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Nulanos
‘Neil Toloth’
‘Eight Fingers’
‘8’
Eight’s Second Rule
Part II
-Never betray the Guild-
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> First Era
>
> Spring of 1992 IC
>
> Elas Port
>
> *Kallister’s Canal
>
>
> *One of the two canals –the other being Old Port’s Canal- separating the fertile Nureria Isle from its sister island of Elauthin. The semi-natural canals outlined the west part of Elauthin Isle that was dominated by the five kilometers tall Oludril and its lesser peaks, the biggest active volcano of the two realms then with a kilometer wide crater at its misty summit. The famed city of Elauthin was built on the Isle’s flatter rich north and east sides split in two districts. The Island District and the newer Palace Grounds. The latter constructed across from it on the nearby mainland Wetull shores and connected with the expansive old Zilan capital with the atoll-hopping monumental Cloud Bridge built by Ninthalor over Old Port’s Canal. Ninthalor started building the ‘thousand arches bridge’ thirty years before assuming the throne and finished it around 875 IC, nine centuries later, with work continuing into the first millennia by the more moderate in his designs Lord Elwuin.
>
> As Lord Transcriber Elas noted in his Chronicles of the Empire ‘we find it auspicious the Monarch is too busy with the affairs of the state to personally dive headlong into another of his discussed undertakings and the majority of the Council agrees. Another should take over. The Monarch shouldn’t be involved for he finds it challenging to deny himself. Upon learning of the decision the usually stoic Lord Isildor was moved to tears which is quite telling on the heavy burden this non-commercial shaded causeway has been to the Imperial Treasury.’
image [https://i.postimg.cc/Dv7Y3HZP/Nureria-2nd-Era-low.jpg]
Nureria, 2nd Era -around 2000 IC
-
> “Just grab a box,” Nulanos told the hooded Valydra. “We’ll help them load up and they’ll take us across. Then we’ll disembark on the Diamond Sands, take a dip in the salty soup and pretend we’re exotic rich tourists visiting. The locals are too bigoted to comment openly with so many of the progressive mainlanders around for Valimae Lilt.”
>
> “What do we do?” Valydra asked not very convinced the local guard won’t kick them out of Elauthin’s richest coastal district and Nulanos raised a brow teasingly.
>
> “We are famous dancers of the Peninsula that made quite a fortune in Lai Zel-Ka and the provinces.”
>
> “That sounds a bit lecherous,” Valydra noted with a frown. “And I’m more an acrobat than a dancer.”
>
> Few can tell the difference dear.
>
> “Correct on both points. They won’t be able to resist us. And they’ll assume we did a bit of whoring anyway. Most city Zilan are decadent Milva.”
>
> “You’re decadent,” she pointed out, the frown turning into a scowl and Nulanos stepped into the female thief’s personal space to land a peck on her small nose.
>
> “By the time it’s over,” he told her hoarsely. “I’ll have you covered in their jewelry and this will change your mind. Do the splits for me now so we can sell it to the ogling captain.”
>
> “Are you nuts? I’m not hitting the ground in my good pants!” Valydra hissed with a glare. “It’s filthy.”
>
> “We’re a couple of filthy thieves doing dirty things and have more vulgar ideas in mind for tonight,” Nulanos whispered compellingly hugging the flushed Valydra’s waist and caught sight out of the corner of his right eye of a thin, pale-faced Zilan watching them from a side alley. Something weird about the stranger’s stare. “Hold that thought,” he told his partner and turned around to walk towards the docks market stands.
>
> Nulanos circled around to reach the other side of the building, cutting through the few merchants with mostly local produce for sale, walked down a parallel alley and came out of the building’s corner at its town-facing side.
>
> He quickly reached the side alley leading back to the docks and paused at its entrance unsure. The narrow alley stood empty. A Zilan working at the warehouse, the building was housing goods, opened a side window and poured a bucket of leftovers on the street. The street rats hurrying after them quite fattened. The Zilan looked outside the window and spotted Nulanos standing at the end of the small alley.
>
> “I feed them so they don’t make a mess inside,” he explained. “We have a deal.”
>
> “Does it work?” Nulanos asked in a friendly manner wondering if there was anything valuable inside the warehouse.
>
> “Sometimes, but the lady rat is pregnant again and it’ll be difficult to support them all. She might have to make a sacrifice. Lose something, to not lose all,” the Zilan said sadly and returned inside closing the window. The stone wall vertical and difficult to climb to the top. The roof standing eight meters above street level. A ceramic drain running down from above where the other corner was –the one facing the docks-. The sun lighting up only half of the alley.
>
> Hmm.
>
> Nulanos sniffed at the air. Rotted fruits and rat droppings. A cat had pissed where a dog had sprayed earlier. The smell of the sea and expensive incense. Too expensive for that curious dilapidated reedy Zilan. Eight walked into the small alley, with the about a dozen feasting rats eyeing him approach with nervous beady eyes, initially reaching inside his satchel until he decided against it. Neil dashed forward for five meters instead, angled whilst still running towards the lit up wall for the last stride, then walked vertically over it and jumped across. A mere three meters leap. Nulanos made four quick vertical steps on the warehouse’s dark wall and used the drain to heave himself over the final couple of meters. He stepped on the empty roof and blinked at the strong sunlight whilst taking a deep breath. The sweat smarting at the hem of his soaked collar.
