Vengeance

Chapter One

Hassan the assassin sat alone in his study and watched the flames flickering gently in the fireplace. It was still summer, but it warmed his heart and refreshed memories of his son Arvad. He had often sat in this position and toasted almonds with him and these aromas brought memories flooding back into his consciousness. Where was the boy? he wondered and then remembered starkly that he would be a man of twenty-three by now. How time had flown.

Hearing an unfamiliar noise he drew his dagger. The gnarled, sunburnt, wrinkled hands, were a blur as he flung the dagger at the point of origin. It missed Abacus the cat by a literal whisker and he glared at his master and bared his old yellowed teeth whilst hissing. They were a good match for each other he and the cat and had equal amounts of white whiskers to show how distinguished they had become. Hassan motioned for him to join him by the fire and after a moments hesitation he jumped up onto his lap. Hassan stroked him gently and made purring noises to placate the cats ruffled indignation.

The study was not large and was sparsely furnished and smelled strongly of candle burn and old cat. Despite all his wealth, his occupation had led him to believe that an overt show of prosperity would only bring uninvited guests to his door. Still, he thought, it was nice to be comfortably well off when so many around him were so poor.

It made his soul feel a little better when he could arrange the odd extended payment period for some of the people who were his tenants in this quiet suburban backwater on the outskirts of Darmaque. For the great many of these surrounding properties, that’s all he was, a landlord, no-one suspecting his heritage or great accumulated wealth from his nefarious dealings. A wry wrinkled smirk played on his lips as he thought of the deception.

His mind turned again to his son. All that growing up, his 'twenty mothers' after his beloved Salome had died during childbirth and all that training he had subjected him to. He smiled to himself again when he remembered Arvad’s’ grimace at the desert training and his first kill. He smiled even more when he remembered, with pride, the giving of his first hand forged assassin knives on his seventeenth birthday. He hoped that he still cleaned and honed them every day and kept each one its' own special sheath. Such memories warmed his heart and made Hassan miss him even more.

No, it was this mission that he had sent the boy on and the subsequent silence from him that worried him the most. The assassination had been successful, word had reached these shores some months past that the deed was done and a great deal of gold had been paid to Hassan as a result of his son’s prowess, but where was the victor to share in the spoils? He knew the mainland of Abaddon was in turmoil due to the slave revolt, but his son was an expert in extracting himself from just these sorts of positions. He had been trained by the best, Hassan.

This silence was perplexing to say the least, and he hoped and prayed to the gods that his son was well and safe. He wondered if a woman could be the cause of a distraction. Or possibly another commission picked up on the hoof. That was a circumstance not unknown to occur, and another gold purse was always welcome in his view. It would all go towards another block of properties that he had been eyeing up for sometime. Caution had been his watchword over the years and this had carried through into his property dealings. A sudden rash move to buy could inflate the price and could cause questions to be raised. No, he thought, he needed his son’s successful return from a profitable merchant trip abroad to give the story credibility amongst the local populous and disable the wagging tongues.

He put Abacus on the floor gently and went to his battered Arkon wood chest and took out an old map. He had to hold the map close to the candle in order to read the tightly written inscriptions clearly. He traced the route from the assassination point with his finger to the coast and thence back to Darmaque. Even giving him extra time for dalliances or another commission, he should have been home by now or at least sent word via the usual channels. Children he thought, they never spare a thought for those who wait at home. He put the map away and went into the adjoining room to help himself to some left over cold meats and a piece of fruit. He was tempted to open a flagon of wine but thought the better of it. Drinking alone was a sin in his book and drinking to excess could cost you your life in the assassination profession. He made the usual evening tour of his home and ensured that all was shuttered and bolted ready for the night. He was a man of habits and regime, which as he had taught his son, was vital in selecting the right time for the prey to be killed. Plan and stalk, plan and stalk. He mused on this for a while and then returned to the fireside. Abacus had taken up residence on the fine Pythian rug in front of the fire and was preening his ancient fur.

The noise of his licking always drove Hassan mad and he shouted at the animal to desist. Abacus gave him a glare that would turn most mortals to stone, but for the time being he decided that it was in his best interests to stop cleaning. Abacus was glad to be here in front of the fire with his master. If Hassan had his usual lady friend around for company then he would be sent out into the night to roam well scented haunts whilst his master entertained a wrinkled lady, with painted lips, who smelled of stale wine and hated cats as they made her sneeze.

Hassan had acquired the cat some years ago. Or had the cat acquired him? He was never quite sure. Arvad had named him Abacus as a joke because in his view he didn’t add up. The name had stuck and the thought of its origins made Hassan’s mind turn again to the whereabouts of his son. He regretted that he had turned down the invitation to dine with old business acquaintances this evening and also that he had rejected his lady friend’s advances to come around tonight. He was spending far too much time on his own and his mind was never far away from the plight of his son. Sounds of music wafted up from the street outside and he momentarily wondered if there was a celebration going on.

