. All rights are reserved. No works, in part or in whole,
may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jay
Imerman unless otherwise noted.Vladem Neek was pretty amazed with himself. Given his humble beginnings, he had come far. His parents had been very poor, eking out an existence on the edge of a village surrounding a keep far to the south and west. They had demanded he do all the work, to make money by whatever means he could to support the family. Everything bad that happened was his fault. He thoughtfully passed his hand over his sleeves, thinking of the scars on his arms, legs, and back from their beatings. But, his parents had taught him lessons that he had found very valuable.
Now, he had a pretty large "family" that worked for him (or did his work for him). He had a network of relationships with all kinds of people in and around Calembarey: shop owners, guild members, nobles, and even other thieves in the nearby cities of Nodamor and Freemount. His income rivaled that of the lesser nobility, and he always had a lady he could go to.
He looked around at the party goers in their finery. General Kormant Ducay was dressed formally, as he always did in public, with his wife Leila at his elbow. She was radiant, as the wife of the strategic military leader of the capitol of an important state. The General raised his glass and nodded at Neek's glance, then went back into conversation with Duke Malidan from Calennia, far to the east over the Dragon's Teeth mountains. The party was in the Duke's honor as a visiting dignitary, and the Duke and his entourage were constantly sought for conversation. They spoke Common with a strange accent.
It was getting toward evening, and dinner would be served soon on heavy wooden tables covered with fine silks from the far east. Not that the guests were hungry. They had been eating the appetizers all afternoon, carried on trays by servants in dark orange robes, keeping their eyes downward in customary respect. They had been drinking wines from the western vineyards of Selenedor, famous throughout the known world. The party would go on into the night, culminating in some drunken displays, dancing, and song.
Someone tapped Neek on the shoulder. "You have a guest, sir," said the head servant, who was responsible for keeping out the unwanted. Neek nodded, and followed him. He made remarks to people who asked him to join them as he passed, excusing himself.
It was Junan. Junan would not disturb him at such an event unless it were important. They found someplace private to talk.
"Hogarth is at the Bucking Donkey Inn with a stranger from out of town. A boy a little older than Hogarth. He's been there since mid day. We found Bart dead in the hideaway building, with a knife stab in the throat, and a discarded cloak on the floor."
Neek's face flushed red, and he suppressed the urge to yell. "He's going to run," he said evenly. "Catch him, and the stranger, and bring them to me alive. Have them wait in the holding pen."
Junan turned to go, but hesitated as Neek spoke again. "Do it yourself." Junan nodded as he kept on going. Neek snatched a glass of wine from a servant as she walked by, and drank it in one gulp without tasting it. After a minute, his breathing had returned to normal. He turned with a sudden smile as a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and he returned to the festivities. "Business, business," he said.
be5fa
Night had fallen. Javan and Hogarth had decided that, since they had probably both been seen by Neek's agents, they would both have to sneak out. There was no way to do it with the horse, so she must be sold. Javan had went to the square with a heavy heart, and sold the mare. She fetched three silvers and some change, less than he had been hoping.
Now, they caught a quick nap before departing in the middle of the night. Hogarth said he could sleep for half an hour at a time, and would wake him when it was time.
"I trust you," said Javan, and lay down. He did not see a tear form in Hogarth's eye, nor notice the storm of conflicting urges that ravaged his face. He did not fall asleep immediately, though, in spite of his fatigue from the stresses of the day.
When he finally did sleep, Javan dreamt. A face drifted on the edge of his vision. Unable to make out the features, he stretched forward, trying to get closer. He could just make out the bulging eyes, then found he could hardly move his feet. He looked down. They were stuck in some kind of sticky muck that clung to them, rising in viscous cords that hampered his movement. Looking back up, he could now make out the face. It was bloody under the chin, and the wide, staring eyes of Bart glared at him while the tongue lolled out. The mouth moved, trying to say something to him, but no sound came out except for a gurgling gasp.
Javan struggled awake, stifling a shout. He was covered in a cold sweat, and his heart was pounding blood in his ears. Or was that another sound? Something creaked outside the door, and the tumblers quietly clicked open. Two figures stole into the room, and eased the door shut. Javan realized with a start, as a beam of light from the hallway briefly illuminated the side of his face, that one of them was Kulo. The other he did not recognize. Something gleamed in the faint starlight from the window - the faint sound of cloth coming off a blade.
The boy from the south lay still, his hand gripping white-knuckled the haft of his knife as he moved it unseen so that it would be free of the blanket. A hand reached out to clasp his mouth. Like a viper, Javan's hand leapt up toward the man's chest. The knife went in between two ribs, but was not long enough to strike the heart. The man groaned in pain and instinctively leapt back. A wet splashing sound came from the floor, and he sank against the wall, but he hung onto his sword.
