway decorated with paintings of rolling green hills and winding streams, then finally arrived at the black doors of Balisk’s study.
Balisk’s only servant, and the only thing left alive from the previous ruler of Solun, stood beside the doors.
The servant had a plain distaste written on his gaunt old face which became even more clear in the tone of his nasally voice. “The Count is not to be disturbed. He will speak with you tomorrow.”
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Valdo sighed with annoyance. “How many times must we do this? By my count, I’ve already apologized three times for Lieutenant Barog crushing your son’s larynx. If you are to have a grudge, it should be with him. Yes, I did encourage Barog to do it because your son is a stupid-minded little pest that thought he could cheat us, but-”
The door to Balisk’s study suddenly opened from the inside.
“Greetings, friend.” The orange petal creature’s voice was saturated with warmth, as if it had taken a small piece of the sun to nurture within itself.
Valdo smiled naturally. “Greetings, my friend. When the guards told me you had returned, I expected you would be here. I hope Halding has not returned with you?”
The petal creature pivoted his body so that Valdo could see Halding’s scowling face. Surprisingly, no biting words came in response.
The emotionless visage of the Count was seated across from Halding at his paper scattered desk. Hot anxiety and anticipation clung to the air in the room. They had been discussing something important.
“Greetings, Count.”
“Lieutenant Valdo.”
Valdo began to walk through the door, but the petal creature placed a soft hand on his shoulder, denying his entrance.
“The Count would like to know of your guest. We felt his connection to the land…it is buried deep, yet still quite strong.”
“He poses no harm, Count, to those but our enemies. It is best we discuss any further with these doors closed. May we enter?”
In the heartbeats before his answer, the Count remained in a contemplative pose, elbows on his desk, hands clasped on his chin.
“Yes, come in.”
Valdo smiled at the servant’s glaring face before walking into the room.
After the two entered, the petal creature closed the doors to the study and seated itself on the stone floor beside the right corner of the embossed wooden desk. Valdo stood at attention near the door, the Nerodae still behind him.
“So, you believe this man is strong enough to kill both Lieutenant Barog and Lieutenant Jemeen?” The Count spoke with his usual cutting indifference, like boots crunching over frosted flowers.
“With ease, Count.” Valdo preferred not to think of his two best friends being skewered by the Nerodae, but that is exactly what would happen…if the tales of the Sea-Dweller’s combat ability were to be believed at least.
“Lieutenant, I find it difficult to believe you found such a strong combatant in a single day.”
A thin sweat glazed Valdo’s armpits. “I knew of him before, but wished to observe his actions further.”
“When did you first discover him, Lieutenant?”
He considered lying, but enjoyed being alive far too much. “Three wiqs ago, Count.”
For a heartbeat, the Count’s eyes glimmered with…something. Valdo had known the man for nearly 100 wiqs, but still struggled to understand many of the small, nearly imperceptible changes that occasionally marked his face.
“A long time to observe, Lieutenant. What is his ability? Or perhaps I should ask, what is he?”
The thin layer of sweat had spread, stuffy and wet under his tunic. He turned to the Nerodae.
“Could you…demonstrate what you can do for the Count?”
The hooded man nodded and took two diagonal steps forward, standing parallel to Valdo.
He placed his hand under the tattered brown sleeve of the long robe he wore and a stomach-wrenching sound came from the spot, like bone being scraped by nail. Droplets of sticky blood welted the stone floor. The bandaged hand he pulled out was stained red, yet the green crystalline sword he held was unmarred, a cool light pulsed inside like an artery. If looked at from the side, the ridges of the blade resembled the undulating waves of a calm sea. Valdo had never seen such pure beauty. Not in women, not in men, not in an ancient book, not in the trees or the sky or anything of this land. Instinctually, he understood why: Its beauty lies in its purity. From the darkness, its light emerges, and after it is sheathed, it has stolen the light from a man, taken him back to the darkness.
So entranced was he that he hardly noticed as the blood-soaked hand pointed the now rapidly pulsating blade at General Halding. He certainly did not have time to see Halding form a shield of interwoven ice and flame, nor the blue flame wall that erupted from the ground between the General and the Nerodae.
“ENOUGH!” Balisk roared. “Strike that man, Nerodae, and you and your daughter will feel the rage of a Shadebringer.”
The blade did not move. “…have…lived through…this before.”
“And your daughter, how will she fare?”
A rippling growl came from the Nerodae’s throat. “She…dies…by my… blade…human.”
“Then sheathe it. Or do not. I am confident I can incinerate you. If I do, I will not even have to kill the poor girl.”
“SHE MUST…DIE! She must..” The pulsing blade wavered in his hand before he fiercely pulled it back and thrust it under his robed forearm.
