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Nulanos
‘Neil Toloth’
‘Eight Fingers’
‘8’
Eight’s ‘Rules of the Trade’
Part III
-Milva-
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Volume I
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> First Era
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> Summer of 1790 IC
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> 18 centuries into King Ninthalor’s reign
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> Twenty years after the Aken Elder of Galith and local faction leader Zargatoh famously stood up and asked the Zilan-dominated (seventeen out of twenty members at the time, the others two Aken and a Cofol) Isles Council in Sibara’s public forum, for a vote of ‘self-governance’ and a ‘regime that would embrace all Folk, peoples and races’, which the Aken stunningly won by one vote.
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> Three years before the start of the Plague Isles campaign (1793-2005? IC)*
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> Kobold Mines settlement at the base of Coal Mountain
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> Coal Isle
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>
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> *The ‘intervention’ or ‘armed expedition’ by Ninthalor eventually would lead to the Aken-Zilan war (1798? IC) that ended two years before the King’s assassination in the winter of 2006 or 2007 IC. Young Baltoris took over that same night and opted under heavy pressure not to challenge High Priestess Edlenn’s at first rejected** treaties (2008 IC) that gave the local Aken and Zilan their independence. It created a rift between the young Queen and the Sibyl’s Coven of Cydonia Cazan with Baltoris accusing the witches decades later that they had ‘tricked her into agreeing to abandon Imperial citizens and sully Ninthalor’s memory after having him killed.’ With the popular Edlenn’s violent death (or murder) in 2090 IC most magic practitioners or sympathizers were slowly expelled from mainland Wetull and Goras (Baltoris had moved her palace there from Elauthin) first to Cydonia Cazan and then they were driven out from there as well.
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> ** Presumed lost voluminous ‘Elas Chronicles of the Empire’ is the only official source of the events and the meeting between the King and the High Priestess as he had been Ninthalor’s trusted transcriber before and after the war years. Elas’ assistant Kataer (who took over from him under Baltoris) the only other official present. That makes it impossible to authenticate the veracity of Elas’ written account on the reason for the king’s steadfast refusal to end the war. Petty scriber’s Vulreon’s account (Arguen Garth’s official transcriber) who had heard the story from Kataer the only living ‘witness’ to the event.
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> -
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> Nulanos whistled like a mating canary to get Unor’s attention. It may sound a certain way this but there was nothing untoward to it. Unor was a bird lover since he’d been a scrawny bug-eyed kid. Again, this may sound a bit weird but there was nothing lewd to it. The muscular Hoplite leader perked up and then turned to glare at the hidden thief. Thief Leader, Nulanos decided to prop himself up. He was running a guild after all.
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> “Nulanos,” Unor grunted and wiped his face with a towel he’d left next to the water barrel. “I’m missing a box of tools.”
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> “Only a small hammer,” Nulanos corrected him and carried the box to place it near the bare-chested Hoplite. “Which I’ll return by morrow.”
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> Unor kicked the lid of the box open to look at its contents. “Why would you… I’d have loaned you the tool Nulanos had you asked. You know I sleep in the barracks.”
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> “Two reasons.” He replied and looked at the entrance of the tunnels. Coal Mountain had the best black granite stone in the whole empire. Some coal too but that wasn’t the reason it got its name. It was just a matter of the stone’s color. Probably. Or because mostly Mori-Zilan worked in the tunnels to cut it out since ‘they weren’t affected by darkness or enclosed spaces.’
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> Now, had someone bothered to ‘genuinely’ ask a Mori-Zilan about it, the answer wouldn’t be as straightforward. Not because of the dark. Digging. Nulanos hated it. But Dwarves weren’t easily bamboozled to work for ‘free’ or for pittance.
>
> “I’m listening,” Unor said patiently. Now Unor had gotten a break and was lucky to have followed his calling. Others got enough after working for centuries to open a small business in the island’s coastal cities but few really thrived in the loftier classes of citizens. At least Tinyssos had gotten his chance with the Coven, which had also helped Dudrina. Although the latter would have done her thing anyway since she had something of Nulanos in her despite being an older lass.
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> “I’m supposed to be looking for recruits,” Unor reminded him with a scowl.
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> “You won’t find anyone worthy of the Phalanx. Mori-Zilan aren’t about that life Unor,” Nulanos teased.
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> “Just give me the plaguing reasons.” Unor grunted with a scowl.
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> “I can’t be seen in the camp for a while,” Nulanos explained.
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> “That dagger does seem vaguely familiar up close,” Unor agreed. “Leave it on the table.”
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> “See?” Nulanos chuckled and removed the dagger. He tossed it on the table and it span around four times afore it came to a stop. “I was right.”
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> “The other reason?”
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> “The blacksmith Reliol thinks I switched his good shirt with another. As if we’re kids again and I would do such a silly thing,” Nulanos explained, a hand closing the front of his cloak casually.
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> “Did you?”
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> “I’m back after years of… ah, centuries of traveling around the Empire’s lands,” Nulanos explained his reasoning. “I needed to look good, you know… for the local ladies?”
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> Unor pursed his mouth. “Our kind isn’t exactly chaste Nulanos or difficult to entice. Especially around here.”
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> “Yeah but my standards are a bit higher than yours…” Unor narrowed his eyes and Nulanos pivoted the conversation away swiftly. “…so given our temporarily tensed relations with Reliol I found myself in grave need of a good hammer fast.”
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> “Why?” Unor asked and walked to the table to pick up his cuirass.
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> Nulanos scratched his head with another glance at the entrance to the tunnels. “Want to fix something.”
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> “You don’t have a house.”
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> The guild has. Just not in the provinces.
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> “I’ll have you know I’m staying at Larenos’ hostel.”
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> “Uhm. Does he know it?” Unor retorted cracking a smile.
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> “Of course,” Nulanos retorted a little affronted. “Paid upfront for four nights. By the way the ‘bath and bed’ slogan thingy he has nailed outside is bogus. Bath is not included in the price.”
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> Larenos had insisted. All his old childhood buddies turning on him and remaining reluctant to provide free food or shelter even after all that Nulanos had done for them.
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> Back in the day.
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> But still.
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> “Haven’t heard the reason yet and I’m worried you’re set on doing something stupid my friend,” Unor noted tying the sides of his armour.
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> “Nah,” Nulanos assured him and watched Unor transform into a Hoplite for a while. A couple of younger Zilan had stopped to watch his old friend as well with awe in their eyes. “Heard about Tavril closing that tunnel the other day?”
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> “It’s been a week,” Unor replied absentmindedly whilst using the towel to polish the muscled cuirass. “Sent word to Lord Isildor and he’s on a ship heading here. But Lady Nuala arrived first since word somehow reached Lord Suraer’s ears. I don’t have the men to secure the site or the inclination so Tavril improvised.”
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> The King’s Treasurer and the Elderblood Ranger/wife of Lord Suraer.
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> “What’s all the bother about? Diamonds?” Nulanos asked casually. “Surely they didn’t find more stone?”
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> Unor pursed his mouth and eyed the thief suspiciously. “No one is to enter until Lord Isildor has a chance to examine… the finding. Is why the tunnels are closed, why there are guards posted outside and why I’m here doing the legwork far as recruitment goes, which should have been the unit’s priority.”
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> “Are you going to let Nuala have a peek?” Nulanos asked going another way. “Is that why you’re polishing the armour?”
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> “I’m going to dissuade her by offering a tour of the camp instead, get the lads out for a parade and mayhap show her the local flora later.”
