The Sellsword (26 page)

“Good question,” said Gredchen, peeling the green flesh from the nuts with a small knife. “There’s the painting, which I really do want to bring back to the baron.”

“Insanity,” muttered the gnome.

“Then there’s Star.”

Theodenes paused. “Star?”

“Oh yes. You probably didn’t get all of that, but Star’s alive somewhere in the castle. I think Rivven told the wizard he could have him.”

Theodenes scrambled to his feet and promptly fell back down again on his rear end. “A wizard? The only thing a wizard would want to do with Star is conduct some sort of foul thaumaturgical rite upon him and extract his essence or harvest his remains for supernatural reagents!”

“Right. I knew you wouldn’t be very happy with that idea.”

“What about the highmaster?”

Gredchen handed some nuts to Theodenes, who sniffed at them before popping them into his mouth and chewing them noisily. “She’s taking Vanderjack back to Wulfgar. They made some kind of strange bargain. Vanderjack wasn’t pleased to find out that he had come all this way to bring the painting back and not some beautiful woman.”

“I ab nob surpbride,” said Theodenes, his mouth full of chewed nuts. “I woub be agry doo ib I fow dout.”

Gredchen frowned at him, finishing the nuts and turning to the fruit. “So you’re angry too?”

“I am angry to the core!” he said, greedily eating the
sliced fruit and getting juice all over his beard.

“About the painting?”

“That is between you and Vanderjack,” said Theo, remembering to swallow first. “But the sellsword has a financial obligation to me, he can’t just disappear; he owes me big for all he’s done, right down to killing my cook!”

Gredchen brightened. “So you’ll return with me to the castle?”

“Do you think my expandable conflict primacy attainment utility is there too?”

Gredchen squinted. “Your what? Oh, your polearm? I’m sure it is; it’s such a valuable weapon.”

“Excellent! Then in an effort to rid myself of unnecessarily distracting anger and resentment, I shall accompany you—with addenda to be added to our contractual agreement at a later date—and retrieve both the painting and Star from the castle. Vanderjack too, if he’s still around.”

Gredchen smiled. “Thanks, Theo. That means a lot to me.”

“Nonsense,” Theo said. “As a mercenary, a master of weapons and tactics, an expert at overcoming obstacles, and as a gnome, I forsake paltry gratitudes. I shall be doing this for the glory of discovery and the attainment of purpose.”

Theodenes stood up once more. He smiled at his success, put one foot before the other, and fell flat on his face in the soft mud.

Ten minutes later, with their stomachs full and mud wiped away, Gredchen and Theodenes packed up what remained of their temporary camp and headed back along the road to Castle Glayward. Along the way, Theodenes began to formulate a plan.

“How long have you known this wizard?” Theo asked.

“About ten years,” she replied. “It’s complicated. He’s been working for Rivven Cairn at least as long as the occupation of Nordmaar.”

“Is she not herself a sorcerer of some description?”

Gredchen nodded. “Yes. Studied under Emperor Ariakas. But mages are a strange lot. Very few of them master all of the different fields of magical study. Rivven never really studied the arts of conjuration and binding pacts of dark magic. She’s more ambitious and a little obsessed with fire and war.”

“Sensible, given her position,” said Theodenes.

“So she hired Cazuvel years ago to work for her. She had some contacts within the Towers, I suppose. Mages who were more afraid of her and of Ariakas than they were of the Conclave.”

The two of them rounded a bend. The castle loomed over them from atop its mesa, awkward and towering in the early-evening gloom.

“I have dealt with wizards and their ilk before,” Theo mused. “If, as you say, this Cazuvel has been working with the highmaster for a decade, he must surely have the advantage of knowing this castle better than we do.”

“I know it just as well as he does,” Gredchen said. “I grew up here.”

Theo looked at her. “You were here as a child?”

Gredchen stammered. “Well. Yes. Sort of. I mean, you know how it is in castles. There’s a lot of people living and working inside of them. Like a small town.”

