Meetings in The Dark
The boat had been underway for a short time, although Ulrik had no idea where it was bound. All he knew was he was a prisoner of Zadestian sailors, he was in terrible pain, and he was not alone in his cell.
After removing his arm from the rotted wood of the chair, he turned his attention back to Rullo. The man had lost consciousness. Ulrik had removed his doublet and folded it to cushion the man’s wounded head as he lay. There was limited light in the hold, but he could still make out the five darker patches on Rullo’s bandages.
What weapon could have made these marks? he wondered.
He attempted to examine further until Rullo stirred. Aching, Ulrik eased himself back into the chair, keeping an eye on his father’s friend.
Rullo moved again. As if waking from a nightmare, Rullo made sounds of distress. “Is anyone there?” he asked, in a worried tone Ulrik had never heard from this man.
“Rullo, it’s me, Ulrik,” the younger man answered.
Rullo flinched from the sound of another voice so close to him. “Ulrik? They got you, too? Damn their black hearts. Where are we? The city…your father…” Rullo found it difficult to speak.
“What is it, man? Out with it,” Ulrik pushed, feeling the muscles of his neck and jaw tighten, his heart quickening.
After a pause to gather breath, Rullo spoke again. “The city burns, the streets are overrun with rioters. The City Guardsmen are failing to contain them but there are larger worries. I heard talk of an invasion fleet. Aksson will soon be in a fight for its survival.” Rullo looked shaken by what he had just said, as if visualising it again.
“How are we responding?” Ulrik asked. “Has word been sent to the capital? Has the baron signalled the Krakens and the Night Watchmen?”
Rullo paused again, which in the darkness was almost maddening to the younger man. “My boy…” Rullo began. “Your father…is dead.”
The words were like a hammer blow. Ulrik needed to make a conscious effort to breathe through a tightening throat. “How?” he managed.
“It was a cougari assassin,” said Rullo. Ulrik resisted the urge to respond. “I was working in the Great Watch House when your father arrived with some of his Shielders, saying the city was under attack by sea and he needed my sea charts with the safe routes out.
“He was so troubled and weak from his illness, I thought he might have imagined the attack, as he had done in the past, but the Shielders confirmed it.” Rullo paused to clear his throat and attempted to wet his lips. “We were gathering the maps when we heard fighting on the ground floor, and afterwards we heard screaming. The cougari had killed the Shielders there. Your father, the remaining Shielder and I made for the roof to set a trap for the creature, but it had climbed outside the tower and it took us by surprise.
“The grey-skinned fiend had thrown the last Shielder from the roof and together, the baron and I attacked it with all we had. I have never seen such speed and strength. It gouged me first, ripping my face apart before it threw Feylan over the battlements. The baron fell. Then everything went black, I lost consciousness. Perhaps the mindless beast thought I was already dead or would bleed to death before long.
“When I came to, it was gone. I ran to your father, hoping he was still alive, but all I found was his body…and these.” From a pocket of his doublet, Rullo produced three bloodied, cougari claws which he had removed from the baron’s body and handed them to Ulrik to examine. “I ran for the estate, but I was so weak from losing blood. Whoever the cougari was working with must have followed me. I don’t know if it was the loss of blood which caused me to black out again, or a boot to the head, but what I do remember was the voice of a Zadesti. I woke up in a cart beside the gangplank of this boat in a lot of pain but with my wounds dressed. I do not know more. My deepest sympathies, Ulrik, your father was a great man and a good friend.”
Ulrik stared at Rullo, unblinking. The words of his last conversation with his father came back to his mind.
The silence between the men filled the hold.
Who was right? Ulrik wondered.
Ulrik knew if he was right about Thorn, then he also must accept the possibility Rullo was telling the truth. If his father had been right, then he was face to face with the real traitor. He did not know how the cougari behaved when in combat. It was possible he became a ‘mindless beast’, but Thorn had been a Night Watchman and therefore an accomplished killer and shadow-worker. Ulrik did not believe he would leave anyone alive to either come back to fight again someday or identify him as the baron’s killer.