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> “I don’t want to burst your bubble friend but no one really finds the barracks or tents that interesting,” Nulanos teased using some verbal lube to push the proverbial locked chest out of the small window. “But switch the sightseeing with a hunt and you might succeed in wooing her. If Nuala has Rokae escorting her, I strongly advise you to keep your hands in your pockets.”
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> “Don’t be an idiot…” Unor puffed out. “There’s a grey-eagle site under the north peaks,” he murmured thinking about it.
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> “Are they rare? She might take a pot shot at them.”
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> “Surely not…” Unor gasped in horror.
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> “Suggest spears,” Nulanos offered with a toothy smile and wrapped his arm around the troubled Unor’s shoulders to guide him towards the Phalanx camp. Camp… the tents. He used the other hand to retrieve the army dagger from the table.
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> -
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> The Zilan had cut a wide road into the rocky slopes that led deep inside the mountain. It was nicely illuminated and turned into a semi-natural central cave about two kilometers in packed with large stone buildings. From there several tunnels had been opened and headed deep inside the earth in all directions. East, south, west and north. Many loaded carts bringing material out using rails and depositing it in the bigger central area’s many warehouses. From there another trip followed for the cut slabs of black granite with the animal-drawn laden wagons heading for Urma Port where ships would transfer them around the large island of Nureria and through the canal to Elauthin’s naturally protected by the elements massive harbor or to one of Goras’ three ports.
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> Unor’s Young Othrim’s squads of Hoplites had gotten everyone out, workers and slaves, effectively stopping all work inside the mines. Master Tavril’s office was also closed but Nulanos wasn’t interested in it. He did stop there for a looksee and found several keys that may turn useful or a needless burden. Tavril had also taken most of the lightstones with him leaving the gargantuan cave-like opening oppressively dark even for a Mori-Zilan. Given that Nulanos was a well-travelled and cultured member of the local population it took him a while to get used to the cave. The tunnels were even darker, the ceiling standing lower and with enough side shafts right and left to make even Lord Anfalon nervous.
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> Things popped out of darkness from time to time. The eerie absolute silence so dominant and oppressive that each small sound -be it moisture trickling down a wall or a pebble kicked away in the dark- increased tenfold due to the enclosed area’s acoustics. Everything was engulfed by the mountain in essence.
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> It took Nulanos three hours to find the correct side tunnel and by then he’d turn into a nervous sweating wreck that heard weird movement all about him. Tavril had placed two large slabs down and had nailed boards to the final part of the entrance. Removing the wooden boards could create an opening (and you’d need a hammer for that) but the heavy slabs of granite ensured you couldn’t bring one of the animal-drawn carts from the bigger cave to easily get more stuff out. Not that any animals had been left behind.
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> What stuff?
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> Removing the animals had also ensured no one could remove the slabs. One could break them apart, chiseling at the surface slowly but he’d need a sledgehammer for that and Unor’s biceps. Nulanos stared at his small hammer very annoyed. If he started now then by the time Lord Isildor or Lady Nuala arrived he could have broken away just enough of the two meter tall and –each- equally wide chunks of granite to make a hole as big as Nulanos’ head. You could theoretically work on the boards just above the barrier if you could stand up there somehow, over the vertical ‘wall’ to reach them.
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>
> He was tall but not that tall.
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> He could climb a wall but not park on it for long enough to swing a hammer once.
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> Eh.
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> Maybe if I back away and run on it, I could swing the hammer once at the boards. Smash my face on the granite to end the leap, drop down and then do it all over again.
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> And again.
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> The thief blinked, the pitch black barrier appearing a lit up grey but for a small corner to the upper left where the thick blocking boards remained a solid black. Right where they touched the granite slabs.
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> Hmm.
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> Nulanos put a hand on the hard surface and then raised it as high as he could to reach this darker spot. Then he jumped up but it was still out of reach. So Nulanos jumped higher, chest smacking the granite and hurting his elbow but he lodged two fingers right at the edge of the left open area. He hang there for a moment, glued on the granite slabs and then lifted himself upwards until he felt the breeze coming from the left open hole at the corner of the boards.
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> Nulanos reached with his left arm but didn’t found the end of the thick granite slab. Since the boards didn’t extend that far in, he lodged the right armpit on the sawed off wood, heaved and pulled until he managed to squeeze inside the small opening. Nulanos stood on top of the granite slabs breathing heavy and checked on the cut off part of the boards that continued vertically another four meters. This was the opening to a cave and not a tunnel.
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> Someone had cut Tavril’s boards enough to squeeze through. This lazy scatterbrained amateur could have worked a bit more to give himself more inches all around, secure a bigger exit point, the sweaty Nulanos thought sourly. In order to get something other than himself back out. He reached in his satchel for the hammer and then started working on getting rid of the boards from the inside.
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> Nulanos got rid of enough of the boards to secure an easy exit and then found the back end of the granite slabs to jump down. He walked slowly to regain feeling in his hurting arm whilst examining the natural cave Tavril had discovered. A strange smell bothering him.
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> He paused to touch one of the rough walls. The brittle material left a stain on his fingers. Nulanos stared on the soft ground clearing his throat. He had trouble breathing and the ground while covered with shingles and black nuggets it also felt sandy. The small rocks crashing under his boots. The thief started coughing and used a cotton hankie to cover his mouth.
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> Hard coal, he thought. They found a very big seam.
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> Nulanos could see a partial collapse directly up ahead. The brittle wall had come down to create a pile of black rocky debris and had left a massive hole behind. Half of the collapsed material was powder-like though and not solid. More cracks visible at the edges of the chasm and at its base this fine black powder spilled out.
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> Ash.
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> Nulanos approached the chasm and peeked inside. He almost got blinded as the dramatic difference in color inside the opening created a flash, like a strong torch and hurt his adjusted for pure-darkness sensitive eyes. With a groan the thief stumbled back causing even more disturbance to the soft ash under his feet, the freshly raised cloud making it difficult to breathe.
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> Fuck.
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> His eyes were burning.
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> Nulanos tried to calm himself down and then peeked inside the opening again to see what had caused the strange flash. It was the walls. Veins of pure gleaming silver cut through the hard coal but the heavier metal had slowly crashed the anthracite and at some point in the past had caused a massive internal fire.
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> It had leaked into the coal, Nulanos thought and reached to touch the silver-like strange material with a finger. Penetrated deep enough and slowly ate away at it until the fire destroyed the coal weakening the whole cave. These are hollow walls. How did the metal survive?
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> His finger felt the metal yielding to his tough. Soft and almost elastic. Nulanos frowned.
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> Shit.
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> Oras fiends in the night.
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> This wasn’t silver.
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> He had to come up with a new plan fast at this point.
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> That’s why Nuala is here, a stunned Nulanos thought and got his dagger out to dig out some of the material. This is something that would interest Lord Suraer a lot.
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> A soft moan stopping him. He blinked, tears running down his soot-covered face and turned around alarmed. Nulanos got up tensed and walked outside the chasm, leaving behind him the ‘room’ of raw Mithril. There was no way to calculate how big the vein was or the value of it. Which is why Lord Isildor is rushing here already.
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> He paused outside the chasm and stared thoughtfully at the pile of ash and crashed coal that had poured out of the collapsed wall. Nulanos heard that whining moan again. Some of the debris moved about and the ashes shifted. He clenched his fingers on the stolen dagger’s handle. You never know what might pop out of the tunnels. In the absolute dark of the larger cave a pair of glowing eyes appeared. They blinked and then someone coughed pathetically.
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> “Shit.”
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> The small voice adding with a surprised croak.
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> “Oras heart you scared me… who are you?”
