Read Adversaries Together Online
Authors: Daniel Casey
Tags: #adventure, #fantasy, #epic fantasy, #strong female characters, #grimdark, #epic adventure fantasy, #nonmagical fantasy, #grimdark fantasy, #nonmagic fantasy, #epic adventure fantasy series
Saxa slapped Jaxar’s leg with the back of her
hand with what sounded like enough force to leave a bruise, “Then
take the damn thing. You’re not the one walking, boy,” she said,
exasperated, then turned around before Jaxar could reply, “Nez, get
Ladaix and the others, we’ve found a wagon.”
“
The veg is included as
well.” Roth said smiling but Jaxar just looked at him displeased.
Reg came up with their own horses and gave Roth the reins to
Lo.
“
Making friends?” He
asked.
“
After a fashion.” Roth
mounted the horse and paused for a moment seeing stars.
Reg reached out and steadied him, “You doing
alright?”
“
Well enough.” Roth nodded,
slapping his cheeks and shaking his head.
“
Well enough?”
“
I suspect so.”
“
That’s hardly something to
boast of.” Reg laughed as they turned their mounts away from the
caravan and more directly west.
“
Just a
statement.”
“
At least, we won’t be
wandering blind.”
“
Well, no, not blind.”
Roth’s spurred Lo on and she took off at a steady
canter.
Elvos, Mabon Day
Cochrane’s skin blushed beneath a clear and
wide sky, all radiance, and his black eyes squinted. The foliage
around him smoldered, the ground beneath his cracked leather boots
blackened. Suddenly from seemingly out of nowhere, a small rabbit
came hopping along. The impish looking creature paused, its nose
twitched as though reacting to the stench of sulfur that filled the
air, and then it scurried on. Cochrane looked around, all else was
still, then slowly the sounds of the wild began again. He let out a
deep sigh and collapsed to his knees.
A few feet in front of him were the corpses
of two heavily armored men, further in the distance lay a smoking
corpse of another, and to either side of Cochrane were the lifeless
bodies of his men. Rajakhan’s body was riddled with arrows and
Zir’s twisted horribly with deep gashes in his chest, an arm
severed, and the flesh on half of his face burnt away to the skull.
Near the other bodies, cracked dog-sized scorpion-like carapaces
oozed a thick grey mucousy substance. Lodged in the neck of one of
the armored bodies was a stiff stinger and the other had several of
the creatures’ pincers clamped down in its arms and legs. The scene
looked like a chaotic melee where everyone was the loser.
Cochrane heaved as light made its way through
the canopy pouring over him. He felt ill. Still shaken, he vomited
then raised his head, shook it violently, and looked over to where
the rabbit had disappeared. He could feel his blood burning, his
eyes and mouth were dry, and his burnt tunic waiting for the
slightest reason to fall off him. Only his cloak was pristine with
an eerie bright sheen; it had allowed him to survive. Leaning back,
he stared up at the canopy realizing he was still holding the last
splinter of his staff in his hand. The fingers of his gloves had
been seared away, and he tightened his grip around the shard of
wood in his hand. He stuck the bit into the ground and used it as
leverage to stand.
“
Light be damned,” Cochrane
sneered and spat on the corpses. “I needs be more careful, there
could be more of these wretched missionaries about.”
As he stood and began to shuffle along he
felt all his wounds all at once. His arms and sides sent a sharp
shooting pain through his bones and the joints of his knees seemed
to be grinding. Cochrane grit his teeth hissing through them, “I
detest this forest.”
It took him nearly two hours to reach the
entrance to Elvos. Guards stood obviously bored, the humidity clung
to them making their sun-bronzed skin look vaguely reptilian. From
the canopy came the maddening buzz of insects and the invisible pop
and crack of animals moving about deep in the bush. Leading up to
this entrance to the merchant town was a poor dust road used by
travelers coming from the south. The day’s unwavering light, the
thick air, and relentless hum lulled the guards into a stupor.
“
Where is the wharf?” He
said just underneath the arch of the gateway.