>
> Valydra’s small lithe figure easily visible near the moored merchant ship talking with its captain. Ah. A chill run down his spine and forced Eight to twist around in alarm. The reedy Zilan wearing that tattered leather cloak, stitched pants and old boots was standing three meters from him.
>
> The cloak split at the front revealing a worn-out weapon harness carrying a dozen different custom made blades. Several knives of different sizes and a scimitar of sorts with a crude wooden hand-carved handle. Hollow ashen-grey eyes with tiny black spots in them and a narrow scowling face with badly deformed ears. A sign of mixed-lineage. Probably a woods Zilan mating with a Mori-Zilan and it didn’t go very well.
>
> “No need for that,” Nulanos warned the half-breed stranger. A stray not belonging in Nureria. Or anywhere else. “It shall give you no advantage.”
>
> The stranger extended his left hand and opened it to show him the underside of the crooked fingernails. Skin on the index and mid-finger painted red. Nulanos raised his arm and touched the side of his neck right at the moist collar. The scratch there still bleeding.
>
> Not deformed ears then.
>
> Cut off.
>
> “You quick-stepped from a shade into another shade.” Eight told the young-looking sober half-breed.
>
> “The same shade. Back and forth.” The strange creature corrected him in a rasping voice. A hint of the Old Witch Tongue lacing the words.
>
> Where did you hear it?
>
> “How do you keep track of the fading light?” Nulanos asked a little impressed.
>
> “It’s not difficult.”
>
> “A fiend might step in your way. Or lurk to catch you on the return.”
>
> “To do it they must turn solid,” the freaky half-breed explained. “So I hurt them a lot. After a couple of times they leave you alone.”
>
> Are you serious?
>
> He is.
>
> Nulanos licked his lips, the tips of his bloody fingers working at the drying blood, but his eyes never left the half-breed’s face. “You know who I am.”
>
> “The Elderblood Thief out of Coal Isle,” the stranger replied respectfully in that whispery raspy voice and Eight nodded.
>
> “Who told you that?”
>
> “Nym.”
>
> Yeah.
>
> “Do you know who Nym is?” Nulanos asked, the half-breed less mysterious now, but equally dangerous.
>
> “Not fully. Do you?”
>
> “Nothing is free in life… what do they call you?”
>
> “I’m Ralnor.”
>
> “That’s not a name Nym would have given you.”
>
> “Never said it was.”
>
> “Tir Ral-Nor,” Nulanos noted raising a querying brow. “It’s an old saying or a title given to the Coven’s servants. Domain’s enduring sentinel. Whose domain?”
>
> “Nothing is free in life,” Ralnor retorted stiffly.
>
> “You learn fast,” Eight yielded. “What do you want?”
>
> “I liked the other expression more,” Ralnor replied and covered his shaven head with a hood. “Stay away thief. This is your last warning.”
>
> He walked backwards to reach the edge of the roof and then jumped down but Nulanos never heard him land on the shaded part of the street.
>
> You brazen young prick, he thought and used a hankie to wipe the blood from the small cut. How the fuck do you know the witch’s daughter?
>
> Ralnor had followed them from Elas Tower.
>
> Five minutes later a pleased Valydra showed him the cheap beads the captain had given her.
>
> “What do you think?” She had asked a frowned Eight beaming with excitement. “Will they look good?”
-
Third Era
16th of Neter 3400 IC
Taras District (Town)
Principality of Goras
“Well?” The much older now female Mori-Zilan asked parking a hip at the edge of the bed not to soak the mattress. Water dripping down her naked body. Dark skin gleaming in the light coming from the open window of the Guild’s hostel. A two story building with three bedrooms that had only another cheap Lorian wine merchant as patron at the time. “I found them in my dresser.”
“It’s the hostel’s dresser. Somebody left them,” Nulanos reminded her rubbing at his bandaged hurt right arm, his chest wrapped in bandages as well but thankfully still wearing his pants. It was nice to know that despite the damage he’d received on the upper body everything still worked under the waist.
The stitches on Valydra’s ribcage the only blemish on her fit body.
“So what? To leave so many back… it means they didn’t need them. Maybe they left something in yours?” Valydra asked carefully braiding her long hair and inserting the colorful beads in the knots one by one.
They did.
“I didn’t check,” Eight lied hoarsely. Valydra glanced at him and Eight could see the dead milky eye next to the healthy familiar one. She turned away still working on her hair. Nulanos pursed his mouth and then opened and closed his blackened fingers to test them.
“What happened there?” She asked after a moment.
“I overdone it.”
“I haven’t really shadow-walked in years. No need for it back home,” Valydra said, eager to change the conversation.
“Any of the old gang still around?” Eight asked in a gruff tone and reached for the cup to keep healing himself with Nigel’s stolen whiskey.
“Not really. Tavril had been in charge sort of. Larenos thinks it’s time for a change. So they’ll be holding elections.”
“What’s that?” Nulanos grunted heavily distracted by her parting thighs.
“They’ll vote for a mayor.”
“Ah. Hmm,” Eight frowned and stared at the open window. Taras’ noise reaching their ears. “You used Sigel O’ Nyel,” he finally said and Valydra got up, pushing her braids back. She’d finished the right side of her head. The milky eye staring straight at his tensed face.