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> There was a young girl half-buried in the pile of crashed coal and ashes. A huge chunk of gleaming raw Mithril in her arms. Raw Mithril weighs way more than lead, three times more than gold before a qualified blacksmith refines it in a special forge. The girl had dragged it out of the chasm, made it to the pile outside and attempted to walk over it. Then the weight had dragged her down and buried her under the debris. The fact that she had managed to survive and then dig herself out whilst dragging the Mithril along, was darn right impressive.
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> And incredibly stupid.
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> But one had to respect the greed behind it.
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> “I’m Neil kid,” a coughing Nulanos had replied and tended a hand to the trapped girl. “Want some help with that?”
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image [https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUpKt3F_WAYtKm_omr0AdmjYpNMsEVh8vzyPhIYAoKa_RRKOi3gQePM1yw-WmBUf8GLuNGvka2pdpCfjX3Wfyvi-BHb9VBYTQWaD9HLZy87BZkEFIJffMkEi8XF0QbkWitwa4x_QEhoa1AhE1GC-XSOgm_tdzD00F6hs3mMiQqW0ZlsppMWMu1IJW8-ZI]
Volume II
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Third Era
13th of Neter 3400 IC
Five years into the times of Hardir O’ Fardor
Four years into the reign of Arguen Garth
Hardir’s Port in Goras
A private warehouse in the industrial south district
He had to come up with a new plan fast at this point.
“I work for the port master,” Nulanos said with an authoritative voice looking about him for something to work with. “This is a surprise inspection.”
The brigand furrowed his brows and stood back to better look at him.
“We’ve paid the fee already,” he started. “We’re as legitimate as they come, mister…?”
“I’m Neil,” Nulanos replied readily spotting a brick at the foot of the warehouse’s wall. “We have reports of unsavory activities in the area.”
“Huh? Who… well, we just had a break in,” the Lorian thug grunted. “Ayup. A fool dropped from the roof and caused some damage to our crates. Which contain… legitimate products… from the area.”
“Is he alive?” Nulanos asked a little worried, an eye on the brick and the other on Valydra talking animated with the pirates near the ship. “I need to question him.”
Eh.
You slip up under heavy pressure. Or trying to do too many things all at once.
The brigand narrowed his eyes and asked in a distrustful manner, missing Eight’s left foot dragging the brick closer.
“How do you know it's a 'him'? There are plenty of female crooks around these parts. Allegedly.”
Yeah.
The brigand got a surprisingly honest answer in response.
“I’m the lookout.”
“What?” The brigand gasped and the brick levitated between them, Nulanos’ performing a roundabout kick that caught it midair and hurled it on the man’s head. A loud thud as the brick bounced off of the thug’s forehead and Nulanos started moving without hesitation. He snatched the brick with his right hand, went over the collapsing brigand and walked briskly towards the front of the building.
He found the gates open and walked inside hefting the brick in his hand, heading directly for the four humans gathered around the smashed boxes and crates in the middle of the warehouse.
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Nigel groaned in blinding pain coming about and then twisted on the ground grabbing at his leg. He managed to stand with a punch at his hurt right shoulder and then went down again landing on top of an unconscious thief. The one with the shaved head.
The shaved head with the bleeding cracked cranium.
“What… in the…?” Nigel groaned and tried to get away from the unresponsive thug. Thief… eh, Nulanos wouldn’t give them that. “Eight? God darn it man. Argh, think I’ve broken my ankle. Couple of ribs… shit. Hatch opened wrong…”
They didn’t have time for that.
“Nigel,” Nulanos said and went to help him stand. “Listen up. We’ll change up the plan a bit.”
A lot. Like abandon everything else.
“Ouch… fuck.” Nigel smacked his lips still distracted. “Damn. Think I was a goner for a moment there… Is that?”
“It is. I gave you a healing potion. It’ll take time to heal the bone and you need to stand still and not walk on it. Having said that we need to get out of here fast and head back to base.”
“Wait… what about the loot? You’ve taken them all out and there’s gold in here chief,” Nigel said with a grimace and groaned as Nulanos started half-dragging him towards the exit. “Oras fiends, what are we doing Eight?”
Nulanos stopped to look at his sweaty, slightly bleeding face. “You’re Eight.”
Nigel blinked in numb confusion. “I fell from the roof,” the thief told him hoarsely in an attempt to put two and two together. “Must have hit my head pretty bad. But I’m dead certain I’m Nigel.”
“You are. But you’re also Eight now. Ryker and Denis will play along.”
“What are you talking…? Ryker has seen you… Why?” Nigel asked now even more confused.
Nulanos sighed knowing they didn’t have a lot of time.
“They’ll head back to the tavern. We need to be there first with a solid plan.”
Solid… eh. Plan… I wish.
Just a diversion.
Nigel looked at him with a pained expression of pure bewilderment.
“Remember that time in eighty-one when you wanted to take that pretty girl in?” Nulanos asked knowingly.
“Lisa-Marie?” Nigel asked and grimaced. “What is… what does she have to do—?”
“Now I was against it firmly, right?” Nulanos asked him with a tensed grin.
“Sure. You can be a dick. But… she turned out fine. Then married that smith in Caspo O’ Bor.”
“Nice for her. Now the reason I brought it up is that I didn’t want you getting involved with a pupil—”
“I would never!” Nigel grunted stopping him. “She’s like my little sister anyways. Watched her growing up and all. Anyway, she’s out of the life now and we have rules about that right? Your rules.”
Yeah.
Nulanos pursed his mouth and stared at his boots. “Forget about it. Ryker brought Valydra here.”
“You don’t say. Who’s she again?”
“A girl… a Zilan from the old place.”
“Wait… did you just say Ryker is here? When did this happen?” Nigel asked and tried to step on his leg with another groan.
“It hasn’t happened yet… yes, he’s here. Anyways, he’ll bring them to the guild and she can’t know I’m alive.”
“Eh, but you are.”
“I need time to figure out what her plan is.”
Nigel licked his lips unsure. “Ryker would have told her you still breathe Eight. Is she dangerous?”
“She’s a great thief. A member of the Guild. If we had a seniority thing going and not my brand of favoritism then she’d be the oldest member by a lot with Sorn at number two.”
“Alright,” Nigel murmured with a nod. “So…?”
“You’re Eight. Got the rank from the horses’ mouth,” Nulanos repeated. “Ryker will play along.”
He better.
“Right,” Nigel grimaced. “I’m uncomfortable with this. What if she asks a trick question?”
“She’ll know you are not me Nigel. So you’ll give her a reason for the charade, something tearful and heroic. She’s a mark, work your magic on her. Find something.”
Nigel nodded in agreement. “Aha. Like what?” He asked crooking his mouth.
“Tell her I died in Rida with the witch.”
Nigel blinked, then thought about it some. A moment later he scratched his head, cleared his throat and asked. “So I just welcome her in?”
She’ll get in even if you tell her no.
Milva is very stubborn.
“Learn what you can and I’ll be around. The moment we know more I’ll see to fix this,” Nulanos assured him although this part of the plan Nulanos hadn't worked out yet. The plan sucked but he couldn’t come up with anything better, what with less than an hour of time available and if that.
“What did she do?” Nigel asked. “You asked Sorn about her.”
“She tried to have me killed which is very disappointing, but also had an old friend killed which I can’t forgive.” A tensed Nulanos replied.
-
Four hours later
Black Door tavern (Taras venue)
Early morning of the 14th of Neter
Nigel Grim was heard puffing out and Nulanos pressed his back on a wall, squeezed in the small space behind a tall cupboard in a corner of the cellar. Denis sounded very disappointed.
