Terry W. Ervin (8 page)

“A matter of honor, Prince Reveron.”

The prince grinned and suppressed a laugh. “And whose honor were you defending?”

“Your honor, Prince,” said Road Toad.

The prince lost his smile and sat up straight. “They do grow bold. Thank you, brother.”

It was then that I saw on the prince’s right palm an indigo tattoo. It resembled the one on Road Toad’s hand, of a fox leaping over a rising sun. The two men locked gazes for several long seconds.

“I did it to remind them of their status beneath the royal family,” said Road Toad, “but would have for a brother as well.”

Prince Reveron ran a finger over his thin white mustache. “Despite the circumstances you have remained loyal to my family, Major Jadd. You truly do us honor by your actions.”

“Prince, long ago I was stripped of rank. I am no longer a major and with my commission I left behind the name of Jadd.”

“Of course, Road Toad. Please, tell me of the battle on the Valduz River.”

Road Toad urged me to speak first of the battles in the Gray Haunt Forest. And I did, telling up until the moment Road Toad joined my company. Prince Reveron nodded while listening.

Then Road Toad took over and told the rest of the story, right up until Prince Reveron lifted us to safety. After finishing, Road Toad asked, “What became of the ogres and the bridge?”

The prince rubbed his chin as if in thought then, with a gleam in his eye, said, “Night Shard gave them the juice, after we attacked the bridge, sending one of the panzers into the Valduz.”

The prince scanned his map. “But only a section was brought down. The panzer’s machine gun fire was intense and once we lost surprise after our first pass, we could do no more. The ogres will have spanned the gap with timbers by now.” He emphasized by pointing at a spot on the map. “And will march by nightfall.”

“It was not your first encounter with panzers and their weapons?” asked Road Toad.

“Only two days worth of experience, Maj—Road Toad.” The prince looked at me and then back to Road Toad. “Did you know your action twelve years ago was a catalyst that resulted in a Crusader diplomatic emissary visiting our capital? Although they believe us followers and practitioners of evil arts, they have for the first time maintained diplomatic, even civil contact. At this moment a military delegation advises my father.”

Road Toad didn’t appear surprised by the statement, but I was. The fierce tenacity of Crusaders in their beliefs made them immune to most magics. Rare stories of outcasts abandoning their islands passed through Pine Ridge, but nobody I’d ever known had met a Crusader. Old Lowell once told me of the last incursion by the Reunited Kingdom. His grandfather had lived through it as a child. They’d captured half the holds of the Faxtinian Coalition, made inroads into the Necromancer King’s Dead Expanse, and had laid siege to the capital of the Vinchie Empire. Old Lowell said a plague ran unchecked through the Crusaders. Until the attack on the Necromancer King twelve years ago, they’d remained isolated, content on their islands.

“Crusader technology, as they call it,” said Road Toad, “has been far surpassed by the Necromancer King.”

“So it would seem,” agreed the prince. “But they see the Necromancer King as a growing menace.”

“Will they fight alongside us, Prince? Both orange and green crosses?”

“That has yet to be seen, Road Toad. What was your assessment of the tactics of the enemy?”

“Clumsy and slow,” said Road Toad, putting a finger to his pock-marked cheek. “If they’d have pressed the panzers across the bridge and sent ogres or goblins to support, they’d have taken casualties—very few—and captured the bridge intact.”

“What is your assessment of wizard magic against the Necromancer King’s new weapons?”

“It could be effective. It depends on how many panzers he has compared to the number of wizards, enchanters and other spellcasters that can be mustered.”

“That is my thought,” said the prince. “I fear we have far too few. And the Crusaders insist that the Necromancer King probably has more, possibly even more effective and lethal weapons in his stable.”

“It wasn’t panzers that drove the Crusaders off twelve years ago,” said Road Toad. “And I doubt it was magic. Have they said what it was?”

“Not in great detail,” said the prince. “A sort of toxic gas. But the Necromancer King’s ambitious war may spur them on.” The prince was going to say more, but he looked beyond us and nodded.

I turned to see the seer close the partitioning flap.

Prince Reveron nodded. “I thank you soldiers for your observations and council.”

We stood and bowed to the prince, who showed a mischievous grin.

“Road Toad, your history precludes me from offering you a commission in the Keeseean military. However, if you are willing, you could serve as an auxiliary guard to the serpent steeds. You have specialized knowledge that would be valuable in that area.”

Road Toad frowned, giving it thought.

“In addition, I anticipate future, more rigorous assignments for which you would be suited. You will receive more than fair compensation for your services and expertise.”

“I would be honored,” said Road Toad, bowing. He then looked from the prince to me.

“Mercenary Krish, I would offer you a similar position to assist Road Toad. Your compensation will be fair.”

I bowed as Road Toad had. “I would be honored, Prince Reveron, to serve you.” It was such an unexpected offer I almost forgot about wanting to find my family. But how could I have said no to a prince?

“Major Parks oversees the dragon bevy,” said the prince. “Report to him later this afternoon.”

“Your offer wouldn’t have anything to do with your seer’s visions, would it, Prince?” asked Road Toad in a low but jesting voice.

Prince Reveron chuckled in return. “He is but a lesser seer, Road Toad. I put far more faith in you than I put in him.”

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

Ivan Mugdalla stepped forward from his escort and stared into the eyes of the swarthy dictator. The aging man’s eyes held no emotion, no light at all. The moments stretched. Ivan reminded himself to let the former rebel soldier speak first.

“What news do you bring me?” asked the dictator in a hollow voice.