“I did. You left it for me.”
“To safeguard it, until I came back.”
“Which you never did.”
“They tried to kill me Milva.”
And I thought you’d helped them. Not much left to come back to.
Valydra let out an angry hiss as she could sense his thoughts and walked in front of the bed. It took superhuman effort for Nulanos to keep his mind on business. “I get it. Didn’t know the whole story for quite a while.”
Now you do?
“From the necklace?”
“Lord Calamer’s notes.”
“Why kill Lord Calamer?”
“He caught me sneaking around.”
“Valydra,” Nulanos grunted warningly.
“They had Dudrina killed. Edlenn.”
“I knew that!” Nulanos snapped and got up from the chair. “You didn’t have to lose your…” he sighed seeing her expression. “It’s alright.” It wasn’t. “Milva… I don’t care about it.”
“Stop it,” she hissed hoarsely. “You don’t get to pretend everything is fine. I’m not stupid! As if nothing happened! I had enough of your constant lies. Just stop. I grew up and yes, I’m not whole. I made my peace with it long ago. I made my peace with you being dead also. The world changed while you were away Neil. Look around gods darn it!”
Nulanos grimaced feeling her emotions spilling out and washing over him. Valydra stumbled back on the edge of the bed, found her footing and then wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“You should have let Din kill me,” she sniffled croakily and Eight’s face hardened. “I can’t go through all this again.”
“I rather kill him instead,” Nulanos told her soberly. “It’s not even close.”
She puffed out exasperated.
“Eh. How about not risking your life for a moment? You are not helping.”
“It’s my life to risk.”
“Gods, just… we are not safe. Nym will have them searching everywhere.”
“Aenymriel is not here. I would have seen her in the palace.”
Eh. This wasn’t exactly true.
Valydra walked to the left side of the bed and sat down next to the dresser.
“Why would the Monarch restore her place in the Council?” She asked. “Baltoris didn’t openly.”
“I’ll know soon enough,” Nulanos replied sheepishly.
“That’s just fucking great. What were you doing all this time?” Other stuff? Nulanos had a healthy and busy schedule. “Do you even know who is still around from the old court?”
“New people. A dwarf is Garth’s Shield. Humans. Folen. Voldomir. Feyras. I don’t know about the army.”
“The priests are fine with so many humans in the court?” Valydra queried unsure.
“Garth is a weird person. And he is also a human. I don’t believe he gives a rusty copper about the priests’ opinions.”
“What about the other factions?”
“Or any of the others,” Nulanos added.
Valydra picked her bag from the floor and looked inside. She furrowed her brows after rifling through the contents. Then she got up, searched about and even looked under the bed. Nulanos pursed his mouth at the unobstructed sight of her chiseled bottom.
Valydra turned her head to glare at him. Sole eye gleaming angry.
“I really missed this view,” Eight admitted gravely. “Nothing comes close Milva.”
“Where is my eyepatch Neil?” She snarled and got up holding her pants. Valydra worked herself inside, pulling and stretching at the tight material under his shameless scrutiny.
Ah. Had she wanted me not to gawk, she would have dressed in the bathroom.
“It’s an old building. A rat took it.”
“Seriously?” Valydra grunted.
“You don’t need it.”
“Neil, I’m not in the mood for your games. I’ll count to three,” she hissed through her teeth, covering her jingling breasts with both arms.
But she didn’t.
“Check the dresser,” Nulanos finally said after a tense moment and walked towards the open window to give her a bit of privacy. He peeked at the street outside and marveled at the colorful blend of Sinya Nore and Zilan walking about.
“What… wait,” Valydra was heard saying. “I’ve seen this before… The beads as well. What are you doing Neil?” She asked throatily and Eight turned to regard her blushing face.
Trying to say I’m sorry. Make it right.
“You deserve more,” he said unpretentiously. “Did a terrible fucking job of showing it in the past, but my Milva I’ve never really forgotten. I tell you what, how about you try this new thing out, see how it feels?” Eight added meaningfully and there were a number of different ways one could read his words.
But only one that really mattered and a moved Valydra sensed it immediately.
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“How’s the leg?” A content Nulanos asked Nigel Grim the next morning. His old pupil scratching an unshaven cheek with a finger afore answering.
“Getting worse running up and down the city looking for Sorn.” Nigel deadpanned wryly.
“Any luck?”
“Ryker got something from a local gang. There is need for cutthroats to guard a ‘warehouse’ in Mussel. Good pay. High risk.”
“What’s the caveat?”
“Ticu infested port. Typical outer Goras’ wilderness hazards. Lethal fauna and flora included,” Nigel replied casually. “There is a marine detachment guarding a couple of buildings there but the rest of the docks are pretty unnerving to use at night.”
“Honest people are in need of muscle?”
“Sure. One could say that.”
“Sorn is running it?”
“Humans prefer to stay away from Mussel,” Nigel explained. “So it’s a Zilan run port mostly. It’s possible he has set up a business there.”
“It’s the best port to use if you want to reach the Sinking Isles,” Nulanos noted glancing at Valydra that got out of their bedroom. The sparkly eyepatch giving her an even more exotic look. She had her old one ‘to use on the job’ but it was nice seeing her smile at his warm gaze.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Yeah, nobody is doing it for a long while.”
