The first trader from the Southern Isle of Ret’cain to arrive in the Kaden Circle did so a mere four generations back. The sea routes took centuries to plot, the shallows took fleets gutted upon their rocks to find, and the Malin took inspired engineering for ocean-faring vessels to traverse. The man hailed from a near barren outcrop which bred wild goats, weeds a plenty, and a race of hardy, craggy individuals, whose lives were as miserable and challenging as the grey waters that surrounded their pitiful island. His name was Iskor Gouss, and he was as bold as he was savvy.

Their treacherous journey brought hope for their kin and their heirs. Here was an opportunity to gain wealth, branch out into the world and, just maybe, secure food enough for their starving people.

Upon ascending the great river to finally reach Jandrir, the trade capital of the South, the merchant stood upon the prow of his boat, watching the swell of life and activity on all sides. He was seeing for the first time a true metropolis. It was a melting pot for as many cultures as Ret’cain had people. Here a person could buy themselves a name, buy a legacy, and even buy their friends. It was as much a symbol of commerce as the aether god Commerce himself. Iskor Gouss breathed that sweat saturated air, listened to the thrumming sounds of trade and success, tasted the flowing tides of fortune, and reportedly said, “Well this is a bit shit.”

Iskor later became the first literate soul among his people, and stayed in Jandrir orchestrating trade back to Ret’cain until he died of the pox, some eight turns after he arrived. During that time he wrote his memoirs, in which he described Jandrir as, ‘A bulging mass of tumorous lumps sitting astride a glistening scab that snakes all the way to the Southern Sea. The light that reflects upon the limestone walls conjures images of stretched, distended flesh. The torches and candles that burn until all ungodsly hours of the morning are angry red sores, seeping pussy discharges of debauchery and violence. Perhaps the only place as yet untouched by disease is the Northern noble’s district, pressed against Eifen Square. In that park I often go to ruminate and see the stars. More can be seen there than anywhere else in Jandrir, though still half as many as Ret’cain. It’s a paltry substitute for home, but at least there you get the idea you might be able to enjoy a sunset without getting stabbed...’

Gabriel remembered the passage from when Diomes had insisted he read Iskor’s memoirs when they first arrived in Jandrir, back when Gabriel was still a naïve camp follower. Gabriel couldn’t vouch for the stars part, but he felt he owed Iskor an apology for the stabbing comment.

“Make a break for it,” Gabriel said, just loud enough to be heard over the advancing sound of twigs snapping and leaves sighing.

The party turned to their left, but found they were being approached form that side as well. They turned to their right, and once more were stymied. They were surrounded.

Lydia was the first to draw, naturally, but the others were not far behind. Even Gabriel and Vish had weapons out, ready to meet whatever or whoever was coming at them from the brush.

The uninvited company emerged, one by one, into the lances of moonlight that stabbed through the canopy.

The first, blocking their retreat to the left, was almost indistinguishable from the trees themselves. The man, if indeed he was a man, was so tall and long of limb that his arms resembled branches and his body the silvery trunk of an ash. Despite his proportions, he carried himself with the same strength as the trees he was akin to. He held as fast when he halted as if he too were rooted in the earth. The flora became suddenly threatening, as if at this newcomer’s behest. Their twigs now looked like talons, their leaves like teeth. At least they weren’t carrying a shit load of steel and iron like that other guy though. His arsenal of equipment would be the envy of a small army. He held in his hand a long halberd, crescent tip pointed at the dirt casually, and had slung at his side a pair of curved blades, as well as an intricately carved crossbow, inlaid with copper vines. Knives and bolts were bound to his chest by a pair of bandoliers, and even his gauntlets were sharpened to points. Perhaps most disconcerting of all, though, was the perfectly smooth mask he wore. There was no possible way to read expression of face or body. He was a closed book. He was an enigma. The only thing that was certain, was that he was dangerous.

“We’ve got a problem,” Lydia said, adjusting her stance to put herself between the masked man and the others. Lydia didn’t know who else would emerge to oppose them, but she felt sure the greatest threat lay here.

“What kind of problem?” Gabriel asked through his teeth.

“The elf kind.”

This got a reaction. The other four snapped their necks around to regard the ethereal being. Figo actually started smiling, before remembering why the elf was here.

“Stay alert,” Lydia cautioned, “We don’t know what else is coming.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Fear and anticipation coursed through their veins. If all of their foes were as formidable as the first, then there would be little hope for survival.

They watched and waited.

The second creature emerged.

Figo squinted into the dim twilight, his brain taking a moment to catch up with his perfectly functional eyes, “Is that..?”

“Ah, come on!” Gabriel exclaimed, “Fucking, Hubert?”

They were now able to make sense of the squeaky voice they had heard before. It felt familiar at the time, but they had been too agitated to join the dots.

Hubert folded his arms imperiously across his weedy little chest, “So we meet again. It seems I have finally caught up with you.”

“Oh, piss off Hubert,” Gabriel replied.

“Gods alive, you actually had me worried there for a second,” Vish laughed.

“I was genuinely sweating,” Gabriel said disgustedly, and the other mercenaries teased him for it.