The table fell over to the floor a few feet away. Javan looked, to see Hogarth struggling in the arms of the other figure. Javan bent over the man on the floor, intending to cut his throat. The man's eyes stared at his, and he tried to lift his sword. A wheezing, bubbling noise came from his chest, indicating a punctured lung. A wave of nausea swept over Javan, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ashamed, he kicked at the wrist holding the sword, and it clattered to the floor. It was a short but sturdy straight blade. Sweeping it up, he rushed at the other man.
Junan was quite confident he could handle Hogarth or Javan, but he realized he could not handle both, especially if the bigger one had the sword. He threw Hogarth to the floor, hissing, "Stay there and get what's coming to you, ungrateful pup." He jumped forward, reached up and caught the descending wrist of Javan in his hand. They struggled, but Junan was much bigger and stronger. He forced Javan backward toward the bed. Javan was surprised to notice Hogarth cowering in the corner, a look of uncertainty on his face. With a flash of intuition, Javan realized Hogarth was thinking of an excuse he could give to get himself back in the good graces of Neek.
"Hogarth, you must fight for what you want," grunted Javan as the sword was forced from his hand and fell against the bed. Javan and Junan struggled, trying to catch each other's legs and get the other off balance.
A swish, and a clanging thud, and cold water splashed onto Javan's face. Junan slumped forward, pinning the lad against the bed. Javan tried, but he could not push him off. "Help me," he said. Between the two of them, they pushed him onto the floor. The water basin Hogarth had used to knock him out lay next to him.
After a second, Hogarth looked at Javan. "Aren't you going to kill him?"
Javan shook his head, catching his breath. "I can't."
"I can." Hogarth stepped forward, reaching for the sword that Javan had retrieved.
"No, there's been enough death today."
"A Knight of Ki would not be afraid to kill a ruffian and criminal."
"I am not a Knight of Ki, or any kind of knight. I thought I was, but I can't."
Hogarth calmed down. He looked at Kulo by the door. Kulo's head hung down, but he was breathing erratically. Blood still oozed from the wound, and he would probably die.
Without talking, they both gathered their stuff. Javan righted the table under the window, climbed up, and opened the window. It swung inward from its top, and he propped it against the wall above, where it had a hook to retain it. One after another, they squeezed through the square hole and dropped to the ground below.
They found themselves along the side of the Inn, in front of the stables. No one was around, and a few nervous stamping sounds came from the stables.
They walked around the front of the building, and kept going through the gate as if leaving normally for the evening. Their backs crawled with the anticipation of a hailing shout, but only the sounds of the nearby taverns drifted to their ears. Hogarth motioned to the left. They followed Hawk Avenue further into the city.
be5fa
About an hour later, they came to a shop that was closed for the evening. It was just another storefront in a line of stores and apothecaries along the outer wall. The sign above the door indicated it was some kind of curio shop. Javan was about to ask how they were to get in, when Hogarth pulled something from his pocket and bent over the door. He slid something in the crack between the door and the jamb, then pushed up. The door opened.
Hogarth motioned to be quiet, and they crept in. They closed the door, and softly dropped the latch back into place.
Hogarth leaned close, and under his breath said, "Shop keeper lives upstairs." Javan nodded.
Inside, the place was cluttered with a cacophony of dark silhouettes. They stepped carefully, holding their bags of belongings in front of them so as not to disturb anything. It hadn't yet occurred to them how they were to move the barrel covering the trap door, that Hogarth had mentioned, so quietly.
When they finally reached the back storeroom, they weaved their way around crates and shelves. In the back, dimly lit from starlight through a small, barred window, the room ended at the wall. Hogarth stifled an exclamation. To their surprise and great luck, there was no barrel. A few items stood on the floor, but that was all. Javan had a stabbing suspicion, as he tried but could not see any trap door in the floor.
But Hogarth bent down, moved the few items carefully out of the way, reached his finger into a knothole in the wooden floor, and pulled up a small rectangular square of wood. This made a hole in the floor big enough for a man's hand. Hogarth reached in and pulled up a section of the floor. Grunting with the weight, he lifted it enough for him to climb in. Javan could barely see that the edges of the door were uneven - the different planks ended at different points, so that there wouldn't be a straight line of a door in the floor. Hogarth looked at Javan.
Javan stepped forward and grasped the door, holding it while Hogarth went in feet first, and grabbed the rungs he knew to be there. Javan first replaced the handhold cover as he held the door, then followed, using his head to hold up the door. He let it down as slowly as he could, but it still made a slight grating noise as it closed. Dust settled as total darkness engulfed them.
