TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) (30 page)

Tucker cut in, “Way better than bein’ there for only seven.”

“So true, my friend,” The Man replied as he told his story, “The last three men all won three duels before I had to face them. I cannot remember the details of those fights, it was a blur. But I still remember all the crimes charged against my opponents. Stealing, stealing, adultery, rape, rape, murder, murder, murder.” He counted them off on his fingers as he recalled the charges.

“It was in that order too. The crimes seemed to be greater, the further a fighter advanced. Is it mad to say that I somewhat miss it? When thousands of people stand and cheer after you end a man’s life, well, there are few better feelings in life. I still remember the rabid crowd, begging for blood. The nobility of Fox Chapel acted like animals, and we were the ones penned up. They were like dogs waiting to be fed. And once you fed them a dead body, they loved you.”

He paused to wipe some sweat from his forehead.

He took another sip and went on, “It’s ironic.” He turned and winked to the Crippler. “I went to the Capitol falsely accused of one murder. And the only way to eradicate it was for me to murder eight more men.”

He turned and looked at the Crippler, “Did I use that right? Eradicate?”

“Perfectly done. Good job,” he answered.

“Well, I apparently had put on a great show at the Yard for the crowd. I can recall them hailing me as I was being led away in ball and chains, off to fight as a soldier to defend Donegal.”

“That’s when you met me,” said Benroy.

“Indeed it was. Most people, they know the story from there,” The Man said.

Benroy spoke, “About how you killed more Goldenfield men than any Donegal soldier during your service.”

The Man said, “And I didn’t do it for Donegal, or King Ali-Stanley, I can tell you that much. They had falsely accused me, forced me to fight in the duels, and then they asked me to defend the kingdom. Kind of an odd sequence, I thought. No, I did it because I like killing. It’s the closest you can get to being a God. I chose when those men’s lives ended, even if it was backed by the Gods. Now that I have a large army behind me, I will be able to decide many more men’s fates. THAT is power. THAT is what drives men. THAT is what will take us to the throne.”

“Four thousand men is not exactly a large army,” said Mattrick.

“No, it aint. But eight thousand is,” The Man said with a smirk.

The last statement was extremely difficult for The Man to make with his current slurred speech. He reached down and rubbed the pommel of his sword. The hilt was almost pure gold mixed with a few base metals to fortify it. The blade was made of ice-hardened steel and painted gold everywhere except the razor-sharp edge. The Man claimed that his sword was so sharp that it could shave a lady bug’s legs. At eighteen, he had taken the sword off a dead captain from Goldenfield and molded it over the years. The Crippler put a magical blessing on the sword five years ago.

The Crippler had somewhat taken The Man under his wing. He convinced The Man to chase his destiny to sit the throne. The Crippler saw things in The Man that he didn’t even see in himself. He tried to clean up some of his bad habits and rough edges. But try as he might, he wasn’t able to fully reform The Man who still enjoyed getting really drunk on occasion and regularly visiting whore-houses. He liked fulfilling his base and primal needs without developing emotional attachment. He knew that if you had nothing that you loved, no one could hold any leverage against you. The Crippler also made him read a lot more, especially old battle records and tried to clean up his rugged talk. That was a work in progress. The Man seemed to mix the old rough talk with the new things the Crippler was teaching him. He tried to prepare him to be a king.

“Where are the other four thousand men?” Benroy asked.

The Man quickly responded, “They are on their way from the Goldenfield border and should be arriving any time now. The King called all the men from Goldenfield to help with his attack on Mattingly. They split the men up into two divisions of four thousand. Well, one division is on the way to the Capitol and the other is on the way here. Gold and silver can greatly sway a man’s decisions.”

“So what is the plan after they get here, and how can you afford to pay for them?” Benroy wondered.

The Man pulled up his sleeve to expose a tattoo on his forearm. It was a black triangle with many random dots on the inside. He also revealed about twenty slash-scars all over his arm.

“Do any of you recognize this?” he asked.

All of the men agreed that they did not. The Crippler just smiled slightly.

“Really? It is worth over three hundred thousand gold rounds. It is a treasure map of sorts. It tells me where all that gold is buried. As I said, the thief did teach me how to steal before his demise. Well, ever since my service ended and I became a free man, I have been acquirin’ gold,” he turned to the Crippler again, “Is that right?”

The Crippler shrugged his shoulders, “You forgot the ‘g’ at the end, but the meaning was clear.”

The Man continued, “I have been acquiring,” he accentuated the ‘g’ and smiled at the Crippler, “Gold for many years to save for a rainy day. Well, now it is pouring. It’s pouring gold that we will use to make it rain Wamhoff blood.”

Everyone at the table smiled and Tucker asked, “So what is the plan after the soldiers arrive?”

The Man looked them all in the eyes and said, “First, we take Waters Edge.”