“How long, exactly, have you been working for the baron in your current capacity?”

Gredchen ran her hand through her hair. “Oh, roughly ten years.”

“Interesting,” said the gnome and said nothing more as they walked.

When they had arrived at the last sloping approach to the main gates, Theodenes stopped and pointed. Several figures were moving around in front of the castle walls, near the top of the approach; despite the darkness, the gnome could make out their features. They were draconians.

“Kapaks,” he whispered. “See the wings, tightly folded behind them, and their stature—hunched yet nimble. Not dull brutes like the baaz draconians, nor walking arsenals like the sivaks.”

“I know what kapaks are,” she hissed back. “Those must be the scouts that have been ranging through the jungle hereabouts. Rivven must not have taken them with her.”

“I count at least six,” said Theo. “If we walk up the slope to the front gates, we shall be immediately set upon by the venomous blades of a half dozen kapaks.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Gredchen asked.

“Quite so!” said Theo. He pointed at a number of heavily-vine-laden trees hanging over the road. “We’ll need your knife to cut those down. And those spiked floral arrangements over there.”

A short time later, thanks to the ingenuity of the gnome, Theo and Gredchen had two serviceable grappling hooks fashioned out of thorny spiked vegetation and sufficient lengths of vine to pass for rope. Gredchen located a likely place from which to toss the grapples upward, and together they scaled the sheer, hundred-foot side of the massif upon which the castle stood.

Theo was the first over the side of the cliff, and he looked around. Gredchen came next, but by that point,
the gnome had scurried over to a heavy cornice along the base of the castle wall and poked his head around the corner.

When Gredchen joined him, he said, “Four of them appear to have walked in the other direction around the castle. There are only two standing at the gate now. If we are stealthy, we can attempt to overpower them.”

“With just a paring knife?” asked Gredchen incredulously. “What are you going to use?”

Theo tapped the side of his head. “Gnome tactics,” he responded.

Gredchen skeptically agreed to follow his lead, and with their backs pressed firmly against the massive, ivy-covered walls of the castle, the two would-be infiltrators sneaked along in the direction of the front gates.

They had almost reached their targets when Theo heard a loud, choking cough from behind him followed by a sneeze. Horrified, he looked up and saw that Gredchen’s face was blotchy and red, and her eyes were watering.

“My allergies to ivy,” she whispered apologetically, but it was too late. The two kapaks, their copper scales gleaming in the silver moonlight, had heard the noises. Their heads jerked back and forth, sniffing, listening, and they turned to look straight at Gredchen and Theo.

“To arms! To arms!” cried Theo.

The little gnome dashed across the flagstones in front of the gates, straight at the nearest kapak draconian. The two draconians were quite astonished to be charged by such a pint-sized creature, and by the time they could react, the gnome had flung himself into the air and tackled the first creature around its midsection.

Gredchen drew her knife and followed the gnome. The second kapak had leaped backward and looked up to see her charging. It drew what appeared to be a hatchet, licked the business end with its long tongue, and ran to meet her. The axe head was coated in greenish spittle, which Gredchen knew was a deadly poison. She needed to get her knife in quickly before the kapak landed any blows.

Theo and the first kapak were rolling over and over, stopping just shy of the edge overlooking the jungle floor below. Theo had no interest in falling a hundred feet, so he got up quickly and began kicking the kapak while it was still lying flat on its back. Somehow, he had also come away with the kapak’s hatchet, and when the creature leaped to its feet, he swung it with all his might at the enemy.

Gredchen and her opponent circled each other. The kapak feinted to bluff her into thinking it was going to swing the axe. Abandoning all thought of self-preservation, she lunged at the kapak with the knife and her arm fully extended. She succeeded in poking a vicious hole in its shoulder, causing it to yelp and retreat a pace or two.