The guards snapped back to reality suddenly
realizing that a tall, bedraggled man stood before them, “Wha…”
“
The boats.” Cochrane
said.
“
Not looking too good.” The
guard on his right said in a thick Adrenine accent.
“
Really.” He humored
him.
“
The woodland take a bite
out of ya?” The other guard asked.
“
No, not at all. Simply
fell off my horse.” Cochrane gave a toothy, mocking
smile.
“
Bad luck that.” The guard
said without a hint of irony.
“
I guess you could say
so.”
“
You need to be careful;
this ain’t the place for amateurs.” The first guard warned him in a
kind of paternal manner.
Cochrane looked straight ahead and shuffled
pass the two into the town, “Is it not?”
Elvos was a ramshackle port, a trader town,
where all races converged. Usually the good spirited found a reason
to leave soon enough while those with a more devilish temperament
hung around. The town reeked of sea fish and wet wood, Cochrane
marveled at the how anyone could manage to turn a profit in such an
ill-kept market. The eaves over the stalls and booths were
tattered, the road was but a muddied path, and the vendors were sad
looking malcontents. But, he remembered, trade makes its own
rules.
Making his way to the nearest Cathedral
pagoda, he knew his first priority had to be sending a message off
to his employers. He debated whether to mention the loss of the
hired blades and the encounter with the missionaries. In the end,
he decided against it. What angered Cochrane was that his judgment
of the mercenaries had been mistaken. Already the stupid men were
dead. Granted, the missionaries had been fierce in their challenge
and stumbling upon what had to have been a hive of some kind was
certainly bad luck. But, it was he who had taken and dealt the most
damage. The damn fools fought like children, flailing about and
running off in all directions. He had lit the phosphor grenade less
out of a sense of panic and more out of frustration. Thinking about
it now, he felt the burn of shame at the stupidity of the move. He
made it a point to do better.
Leaving the pagoda, Cochrane passed a
city-guard who eyed him up and down and made a disapproving, if not
snide, face. Cochrane’s brow furrowed and he remembered that he was
still wearing rags. Moving down the marketplace, he found the
vendors he needed and then with his arms full he entered a
cobbler’s place. When he emerged a few moments, he wore a new black
leather gambeson, leather trousers, and new knee boots. As he made
his way out of the marketplace, he entered the city proper; he
could feel the muck beneath his feet firm up and turn to proper
cobbled stone. He needed to find a proper inn, a real bed, where he
could wait for Towsend.
The sea breeze was not strong but it was
constant. The scent of salt and water rot curled into Towsend’s
nostrils. Elvos was a shantytown where the dregs from the north
came to die, but it was one of the few entry points into the Ragan
Mountains, beyond which The Aral sprawled. The northern nations had
nothing left for him; this was going to be his last task for
them.
“
The seduction of the new.”
He whispered standing on the wharf.
“
That’s a lovely turn of
phrase.” Towsend turned swiftly recognizing Cochrane’s voice; he
was hunched over a stack of crates. “You know, you’re making a bit
of a habit of this.” Cochrane didn’t look up from his work, “How is
it that you always have a head start, but I always arrive
first?”
Towsend cocked his head to one side, “I take
my time.”
Cochrane put down his work and laughed, “Yes,
yes, quite.”
“
What are you doing?” He
peered at the assortment that lay on the crate—a mortar and pestle,
pouches of powders whose scents were overpowering, and a few tin
cups.
“
Enchantments.” Cochrane
turned to face Towsend, “Now hold still.” He threw a handful of
powder at Towsend’s chest who flinched as he felt a pellet burst. A
brief cloud of bright orange rose, then dissipated, leaving a huge
stain on him.
“
There, now you’re a bit
better of a person than you were.” Towsend scowled but before he
could say anything, Cochrane hit him with another pellet. Towsend
got a hand up just in time to block the pellet from hitting him
square in the face, but the blue powder burst still covered him
leaving a clean outline on his face where his hand had been
raised.
Cochrane smile and then tossed a pouch to
him, “Now why don’t you return the favor.”