“Enough!” Hubert screeched, his face as luminous as a blood moon, “I have tracked you across the whole of The Kaden Circle to exact my revenge, and I will not be mocked! You have embarrassed me for the last time.”

Gabriel and Vish exchanged a look. They started laughing again.

“Terrifying!”

“Awe inspiring!”

“Aaah, yeah, no. Cute speech, but we need to be on our way,” Vish said, wiping his eyes.

“Wait a second,” Gabriel said, “Did you say you’ve been tracking us?”

“Of course I have! How else would I be here?” Hubert bit back.

“Gabriel, you don’t think Hubert could have been the one to… Do you?” Figo asked clandestinely.

Gabriel thought about this. He thought about Dexy. He thought about Goyun. Then he looked at Hubert again.

“Naaah,” the captain concluded.

“Sure?” the archer asked.

Gabriel gestured at the spotty teenager with both hands, “Pretty sure! Now come on, Hubert, bugger off, will you?”

“Sorry to have wasted your time, but we’ve got places to be,” Vish explained.

“Yeah, actual trouble is coming,” Gabriel said, taking a step forward.

“Um, Gabriel,” Figo cautioned.

“Yees?”

“I think trouble may have arrived,” the archer said, nodding towards the third figure in the semi-circle.

For a big man, he had moved relatively quietly. While the mercenaries had been enjoying a quick giggle at Hubert’s expense, his bodyguard had propped himself up against a tree, casually waiting to be discovered. His fingers drummed lightly on the hilt of his axe, and the light reflected majestically from his bald pate, as if it were wreathed in a ghostly halo. It was apt imagery, seeing as the mercenaries had thought the man dead.

“Hello, Gabriel,” Bryce smiled.

“Oh no,” was all the captain managed.

“What’s the matter? Not happy to see an old friend again?” their former colleague grinned.

“I thought you were…”

“Dead? So did I. The way those soldiers beat me, stabbed me, starved me,” Bryce chuckled, “I thought I was dead a hundred times over. Seems it take more than your cowardice to kill me.”

“How did you get away?”

Bryce hefted his axe, admiring its honed edge, “After you turned tail and ran the soldiers at the garrison locked me up. They kept me alive for sport, carving the names of their comrade’s I’d killed upon my flesh. It was the Ormonds who got me out. Once it became clear that you’d skipped town and weren’t going to finish the job they’d given you, they did a bit of digging. They found out I’d been captured and paid my bail. With nothing better to do, I pledged myself to them,” he snorted, “For decent pay, mind. Now imagine my surprise when many turns later they ask me to help out some friends of theirs in this ‘Order of the Rising Dragon’ they’ve become such fans of. I didn’t give two shits about no order, but a job’s a job, and so I went dutifully on my way. The gods were smiling on me, though, Gabriel, wouldn’t you say?”

“I had to help Natasha. I’m sorry, Bryce,” Gabriel said as resolutely as he could muster.

“Aye, so you said. And I have to kill you. Hope you understand,” he laughed again, “And I’m actually getting paid to do it, would you believe?”

“Look, Bryce, I know things went awfully that night, and I know I-”

“Woooah, shit!” Vish suddenly yelled.

“Kind of in the middle of something, Vish,” Gabriel sighed.

“Guys, look! Look who it is!”

“Bryce? Gods’ Vish, we know already!”

“What? No! I don’t give a shit about him. Over there! Look!”

“Vish this really isn’t the-”

“It’s mother fucking Kyk!” the mind-mapper squealed gleefully.

Sure enough, on the right side of the clearing was the orange-scaled Magrain, alive and well, now sporting an ill-fitting felt hat to cover the hatchet wound at the back of his skull.

“How many times do we have to murder people around here?” Lydia said over her shoulder, keeping her eyes glued on the elf.

Figo kicked at the dirt, “I did say they are notoriously hard to kill.”

“How are you, buddy? You doing okay?” Vish called across the clearing, waving gleefully.

The Magrain scowled, looked to make sure Hubert wasn’t watching, and then gave a little wave back.

“As you can see, I have assembled some of the deadliest friends of The Order to bring you to justice,” Hubert sneered, “You should be honoured by the trouble I have gone to, really.”

“Thrilled,” Gabriel said.

“And now, all that remains is for you to lay down your arms and come with us. You are now prisoners of The Order of the Rising Dragon. I hereby detain you in the name of the great and powerful Ruby. Kindly follow me,” the teenager politely commanded, buzzing with excitement.

“I’m afraid it’s not going to happen quite like that,” Bryce said coolly, “I’ve waited too long for this, and I’m not going to pass up a gods’ given opportunity. They die here.”

“How dare you defy me!” the sniveling teenager snapped.

Hubert received a backhand for his insolence.

“You’d be wise to step aside, young sir, or grab yourself a piece of the glory if you have the stomach for it,” Bryce returned his attention to Gabriel, “As for you, I’m going to do you a curtesy you don’t deserve. I’m going to allow you to die with sword in hand, fighting alongside your friends. Well, unless they choose to abandon you, of course,” Bryce’s teeth did all of the smiling.