“I had the table reserved Nigel,” griped the low-ranking thief running the tavern venue in Taras. There was one in almost every big city and sometimes two or three. Few of them brought any income in but they operated like hideouts, warehouses and safe spots to keep goods until they were put back in circulation via the black market. “Hired the hostel’s chef to prepare a dinner and all.”
“I’m sorry Denis. I know how much it means to you man,” Nigel replied. “But we have a high ranking member of the Guild visiting and we need to have the place locked down tight.”
“Eight?”
“I’m Eight now.”
“Yeah, I don’t like that Nigel,” Denis murmured.
“It’s his idea. You play along now,” Nigel elucidated.
“Uhm. Eh, will these visitors use the tavern? If they are to stay in the cellar then we could make this work.”
“A Cofol group you say,” Nigel said.
“A merchant and his wives. He has three. Plus a couple of slaves. It’s a group,” Denis expounded.
“Mmm. You need to have Ryker slip our visitors by them fast.”
“I can do that. When did Ryker arrive?”
“Earlier tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve seen him but we raced here before them.”
“Do I need a blade?” Denis asked after a thoughtful moment.
“No. But you keep one under the counter just in case,” Nigel deadpanned.
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Twenty minutes later Nulanos could hear their visitors talk with ease but could only spot the outline of the two Zilan.
“Have a seat friends,” Ryker was saying, the thief sounding in great spirits. “Valydra, Kumra you can relax in here. Lose the hoods. I’ve tolerated the caution in the city but this is ridiculous. We are friends of the Monarch.”
For crying out loud the man was probably just being polite! Nulanos thought frustrated with everyone believing they had a carte blanche in Goras now.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Let’s not overstate the local state of affairs Ryker.”
“I wasn’t. We talked with the guards in the port. Pirates and thieves bringing loot ashore. No one even batted an eyelash!”
“They might if they catch you on the act!” Nigel grunted.
“Who are you?” Valydra interrupted their back and forth. It was strange hearing her speaking in Common. It was even stranger hearing her voice after so long. “Where is Eight?”
“I’m Eight,” Nigel replied. “Welcome to Taras Valydra.”
“Hello mister Eight,” Kumra said respectfully.
“Uh?” Ryker gasped.
“You are not him,” Valydra retorted. “What is this folly Ryker?”
“Ahm,” Ryker stalled and Nigel remembered to step in.
“I’m Eight now Valydra. I run the Guild,” Nigel Grim expounded.
“Is this who you were talking about?” A livid Valydra asked Ryker.
“Well, as mister Grim said it’s a moniker… really. We do that. My surname isn’t Phantom ha-ha. Eh,” he paused and Nulanos tried to see what was going on. “You’re very angry.” Ryker noticed lamely.
“I’m deeply disappointed.” Valydra hissed. “I feel cheated mister Ryker. Like I’ve been worked on thoroughly and left with an empty purse!”
“You are among professional thieves,” Nigel deadpanned finding his almost legendary wit at the most crucial point in the game. “I’ll say it was to be expected my lass.”
A moment of tense silence ensued.
Come on Milva this was a good retort.
“You hit the nail on the head mister Grim,” Valydra finally yielded, a light tease in her voice and Nulanos frowned. “For humans you have a great setup here.”
“We aim to please,” Nigel replied. “You can call me Nigel.”
Okay that’s enough sugar mate, Nulanos thought and peeked at them from his hiding place but he could only see their backs. Damn it, I forgot how fit Mori-Zilan can be.
“Nulanos… Eight,” Valydra asked sometime later. “Wouldn’t retire.”
“And he didn’t. We lost him… in Rida. It’s been a number of years since,” Nigel replied sadly probably stabbing his hurt foot down to dig out even more emotion. “Ryker I haven’t told you that but he was with the witch that night.”
“He was? Yeah… that makes sense,” Ryker mumbled doing a decent job in playing along. “Apologies Valydra.”
“If you didn’t know, then there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said tiredly. “So Nulanos was sleeping with the sorceress?”
“Is this a trick question?” Nigel teased.
“It makes a certain sense,” Valydra murmured.
It does?
“It does? I never… He was a private man… Zilan.” Nigel replied equally confused.
“You haven’t seen Aelrindel,” Valydra explained. “She could get a stir out of a rock.”
And you have? When was that? Nulanos wondered and then added afore he could control his thoughts. You can a stir a rock as well dear.
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“They are gone,” Nigel said an hour later, near noon. “Ryker went with them. They’ll stroll around Taras a bit, see the sights and be back.”
“You told him about Dar Fenog lurking about?”
“An assassin.”
“A nasty piece of work.”
“I did. Don’t they need a contract to go after someone?” Nigel asked him worried.
“That’s the Silent Servants Guild. Theoretically yes, but we don’t know who is running them.”
“Who was top dog afore?”
“Dar Nym.”
If we’re lucky she has kicked the bucket already.
“Is that the name he goes by?” Nigel asked.
“No. And it’s a she. Elas little sister. The Elderblood Aenymriel. Dar Fenog’s name is Din.” Nulanos murmured and run his fingers on the expensive silver fork Valydra had used, noticing a spoon was missing. A half-smile formed on his mouth but it quickly went away. “But there were more of them. The old Gish and Minuet-Mol. Dar Draug… you don’t want to run onto him ever. Dar Eherdir of course. Don’t let my words fool you. These are very old Zilan Nigel and extremely dangerous. We don’t know how many of them are alive.”
“Ryker said the isles were devastated for the most part.”
“And Valydra said that a whole settlement survived inside the mountain. Came out after the catastrophe. Every island has survivors.”
“She seemed to care only for the Mori-Zilan,” Nigel noticed.
“It makes sense.”
“Anymore witches hidden in there?” Nigel asked.
“It’s possible. I don’t know what happened after I escaped,” Nulanos admitted.
“When was that?”
“A long time ago.”
“Should I tell her about Sorn still roaming about?” Nigel probed casually.
“No. Let’s see what she’ll tell us first.”
“She might spot you chief. Or that Kumra dude.”
“He’s a youngster. And I’ll be careful,” Nulanos retorted and got up frustrated with himself for being so nervous.
“She moves like a cat. Her eye notices everything,” Nigel commented. “What do you think happened to the other one?”
“I don’t know,” Nulanos replied and stared at his old pupil. “Valydra is an old lady now Nigel.”
“Doesn’t look old to me chief. Reckon we’re both adults.”
“Just keep it professional. She is not stupid,” Nulanos snapped and Nigel furrowed his brows.
“You sound jealous chief,” his old pupil noted.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Nulanos hissed and marched straight for the hatch to get some air.
----------------------------------------
Valydra had gotten a new pair of soft leather boots from Vycaris & Oelinael's workshop, the tailors gifting her a leather bustier ‘for Goras has buried the hatchet with Valydra’s people’ and a new outfit for Kumra. A visibly pale Ryker footed the exorbitant bill since Vycaris and Goras while now charitable remained as conceitedly expensive as ever. So he charged them an arm and a leg in the end to make up for the gift.
Nulanos followed after them, keeping a safe distance and crunching on a pilfered apple until they stopped with much of the market’s crowd to watch the Onyx Wyvern flying over Taras. The Wyvern dived for the lake’s surface making a great splash that stunned the bystanders and then flew towards the distant castle with a series of smug trumpeting shrieks.
“The Monarch has a black Wyvern?” Valydra asked a local merchant and the Cofol grinned toothily.
“Indeed. He’s very friendly. Frequently flies over the market to excite those visiting it. The more you come, the more you shall see it lass.”
“Mmm. You sell beads?”
“Semi-valuable,” the merchant replied. “I have an eyepatch fashioned of colored glass and it sparkles in the light.”