Dragging his feet down the sides of the vertical shaft, he felt for the rungs below. When he reached the bottom, he tried to look around. The darkness seemed to bear down like a great weight. He could hear Hogarth's breathing echoing slightly next to him. He reached out, and grasped some of Hogarth's clothing, and followed as they groped their way down the tunnel.
Although the shaft had been rock below the thin layer of soil beneath the store, the tunnel had an earthy, clay smell. Occasionally, they walked through puddles, or slid as they put their feet down on slimy ground. They could not see, but the sounds of their progress gradually produced a sense of the space before them.
After what seemed like hours, the tunnel seemed to end. They felt along the wall of a small chamber, and came across another ladder. They climbed, pushing up on the cover at the top. A slightly lesser darkness greeted them, but not enough to make out anything. They climbed up, replacing a similar trap door in another wooden floor. The smells of fungus and rotting wood assailed their nostrils, and the wooden floorboards felt damp and springy underfoot.
A gap in the boards of the wall let out to the night. They walked through, and found themselves in a tall wheat field, the dark stalks swaying slightly in a breeze. The stars burned above, and the moon stayed out of sight.
"We are on the eastern side of Calembarey," said Hogarth. "If we go north from here, we will come across the Eastern Road, that goes over the Dragon's Teeth. We will have to keep going, quickly, and make the northern end of Calembarey Road before dawn. Otherwise, Neek's people might spot us in the daylight."
Javan nodded. He fashioned a kind of hitch to hold the sword at his side, then they settled in for a long, exhausting effort. They pushed through the wheat stalks, until they came across a harvesting trail. They followed it northward, grateful to be able to pick up the pace. Coming across a small stream, they bent and drank so as to conserve the provisions they had purchased earlier in the afternoon. Thinking of this, Javan was saddened. He had used the money from the mare's sale to buy food and water skins. His own water skin had somehow been misplaced with the events of the morning.
"You know," said Hogarth as they walked at a fast pace, "you were wrong."
"About what?"
"You said you weren't a knight."
They walked on a bit longer, conserving their breath.
"You know something?" asked Javan.
"What?"
"I had a strange feeling I would never see the mare again when I got a room last night."
The trail ended in a T at a road that ran perpendicular to it. On the other side was grassland, and they could see dark houses dotted along the land. They pushed on, but the ground became uneven beneath the grass that reached past their knees. They had to slow their pace a bit to keep from stumbling. Now, more than ever, Javan wished they had the horse.
As they hiked on, Hogarth noticed a slight lightening of the sky. "We have a few hours until dawn," he breathed. "There's a woods north of the city...make good camping spot. I'd like to make it there...before the sun appears...above the Teeth."
Javan nodded, and they stumbled forward at an uneven gait. The occasional farmhouse they passed was dark and quiet. The dark wall of the city lay on their left about a mile away.
"Hogarth?"
"Yes?"
"Who was that other man, the one you knocked out?"
"Junan," he said, and spat.
After a while, Hogarth added, "He'll be back, you know. He'll hunt us down."
"At his peril," replied Javan.
When they reached the northern road, it was already angling eastward across their path. The sky had lightened, and the sun would soon peer above the peaks. Javan's legs ached, and he was sure that Hogarth's did, too. He could feel a pain in his sides with each breath, from his labors throughout the night. Whenever he felt like he needed a rest, though, the vision of Kulo sitting against the wall, and of Junan, still alive and perhaps arranging a pursuit, spurred him onward.
As for Hogarth, he too was fatigued. He gritted his teeth. Two opposing emotions drove him on. One: If Javan could keep on going, then he could. If Javan could give his life for a total stranger, one that had meant to harm him, then the least he could do is keep putting one foot in front of the other. Two: Hogarth had no doubt that Junan would catch up with him, but he was too fatigued now to think of an excuse. He bided his time for an opportunity to sneak back to the city, and to come up with a plausible story to appease Neek.
Javan estimated they had gone perhaps ten miles, and they were reaching the end of his endurance, when the sun poked its way above the mountains. Its rays lit the beginning of the woods before them, perhaps half a mile away. Encouraged, they continued on with renewed vigor.
They walked under the umbrella of leaves that arched over the road as it snaked its way north and east. Perhaps another quarter mile into the trees, they heard the sounds ahead of a horse and wagon.
"This is probably a good place to leave the road and find a spot to rest," panted Javan. Hogarth could only nod, as sweat poured down their faces.
They went off to the left, until they could no longer see the road, pushing through the forest carpet and various branches and ferns. They lay on the ground between trees, and slept.
Copyright © 2002 by Jay
Imerman. All rights are reserved. No works, in part or in whole,
may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Jay
Imerman unless otherwise noted.