The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (6 page)

Weaving and parrying, Talaos glanced behind him. There was
yet another of Cratus's men back where Astus had been, new to the fight from who knew where; a fellow named Arios who was an expert with throwing axes. He had another one at the ready. Without thinking, Talaos spun and threw his short blade. It flew, spinning across the intervening distance, and lodged where Arios's neck met his shoulder. Blood spurted and the man fell.

Talaos felt the cut of a blade on his forearm and brought his attention back to the foes at hand. Daxar had captured Sorvion's attention, along with one of the
latter's remaining men, while the other four tried to surround Talaos. He aimed a kick to the groin that sent one of them flying backward against the filthy brick wall behind, spun to his right to dodge a mace, and still spinning, parried a sword.

Daxar, for his part, was working hard to fend off Sorvion's dueling blades with his own heavier two-handed sword. He found an opening, shoved both of Sorvion's aside, and slashed a long cut along the latter's side. Then, using his momentum
, continuing away from Sorvion in the same motion, he cut off the second enemy's left leg. The man toppled back screaming as blood sprayed all around.

Talaos made a flipping leap past one of his four foes and out of their ring.  He cut the man down with his long blade under the ribs, drew a dagger and threw it into the stomach of another. The man yelled in pain, pulled it out, and staggered forward with fight still in his eyes.

To the side, Daxar dodged another strike of Sorvion's long blade, but didn't react quickly enough to avoid a sweep from the other's foot. He tripped, caught, and balanced himself, just in time for Sorvion to run him through.

In fury, Talaos ran his long blade through the man he'd kicked into the wall, whirled, and nearly decapitated the
foe who'd pulled the dagger from his belly, and then leapt at Sorvion.

There were just three living men on the
blood-soaked street now; Talaos, Sorvion, and the last of Sorvion's men. The other two pressed hard at Talaos, swords flashing. He stepped back, weaving, dodging, and parrying with his single blade.  He decided to try something. Flipping sideways, he rolled low away from them, flipped back to his feet and sprinted to retrieve his short blade. He grabbed it, spun, and jumped straight backwards to avoid a skewering by Sorvion. As he did so, he spat, full in Sorvion's face.

The latter glared at him
in surprise and deadly hatred. He charged, and in his anger, his guard was ever so slightly off. Talaos glanced the other's long blade aside with his own short. Simultaneously, he brought his long blade up and under the taller man's chin and into his skull.

As Sorvion dropped, Talaos withdrew his blade
and whirled. The remaining man had come to a stop, looking suddenly nervous.

"Go tell Cratus I'm coming for him," said Talaos, in a deadly cold voice.

The man made a sort of fearful nod, then started to run.

"On second thought, no
," said Talaos. He sprinted, leapt, whirled in midair and landed past the other man. The enemy skittered to a stop, stared at him in surprise, and spun to bring his long sword in an overhead strike. Talaos dodged it, spinning low to the right, and brought his short blade into the man's kidney. He pulled it back and stabbed again in fury, and then again. He kicked the dying man to the ground, and then went to see his fallen friends.

Pallas and Daxar were lying close by each other in pools of blood. Talaos kneeled at their sides, fists clenching and unclenching around his swords as fury and misery mingled on his face.

~

Still splashed with the blood of the fight, Talaos raced through the back streets. He found a neglected, half
-ruined fountain and washed off the most obvious signs of trouble.  He didn't want to attract attention from the City Vigiles now, of all times. Not when revenge was burning hot inside him. Once he thought it good enough, he sped on.

Back there, on the blood and gore soaked street, his friends Pallas and Daxar lay dead.

However bad it was that he'd joined them for their disastrous walk, Talaos knew Pallas at least was a target for Cratus in his own right. Daxar had been a neutral. He'd stayed only out of loyalty and friendship for Talaos, and now he was dead.

He couldn't bring
Pallas and Daxar back, but he could at least make Cratus pay for killing them. War had found him after all. Palaeon had been right. Now it was his war. Talaos had a lot of friends who wouldn't mind helping Cratus die, yet weren't part of Palaeon's organization. Now was the time to give them the chance.  Talaos hoped Palaeon was ready to do his part, and wasn't feeling too jealous about who gave orders to whom.

After a short while, he was in the district where he'd heard Palaeon might have his latest base of operations.  Much like Talaos, and in stark contrast to Cratus, Palaeon kept mobile, hard to find, never setting up a permanent
home.

He kept his eyes open, watching for Palaeon's lookouts, and finally spotted one
; a short, greasy, weasel-like young man named Lodius. The other had already seen him, and waited with a guarded, frowning, expression.

"Lodius, I need to see Palaeon. Now
," said Talaos, still boiling.

"I dunno, Talaos, you look like you got trouble. Lots of it," replied the latter.

"It's the kind of trouble he's going to like. Tell him he was right, like finds like."

Lodius eyed him dubiously, then let out a wheezing snicker of a laugh
. "All right, whatever that means, it sounds like the kind of thing he'd say."

Lodius then kicked a broken piece of paving stone down the street. It crashed
into a pile discarded pottery with a loud clatter. After a short delay, a scrawny young man, or boy really, appeared. Talaos had seen him around lately, but didn't know him.

Lodius gestured to the boy, "Good
ear. Now you got a bigger job. Keep watch here just like I showed ya. Don't take anybody to Palaeon, just keep 'em waiting until I get back. Got it?"

The boy nodded with visible pride.

Then Lodius turned to Talaos, "Wait here, I'll go see if it's all right to bring you."

Talaos gave a faint nod as he scanned the buildings around them.