He determined to spend a lot less time alone when his mind could wander and worry and fill his evenings with company, gaiety and chatter. It would give a lot less time to become maudlin and he was sure that his son would not ever want him to become maudlin.

Chapter Two

The evening air was cool, and it was unusually quiet for the eve of a major battle.

Homus and Arvad trotted away from Alessandro’s beach camp near Roscos at the tip of Abaddon and headed north east. A solitary cry from a gull was the only herald of their departure. These two formed the personal bodyguard to Alessandro and were dressed in captured enemy uniforms. The men were nervous, but battle hardened and they believed totally in the righteousness of their cause, the slave uprising and the abilities of their great general Alessandro, who had never been defeated in these past two years.

Homus, the mission leader and commander, wore the insignia of centurion, with the legion emblem obscured and carried captured scrolls bearing the enemy General Vaut’s personal seals.

His fresh face belied his age and the mop of blonde hair that ran down to his shoulders, covered a multitude of nicks and scars from previous combat.

Arvad was wiry and muscular, a little shorter than his captain with cropped black hair and possessed a speed of hand that mesmerised opponents. His ability to produce a blade from behind your ear after you had searched him was both entertaining and alarming. The tools of his trade were secreted about his person including a small crossbow, which was slung across his back.

Homus had been the personal bodyguard to Alessandro for the last fifteen months and had held the rank of captain of the guard. He relished every minute of it. He had authority and respect through association and enjoyed the feeling. This mission was unusual for him however. Much as he liked being in charge of others he had always had to report to someone higher in command. This time he was completely out on his own and the mission was of the utmost importance to his leader, mentor and benefactor.

Barely two hours ago he had been summoned unexpectedly to the command tent for a private meeting with General Alessandro who had briefed him personally of his new orders.

The task seemed straightforward enough on the face of it. Leave Roscos, in disguise, go to Wolf's Bay and seek the Dharbian Emissaries brother Marco on the harbour-side, give him the token he had concealed upon his person and await General Alessandro and the victorious slave army. Evacuation was pledged to Exirus where they would regroup and recommence hostilities against General Vaut.

The Dharbian Pirate commander for these waters was named Kristos and Alessandro trusted him implicitly. Kristos had promised safe passage upon presentation of his personal seal to his brother, who was not aligned in any way to the Dharbian Pirate Council. It was they who forbade passage from Roscos for Alessandro and his army in fear of General Vaut’s wrath being wrought upon them for assisting with the evacuation of the slave army to Septicus.

They followed a well defined path up from the beach and gradually gained height until they breached the cliff line. The terrain was a mixture of sand and gravel and it crunched loudly under the horse’s hooves. Homus was relieved when they reached the more silent terrain of mossy downs that led to the coast before they entered the dark enchanted forest which marked the current boundary of Vaut’s lines.

***

Homus and Arvad entered the dark forest. The undergrowth was so verdant that all who entered were forced to keep upon the main trail. The thick canopy overhead blocked all direct sunlight and there was an eerie stillness and atmosphere in the forest which seemed to permeate the skin. They were no more than a quarter mile in when they spotted a camp-fire far down the trail. Approaching with hands twitching close to their swords they gingerly entered a small clearing with four trails leading off in different directions. A lone man stood before them, cloaked from head to toe and with two steely eyes peering from under his cowl.

As they entered the clearing proper, a circle of blue hued flames sprang up all around them completely trapping them.

I am Ambramodini the wizard. All tremble before my might. said the chilling voice from within the cowl.

We are but two weary travellers upon the Emperor's roads this night seeking shelter, Oh mighty wizard. We seek no argument with you, only to share a fire and you are welcome to share our food. replied Homus.

What is your business in my master’s forest? enquired the voice.

Arvad pulled up his crossbow and loosed a quarrel. It hit the wizard clean in the heart. The flames died as quickly as the wizard.

What did you do that for? asked Homus.

Fucking hate wizards. offered Arvad by way of excuse.

But that was Ambramodini, the greatest wizard in the land.

Couldn’t have been that fucking good if he had a master. he replied disinterestedly.

Can't you ever say anything without cursing?

Fuck off.

Well I Can't undo what's been done. Let's see what the old magiker had in his camp.

They made their way to the far side of the camp-fire. The wizard it appeared travelled lightly. There was some half-eaten food, a skin of wine and a four foot long, tightly tied package that wriggled incessantly.

Homus pulled his favourite dagger from his belt sheath and split the bonds. A wizened elf rolled clear of the wrapping and got to his feet. He saw the prone body of the wizard by the fire. He gasped in horror and rounded on the very men who had released him.