“There are tons of gems there,” Nulanos argued as Valydra took a seat between them.
“I’m hungry,” she stated. “Is Denis in the kitchen?”
“Gone to the market,” Nigel replied. “There are some eggs. Look in my coat’s side pockets.”
“Know that I’ll steal a couple then. Don’t tell on me,” Valydra teased and got up to head to the back of the hostel. The two thieves watched in silence as the barefooted female walked away whilst raising her arms to yawn. Then Nigel turned to stare at his old tutor. “She’s fine,” Nulanos assured him.
“She is,” Nigel agreed with a hint of razz. “What about all the other stuff?”
“Sorn was working for the Circle all along.”
“That’s a fuck lot of years of employment.”
“You can’t exactly get out or break a contract with them,” Nulanos explained.
“Sorn is not in our guild Eight.”
“Sorn was in my guild Nigel,” Nulanos reminded him. “There is only one.”
“He’ll be waiting for us.”
“Nah. He thinks I’m a goner. Sorn knew that those two would check to see if he was right first. Having that brute Draug present ensured I wouldn’t have the time to talk my way out.”
> ‘The Queen wanted Edlenn forcibly arrested but Dar Draug mauled three of the witch’s servants inside the atrium,’ Valydra had told him in bed after they had lost themselves in each other’s arms and minds for hours. An unhurried lovemaking that walked through their long history and discovered it anew. ‘Edlenn treasured her strays especially after she’d lost Rinariel and went berserk seeing the carnage. Half the Circle’s servants got wiped out in seconds but Din managed a fatal blow mid-casting that forced her to retreat and levelled the atrium. Anyways when she jumped away to heal herself somewhere inside the garden the Varg managed to find her again hours later. Draug and Mol cut out parts of her body to take with them. Of twelve assassins only six walked away. Mol, Draug, Din and the Gish. Plus one female and the Mori-Zilan with the snake skin.’
>
> Dar Lingos.
>
> ‘Six. Was Nym there? Wasn’t Dar Eherdir present?’
>
> ‘No, it was a different girl. Pretty young. Who was he?’
>
> ‘A maimed half-breed. Also very young then. Skilled motherfucker. Skin like pale ash.’
>
> ‘He wasn’t’ there. This Sigel O’ Nyel revealed to me. The rest I learned myself. Calamer had switched the Abarat guards with his own and had sent Nym after Galadriel who was tending after the comatose Ena at the time, but the Ice Sorceress got wind of it and escaped.’
>
> ‘Who was she supposed to meet?’
>
> ‘Lord Onas but he couldn’t make it because the commander of Abarat Rothomir filed a complaint while Onas was present, enquiring on the reason they had pulled his guards from Nesande’s Garden.’
>
> ‘What was Onas doing in Abarat?’
>
> ‘Visiting Lady Olonelis. She was in labor at the time.’
>
> ‘You don’t think?’ Nulanos had queried as Olonelis’ was already married to a warship’s captain and a grinning Valydra had replied huskily.
>
> ‘Oh, I did but wasn’t looking for gossip at the time.’
>
>
“There’s still time for them to finish the job,” Nigel noted bringing Eight back to the present.
“Draug has a lot of boiled skin to lick and heal for a while,” Nulanos replied with a grimace of pain as he’d a number of injuries too, especially his right arm that looked better of sorts considering the amount of skin and flesh missing.
The color being the last of his worries.
“Din needs to think things through and will talk with Nym first,” Nulanos continued. “But they historically tend to interpret ‘vague’ orders how it best suits them and I have this feeling they might operate completely independent under this new regime.”
“Talking of the regime they cracked down on those pilfering the city’s profits,” a sad Nigel informed him. “There is a strict new Treasurer in charge and he brings everything to Morn Taras each night under an armed escort. There has been some talk of attacking the caravan but the Phalanx camp is pretty near and the Wyvern is rumored to roam the skies after sun falls. You don’t want to be caught acting suspiciously by the flying beast. By the time you get to explain yourself to the authorities you’ll probably be dead and mostly eaten. No one is allowed to use the palace road after nightfall by the way.”
“That’s another vague order.”
“It helps with accidents and compensations.”
“What if an innocent gets eaten? Does the Wyvern recognize friend from foe?” Nulanos queried.
“It’s how it works. The east side of the lake is off limits, same for the west road leading to the palace after dark,” Nigel explained. “The Monarch treats people as his guests which is gracious of him but a misbehaving guest holds few rights.”
“Yet everyone comes here to stay.”
“It’s the wyvern, a view of the castle, all the mystique and of course coin.” Nigel elucidated further. “The Zilan can navigate these rules as they are well-accustomed to craziness but I’m not sure people would. The Cofols eh… maybe. They are enamored with the Imperial lifestyle.”
“Jelin citizens would freak out.”
“Once the novelty wears off… yeah. Nobody is safe and while Garth is a decent dude, this sort of underworld is like living back in Eikenport in the seventies and eighties before the pirates took over and straightened the place out. Which speaks volumes of the controlled chaos in Taras.”
“A cautious but ambitious crook’s paradise,” Nulanos murmured and Nigel shrugged his shoulders. “Only the most skilled and nigh cultured criminals shall survive.”