My father’s death would explain why I have been taken by these men, Ulrik thought. As the new Baron of Aksson, I could be held for ransom and used to surrender. Nothing I can think of explains why Rullo is here, with me, wounds dressed and able to give me this information.
“Ulri–” Rullo began before being interrupted.
“With my father dead, I would imagine they are taking us to the leader of this invasion to secure my cooperation and the city’s submission. I can do nothing about the cougari villain from here, but I have no doubt, should I wish his death as part of any agreement, his head would be presented to me at the first opportunity. Maybe they might arrange for you to face him again, wreak your vengeance upon him and put an end to his miserable life. I’m sure it would please you.”
In the dim light, Ulrik almost missed the flash of an uncomfortable and weak smile across Rullo’s face as he nodded.
“I am thankful my father died fighting beside his closest friend,” Ulrik continued. “It seems somehow fitting for such a man as he, for such a warrior. We do not have time to mourn for him, not until the threat to the city has passed, one way or another. We can only hope we will be alive tomorrow and many days thereafter to honour his memory.” Ulrik made sure to speak in the same officious tone he always used when conversing with this man. His physical and emotional anguish fought for a screaming release against the measured and controlled façade he had always presented to Rullo, the trusted friend of the baron, the lucky survivor, the likely traitor to the city and his father.
“What will you do?” asked Rullo.
“I do not know. It will depend on whether the leader of this fleet you heard of is in this for glory or for blood. If he is someone who can tell the difference, then we might be in with a chance to save the city. If not, we are already dead men and our city will burn. If I am to be baron, then I have a duty to my people to discuss terms with our attackers. Even as a prisoner.” Ulrik watched Rullo’s face as he spoke. “I will need your help if we are to get through this alive, Rullo. I will make no secret of the fact we do not agree on many things, but my father trusted your counsel and I think it would be a wise baron who listens to the wisdom of experienced people such as yourself. What say you?”
“I have always had the interests of the people of Aksson foremost in my mind, Ulr-…my lord,” said Rullo. “If there is anything, be it by my life or death I can do for them, then by Oln’s fist I will try.”
Although he was listening for it, Ulrik could detect nothing but sincerity from Rullo’s voice. He could not hear the man’s usual sarcasm, nor did he see the faint lift of the left side of his mouth, the suppression of the man’s own smugness. Everything he thought he knew about how to deal with Rullo had shifted.
Geist caught the criminal from behind around the neck. His arm pressed hard on the man’s arteries, and after a brief struggle, the large man went limp and unconscious. Geist guided him silently to the floor. He drew a purple vial from his cloak. “Sorry, Zakka,” he whispered. The Night Watchman sprinkled some drops down the man’s throat before turning to the ornate oak doors at the end of the underground corridor. He placed his ear to it to listen. Next, he tried the handle – it was unlocked.
Geist opened the doors wide. The room was lit by four small braziers which created dancing shadows as the draft from the doors hit them.
The smoke from the fires crawled upwards and disappeared through dozens of small holes in the once white tiles lining the ceiling. The air was heavy with burning coal and jasmine. The rest of the room was a chaos of clutter, with all manner of objects anywhere they would fit.
A desk strewn with papers, coins, and books stood in the centre of the room, and behind the desk was the man Geist was looking for – the smuggler, thief, and unquestioned leader of the self-titled ‘Guild of Acquisitors’.
“We need to talk, Leech,” said Geist, his tone stern.
The handsome thief scratched his neat blonde beard, leaned back in his soft leather-covered chair, and smiled. He looked dramatically different from the last time Geist had seen him. His long blonde hair, usually full of golden charms and baubles, had been shorn from his head. The many piercings around his ears, eyebrows, and nose had been removed, leaving tiny holes in the man’s flesh. The only adornment about his person was a solitary gold ring on the third finger of his left hand.
“I hope you zid not kill anybody to get in here. Zat vould make me very upset with you,” said Leech, in a thick Reichtian accent which Geist knew was put on for the benefit of the man’s business.
“Zakka and the others are taking a well-deserved Hysa nap. I would not expect to see them up and about for the next few hours. I’m afraid your doorman Raster won’t be swinging that club of his again any time soon.” Geist could see the anger flashing in Leech’s eyes, but the thief maintained his disciplined façade.