Theodenes’ axe had just connected with the kapak’s head. The gnome heard a sickening crunch and realized the hatchet hadn’t hit along its edge but on the flat. Regardless, the kapak clutched at its temples, hissing and screeching. Theo swung again, chopping into the kapak’s left wing and forcing it back. Unfortunately for the kapak, there was nothing behind it but open space.

Theo’s kapak fell backward, and with one wing badly mutilated, it could not arrest its fall. Theo gazed over the edge to see the kapak sprawled below, its death throes
kicking in. The body of the draconian was engulfed in noxious smoke and noise as it broke down into an acidic sludge.

Gredchen glanced over at Theodenes and smiled—making the mistake of taking her eyes off her opponent at a crucial moment. Her kapak ducked, sidestepped, and brought its axe up along her leg and into her thigh.

The baron’s aide screamed and fell backward. The kapak leaped atop her and brought down the axe, once … twice … three times. Theodenes ran to help.

“Gredchen!” screamed the gnome.

The kapak spun about, hissing in Theo’s face. He could smell the acrid stench from the draconian’s toxic spittle. Ducking to avoid any poison aimed at his face, he weaved and sprang at the kapak, axe held high above his head.

The kapak threw itself out of the way. Theo had to avoid tripping over Gredchen’s fallen body but kept his footing and angled himself around to meet the kapak’s axe straight on with a loud
clang
. Theo stooped, plucked the knife from Gredchen’s hand, and lunged forward with it. The kapak was taken completely by surprise, and before it had time to bring its axe up to deflect the maneuver, the knife was up to its hilt in one of its eyes.

The kapak staggered away, screaming, trying to remove the knife from its face. It managed only three steps before it collapsed, dead, its body beginning to bubble and dissolve.

Theo grabbed Gredchen’s ankles and pulled her clear of the slowly growing pool of the kapak’s acidic remains. He tossed aside the axe, knelt next to Gredchen’s head, and looked over her wounds.

He gasped.

Although her tunic, sleeves, even her leggings were torn and ripped by the axe, her body was whole and unharmed. She opened her eyes and looked right at him.

“Am I alive?” she said weakly.

V
anderjack stared up at the kitchen ceiling and let the nausea slowly fade away.

He had descended from the tower roof, taken the path through the upper levels and along the balcony in the direction of the great hall. Before reaching the sitting room, however, he’d decided instead to duck into what he reasoned to be kitchens and dry heave again. He was dripping with perspiration, his hands and feet felt as heavy as lead, and his stomach felt like a portal to the Abyss. So he simply lay there and waited for it to pass.

“This is ridiculous,” he told himself. “I’ve been in the mercenary business for decades. I’ve fought in battles, killed ogres, and faced down dragons. My job is killing things for a living. I am not just a …” He rolled onto his side and retched again. “A pair of legs for a magic sword,” he muttered, wiping at his face.

He didn’t believe his own words. With the ghosts around to provide commentary and assistance, he had gained a reputation as one of the most proficient sword masters alive. Without them, maybe he was just an old
man lining up for an exit interview with Chemosh, the god of the dead.

“Get up, old man,” he grunted, and pushed himself first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He needed to find Cazuvel and get the sword back. Then it would all be as it was.

Vanderjack returned to the sitting room and slowly, with his foot, pushed open the door into the great hall. He peered in through a thin crack and saw only one end of the great hall. Nobody there, apparently, for the moment. He took a deep breath, and slid into the hall as quietly as possible.

Then he smelled something strong and pungent, like scalded leather; it was pervasive, surrounding almost everything with its smoky odor. He had smelled it once before, after a mage duel in Neraka. It was the smell of burned-out magic.

There was a huge cage in the center of the room—a huge, empty, steel-reinforced cage. On his way through there earlier, he could have sworn Star was lying on the floor of that cage, unconscious. The dragonne was gone.

No blood, Vanderjack thought. They hadn’t slaughtered the beast, nor had there been a fight. He walked farther into the great hall, checking behind stacked tables, crouching and looking for the booted feet of guards or draconians—nothing.