“I’m not sure it’s useful in the field,” the female thief murmured absentmindedly.
“What field be that lass?”
“Night hunting… for rare Griffin feathers?” Valydra quickly elucidated in a hushed tone. The merchant showcased extreme professionalism to her words, maintaining an attentive expression on his face the whole time. The comely thief cleared her throat and added. “The young ones get irritated by flashy things. Sometimes?”
The man probably had no idea what she was talking about.
“What’s a few empty trips, if you get to look pretty?” The Cofol haggled with a fierce grin, followed by a conspiratorial wink. “Just have a look at it. Here. The craftsmanship, soft cloth under the leather. It’s only two gold dinars for you. Special prize for a lovely lass.”
“Thank you master merchant, but this lass shall pass,” Valydra replied not taking the bait. She walked away from the stand and deeper into the market with Kumra and Ryker shuffling their feet behind her.
“Fucking thrifty, black-skinned Issir,” the Cofol cursed under his breath a moment later but paused seeing the tall Nulanos that had parked in front of his stand.
“She’s a Mori-Zilan. Seldom do they expend on frills for they are nurtured with none,” lest they steal it, he told him and the merchant nodded unsure but seeing Neil’s expensive leathers and fancy shirt, the Cofol quickly found his footing.
“How can I be of service sheikh?”
“Neil.”
“Anything caught your fancy Sheikh Neil?”
“Just Neil shall suffice,” Nulanos retorted stiffly and pointed an index finger to a bowl filled with white and black colored beads. “Give me a hundred of those.”
“Only about fifty in the bowl,” the merchant informed him. “Four silver dinars per bowl. I have another one in the box. They are for braids. Good on a female, smart on a male,” he added with a shit-eating grin.
“I’ll take them both,” Nulanos replied and a gold coin appeared between the extended mid and index finger. “Keep the change.”
“Right away,” the Cofol replied eagerly and stooped to rifle inside his large box under the stand. “Here it is,” he said a moment later and stood up. “Let me wrap them inside a cloth for you.”
Nulanos thanked him in a friendly manner and then followed after the leisurely walking trio. He slotted the wrapped up ceramic bowls of colored beads inside his satchel en route, right beside the intricately sawn leather eyepatch.
----------------------------------------
Valydra visited as much of Taras as she could and finally called it a day. They returned to the Black Door tavern with Ryker complaining about his tired legs. The two Zilan completely unaffected by the distance they had covered challenged him to join them in a dash ‘over the sturdy rooftops’ which the miffed Ryker politely declined.
He left them at the entrance of the tavern since ‘there was some work to be done for the Guild’ and they went inside with Nulanos approaching after about twenty minutes keeping to the shades. After another ten minutes of watching the hostel’s entrance and the nearby streets for any lurking trouble, the master thief entered the closed dark tavern as well using his own key.
Nulanos paused in the pitch dark and listened to Denis snoring from the armchair he’d installed behind the counter. He eyed the table with the empty plates and glasses. Two tables adjoined together.
Walking carefully he reached the hatch and opened it. Nulanos climbed down the ladder and ducked inside a shadow hearing voices coming from the semi-lit hall. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he listened for a while to the voices, Valydra and Nigel were talking in the latter’s office. The door left open. One of the small bedrooms on the east wall of the cellar occupied by a sleeping Kumra.
Another silent burst across the hall and he stopped behind a stone support pillar that offered a good view of the inside of Nigel’s office through the open door. It wasn’t more than five meters away.
“He never said anything,” the sitting down Nigel said rubbing at his hurt leg, he rested on a small stool.
“But he taught you.”
“It was a process,” Nigel replied. “Spanning many years… not always pleasant. Frequently painful.”
“You miss him?”
“I can’t say I’m not.”
Be vigilant Nigel, Nulanos thought.
“Who told you Dar Fenog is around?” Valydra asked changing the subject. Had Nulanos really been dead, the previous topic would have rattled his last pupil enough to slip up here. Nigel didn’t.
“I know it for years,” Nigel replied casually. “Through Eight. The real one.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Not really. He’s lurking around the palace and the throne’s lands. But he is not unwanted there.”
“Which are those throne’s lands?”
“Morn Taras, the Garden of Statues, Sen’s Lake and the Den. You need special permission to visit,” Nigel replied. “Don’t know why you would. Although I reckon the palace is a nice place.”
“Has Eight ever mentioned anyone else?”
“I don’t remember lass.”
“Do you have incense with you?”
Nigel stood back. “You can buy some, but yes. Surely you are not looking for work? You don’t have to. The Guild shall provide.”
“Will the Guild return to Cydonia?”
“Eventually. Ryker said we have to be more prepared to venture further inland.”
“You’re talking of plunder, I was thinking of having a ship reach Coal Isle and inform those still living there they are welcomed here. We are welcomed here Mister Nigel, yes?”
“Of course.”
“The Monarch is the Guild’s friend,” Valydra pressed on.
“We have… an understanding.”
“What do you do for him?” Valydra asked.
“Helped him out a few times.” Nigel replied a little warily as he couldn’t figure out her angle.
Nulanos could. Valydra wanted to ensure the king’s route would stop at Coal Isle and not jump to the next port.
“Any of Edlenn’s people around?” Valydra asked next.
Or not exactly, Nulanos thought a little surprised at where the conversation had gone. She turned political in the end, Sorn had told him and it was a slip up this. A truth amidst the lies. But how many lies were there? It all had made perfect sense at first.
She’s influencing your mind unwittingly you fool, he admonished himself.
“Who is she?” Nigel asked with a frown.
“The… witch’s mother. You don’t know who…” Valydra sighed deeply troubled.
“You alright there lass?” A concerned Nigel asked since he could see Valydra’s face and she took a long time to answer.
“They called her the Moon’s Daughter. She wasn’t important back then, just too young to make a difference. Her mother though was, her line that of Sintoriela who was the First Sibyl. She had foretold the age of Hardir O’ Fardor and you’re living in it Mister Grim. Cydonia never let go of the Old Ways and many perished to keep her words alive. To hear your obliviousness of our past and struggles hurts my soul. This realm I don’t recognize and I won’t submit to another wyvern.”
“The Monarch doesn’t oppose magic. Gish and dwarves live in Taras. A Mori-Zilan could also if she wanted.”
“If vanity breaks the gilded throne, the wyvern’s scales shall turn an onyx black,” Valydra droned Sintoriela’s revelation. “Atone… or thee shall be judged by the Tamer of Monsters. Your monarch is not benevolent Nigel. He’s not here to heal or make friends. He’s here to purge the lands. You have been fooled.”
“Listen lass,” Nigel said and got up with a grimace. “I get you want revenge and you’re frustrated upon learning that your old enemies are still around when old friends are long gone. But maybe you need to let go? Garth is a normal guy that had his share of misfortune.”
“A normal guy tied to an onyx wyvern, consorting with the Queen’s lackeys? Do you know what they did?”
“They are bad guys everywhere. All Monarchs use them from time to time. Good, bad. It means nothing. Take a few days, you’re overwhelmed right now.”
“They tried to kill him!” Valydra hissed and Nulanos frowned. “In a sense they did. I bet the fire in Rida was another attempt.”
“It was an accident and for certain not aimed at him. I know about Turlas by the way.”
No Nigel, keep Sorn out of it.
“What? That was a fucking lie!” Valydra snapped at him and paced animatedly to the edge of the door. “Turlas was nowhere near Cazan at the time. Eh, I’ll take that incense now.”
Huh?
“What are you going to do?” Nigel asked opening a drawer.
“Can the Guild fund a mission to Coal Isle?”