As Lodius started walking, he added, "Don't think about following me. We got guys on watch with bows."

"
Yes. I can see Demetrius up on that roof," replied Talaos with impatient sarcasm.

As Talaos and the boy waited, the latter
attempted to look mysterious and dangerous at his new post. After a short while, Lodius returned.

"
You're in. Follow me," Lodius said to Talaos, and off they went.

They took a meandering path through trash-strewn back alleys until they came to a nondescript door on a windowless brick wall. There was what Talaos thought to be a suspiciously
strong-looking beggar sitting nearby, and Lodius nodded to him. He then knocked twice, high, and kicked the door once, low. It opened a crack, and Lodius gave another nod to whoever was on the other side of it.

Together, they stepped inside. There was a little hallway going back and very narrow, steep stairs down. They took the stairs. At the bottom was a large, dingy basement space
full of old crates and some scavenged-looking furniture. Goods of all sorts were piled under dirty tarps.

Palaeon was a
t the far end on the left, near a trap door going down. He sat on what had once been a very nice gilt-painted chair atop a threadbare rug of ornate Southlands design. Around him were six armed men, all in his organization and known to Talaos. Palaeon had an icy serious expression. He motioned for Talaos to approach.

"Word just reached me about you and Sorvion," he said, with no appreciable emotion.

"Yes..." answered Talaos, forcing his earlier anger down into cold purpose.

"Daxar and Pallas were good men
," said Palaeon. "Daxar had friends of his own, and Sorvion made his last mistake in adding them to Cratus's list of enemies. Much as with you."

"I'll be gathering and organizing
my own today," replied Talaos.

"Organizing leads to organizations, Talaos
. Keep that in mind for the future, if we succeed in putting Cratus out of business," Palaeon replied in coolly thoughtful tones.

"I'll do as I see fit."

"You always have. Listen, Talaos, what happened to you was just the first strike in a campaign Cratus has been planning for a while. He's expecting us to try something, and he'll be ready."

"
And how soon can you be ready?" Talaos replied.

Palaeon
made a catlike, mirthless smile. "This evening."

"Then I'll be back in a few hours," replied Talaos.

~

"What still makes no sense is where Cratus is getting the gold to pay for it all," said Palaeon in his low, cold, dangerous voice. He
sat on his scavenged gilt chair in his basement headquarters.

Talaos had been away several hours, then back at the place several minutes, yet the only thing of significance that seemed to have changed was that many of the stacks of boxes and barrels had been moved to form a kind of partition between the back area, where Palaeon sat, and the entrance.

Still, Talaos considered Palaeon's statement, and answered, "He had a long time to accumulate it, and a lot of room in his vaults to stash it away."

"I don't have to tell you, of all people, how wildly he used to spend it," replied Palaeon.

"Not so wildly in the last couple of years," answered Talaos.

"True, but I've also done a lot more damage to his paying operations than most people are aware
," said Palaeon. "By the way, remember Firius and Milo, and their smuggling ring?"

"Before Cratus killed them all, yes," replied Talaos.

"I had a mole there, before it happened," Palaeon added, voice coldly thoughtful. "Cratus had been putting a lot of money into buying old art objects, artifacts even."

"That doesn't sound like the Cratus I knew," said Talaos with mirthless sarcasm
. "He might have liked making an impression or putting on a show, but I never recalled him caring about the historical value of anything he owned."

"Exactly
," continued Palaeon. "It would be interesting to know why, because I don't see crazy as a sufficient answer by itself. Still, more directly important is that although not on the old scale, he was still spending plenty of gold on things useless for a gang war. A gang war he started, and largely funded, at the very time a lot of his old income started drying up."

Talaos considered that, then added something more
. "He's also been a lot more openly violent that he used to be. As if he needs to make an example every single time."

"He could be feeling desperate. I have been winning, after all," replied Palaeon.

"Maybe, but it started before that, and he used to be a lot more willing to cut deals. It was no accident he used to seem sane, to the outside world."

"No doubt, Talaos. I'm glad I was never one of his higher ups," said Palaeon
. "And no doubt he's gotten stranger.  He's been hiring men from places very far afield. He has a pair of new bodyguards that are supposed to be giants from the far north. They call them The Twins, though I haven't seen them yet myself."

Talaos pondered that with some curiosity, but knew if all went well, they'd find out the truth of a great many things about Cratus.

"Now," said Palaeon quickly, in fact almost suddenly, "let's get ourselves ready."

Palaeon rose and threw on his fighting gear, with additional weapons, and
a chain shirt over the light hidden armor he always wore. Talaos was already equipped, but he checked buckles and fastenings to be sure all his gear and weapons were secure and ready for a fight.

Around them were a few of Palaeon's crew
captains and more trusted guards. They readied for battle with cold eyes and hard faces.

Talaos kept alert, and noticed that Palaeon had his trapdoor to the sewers unlocked

There were noises of some sort of scuffle, fighting, and then the doors above smashing in.

Talaos drew his swords. Palaeon's men, with slower reaction speeds, did so a half moment later. Palaeon himself already had a sword drawn.

There were crashes, and the heavy steps of many feet. Palaeon's men showed varying degrees of surprise as they moved into position with bows and blades, but their leader did not.

Armed men came charging around the corner from the base of the stairs. One dropped immediately with an arrow in his forehead. Another took an arrow in the collar, but ripped it out with a snarl. A third arrow missed. More men poured into the basement with grim scowling faces and a motley variety of weapons and gear. Then
many more.

They advanced across the basement towards Palaeon's position. A few fired bows from the back, and arrows stuck in the
wall of barrels or smashed against the stone wall behind.