“Zat was not very polite of you, Vatchman. I am exztremly busy today, as you can imagine, and you are fucking with my schedule.”
“You can drop the ridiculous accent. You have never even been to Reicht!” snapped Geist.
“Forze of habit, I’m affraid,” said Leech, his face now devoid of any discernible emotion.
“Listen to me, thief, I could not care less about your schedule and neither of us has time to do our usual dance today. You are not leaving here until I get the answers I’m looking for and it will be up to you as to what condition you will be in if you do get to leave.” Geist took a step forward.
The thief calmly closed the ledger he had been writing in and placed his hands on the armrests of his chair. Geist knew how dangerous this man could be and watched every slight move he made. Leech stared at the Night Watchman before a smile burst across his face. “Of course, my friend, how discourteous. You had questions? Alzough you arrive here unannounced, attack my men, threaten me and demand valuable information for free, I always haff time for you,” said Leech, locking his gaze on Geist.
“There was an attempt on the baron’s life this morning. Who commissioned the contract?” asked Geist.
“I am shocked, but I don’t know why you think I would know anything about it. Even if I did, do you know how bad for businez it vould be to go around shouting out the namez of everyone who vanted someone killed? If there is nothing else…” Leech gestured towards the door, inviting the Night Watchman to leave.
“Think about how you intend to proceed here, I am in no mood for this gull-shit,” said Geist. “I have already killed more people today than I wanted to, but for my baron, my city and for all the innocent people of Aksson, I am willing to make it at least one more.”
Leech’s smile evaporated as he leaned forward. “Fine, and I am only telling you zis because ve have…history, and I hate seeing those pretty blue eyes of yours so angry. You must not tell anyone this came from me.”
“Of course,” replied Geist, taking another step toward the thief.
“Killing a lord vould be a very difficult job,” Leech began. “Getting him alone would be the trick. One might need to steal keys or uniforms or pass themselves off as someone trusted, someone who can get close enough and yet still get away. There are also the guards to consider. There are a lot of moving parts to this enterprise. It sounds like one of my competitors vould be foolish enough to take it on. You should try Bezzer Rok and his ‘Stray Dogs’ or the ‘Claw-sticks’ from Silver Street. Zose boyz are touched by madness. You did not hear zat from me,” the thief concluded, winking at the Night Watchman and sitting back.
For a moment, Geist remained silent, his ice blue eyes fixed on the thief. Then, in a blur of movement, he kicked the coal brazier closest to him. The brazier crashed off the desk, spewing sparks, searing embers, and white-hot rocks at Leech, some of which struck him in the face.
The thief recoiled, pulling a loaded crossbow from where it was nestled under the desk. He turned to aim but the Night Watchman was already upon him. Geist drove at the thief with his fists, slamming Leech back against a stack of wooden fruit boxes hiding silver and gold coins. In a flash, Leech pulled the trigger, sending the bolt cracking into the tiles above.
“Enough!” Geist shouted. “I know you are secretly running both of those gangs and fuelling rivalries when it suits you to drive up prices on everything from piracy to murder. I understand the change in appearance. You have bled this city dry for too long and now you are moving on. New face. New name. New city. New target.
“You know the names of our enemies. You know who sails against us. The fact you are still here means you did not know about the armada. Had you known, I’m sure you would have been halfway to Katiz by now. You hoped to orchestrate your disappearance from Aksson amid the chaos of the riots and in the wake of the baron’s assassination. But they fucked you over and used your tactic to their advantage. I am not hearing any denials, Leech.” Geist stepped over the thief and placed the heel of his boot on Leech’s ribs. “It’s true. Isn’t it? Tell me.”
“Do what you want, I will not break,” hissed Leech through gritting teeth.
“Maybe you will not break, but your bones will,” said Geist, applying more pressure to the ribs.
“Answer me!” Geist shouted. He kicked down swiftly, winding the thief. “That was not hard enough to break your ribs, but another kick will do it,” said Geist, through Leech’s bawl of pain and gasps for breath. The pile of paper Leech was lying in had been ignited by hot coal, the flames licking at his leather surcoat.