“Sure. But the Guild needs to make profit from the trip. We can’t return there so soon for no reason.”
“Who else would?” Valydra asked stubbornly and Nigel pursed his mouth. “Fine. The port was full of pirates last I checked.”
“Valydra,” Nigel grunted but she stormed out of the office. She blasted past Nulanos and headed for the corridor leading upstairs.
A moment later Nigel came to stand at the door.
“You there chief?” He asked casually and Nulanos glanced to see if Kumra had woken up. It didn’t appear so, but he kept his voice low just the same.
“She’ll calm down eventually.”
“You sure? Because I think she’s nuts. Pretty crazy. And you can read that both ways.”
“Mmm,” Nulanos murmured looking at the other Mori-Zilan sleeping.
“Didn’t seem to back Sorn’s tale,” Nigel noticed.
“No,” Nulanos agreed. “It’s what bothers me the most.”
-
> The warship groaned like a wounded beast, timbers crackling or splintering as fires burst through the upper deck to the lower compartments. Burning figures hurled right and left. Bodies smashed against the ship’s innards that smoked and then were set alight. The flames leaping for his steel cage that toppled backwards towards the stern, one of the chains breaking and the other creaking. The sound increased tenfold with securing bolts exploding inwards and ripping through the oarsmen that had jumped up and flocked towards to narrow stairs to escape.
>
> You break the thumb, the trapped Nulanos reasoned trying to turn his head enough to see what he was doing. Pull hard next.
>
> Repeat with the other hand.
>
> Then try to open the lock with broken fingers.
>
> Fuck.
>
> “Hey Gnome!” He barked and the disheveled, disproportionately large kid’s head appeared over his cage. The thin beard on its face looking ridiculous.
>
> “Abrakas-Gullet,” the Gnome said in his incoherent dialect, the words too difficult for his big head to handle as it was completely empty of a brain. The Gnome grinned in agreement. Crooked teeth ghastly to look at. People screaming and dying in the background not helping. “Drown-soon-you. Maybe-burn?”
>
> “Got any ideas?” A desperate yanking at his right arm Nulanos asked clenching his teeth manically, the skin torn there and a piece of it hanging bloody over the chains.
>
> “Guards-have-key?” the Gnome mumbled.
>
> “What?”
>
> “Guards-have-key!” The Gnome yelled and showed him a large bundle of iron keys he held in a small hand.
>
> I have the guards’ key, a delirious Nulanos had translated and even remembering the horrific events untold years later, he couldn’t help but smile at the unlikely scene. A witch’s hand reaching from afar to pluck him out of death’s cold embrace as a last act of defiance. ‘Each soul has a skill,’ a drowsy Dudrina used to say after they had smoked her special batch of Redleaf and fooled around for a while ‘since it clears my head and you know how to work that cock boy.’
>
> Ah. Silly old girl, a moved Eight reminisced.
>
> ‘I can’t be bothered to dig for answers but you’ll do it. You’ll swim under the waters, risk your life and drag the buried secrets to the surface. Mayhap you’ll die for it. Don’t die for it. Or for her.’
>
>
-
Nulanos closed his eyes and when he opened them again a cloak wearing Valydra got out of a tavern near Taras’ black market. She paused to talk to an inebriated crook or pirate a couple of meters from the door.
“There’s a word doing the rounds, ye be looking for a ship lass,” the man said in Common.
“Word travels fast around these parts?” Valydra asked.
“Maybe it does.”
“Does it have an answer?”
“You can rent a ship.”
“A place on a ship.”
“A ship. A Schooner. Celeste. Aye.”
Valydra stood back unsure. “How much?”
“The price can be arranged,” the crook told her.
“Aha. With whom?” Valydra queried sensing a trap.
“Folmon. He’s legit.”
“He owns the ship?”
“Nah. Big guy does. It makes the trip on the regular, but they can make a detour for ye.”
“The trip to where?” Valydra asked.
“Got no idea. They moor on the south beach at the base of First Finger, just outside the ruins of the Old East City.” The shifty crook explained.
“Why not Hardir’s Port?” Valydra asked and the man shrugged his shoulders. “How do I meet with the big guy?”
“You be there on the morrow. Pay the captain and you’ll be traveling by the next morning.”
“What do I tell him?” Valydra asked now intrigued.
“Tell him, Hulanor send ye and he’ll know.”
Hmm.
-
Volume III
Early dawn the next day.
14th of Neter
“So what’s the plan?” Ryker asked crooking his mouth. “I have that thing… with the priest... about, you know what.”
“Why weapons?” Nulanos asked looking at the apartment behind the underworld ‘rat races’ arena.
“Protection.” Ryker replied and glanced at him. “What do you want with Hulanor?”
“What does he do exactly?” Nulanos asked combing his white hair with the help of his fingers.
“Gambling, races, fights, a lot of smuggling. He’s connected to Lord Folen. So he spies for the Throne probably.”
“Right. Your typical well-connected, semi-legitimate Goras criminal.”
“One would say we’re better connected than him chief,” Ryker commented with a smirk and Nulanos rolled his eyes in despair.
“Ryker a thief that walks the palace grounds lives a short life.”
“Another dictum chief?” Ryker asked.
“Something an old friend used to say,” Nulanos replied tiredly and started up the few stairs to reach the door of the apartment.
No easier fall guy or girl than a crook dining at your table for those in power.
----------------------------------------
Hulanor was a plump Zilan. Which meant he really didn’t like exertions or fasting. He looked into Eight’s dark face unsure and then stepped away from the door to allow him entry. Nulanos walked inside the office, another door to his right leading to the rest of the floor-sized apartment.
“I’m not sure we’ve been introduced.”
“Neil,” Nulanos replied and stared in his face. There was something there. “Hulanor of…”
“Alenia,” Hulanor replied. “To the heavens above our greetings. May I ask for yours?”
“Tylva,” Nulanos said not really in the mood for niceties. “She worked the Kobold Mines.”
But never made it out.
“Coal Isle,” Hulanor nodded and walked to his office. “There’s a rumor, a Mori-Zilan is making waves in Taras. I thought it a fascinating but unlikely tale. But I also heard it was a female.”
“You hail from Cydonia Cazan,” Nulanos said evenly. Alenia was an old name. “Aeson had a daughter if I recall correctly,” Nulanos continued and Hulanor blinked in shock, his face paling. “What happened?”
“I lost her in the Fall,” Hulanor replied hoarsely and fished a bottle of liquor out of a drawer. He quickly filled a small glass with it and raised it to his mouth. “My grandfather died during the war with the Aken.”
“Funny that I recall him living for some time after the war ended,” Nulanos corrected him. “Smuggled citizens out of Goras for a time. Worked in Sibara for a moon. Funny guy this Aeson. He never got mixed up with the dirty work himself. An elusive figure, lost in the annals of criminal history.”
“Who are you?” A frowned Hulanor asked and refilled his glass. His plump hands were shaking.
“I’m with the Guild,” Nulanos replied and stooped over Hulanor’s office, dipped his finger in the glass of liquor and wrote the number 8 on his desk. He then slotted the wet finger in his mouth and tasted the fruity liquor. Rose extract and cognac with a touch of smoke.
“Does Lord Folen know who you really are?” Nulanos asked him and Hulanor pushed back on his comfy armchair that fleshy face hardening.
“Maybe he doesn’t care?” Hulanor offered with a sly smirk.
“What about the Monarch?”
“Maybe he cares even less?”
“Someone up and down that chain though does,” Nulanos continued. “It only takes one to hear the name and wonder, could it be him?”
“I’ve no beef with the Thieves Guild,” Hulanor grunted. “I work for the Monarch.”