You stupid fools! He was my peoples' last chance. He alone could release us from his evil spell. My quest was nearly over. I had him exactly where I wanted him. How stupid could you be?

A crossbow bolt took the Elf clean in the heart and he fell to the floor alongside the wizard.

Homus looked at his friend. Don't tell me you don't like Elves?

Always tripping over those ungrateful little bastards.

Let's search them both for any valuables and be away from here before you kill anything else and make a road block we can't get past.

What was Homus to do about Arvad? He was everyone's worst nightmare.

The wizard had a large saddlebag containing all sorts of bric a brac and a spell book written in the ancient tongue. The Elf had a small pouch containing what they had decided were sacred rune stones. Homus put the newly gained items in a large sack along with some others and put them on his horse. Arvad ate all the food that was already cooked and scooped the additional supplies into a hessian sack that he assumed had once belonged to the wizard. They looked for the wizard's horse but could find no trace of it.

Come on dung for brains let's get out of here and back on our journey. said Homus.

They finished stowing their goods, remounted and set off again down the trail. No words passed between them as they journeyed on into the evening.

They heard the crashing of leathery wings beating and saw a snort of fire half a mile ahead. It lit up a craggy outcrop of heart stone, which overlooked a deep ravine.

Want a look-see, Arvad?

Nothing much else to do, Hom. S'pose we may as well.

No killing, Arv, I want to know what is going on in this enchanted forest.

We'll see, Hom.

They rode as close as they could get to have a peek without being seen.

A medium sized dragon was sat nonchalantly, looking far down into the ravine. A goblin dragon rider was sat close by also looking into the ravine. Try as hard as they might, neither Homus nor Arvad could make out what they were looking at. They tethered their horses and approached stealthily on foot.

The dragon heard them and snorted a ball of flame in their direction. It missed them by the narrowest of margins.

Arvad grinned, Homus shouted, Shit!

The goblin took fright and mounted the dragon, hurling curses or spells or both at the approaching duo.

They were not put off by his machinations. Shields raised to avoid a toasting they continued their approach.

We mean you no harm Goblin. We only require some information. We're lost and want to get out of this damned forest. shouted Homus.

The goblin stopped his tirade and dismounted the dragon. He held a small dagger in his right hand and his clenched left fist concealed something that the approaching two could not see.

Ignoring the Goblin, whether fearless or stupid, Arvad approached the dragon. He reached out and scratched the beast behind the ear. Turning to the Goblin he said What a beautiful beast, does he bite? The Goblin stared at him in utter disbelief.

Arvad heard a voice in his head which bemused him and the expression showed on his face.

I am not male, but female little man. My name is Shirgwen. Watch the goblin he has evil in his left fist.

The Goblin looked at Arvad incredulously. That bitch talked to you didn't she? I’ve been trying to get her to talk to me for two months. Worthless piece of shit!

Arvad severed the Goblins left hand and it fell to the ground still clenched. Still yelping the Goblin threw down his dagger and pulled a poisoned short sword with his right hand. Homus who had moved in real close, chopped the unsuspecting Goblins head off.

I fucking hate Goblins, he said. Arvad smiled in unison with his comrade.

The voice came into Arvad’s head again.

Thank you little humans. You have released the spell that evil Goblin had over me.

What's the quickest way out of this damned forest, asked Arvad.

Take any of the side roads from the main track and they will lead you out. This is not a natural wood. It was laid as a maze a thousand years ago. The main track will only lead you around in circles. replied the dragon.

Thank you, Shirgwen. No chance of a ride on your back is there?

Do I look like a horse and cart to you?

Just asking.

Homus was puzzled by the one sided conversation as he could not hear the dragon’s voice in his own head.

Who are you talking to, Arv?

Shirgwen the dragon.

Are you taking the piss, Arv?

Nope. She speaks direct into my head.

You been drinking behind my back?

Fuck you, Hom.

The dragon gathered herself together and flew high up into the air, circled twice and then headed off north-east.

Arvad explained to Homus all that had really happened and also the piece of information regarding a route out of here. Homus was still wondering what the Goblin and the Dragon had been looking at and stared down into the chasm way below. He could just make out a pack of were-wolves attacking three women in a small clearing. Arvad kicked the Goblin’s fist over the precipice. Homus watched as the fist hit the floor and exploded in a huge flash of light and a thunderous roar. When the smoke cleared the wolves and the women were all dead.

Arvad peered over his shoulder Bit of a waste that, Hom.

You are the master of understatement, Arvad. Come on old friend let's get going or we will never make the port in time.

Chapter Three

Princess Alfuria sat alone in her room, high in the palace of her father King Rosin, brushing her long golden hair which fell down to her waist whilst looking wistfully out into the far landscape. Her thoughts were only on one thing. Marriage. She had been betrothed since the age of ten to the most handsomest prince in the known world.