The barrier of blue flames remained as Balisk spoke steadily. “If you complete the mission I give you, your daughter will be returned and you may kill her then. Also…I will allow you to challenge General Halding to a formal duel.”
Halding shot up from his chair, still holding the shield of ice interwoven with flames, face contorted in fury toward the Count.
“YOU WISH ME DEAD SO DEARLY, DO YOU BALISK? ARE YOU TOO COWARD TO DO IT YOUR-
Valdo threw himself to the floor as the Count’s desk ruptured into flying pieces of jagged rubble that bombarded the room. Luckily, the blue flame wall that divided the room burned the smaller and more deadly pieces into ash before they could hit him. He chanced a look up from the ground.
Halding’s shield melted into a pool of water on the stone floor, a fist-shaped hole through the center.
Balisk’s hand was clenched around the general’s throat, holding him up from the ground like he weighed as much as a stable boy.
Despite the circumstances, Valdo could hear restraint in every word the Count spoke. “Your insubordination has tried my patience, Halding. The Nerodae would attempt to kill you after receiving his daughter. I had thought to grant you the mercy of preparation through a formal duel. I see how foolish I was to consider mercy for a man like you.”
Halding’s eyes bulged as the Count’s iron grip crushed the breath out of him.
“You have been demoted to second Lieutenant, a title you will share with Lieutenant Jemeen. Meet me in the dining hall after your descent.”
Balisk’s arm tinged with blue flame. A strangled scream came from Halding as he soared across the room and through the shattered window where a long fall awaited him.
The Count turned to the Nerodae who had stood in the same place throughout the disaster.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“...yes.”
“Petalman, show the Nerodae his quarters, then bring him to the dining hall. Find Lieutenants Barog and Jemeen and bring them as well.”
The orange petal creature had received the brunt of the damage from the incident and was picking out shards of the wood from its body as it rose. It exited the room with the Nerodae trailing close behind, leaving Valdo and the Count alone.
The blue flame wall dissipated, and the Count stepped through the wreckage of the desk to extend an arm to Valdo. “I…apologize, Lieutenant.”
The words sounded wrong coming from his sharp voice. Perhaps if you removed the “I”, they would make sense.
Valdo grabbed his arm and stood shakily. “Count, I am a bit confused. Actually, a bit is an understatement.”
The Count swiped some of the debris off his amber-colored tunic. “Yes, well, that is what I am apologizing for. Unsure of who to trust, I have kept you in the dark for many things. By now, you have proven yourself, and I need your insight for what is to come.”
“And…what is to come?”
“That is a question better suited for another. Tell me, Jwi. What have you heard?”
Out of a small hole in the wall behind the Count’s broken desk, a gray rat scurried over the wooden rubble, up the Count’s leg and onto his shoulder.
The rat stood on its hindlegs to whisper something in the Count’s ear.
“Yes, you may speak in front of Lieutenant Valdo. Tell us where you have been and what you heard.”
The rat spoke in a raspy voice, as if it had just choked on a glass of water.
“Jwi very tired. Jwi have to leave horse and become white-beak bird to get to Count fast.”
“I know how much you dislike your bird-form, Jwi. You must have heard something very important. Tell us everything.”
“Yes, very important. Jwi sneak into dungeon easy. Jwi count twenty cells. Many creatures in cells talking to themselves. One man have an arm with white flames. Jwi never seen that before. Jwi also hear guards talk. They talk about disappointment. They have to guard dungeon. They say other guards have it good ‘cause…” The rat hesitated.
“Because what, Jwi?”
“In two days, those guards get to attack Solun.”
Balisk exhibited no sense of surprise at the news.
Valdo felt like he had taken a blow to the temple, again. This day had battered him with the unexpected. He ran his hands through his curled hair again, it had become a habit in times of stress.
“Why would Dracon attack us? Verdugo has never had an interest in Solun before. Our trade is important. He wouldn’t even have the damn silk sheets his fat arse sleeps in without us! Does he not realize that you will destroy them? This doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps the guards were joking?”
Jwi looked indignantly at Valdo and made a hissing sound that was more of a squeak. “Jwi know what joke is. This not joke. Jwi make sure too. Jwi go to guardhouse at blue gate, and hear same thing. Guards there nervous and excited for attack.”
Balisk laid a gentle hand on the rat’s head and spoke softer than usual.
“Go to the kitchen, Jwi, and have anything you want. Let the cooks know I have commanded this.”
The rat eagerly nodded its head and leapt off the Count’s shoulder, scampering back to the hole it came from.
The Count breathed in and out deeply, the type of breath a man takes when he knows a long day will be even longer.
“I have known Jwi for a long time, Lieutenant. He is not often wrong. Clearly, someone is pulling Verdugo’s strings. One of the coiners, Giza, I do not know. But, I do have a plan. Follow me.”