Here it was again. This strange belief. The carte blanche.
“Does he even know you?” Nulanos asked.
“Lord Folen is in the King’s Council.” Hulanor hissed. “You talk of semantics Mister Neil.”
“Here’s your problem. I’m a persistent old goat that will keep looking into the matter,” Nulanos started stiffly. “Dig here and then dig over there. Ask around. Annoy people. Checking on your words. Maybe I’ll start by going to that dwarf. Now they have this strange tendency to take matters seriously Hulanor. And they are stubborn. Isn’t he above your Lord Folen? You think, Folen will risk his position for you?”
“What the fuck do you want?” Hulanor, who could have been Aeson in another life and under another king, growled and clenched the small glass so hard it shattered in his hand.
“Celeste.” Nulanos replied evenly.
Hulanor pursed his mouth irate but managed to control his emotions and stared at his bleeding hand staining the table’s surface. “It’s a small ship I run. What about it?”
“You use it to make trips out of Goras to the Cydonia Cazan.”
“Say that I do. What is it to you Neil? Last I checked the Thieves Guild wasn’t involved in Customs.”
“Which Isle?”
“Isildor.”
The biggest island but also the least populated. Then again his info was severely outdated.
“You’ll rent it to a colleague of mine,” Nulanos said.
“I would?” Hulanor asked unsure. “Who told you that?”
“Folmon has arranged a meeting tonight in the Old East City.”
“Folmon works for me. He’s a fighter. I pay him to get beaten up in the arena,” Hulanor explained. “He’s a good friend.”
Nulanos furrowed his brows. “And?”
“I think you are trying to pull a prank on me,” Hulanor rustled and found a cloth to bandage his hand. “A man that looked like you let’s say,” the underworld boss continued. “Approached Folmon to ask a favor from Lord Folen yesterday. He wanted to use the ship for a trip to the old isles.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. And I thought, fuck it. Let him have his trip and he’ll owe me one. Maybe it’s palace business. Looting. Archaeology. A chance to have a crazy orgy away from preying eyes. Eat some meat, you know the spicy kind. The fuck I care? I do, that is. Care. I just can’t say no to them. Unlike you Neil, I have responsibilities, mouths to feed and businesses that need constant protection.”
“A male not a female.”
“Listen Neil. I don’t know what folk do in their fucking spare time nor do I judge. Male, female. It was a Mori-Zilan. Fuck’s sake. The moment you people show up things start going to shit again!”
----------------------------------------
“Well?” Ryker asked the scowling Nulanos the moment he stepped out of Hulanor’s apartment.
“Does Lord Folen have ears in all taverns?”
“Brothels, the market. Sure... was my meaning.” Ryker replied. “Why?”
“Does he care about a Mori-Zilan wanting to visit the isles?”
“Don’t see how that’s even remotely interesting to the palace.”
“Yeah,” Nulanos agreed and licked his lips. Then checked at the sun above their heads. “How far is Old East City you think?”
“Eh, I’ve no idea? Half a day?” Ryker admitted and scratched his head. “You’re the local one Eight.”
“I’m really not local,” Nulanos grunted and looked about them for a stable with a cheap owner. They usually hired less people. “And I’ve been away for quite a while Ryker.”
“You want company?”
“It’s probably nothing.” Nulanos replied. “But since you’ll stay here, see if you can find out where that sneaky Sorn is. Ask Nigel and he’ll tell you all about him. Be careful. He’s dangerous.”
“I have this thing—” Ryker protested but Eight cut him off with a rare glare. “Aye chief. I’ll see to it,” Ryker agreed sheepishly.
-
Night of the 14th of Neter
The sloped ruins near the south beach where the First Finger Peninsula connected with Goras port.
When the Black Peak volcano erupted whatever escaped melting after getting bombarded by chunks of red-hot rocks and lava got stricken by a massive tsunami that pulled most of the old port, along the buildings and the earth inside the frothing waters.
Nature claimed what had been left behind, but the petrified remains withstood the attacks of the local flora. Walls still stood and stairs leading to nowhere or inside mountains of calcified debris. The landscape now bathed in the two moons brilliant light appeared peaceful, the ground turned to white and solid cement-like rock that made walking silently difficult.
The ruins of the city extended to the south and to the north but most of the west portion of it was missing. The port, the naval yards and the lavish estates at the now flat slopes. Nulanos narrowed his eyes to make out Vermilion Peak, Goras center had been built in the valley between the two gargantuan mountains, now turned to barren islands in the darkness of the gulf.
The level of destruction impossible to describe with words. As much land was missing from Goras Peninsula as it was there it seemed. The explosion so vast that it left no building unaffected as far as Serpent’s Canal to the far west and Goddess Wall to the far north. What humans now called the Pale Mountains. The wall of granite that had safeguarded the empire’s land borders, ended up protecting the rest of Eplas although Nulanos had heard that the Torn Earth Canal was now much larger in size than what it used to be.
Valydra waited by an old arched wall, turning her eye to the west and the visible beach where no ship had appeared yet, but also checking regularly for anyone sneaking up on her. Nulanos checked the sky and then walked on another half-collapsed ruin to approach the lonely female. Sparse trees had sprouted through the cracks on the calcified ground but the terrain must appear desolate during the day, he thought.
The soft breeze of the sea cool on his face one moment, warm the other. In the distance the tiny outline of the Black Peak still smoked from time to time and had a strange reddish glow some clear nights. But it could be just an illusion. An assortment of scents reaching him. Lemon and sweet orange, a touch of cinnamon from Goras jungle and frankincense. Which was strange since the latter was a resin produced from olibanum trees that were frequent at the warmer Lower Talon but couldn’t survive so far up the coast.
Unless someone carried some to burn in case he’d run out of Sandalwood incense. Nulanos stood up on the top of the ruined wall and stared at Valydra that had moved as well. She was about twenty meters away and at least four meters lower than him across a petrified ancient street. Valydra was standing near the last ruin before the beach.
A hooded figure had strolled down the road from the north part of the city holding a lit oil lamp. He stopped and moved it about before setting it down. In the dark waters expanding directly ahead of Nulanos to the west, deep into the gulf, a light appeared out of nowhere. The distant ship signaling back.
“You’re Folmon?” Valydra asked, Nulanos sniffing at the air trying to locate the direction of the scent he’d caught earlier.
“He couldn’t make it,” a familiar voice replied and Nulanos snapped his head to the approaching figure that had left the oil lamp behind.
“Do I know you?” Valydra asked switching to Imperial and Nulanos gulped down nervously.
“At first I thought you didn’t,” Dar Fenog replied and Nulanos eyes raced from his face to Valydra’s. “A weird rumor passed up the chain of command. Somebody looking for a smuggling ship to risk a journey to Cydonia Cazan. Nobody gave it a second look. The palace is busy these days. But I did. Something gave me a tingling. Then again you know how it all works Valydra.”
“Are you alone Din?” Valydra asked, an ogling Nulanos clenching his jaw whilst feeling the blood boil in his veins and sweat rivulets running down his face.
“We are all alone in this realm,” Dar Fenog, named Din the old word for ‘Silence’ by Nym, one of the ageless Servants of her twisted Circle, rustled forlornly in his strange otherworldly voice. “Are you alone too Valydra?”
“Why?” She asked and Nulanos realized the conversation wasn’t friendly at all.
Din grimaced and unclasped the bindings on his cloak slowly. It parted at the front to reveal an assortment of weapons. “Where is he?”
Nulanos flinched almost falling from the narrow petrified partition and reached for Sorn’s sword he carried with him for days. A simple straight blade with a twin edge. Imperial steel but nothing else was remarkable about it.