Prince Kalvin of Medocia. Marriage would form a wonderful alliance and put an end once and for all to border skirmishes that had seen many Exiran's lose their lives over the years. Women, it was said, swooned at his very presence although for political reasons she had not seen him since she was ten. Now that she was seventeen they were due to plight their troths in six weeks time. She desperately wanted to speak to him prior to the wedding and sort a few things out regarding their futures. A united kingdom and an end to war was what the people wanted and deserved. A son and heir to govern both would be an answer to everyone's prayers, except hers.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by her handmaiden and confidante Justine.

Shall I make your bath, your highness?

Thank you, Justine. I will be with you in a moment.

The palace servants had filled the large bath with warmed spring water and were dismissed by Justine. She poured rare fragrant herbal oils into the water, disrobed and entered the bath. Princess Alfuria entered the royal bathroom, locked the door, disrobed and entered the warm embrace of her lover Justine.

If the prince could see us now, said Justine.

From what I hear of men he would approve and think he could join us. said the princess.

Typical, said Justine.

***

Prince Kalvin was as usual toning his skills at the practice field. He had worked up a good sweat and had defeated all comers at spears, wrestling and his favourite, Swords.

He ordered a long mirror brought and studied carefully the musculature of his fine body.

He was troubled by the ease with which he had defeated his sparring partners today and was worried that they deliberately lost on purpose in order to garner royal favour.

Should he have his long blonde hair trimmed before the wedding? No he suddenly thought. That would ruin the appearance of his well tanned face and make his face look squat. Image was all for the peasantry. You just had to look the part, it was half the battle.

He wondered momentarily what the fair Alfuria looked like these days. He was certain that she would not look as good as him on the big day. He had planned his outfit for the big day months ago and had the palace tailors bring in the rarest of materials and had the finest of designers collude to make the biggest fashion statement the kingdom would ever see.

He particularly liked the rare gem stones that studded his waistcoat as they matched the deep violet blue of his eyes.

War was coming he knew that. An alliance between Medocia and Exirus would unite the peoples and armies in a desperate attempt to stop the evil tyrant Vaut from overrunning and enslaving the entire continent. Abaddon's relentless pursuit of the largest empire ever seen in the world would eventually ensnare all kingdoms everywhere.

Thurf get me thome warm water and a nice thable boy to towel me down, he shouted at a passing attendant.

The attendant covered his titters well and went in search of a 'thable' boy.

A dragon flew overhead with barely a cursory glance at the people below.

Chapter Four

Sister Monica Mary Moses stood in her private apartments high in the mountains of the moon and reflected deeply upon the troubles that beset her and her order.

As head Luninary she faced a dilemma that no other Luninary of this Antediluvian sect had faced before.

It was a question of both faith and power.

She caught sight of herself in her looking glass and was pleasantly pleased by the reflection. Despite her years she had kept her figure well and the long tight fitting robes showed off her slender frame and ample cleavage when viewed in profile. It was a triumph to achieve the robe of red silks, with the moon’s phases delicately embossed across the face and rear of the bodice. The sunlight caught the crescent shaped silver moon brooch, inset with the largest black pearl ever known to exist and she admired it for a moment longer before returning to her desk. She was the first Luninary ever to have risen through the ranks by sheer guile and intellect. Some of her predecessors had poisoned their way to the top, others by the simple passing of time. She had orchestrated the death of many who opposed her and her order out in the wide world, but she had never resorted to that measure here in the sacred halls of the sisters.

The Sisters of the seed were a secretive order of the moon goddess Luna and were dedicated to the worship of their goddess and her work, as they saw it, in corporeal terms.

Their history was shrouded in the mists of time itself, far back before the great flood that drowned half the world. Their litanies passed down by rote one to another over the centuries and an inestimable fortune had been amassed, enough to buy the allegiances of many country's twice over.

They were the holder’s keepers and controllers of the most valuable commodity in the known world Pearls. Being well educated Sister Mary Monica had often thought of their bizarre beginnings and wondered how a religion could have been founded on such an ill-conceived base with such zealous application, that it had stood unchallenged for thousands of years.

The founders believed that pearls were the fossilised spent seed of the gods. The marine creatures that harboured them were merely the god’s way of keeping them out of human hands. So a religion had been formed that worshipped pearls, oysters and as oysters reacted to the moon and her tides, the moon as well as their omnipotent controller.

The early sisters also believed that the soul of a man was in his seed and to this end some bizarre ceremonies had come to fruition that she was not comfortable with to this very day. The sect had proved popular amongst the woman of the past and there was not a brothel that did not secretly pay its dues to the sisters and their faith.

Pearls were popular amongst the rulers of nations as a show of power and wealth.

Each colour had its own meaning. White denoted pureness and chastity and were well favoured gifts from kings to queens. Blue was for love, Pink for fame and everyone knew a brown