Welcome to the times of Hardir O’ Fardor.
-
20th of Neter 3400 IC
The semi-ruined Port of Mussel
Gish Lament province, Lower Talon Peninsula
The Docks facing Oyster Anchorage gulf
There were some clouds on the night sky, the two moons partially hidden behind a cluster of them, the glowing light blue of Nesande’s Moon giving some color on the dilapidated buildings of the old port. The part that King Garth had started restoring –around the docks mainly- easily visible but it was mostly done through cannibalizing nearby ruins to repair some of them. Those were four warehouses and a couple of two-story buildings Mussel’s guards had taken over, with the partially repaired watchtower also operational. All the repaired structures showing a strange patchwork of material on their bodies ranging from pink marble, bricks, to dull grey stone used at the warehouses.
There was no Zilan architecture utilized here. Just structures erected as fast as it was possible to reopen the port. Well, while they had succeeded under the Monarch’s pressure in doing it, the port itself was mostly empty with just small transports unloading during the day. Mussel itself resembling a growing village with no permanent population, built inside the gutted outline of a much bigger city. The majority of the neighborhoods surrounding the port as empty and ruined as Old East City.
“Where are the Gish?” Nigel asked watching the few workers finishing up work and returning to the only lit up part of the mostly dead old port. “You’d think one or two might be here, what with the name being what it is.”
“There was a large pen to the southeast, just outside the port,” Nulanos explained watching the first of night marine patrols starting their rounds of the docks and the nearby streets. “A slave market near it. Most Gish though always escaped their bonds so the pen was built.”
“Where did they go? Those that escaped?” Nigel asked and Nulanos looked to find Valydra and Kumra with his eyes but couldn’t.
“Not far. There are Gish bones under each meter of grass or earth around Mussel. Only the prettiest or most skilled survived if they played along or their owners had an older Gish working for them to give them advice.”
“What happened to the rest?”
Nulanos grimaced and stared at the now quiet docks. “It’s an old story Nigel. The Old Ways were brutal for all.”
“Something tells me the Gish got it worst,” Nigel retorted. “What was their primary use?”
“They made for excellent prey for rangers and their pets in the jungle,” Nulanos said soberly. “Reckon you can also say, Goras’ jungles are filled with their bones as well.”
“What changed it?” A sullen Nigel asked. He’d a thing for the Folk since he’d been young.
“Baltoris had a Gish slave named Nyx when she was growing up that she was unhealthily infatuated with. Feyras warned the king the Gish’s potency might manifest a premature half-breed heir into the princess’ belly and Ninthalor had him castrated. He still caught them fooling around. So he tossed him into a flesh-eating plant’s hole they had growing inside the palace gardens for its flowers and to dispose of carcasses. It took a couple of days for the screams to stop. You might hear a different version of the story from the Gish that were around at the time.”
Nigel frowned and rubbed his face with a gloved hand. “You know what man? I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Sometimes it is better not to,” Nulanos agreed and started walking away from the lit part of the docks with a sign for Nigel to get ready. He headed for the east edge where a large ruin stood taking an oblique path to reach it. Both hands working fast to button up his new red shirt over the gleaming old piece of armoured vest he had underneath.
He was heading for the old bank building.
Ryker and Denis were already there talking with a couple of Zilan, with several armed thugs resting under a wooden shade attached to the old wall. Nulanos followed the shades at the periphery, jumping into one and getting out next to other edge of the ruined wall.
He paused staying in the shaded part when one of the Zilan turned its head his way and moved across the illuminated part when he looked away. Ducked behind a stack of crates and saw a plump Ticu sitting at the top of it. The Ticu blinked its huge fish eyes and then grinned conspiratorially. Nulanos knew that the moment he averted his stare the Ticu would leap away but didn’t bother with it further.
At the still standing rooftop corner of the collapsed building he’d spotted a hooded figure watching the exchange. The alley between the bank’s south wall and the better preserved old customs building across from it engulfed in darkness.
“What is this now eh?” One of the thugs asked Denis seeing a cloaked Nigel Grim approach them, doing the dramatic slow walk under a solemn expression he usually sported, although Nigel was in a pretty bad mood for real this time. “We agreed to talk business.”
“You brought a lot of associates,” Ryker argued tensely. “Don’t see why you’re getting scared mate.”
“It might make the guards nervous. They are tensed as fuck,” one of the Zilan explained brusquely.
“Reckon we have another ten minutes for that. Anyone spots them give a call and we’ll start singing of sea adventures and big-titted Ticu. I was really hoping to see a bit of the latter if I’m honest.”
“Oh, they are around,” the Zilan assured him in rough Common. “They are just shy.”
No they are not. Nulanos thought. They are just careful.
With a glance at the now empty top of the stack of crates, Eight moved while the good and bad outlaws debated the matter further intending to reach the corner then use the rich darkness there to cross the street and approach them from the other side. Find the lurking figure, who he suspected was his old associate.
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He made it to the corner of the building unseen and dived into the large vertical to the docks dark street, walking lightly on the old cracked tiles under foot. Nulanos paused to have his eyes shift to night-vision, the street coming to view under a light grey filter. The line of old buildings extending to the east and the slopes where the pen grounds were. The darker slits being doors and windows on the façade of hollowed out ruins and the sea breeze whistling through them heading upwards towards the distant slopes. Nulanos raised his head to check on the corner of the bank building for the cloaked figure, saw it still standing there and dashed across the width of the street.
