Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (51 page)

“
We may have some trouble,” warned Javin, making Valdieron suddenly cautious as his eyes scanned the room and his hand went to his sword at the side of the bed. “That young officer we met before in the street is down below. He will more than likely see us when we perform later.”

Valdieron let out a relieved sigh and lay back on the bed, his head aching dully as if he had been drinking the night before. His mind still echoed with the distant words heard in Kel’Valor. He reverted his memory back to the instant before consciousness had claimed him. It was not easy, with the pain of the headache making it even more difficult, and the words eluded him just like a dream upon waking.

“
Whatever you were dreaming, it must have been strange,” smiled Javin, moving to his own bed to sit. “You said something about ‘Sha’kar and a Princess’ there as I began to shake you. Almost scared the heck out of me.”

I have your Princess. Meet me at Sha’kar!

Rising on deaden legs, Valdieron moved to the nearby washstand and dipped his head into the cool water. Those were the words that had eluded him; he knew it now as he knew his name. Their source was beyond him, but he assumed it was not good.

“
We have to get to Sha’kar as quickly as possible. A friend is in trouble.”

Javin raised a brow at the declaration, but knew better than to question the comment. He had come too far to question Valdieron, and knew his friend would tell him what he needed to know in due course.

“
We can leave now if you like. That will save any possibility of confrontation with this Bloodguard downstairs. We can leave a note for Palarmaine and apologize for our haste, but he appears to be a decent person. He should understand.”

“
No, we have an obligation to him, and as much as any delay pains me, it would be better if we left on good terms, for at least we can start early on a full stomach and a good rest. Besides, we need the money.”

“
Very well, but come tomorrow, we shall see how far Firefox and Shakk can run, for I can see in your features how important this is to you.”

“
More important than you can imagine,” mused Valdieron, wetting his face again, but no amount of washing could dispel the feeling of destiny that gripped him. There was a reckoning coming, he was sure, and he vowed he would let no harm befall Kitara.

When a servant came for Valdieron and Javin later that evening and escorted them back to the now rowdy and hazy taproom, it was no surprise the trio of musicians had long since been booed from the stage, leaving it free for the new performers. Valdieron made a quick scan of the crowd as they jostled through, using his height to try and espy the young Bloodguard, but failed to find him. With any luck, he and his friends had left long before.

A man he assumed was Palarmaine was stationed behind the long bar, chatting idly with Algrier. He was a tall man, angular of feature with long oiled hair held in a single plaited tail worked with silver cord. His velvet trousers and vest of crimson and black almost made Valdieron think he was a Bloodguard, but he gave Valdieron a curt nod as the youth caught his gaze. He seemed displeased at something by the expression on his face, and Valdieron hoped it did not concern he or Javin, or for that matter, Kaz. The Moorcat had an uncanny knack of making a nuisance of himself, though what he did was usually because of his frivolous nature rather than any desire to wreak havoc.

There was a scattering of applause mingled with catcalls, jeers and whistles as the two leapt onto the low dais. By their appearance, many guessed what was going to take place, but from many bemused expressions, it was obvious Palarmaine had not given any notice of their performance.

“
Lords and Ladies of Altaire, greetings and well met.” Valdieron had to shout over the quieting din until most of the attention was drawn to the dais. It was his night to introduce them, something he did not relish, but as Javin did not have the gift for speeches either, they had agreed to alternate the task, though he wished it was not him this evening as he scanned the crowd again for any signs of the Bloodguard. “We who are to entertain you tonight ask only that none come too close to the stage while we are performing, and that if anything is to be thrown in our direction, we hope it is of the gold variety, not a stool or table.” This drew some chuckles from the crowd as he gave a low bow. Others called out impatiently for them to begin, and others expectantly called for them to leave already, but it was nothing the two had not experienced before, and they paid it no heed.

When he straightened, both he and Javin threw back their cloaks to reveal their costumes, thin trousers and vests of red and blue both, over which stretched dark braces linked to fine leather belts. Their weapons were attached to these belts with fine hooks, enabling them to be slipped free with a twist, and with a synchronous hiss, four blades rose as Valdieron turned to face Javin as he had many times before. The crowd grew silent as a whole, whether stunned or merely anxious to see what transpired next, though some made lewd comments about their costumes and some of the female patrons gave approving whistles.

There was no signal to start, just a flicker of movement from one that started the other, and within a heartbeat the melee was joined. The unmistakable clatter and clang of steel on steel accentuated the precise dance  like actions of the two as Javin’s twin Adamantine Sabers met with Valdieron’s slender silvery Rapier and pale silver Dragonsword. All instruments of war rather than music, their enchanting song was one of death, alluring with the portent of danger.

What may have seemed dazzling to the onlookers slowly grew with the crowd’s excitement as the artists worked their craft, and even those who were not intoxicated were sure that blades that should have drawn blood were turned aside as if by some unseen force at the last moment. There were one or two calls of ‘Frauds!’ and ‘Charlatans!’ from some unimpressed or maybe jealous onlookers, but those who were close could see there was no faking the precision and ferocity with which the two sparred.

A glimpse of crimson amongst the crowd drew Valdieron’s gaze as he worked his blades in a frenzy to counter Javin’s flashing sabers. For some reason, the Darishi was pressing as hard as ever this evening, perhaps to impress the higher  class crowd.