“Where is who?” Valydra asked a little tensed.
“Nulanos.”
A severe tick appeared on Eight’s face as slowly the confusing sequence of events that had led to this point started revealing itself.
“He’s dead,” Valydra croaked sounding taken aback from the unexpected question. Then asked, her tone changing as that mind started working again. “Why do you think he’s not?”
“Eh,” Din grunted. “Someone is lying here. It isn’t me.”
Valydra had unsheathed a sword. The blade gleaming in the moonlight. What in Oras hells are you doing? Nulanos thought horrified. Put that thing away!
“The Queen burned Larea Macar,” Valydra hissed and took a step forward.
What?
Din pursed his thin lips together in a displeased scowl. “What else do you know?”
“You murdered Dudrina!” Valydra snapped irate her voice cracking.
Dar Fenog shook his head disappointed. “You damn bitch actually used the Sigel O’ Nyel to learn this?”
“This I learned from Calamer,” Valydra snarled furious. “Afore I slit his throat,” she added and charged the sober assassin.
No, Nulanos gasped already sprinting on the narrow wall’s edge just as Valydra dropped into a shadow under her legs and disappeared.
----------------------------------------
You don’t antagonize the Servants of the Circle in their element, a walking the shades Nulanos thought. The blackness absolute all about him, the in-between realms, his eyes set forward and never straying from the predetermined path. The point where he’d exit already set in his mind firmly, the shades at the base of Valydra’s ruin across the street. If you get confused, lost or otherwise distracted then bad things might happen to you.
You’ll feel things walking in the shades. Hear whispers and smell stuff that might or might not be there. Oras Servants were more risky in their ‘journeys’ but even they were cautious and used the spells sparingly. They also had experience on how to fight with them and an inclination no thief possessed.
They were all cold-blooded killers.
For them the shades were another weapon, to Nulanos’ colleagues a way to escape. It was always better to have a solid plan set out from the beginning and not resort to risky maneuvers. Nulanos rolled out of the shades, his legs hitting the wall and bringing him to a stop. He glanced ahead and saw Valydra coming out of a snaking shade on the pebbles brought to the petrified now coastal road by the waves of winter.
She hacked at Din but he jumped away, a Kopis twirling in his left hand. Nulanos clenched his jaw and jumped to his feet, Valydra ‘quickstepping’ for a sneak attack ten meters away.
Dar Fenog parried her blade with his, then raised his right forearm to block Valydra’s stabbing dagger. The blade penetrating the vambrace right through. Din twisted his sword to cut her across the face, but Valydra dodged pivoting on a leg and lost her dagger that stayed stuck in the assassin’s vambrace.
“Hmm,” Din murmured and removed the dagger stepping back. Valydra attacked again with a vicious slash and the assassin blocked it. Bright sparks flying out of the sharp steel blades as they locked and grinded against each other.
Nulanos was five meters away from Dar Fenog, who had his back turned to him. The shadows of the wall’s corner ended not a foot from the assassin. He reached inside his satchel and dipped his fingers in the brittle incense.
Felt it ignite and burn.
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Eight stepped out of the fading wall’s shades just as a groaning Valydra dropped to her knees, a long hook lodged under her ribcage’s bones. Din slapped the female thief’s sword away with his and yanked his hook-wielding right arm hard to break a couple of her ribs in an attempt to disembowel his victim. Nulanos’ boot kicked Din’s right arm away, a torrent of blood spraying over both of them and the assassin pirouetted away using the momentum, whilst sending two short throwing knives towards the dancing away to dodge them Eight.
Nulanos glanced at the badly injured female shuddering not a meter away, Dar Fenog’s mouth opening and closing in a voiceless chuckle. The assassin’s tongue clearly missing. Oras Fiends roam the night, Eight cursed and walked towards the reaching for a steel peleg smirking Din.
“Tick,” Dar Fenog taunted finding enough juice to use his voice and sidestepped to circle around the approaching Nulanos. “Tack.”
Time is up.
Din attacked with the sword, switching stance halfway through, but Eight kicked his leading leg away and counter-attacked the faltering assassin. Dar Fenog blocked with the steel peleg (shaft and axe’s blade one solid piece), turning the handle to block Eight’s sliding upwards blade with the bit. The weapons locking up. Din grunted and used the angled Kopis to stab Nulanos in the gut from up close, but Eight’s left hand snatched the assassin’s wrist in a steely grip afore the latter could finish the move.
They both roared like animals duking it out for a piece of turf, Din flipping the Kopis with his fingers to saw through Eight’s hand and Nulanos nailing the assassin with a forehead between the eyes. It sent Dar Fenog flying backwards with a cracked cranium and a pulverized nose. His face a bleeding mask. A grimacing Din stumbled to a stop coughing and spitting gore, both eyes bloodshot and stabbed the sword down to reach for a healing potion.
Nulanos was already over the feinting Valydra. He pressed a hand on the spurting blood messy wound, the other removing the nasty hook turning it this way and that. Din downing a healing potion five meters away and watching him intently. Come on girl, Nulanos pleaded and picked up Valydra best he could to move her towards the wall.
“I knew…” Dar Fenog grunted, pressing two fingers on his smashed nose to staunch the bleeding. “…you were around.”
Nulanos uncorked a healing potion as well and poured half of it over the wound, after closing the flesh over the cracked bones. The rest he forced inside the unresponsive Valydra’s mouth. That’s a lot of blood lost, but you’ll make more, he told the wounded female and reached inside his satchel.
I need a long one, he thought. Back across the street, the half collapsed roof I came from.
Fifty meters.
Do it.
Din had dropped his sword and had unclasped a metal crossbow from his belt. Nulanos hugged Valydra with both arms to take her with him and walked backwards into another shade. He could feel his molars hurting, the heart beating erratically in his chest and the spell’s venomous aftereffects burning his flesh away. Crossing over carrying Valydra was a matter of will and pure adrenalin.
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Nulanos landed on the petrified roof at the back end of the building, about two square meters of space there and heard a livid Dar Fenog roaring in the dark night. The spell-assisted voice unaffected by his facial injuries. Eight didn’t think Din could have gotten a word out even with a tongue without the Circle’s magic.
“Stupid derelict piece of shit. A lowly burglar!” Din roared furious as if he was a spry chicken himself or better looking. “Fucking idiot! You had your chance and you blew it! You should have stayed dead Eight. You hear that? Nym will know all about it motherfucker!”
Nulanos worked fast to bandage Valydra’s torso and midriff ripping his shirt out in pieces and using it whilst keeping an eye at the pacing back and forth livid assassin about fifty meters away.
“You are a dead man walking!” Dar Fenog kept growling like a mad dog in the night. “Ha-hah-ha! How stupid can you be? Coming back to Goras! Chicken-brained and love blinded. I was keeping her alive on purpose you dumb fuck!”
“Ugh…” Valydra gasped coming about with a shuddering cough, a sole teary eye opening. Black iris striped with white and shades of green in it. A survivor for she had a touch of kobold blood in her. Born in the mines.
A star in a pile of black ash.
Gleaming in the dark.
“Hey Milva.”
“Oras heart…” Valydra gasped seeing Nulanos’ sweaty face through the haze, a hand clasping at her leaking wound. “Who…how?”
“I’m Neil,” Eight reminded her with a fierce grin, Dar Fenog’s loud insane laugher unnerving him but not enough to rob him of their moment. Fuck it. “Want some help with that?” He asked teasinly and then he realized something was coming up the ancient wall.
A long very beefy and hairy arm appeared over the edge, long nails carving at the stone. The unseen beast snorting loudly following the scent of the wounded thief’s blood.
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