Street, eh… it was an Imperial alley.
Eight meters of it.
But this was the new epoch where the Zilan got to widen or shorten their horizons. All the realm’s creatures living in relative harmony in old Wetull.
Harmony… was too strong a word.
A distracted Ticu yelped seeing him enter the ruined hall and made two huge leaps to get away. One sideways and the other to go straight out of a gapping window and out to the street. A long-limbed Ticu this, with an enticing female figure. Nulanos heard its whispering song and shook his head to break the spell. His boots finding a piece of tile that had fallen from the half-collapsed tall roof. The piece of marble rolling on the debris littered floor and stopping near the cracked central stairway that led upstairs.
The sound echoing inside the gutted villa.
A sweaty Nulanos froze and turned around slowly, he was standing a meter inside the entrance, to look outside. The figure had landed on the street and was now coming towards the building. Sorn had a sword in his hand.
Eight took a backwards step and unsheathed his.
His. Eh… it was Sorn’s blade.
Sorn’s… he probably had it stolen from somewhere.
Easy come… easy go mate.
Sorn stopped just outside the large door and stared in the darkness. A heavier darkness inside the hall Nulanos stood that needed a bit more getting used to. A couple of extra seconds for the eyes to adjust that made daring an entry a pretty risky business for his old colleague.
All thieves are wary of added risks.
Look to have a plan prepared aforehand just to avoid getting shafted in the arse or worse.
Nulanos licked his dry lips and reached for his dagger, while Sorn kept staring at the dark entrance in nervous silence.
“Are you in there, old chief?” Sorn asked hoarsely. “I thought you were not going to show up. Got bored waiting up there. Val made it? It’d be a shame if she didn’t.”
Nulanos felt the hairs at his nape raising, old instincts screaming for imminent danger approaching and he calmly slotted the dagger in his belt. Dipped his fingers in his satchel instead, looking out of the left corner of his eye at the elongated shades cast by the central staircase on the cracked floor. Almost touching his own shadow. For there are shades in the dark. Thicker. Shades upon shades, inside shadows. The night was built by many layers of darkness.
Thieves profited in darkness murky recesses but Oras’ disciples feasted in them.
“Din believes you run away but see now, I know how you old fucks think. When I heard Val might be really hurt or killed, I knew you weren’t going to leave it like that. You’re like a stubborn old-cockroach. Just refuse to kick the bucket and leave the rest of us alone.”
Heard from whom? Nulanos thought and sidestepped away from his spot. It was doubtful Sorn stayed around for the news and even more improbable the secretive and distrustful Dar Fenog would ever give him a thoughtful after-action report of the Circle’s activities.
Or Nym.
Draug was out of the question also.
This left very few candidates to be Sorn’s original connection.
He talked with Mol, Valydra had told him and she knew it from Sorn this obviously. But would the righteous and preachy murderer Minue Mol ever parlay with a Mori-Zilan thief? Or the parochial Sorn ever approach the decadent crossdressing Gish?
‘Of twelve assassins only six walked away.’ Valydra had revealed after their lengthy passionate exchange. She’d given her precious eye to learn something the more practical Nulanos had already guessed. But Sigel O’ Nyel was like that. It gave you plenty of difficult to track down details by letting you see in your head the events unfolding as if you were a witness. Kallister never made stuff that half-worked. In the end the battle-tested warrior-sorceress had all but snuffed out Nym’s gang of killers. But some of the nastier ones had survived.
One would argue the worst of the bunch.
But not by much.
If Sorn was looking for vile cockroaches that refused to go away, he didn’t have to look that far from those he willingly did business with.
The latter Eight couldn’t forgive.
‘The badly burned Mol, Draug, Din and the Gish. One unknown female. The Mori-Zilan with the snake skin.’
The female must have been Dar Laebae. Mol’s pupil Ylir. Minue-Mol’s control on her was suffocating. And she shared her tutor’s mindset while being the most stuck-up of all them.
Yeah, the solemn-faced Nulanos thought and rolled inside a shadow just as Dar Lingos sneak-attacked coming out of another.
Us lowly Mori-Zilan tend to stick together in the end.
Eight came out of the base of the staircase but the afflicted with the scale-disease Dar Lingos leaped into another, just as Sorn rushed inside the hall as well. Nulanos ducked under Sorn’s slash, pirouetted on a heel stooped low with his sword extended and cut the traitorous thief above the right knee. Sorn growled and jumped away and Nulanos made to go after him but got stopped by the materializing Dar Lingos’ blade that lodged in his ribs.
A rib breaking by the vicious stab but the tip of the plunging blade that went through his leather jacket and shirt, stopping short of penetrating the skin.
On Nulanos’ antique piece of Mithril ring-armour.
A torso covering vest really. Very sparkly if one wanted to sneak inside a place to conduct his business uninterrupted. But they had two made with the material a young Valydra had gotten out of the tunnel. Nulanos had lost his playing a game of cards with a counting-hands sneaky dwarf from Eth Dehur around 3191 in Miloville, which was part of the Kingdom of Lesia.