Towsend caught the pouch gingerly, scowling
he looked into the pouch and saw a number of different colored
pellets, “What is this all about?”
“
There’s a festival in
town, anyone without these powder marks will stand out. Standing
out will bring questions. Questions raise suspicions. Suspicions
tighten tongues and open throats.”
“
Ah. Alright then.” Towsend
flicked a pellet right at Cochrane’s forehead creating a puff of
yellow powder that enveloped his face. With his entire face doused
in a mustard color, Cochrane gave an insincere smile.
“
Wonderful. A few more and
we’re set.” He pelted Towsend with several more. For a moment, the
two were like children. When all was said and done, they looked
like vibrant walking bruises.
Towsend smiled, looked around, “The
others?”
Cochrane let out an exasperated sigh,
“Dead.”
“
Unfortunate.” Towsend
ground his teeth, his levity gone.
Sweeping up his things and turning toward the
town, Cochrane shrugged, “Nothing to be done about it, we move
on.”
Towsend watched him go a few yards then
followed, “We’ll need more.”
“
I know.”
“
We won’t be able to do it
alone.”
“
I know.”
“
At least, one
more.”
“
It is what it is. I have
already taken care of it.” Towsend stopped but Cochrane kept
walking; a beat later realizing Towsend was glaring at him from
behind. He turned to face his friend.
“
Whom?” Towsend
demanded.
Cochrane sighed, “Someone.”
“
Whom?”
He looked down; he had been hoping to put
this off, “A thief.”
“
A thief?”
“
Well, more of a corsair,
very skilled, a good deal of experience with this kind of
thing.”
“
Whom.”
“
His name is
Riv.”
“
Where is he
from?”
“
I don’t see how that
matters.”
“
It does.”
“
Alright, before you react
though I want you to realize that I wouldn’t make a poor
choice.”
“
Where is he
from?”
“
Sulecin. But he
hasn’t…”
“
You’re aligning us with
The Cathedral?”
“
Yes, yes and no. Riv is
his own man and gives his allegiance to the man with the most
coin.”
Towsend scoffed, “So we can trust him.”
Cochrane was solemn, “Yes we can. He’s not
with The Cathedral. I’ll tell you more in the room.”
The streets were full of festivalgoers whose
saris and sarongs were painted as bizarre rainbows. As they made
their way through, they were hit with hundreds of color pellets and
heard small crackling explosions all over. When they stepped into
the inn, it was impossible to distinguish them from the rest of the
citizens. The room Cochrane had let was nothing special, small and
dark.
Towsend threw himself down on the bed
immediately, “That was madness.”
“
Hey, come on now, you’re
getting that stuff all over.”
“
Is it even possible to
avoid it?”
Cochrane moved over to table that held a
basin and pitcher. He pour the water and splashed some on his face,
with his eyes closed he reached out and grabbed a nearby rag. He
wiped his face and neck down, turned, and threw the rag at
Towsend.
“
What we need to do is get
clean and head on over those mountains.” Cochrane began to
change.
“
Tell me more about this
corsair.” Towsend wiped his face and hands.
“
Riv
Bloodtangle.”
“
I don’t know that name.
Doesn’t sound Cassubian.”
“
You wouldn’t. It’s
not.”
“
So?”
“
He’ll bring his ship to
meet us in Wick.”
“
Wick is our departure
point.”
Cochrane nodded.
“
So it’s just you and I
headed to Lappala then.” Towsend rolled on his side and glared at
Cochrane.
He stood shirtless holding out his hands,
“What would you have me do?”
“
Hire some
blades.”
“
We’re too far from
worthwhile mercs.”
“
I don’t like the idea of
just the two of us trying to complete this.”
“
Try harder to.” Cochrane
said putting an end to the debate.
“
Damn it.” Towsend flopped
back down on the bed.
“
So,” Cochrane pulled a
thin grey tunic over his head, wiped down his trousers with a
different rag, and began to change his boots, “we need to move
quickly.” He gestured for Towsend to change.