As he feared, the young Bloodguard commander had recognized them and had worked his way to the front of the crowd. He held a drink in one hand, while his other hand rested at his waist, deliberately close to the hilt of his sword.

A sharp pain in his left shoulder drew him back to the melee as one of Javin’s sabers slipped through his defenses, not striking deep but drawing a long cut that caused him to lose control of his Rapier as Javin continued to fight, as was their way even if one of them was injured. They had learned early the crowd liked to see a little blood spilled. A flurry of presses from the Darishi knocked the Rapier from his grip, which left him at a major disadvantage. He threw every effort into fending off the two blades with his one, but finally had to concede with a gracious bow that had Javin raising his arms in mock victory as the crowd gave a generous applause.

Valdieron turned to retrieve his dropped Rapier, but found it gone, which made him instantly scan the front row of the crowd, hoping someone had picked it up. Somebody had, but his breath caught as he saw the young Bloodguard commander holding it as he backed slowly through the crowd, his face split in a mocking smile as he bumped aside other patrons.

Jumping from the stage, Valdieron made to follow him, but could make no ground as the crowd closed around him, applauding him and offering him drinks. Many were young females, which he did not notice as he used his height to follow the Bloodguards path. It was no surprise to see him make for the exit.

Maybe it was the fact he still held his sword in hand and the angry expression on his face that alarmed the crowd, but a path opened through the crowd for him to push through and make for the door.

A strong wind buffeted him as he threw open the heavy door to find a late storm had broken. A warm rain fell, driven by the wind, while jagged lightning preceded the rumbling of distant thunder. His keen hearing picked up the faint echoing of splashing footfalls, and he turned towards the left to see a dark figure disappearing around the corner of the large Inn.

With only the thought of retrieving Llewellyn’s Rapier, Valdieron dashed after the fleeing Officer, heedless of the pain of the bleeding cut in his shoulder and the warning bells in his mind that told him this was not wise. Rounding the corner of the Inn, he entered a wide alleyway, muddied from the rain and dimly lit by the light of the flanking buildings.

The Bloodguard Officer passed the closed gates that allowed entry to the rear of the Inn where the stables were located, and as Valdieron followed him, the alley became darker and narrower as it twisted and turned between dark buildings long since fallen into disuse, it seemed. He was making ground, however, despite the necessary caution he was taking not to be caught by surprise at every turn, though he sensed the officer was not really trying to evade him.

It soon became obvious why as Valdieron followed the officer into a widened section of the alley. This area was littered with filth and garbage, some recognizable, others not so easily, though the pervading smell of rot and decay was familiar. The Bloodguard slowed and turned at the far side of the alley’s end, though he did not seem alarmed there was no way for him to go. In fact, he was smiling his usual mocking, condescending smile as he spun Llewellyn’s Rapier casually in his hand.

By the time Valdieron slowed, ten paces from the Bloodguard, the trap was sprung, not that he did not sense what was happening before he entered, but his eyes picked out several dark figures disengage themselves from dark alcoves and piles of garbage, while behind him, the sound of footsteps marked several more. He gave no indication he knew of their presence as he regarded the Bloodguard.

“
Why do this?” he called, more than a little bemused by what was happening. Sure, he was a stranger in this city and he had not got off to a good start with the young officer, but he knew such circumstances were not nearly enough for one to lay an ambush for revenge. Perhaps this officer’s warped thirst for megalomania demanded he punish Valdieron for any insult he may have received.

“
Why not!” returned the Bloodguard, drawing out his own sword as he thrust Llewellyn’s Rapier beneath his belt. The weapon seemed to be made of a dark metal, appearing as if coated with a dark polish that did not reflect any light. Valdieron had seen a knife of similar make, however, and his breath caught as the implications of what was happening dawned on him.

He had mistaken the ambush as a simple act of revenge for a slight of honor or some such offence, but he pieced together several particulars that had not occurred to him as he had chased the Bloodguard. Firstly, the man needed no light to see by, and although it was not pitch dark, a man with normal eyesight could not have navigated the dark and muddied alley with such ease as this Bloodguard. Also, the figures who had appeared around him also had no source of light, armed with weapons that were also of dark, non reflective metal.

An Ashar’an ambush! He was surprised he had not felt some sensation due to their presence, but realized in Thorhus when he had confronted the Ashar’an Assassin, he had felt a tingling then, not at his presence, but when the Ashar’an had cast a spell at him. Still, he was more than a little angry for missing the signs previously.

“
You really are stupid, Kay'taari. My Master wanted the pleasure of killing you himself, but when I tell him how pathetic you were, he will likely forgive me. He will surely regret the inconvenience and hassle of capturing your little Princess to lure you to him, however, but she should make a suitable mistress for him, if he can keep her gagged at all times.”

The desire to rush forward and attack the Ashar’an calmed inside Valdieron as he realized some useful information might be gained from this encounter. Around him he sensed the other figures had halted, some fifteen or so feet away, and the young Ashar’an Bloodguard was making no move towards him.

“
Your Master cannot hide from me in Sha’kar. I will find him, and he will pay for any harm that befalls Kitara.”

Once again the young officer sniggered as he took a step forward, testing the weight of the familiar weapon in his hand. “Do not fear of finding my Master, Kay’taari. He will find you, but only in death, where your soul he will forever torment, with the images of your precious Princess newly crowned Queen of the Voids!”