The other vest Valydra had kept because she was careful like that and had forced Eight to wear it earlier.
“Hmm,” Dar Lingos’ disgusting boils covered mouth muttered and jumped away from the groaning Nulanos but didn’t burn incense to ‘walk the shades’ this time.
“Get him!” The injured Sorn yelled, grasping at his bleeding knee. “What the fuck are you doing? He’s right there!”
Eight kept moving obliquely watching both of them, but it was the assassin that worried him the most. Too much darkness all about them and Dar Lingos could go for a head or vein the next moment.
“What is it?” The assassin hissed incoherently as the disease -painfully slow- afflicted the inside as much as the outside.
“Take a fucking guess,” the grimacing Eight snapped and Dar Lingos took a forward step and disappeared in a pool of darkness. Nulanos blinked but dived immediately for the ground, landed on a shoulder, the cracked rib moving about and heard an increasingly angrier Dar Lingos stepping out where he stood earlier.
Eight leaped from a knee and run for the large staircase. Cleared three steps with a stride and a grunt, another two with the next but Dar Lingos popped out of the shades at the intermediate landing space. The assassin hacked down with a custom scimitar aiming to split his head in two and Nulanos had to parry with his sword desperately since Lingos had the high ground.
His opponent tried again stepping nimbly to the left and Eight barely blocked it but received a cut across the right side of his face almost losing the eye in the follow through. A furious Nulanos leaped forward, getting his dagger out again to force the assassin to retreat. A wide slash Lingos parried away with a backwards step. Nulanos sword stopping a lunge, the two steel blades igniting in the dark with blinding sparks that hurt their sensitive now dark-attuned eyes.
A half-blinded Lingos grunted as the similarly afflicted Nulanos attacked through the tears and the blood dripping down his cut brow, blades clanging inside the empty dark hall. The assassin taking another backwards step on the stairs, his back hitting the turning right and rising handrail but again stopped Nulanos double attack managing a brutal slash that pushed aside his defenses afore landing on Eight’s sternum with a thud.
Nulanos stumbled back with a groan and the sweaty Dar Lingos took another backwards step reaching for a steel peleg sheathed on his harness. A better weapon to break through his dagger defense.
“I’ll have that Mithril shirt,” Dar Lingos informed him raspingly, having figured out what Nulanos had on.
Twack-twack-twack.
A hidden dagger went.
The sound of punctured flesh following each unseen vicious stab. Dar Lingos’ glowing eyes blinked in complete shock. He made to twist around but the peleg clattered down the two stairs he had on Nulanos and landed near the frowning thief’s legs. The sword soon following, the clanging sound reverberating inside the tall walls of the ruined hall.
Nulanos stepped forward and run the severely injured half-turned assassin through, almost hurting his tired damaged arm in the process. He yanked the sword out and moved out of the way, as Lingos collapsed on the landing space the large marble staircase featured. The deformed assassin gurgled raucously, spat frothy blood out of his mouth and died unceremoniously with a violent hoarse cough, an expression of preternatural astonishment marring his scaly-face.
And pure undiluted dread.
A hurting Nulanos stared at the dark empty staircase in bewilderment. The darker shades of the thick side rails casting long lines that extended all the way to the center of the ruined hall. A draft whistling through the rotted away door and windows.
Another twenty steps up, to the very top of the staircase, where they ended and the half-collapsed second floor started, a lean and small-bodied hood-wearing figure stood. He pointed an arm towards the open door downstairs.
“He run out,” the human kid informed the grimacing bemused Nulanos in the worst Imperial accent he’d ever had the misfortune to listen.
No he didn’t kid. Milva is following after me.
With a groan he stooped to pick up Lingos’ imperial steel sword but the young creepy human stopped him with one of Eight’s own expressions. “Nothing in life is free.”
No, without a doubt it is not.
“What do you want?”
“His weapons,” the youngster replied, adding with a small hesitation. “And… a silver Eagle?”
A groaning Eight reached for his purse amused. “I’ll give you a gold Dinar if you tell me how the allhells you pulled this off without burning incense.”
“That wasn’t me,” the youngster had replied truthfully leaving it at that and then tended his small hand to receive the coin with a disconcerting wide grin. Eight tossed it over the stairs and he caught it with ease. He brought it to his mouth and gave it a good bite with his front teeth afore dropping it inside a heavy leather purse. The latter hanging from a belt the youngster had looped around his waist twice.
Alright, now I’ve seen it all, the still puzzled Nulanos thought and climbed down the stairs to go after Sorn.
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A tensed Valydra watched him coming out of the ruined villa, her sword still in hand. That sole eye gleaming in the dark, the other hidden under an old black-leather eyepatch.
He was grateful fate had allowed him to again witness the one at least.
“Sorn?” Nulanos asked and hugged her tight when she rushed to his side. Her warm body relaxing in his embrace.
The darn broken rib ruining the moment.
“Kumra nailed him with an arrow. He got it out but he’s not going anywhere fast.”
“The thugs?”
“They didn’t seem eager for a fight. The marines returned to the docks. Ah, there are about fifty Ticu roaming the beach watching us from afar,” Valydra murmured wiping the leaking blood from his brow carefully. “It’s a cloudy night.” She added to explain the increased mermaid activity.
Yeah, Nulanos agreed and kissed her sweaty forehead.