“Augh, fuck you, Erik,” Leech hissed through laboured breaths. “I have no fucking idea who attacks this shithole of a city. I also had no idea it was going to be attacked. I would’ve been all the way to Katiz had I known.”
“Keep talking, you don’t have much time before you start to burn,” said Geist, adding pressure to his boot.
“Ackk, a…an arschloch called Alfarin set the whole thing up, came to me with five emeralds as big as my eye, perfect clarity, easily a few thousand gold marks each, said there was twice as much to deliver the baron’s head and the son, alive. He demanded which assassin to use and when it was to be carried out. I sent word to the cougari assassin, I was told he was a former Night Watchman, like you. It was smart. Not too many ‘cat-folk’ in the city these days, the baron’s death is hung on him and the City Guard tie themselves up looking for a cougari who is good at hiding. There was a meet last night for payment, but he never showed.”
“The son? Where is Ulrik?” There was a hardened edge to Geist’s voice and added pressure to Leech’s chest.
“I…I…don’t know. He was to be taken here before being put on some junker ship at the North Dock. He was never delivered. Before you got here Raster told me there were no boats left at the jetties.”
Geist eased the pressure on Leech’s chest but kept his foot in place. “What did you do when the cougari missed the meeting?” asked Geist.
“I told Alfarin – by Oln’s balls he was angry, demanded the emeralds back, threatened to burn this place to the ground. I told him I would take care of the problem. Luckily she was in the city, looking for work. You know her quite well, I hear.”
“I know of her, that is all,” lied Geist, aware of whom Leech was speaking. “An assassin failed this morning, and it was not a cougari or a woman. Who was it?”
“No idea. If I were to guess, Alfarin didn’t trust me, brought in one of his own men. All I know is she came here from the Lord’s Estate, not too long ago, with the baron’s head. I paid her and she left,” said Leech.
The news took Geist by surprise. It was a sickening, gut-wrenching feeling. A bracing chill inched its way to both ends of his spine. The baron was dead. He had failed. The desire of the soldier to put an end to this dangerous and despicable criminal was almost overriding his reason. He knew the world would be a better place with Leech no longer part of it, and all he had to do was draw his blade and finish it.
“Your greed has betrayed you,” said Geist. “You are under arrest for your crimes, and you will face the Justice of the Cliffs as is right in the eyes of Oln.
“Geist…you can’t –” Leech protested.
“Everything in this room is forfeit, think of it as paying a debt to the city. Even though it will come nowhere close to covering the cost of the lives of the people who will die today, thanks to you. I’m taking you back to the Lord’s Estate with me,” said Geist, bristling with anger. As he spoke, he removed a set of iron chain handcuffs from his cloak.
“Hands,” he commanded.
“Erik, you know my arrest means my execution. You could just let me leave. I will never return. Please, Erik, if I ever meant anything to you…”
Geist could feel a long-discarded memory forming in his mind. He regained his control. “I cannot, not again. You have gone too far this time.” He raised the bindings. “Hands.”
“Wait,” said Leech. “Did you hear that?”
“A poor attempt, even for you,” said Geist, as he heard something out of place. A noise, a faint whistling sound at first, was growing louder. The two men next heard a terrible booming explosion which shook the ground and caused many of the items on the shelves to tumble to the floor. A fruit box tumbled, sending a wave of silver tassels across the tiles.
“The attack has started,” said Geist.
“Let me up, we need to leave here,” said Leech, the urgency undisguised. “These docks will soon be overrun. There is an enemy at our gates, it is time to go.”
Another thunderous explosion shook the chamber. Scrolls and papers toppled and spilled onto the tiled floor, which cracked along its length. An off-white piece of the ceiling crumbled to the floor at the far end of the room. “I think you may be right,” said Geist.
The ominous whistle came again. It evolved into a mournful wail maturing into a scream. As the thunderous cacophony boomed, the roof and walls of the room shattered, ripped apart and collapsed in beams of splintered wood, smashed, jagged stones, and a blinding flare of flames engulfing everything. Darkness followed.