Possibly he knew, thought Ivan. No matter. “Supreme General, sir, I have traveled far and with utmost caution to bring you reliable information. Although by now the West may be discovering, the Return to Green Earth’s martyrs have succeeded. Three days ago, my contact reported that the first case was admitted to University of Chicago Hospital. By now they must have identified the variant Ebola virus. The martyr successfully passed through Tel Aviv, Paris, and Washington before reaching Chicago.” Ivan took a steadying breath. “The second martyr was last reported having departed Moscow, and was most recently en route from Calcutta to Hong Kong.”

“Your assessment?”

Months ago, Ivan had pondered how a splinter environmental movement group could believe the world would be better without humans—including them, and willingly enact its vision through biological warfare. Now he just accepted it as fact. “General, sir, I believe that the rogue environmentalist martyrs were able to contaminate many of the facilities at the central air hubs. The plague will be widespread before the infidels realize the extent of their peril.”

The general repressed a smile. He didn’t care what motivated this messenger to cooperate, nor those he named martyrs. The plague’s reach wouldn’t recognize boundaries, nor would it discriminate, ravaging the messenger’s unsuspecting tribal villages as surely as any Western capital.

The general examined his gold Rolex and addressed the escort. “Corporal, send the message to our sailors in port.” He held up a hand. “Wait, Corporal. I will send the message myself in a moment.” He looked back at Ivan. “You believe it is already too late?”

“Yes, General, sir, I do.”

The dictator smiled. “I believe your assessment is more accurate than you realize, but…”

Ivan’s ears recorded the crack as his head snapped forward. The 9mm jacketed hollow-point bullet mushroomed, truncating Ivan’s final thought.

“…but I regret that your most important report was your last.”

The dictator turned and walked away. Ivan’s killer holstered his pistol, stepped over the body, and followed. Someone else would clean up the mess.

I fingered and admired the purple and gold band I wore on my left arm. As militia under Lord Hingroar I’d not been given his colors, red and black. All afternoon I followed Road Toad as he introduced me to the mercenary life. I wondered how my family was doing, if they’d fled south and if we might cross paths.

I tapped the pouch that held the five silver coins, my advance for my week’s service. Road Toad said I’d receive ten at the end of the week. Five were the second half of my pay for the first week service and the other five an advance on my second.

Major Parks had given Road Toad one gold and four silver, but I didn’t care. Five silver was more than I’d ever had. If my family passed this way south, I’d give them the five silvers, and more if I had it.

“Let’s get you some better gear,” said Road Toad after inspecting the small A-frame tent we’d been assigned. “Maybe get a couple of blankets. They’ll be cheap now that it’s spring.”

I asked, “If I’m a mercenary now, do I change my name?”

Road Toad laughed. “You’ll get a name if you stay a mercenary long enough.”

We walked toward the camps of the freemen. I noticed Road Toad hadn’t said, ‘If you live long enough.’ One of the mercenaries in our circle camp was called Worm-Gut, although an older mercenary called him Virgil. Worm-Gut wasn’t young as me, but maybe he’d just got his name. I didn’t want to ask how or why.

“How’s the arm, Krish?”

I flexed and felt it before answering. “Swelling’s gone. Doesn’t hurt.”

“Mighty foolhardy, you charging that guard. Would’ve been even without a broken arm.”

With brows furrowed, I asked, “And it was wise for you to attack two of them?”

“Do you understand why I did it? Why I clearly stated I intended to attack them and not attempt entry into the healers’ pavilion?”

“No.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Maybe some other time. Let’s see if there’s a weapon smith.”

“Is midnight to an hour past dawn really the best duty?”

Road Toad nodded. “It is. Mercenary status is better than freeman, but we’re still subject to the whims of the Keeseean military officers. They’re usually asleep until just before dawn, and then too busy with other duties to bother us.” He rubbed his hands. “And it’ll give me time to observe the serpent handlers without other responsibilities to consider.”

We walked into the freemen area. Wagons and large open tents sat along a beaten path fast becoming a road. Smaller paths branched off to other tradesmen and their wagons. Soldiers regularly patrolled, making sure no tents or wagons encroached too close to the main route and insuring order. Women cooked at small fires while men and their sons attempted to sell all manners of clothes, foods, trinkets, helms, shields and weapons. Further off the main path I spotted camp followers, women in colorful, revealing outfits selling something else. Some were older, some very young, and much prettier than the two selling women in Pine Ridge.

I followed Road Toad, trusting he knew what I needed and how to get the best deal. “What if they don’t like me?”

Road Toad smiled at a chesty woman braiding her long hair. “The camp followers? If you’ve got coin it doesn’t matter.”

“No,” I said. “Not them.”

“The officers? Salute them, do as you’re told, when you’re told. No problems. Plus, a few soldiers saw you weren’t intimidated by the healers’ guards. Word’ll travel.”

“No,” I said. “I meant the dragons. Besides, those soldiers also saw me slip and fall.”

“After we’re done here we’ll take a look at the dragons. Then we’ll get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll begin training you so the next time you won’t fall on your ass.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“It’ll cost you one silver a week.” He smiled. “And you’re welcome.” He gestured with a nod of his head toward a series of wagons and a large canvas shelter. “Krish, you’re just brave enough that I wouldn’t mind having you at my back.”

I left the freemen camp carrying a new boar spear and happy at trading my old sword for a new one. It didn’t have the salt-resisting magic forged into it, but Road Toad insisted it was a superior blade with balance. He said we’d eventually find an enchanter in the camp that could ward the blade, be it for a steep price. I’d just bartered a weapon from Lord Hingroar’s armory, but I doubted he’d ever know. Road Toad said I’d earned the aging sword three times over.

I’d rather have bought a crossbow, but I lacked the coin, and none looked to be worth what they asked. Road Toad agreed.

We approached the bevy of dragons. Four blacks and twelve reds. They, like the number of soldiers in camp, had increased over the day.

“Before a crossbow, Krish, you need breastplate to supplement your padded armor. You could do with a better helmet.”