“What happened in there?”
“Dar Lingos was Sorn’s connection. He’s dead.”
“He was a hell of a swordsman. Nym always fought with him to hone her skills,” Valydra whispered sounding impressed.
“Well, he went down rather lamely,” Nulanos muttered and walked towards the corner where Kumra waited standing over the injured Sorn. Kumra O’ Valydra keeping a half-drawn bow aimed at the bleeding out traitor of the guild. “But I had little to do with it.”
“Really?”
“Yep. He just run into a better assassin.”
“Who?” Valydra asked and Nulanos paused to stare up and down the dark ancient side street. Then turned his eyes on the villa he’d exited from curious.
“That ship… in the port. Where did it come from?” He asked thoughtfully.
“Ryker asked about it. It brought cargo and a couple of passengers from Eikenport,” Valydra replied a little confused. “Why?”
“I get the cargo part,” Nulanos said with another look at the seemingly empty street. “But who takes a ship for Wetull and disembarks in the arse end of nowhere that is Mussel instead of Sinya Goras?”
“Someone not fancying the crowed sights? Or hating the lights of Taras? A hermit?” Valydra guessed nervously and Nulanos nodded. “You think your mysterious friend came aboard it?”
Eh.
Nulanos thought friend was reaching a bit.
He smacked his lips and stared at the groaning Sorn. The thief’s eyes ogling pleadingly. “You would’ve done… the same thing…” Sorn grunted, breathing in sharp rasping gasps. “I couldn’t risk… you finding out.”
“I wouldn’t,” a now scowling Nulanos told him stiffly. “The Guild doesn’t have the Monarch’s ear and I’ll never make friends with Nym you dumb traitorous fuck. We might be thieves but we’re not soulless murderers!”
“Eight…” a desperate Sorn croaked.
“That’s rule number two you’re looking for,” Nulanos snapped in a hoarse voice. He turned to the sober Valydra watching their exchange. “Milva, you don’t happen to still have that old hammer around?”
She did, bless her beautiful thrifty Mori-Zilan soul and a grave-faced Nulanos got to use it to break every bone on the traitor’s legs. He took no joy in it but Sorn died screaming in horrible pain just the same. Eight had warned their old colleague although he didn’t have to.
Sorn knew the rules.
Never betray the guild.
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The kid had disappeared by the time Nulanos returned to the villa. Dar Lingos weapons and several articles of clothing missing as well. Eight and the rest of the Thieves’ Guild’s members, old and new, gathered at Mussel’s docks the next morning to watch the small transport ship loading crates slowly.
“What’s in the crates?” Nulanos asked the unshaven Ryker who had spent the night greasing the authorities to sweep the night disturbance under the rag. The Ticu had taken care of the bodies during the night.
“Lightstones. Firestones, supplies. A big order from the Adventurers Guild in Asturia,” Ryker explained.
“Why not use Sinya Goras?”
“Two reasons. There’s a ban on exporting lightstones and the heavy tariffs in Sinya Goras. Mussel has none to boost its trade traffic,” Ryker replied with a shrug.
“I’m guessing since the marine sergeant is watching without intervening this is smuggling but with an asterisk?”
“Ayup, they have the Monarch’s blessings. Verbal orders, no paper trail.”
“The Monarch is shorting his own treasurer?” Nulanos asked not believing what he was hearing.
“Well, yes and no. It’s also a good way to corner the market and the Monarch is fond of adventurers.”
Nulanos nodded and turned to watch Valydra sauntering towards them. She had been talking with the ship’s captain.
“What are you doing Milva?” He teased her with a smile turned into a grimace as his rib was still shifting awkwardly. He was the only one battered from their little operation. It was bit annoying but Eight was fine with the trade.
He hadn’t felt this gratified in a very long time.
Having said that Luthos was probably fixing to toss him in a ditch.
“Asked if another ship is to come here over the following weeks?” Valydra replied innocently.
Always a red flag.
“Who is running the ships?”
“Eh, it’s a shifty small company out of Novesium.” Valydra replied. “Run by a mister Sudi. Probably an alias.”
“Why do you need a ship?” Nulanos asked his partner patiently and the Mori-Zilan female pouted tauntingly. “Milva…” Eight grunted warningly this time and she stepped near, neck slightly raised to gaze into his worried face.
“Didn’t you speak of Nym’s riddle the other night?” She purred conspiratorially and it was difficult for a person of culture to resist such well-presented and enticingly packaged argument.
He had to stop being so talkative after a good fuck.
“I did,” Neil murmured a little intrigued but also worried as he’d a bit of vacationing on Jelin in mind until all this blew over.
The energy is about to shift, he thought.
“Dudrina might have an answer to this,” Valydra explained batting her eyelashes.
What does the dead witch have to do with anything?
Eight furrowed his brows and glanced at the eavesdropping whilst pretending he wasn’t Ryker ‘Phantom’.
“I seem to vaguely recall the name thrown about chief,” the experienced thief offered casually and Nulanos rolled his eyes at the plans hatched behind his back.
“Go on dear,” Eight urged his smirking pretty partner.
“There’s a secret dungeon under Abrakas Temple in the sunken Urma Port…” A whispering Valydra started and Nulanos knew right then and there she was about to get him into big trouble.
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