The Grim Company

Crossroads

The city was abuzz with activity as Davarus Cole led his new companions through a winding maze of side streets. Fortunately, they encountered no Watchmen among the bustling crowds.

Fate smiles on me once again, Cole thought in satisfaction. His chest throbbed and blazing pain shot through his skull with every laboured step, but at least he was alive.

He cast a quick glance behind him. The older Highlander was of impressive height, almost a head taller than Cole himself. He looked to be around fifty. Despite his advancing years, the man’s lean muscles were evidence that he’d lost little of his strength. His broad-nosed face was weathered and creased. An ugly scar began just beneath his left eye and ran diagonally to just below his cheek. The Highlander’s grey hair had receded slightly and thinned a little at the crown, but the mane still fell impressively to the nape of his neck. Silver stubble covered his face, but his deep blue eyes were undimmed by age.

All in all, Brodar Kayne looked exactly as Cole imagined the stereotypical Highlander barbarian would look — albeit one who was a score of years past his prime. Cole suspected that women would still consider him handsome, in a fatherly kind of way.

The same couldn’t be said of the silent figure stalking alongside him. Cole judged Jerek to be somewhat younger than Brodar Kayne, perhaps in his early forties. Shorter than his compatriot yet still a few inches taller than Cole, he was a burly man with the kind of countenance that gave children nightmares. His dark eyes stared out from a scowling face horribly burned on the right side. His head was hairless save for a short beard.

Jerek’s eyes met Cole’s own and bore into them. ‘Problem?’ the Highlander growled at him. His hands shifted slightly towards the twin axes on his back.

Cole cleared his throat. They had arrived at the Hook. ‘We’re nearly there. You see the crumbling building on the other side of the plaza?’

Brodar Kayne squinted as if it were an effort to make out the old belfry a hundred yards ahead of them. ‘I see it. Seems a risky place for a secret hideout.’ His expression turned grim. ‘Are those gibbets?’ He nodded at the cages hanging from the large wooden frame on a raised platform in the centre of the plaza. The wind had picked up with the onset of dusk, causing the swaying cages to clank together in a grisly rhythm.

‘Salazar keeps them well stocked,’ Cole replied. He was taken aback at the look on Brodar Kayne’s face. The man’s expression had turned to stone. ‘The tower is part of an old abandoned temple to the Mother. The Shards meet there once a month. The vestibule collapsed long ago, but there’s a secret entrance at the back.’

‘The Mother,’ Jerek rasped. ‘Ha. Ain’t no goddess looking out for us now.’ He spat on the ground.

Cole decided to move the conversation along. ‘We’ll go around the outside of the Hook. I might get recognized if we try and cut through.’ He suddenly remembered the old man whose skull had been split by the Watchman’s sword. He thought he could see a dark smear of blood on the Tyrant’s Road. It appeared the body had already been hauled away and likely divested of any valuables it had possessed. Such was life in Dorminia.

Cole gestured to the Highlanders and they set off around the edge of the Hook. His keen ears picked up fragments of conversation from passers-by as they made their way along the perimeter of the large plaza. Talk seemed to focus on the lockdown and what it meant for the city. Cole could only vaguely recall the last lockdown, which had occurred when he was a young child. A massive abomination had besieged Dorminia’s walls and a squad of Augmentors had been dispatched to nullify the threat. Not all of them had returned.

He overheard a pair of old women chattering about the weather. They were pointing at the horizon. They quieted as Cole and his companions strolled past, and he felt their curious eyes tracking them as they made their way to the opposite side of the Hook.

Highlanders were exceptionally rare in the Trine. Their homeland bordered the very edge of the world far to the north, beyond the tortured Badlands that were once the vast steppes of the nomadic Yahan horse-tribes.

Cole glanced at the grim figures following behind him. The mere fact they had survived the epic journey this far south was telling enough. These were hard men.

Perhaps almost as hard as he was.

They were nearing the ruined tower. The first droplets of rain began to fall. Cole could see a dark blanket of cloud rolling in from the south-west. He paused for a moment and tilted his head back, intending to wet his face and wipe away some of the blood from his chin. Jerek barged him in the back and he stumbled, hot pain shooting through his ribs.

‘Keep out my fucking way,’ the Highlander snarled. Cole’s mouth dropped open. He had half expected an apology, or at least some acknowledgement that the collision had been accidental. He wanted to call the man to task for his rudeness, but the Highlander’s tone unsettled him. Instead, he gave a sickly smile.

‘Jerek doesn’t like the rain,’ Brodar Kayne said, almost kindly. ‘Causes his scars to itch something rotten. Don’t take it personally.’

‘No offence taken,’ Cole replied casually, though in his mind his fists had already made a bloody mess of the bastard’s face. ‘Almost there.’

They skirted around the side of the ruined tower and the crumbling walls of the western court and vestibule. The skeleton of the building was snaked with ivy. Cole led them around to the rear of the temple where the walls had subsided and the cracked pediment leaned out at a dangerous angle. Warehouses had sprung up near to the rear of the temple. The close proximity of the buildings created a mostly enclosed space hidden from prying eyes.

With a quick look around to ensure no one was watching, Davarus Cole bent down and pulled aside a large patch of ivy. Behind the vegetation was a gap just small enough to squeeze through. He pushed himself through it and gestured at the Highlanders to follow him. Brodar Kayne made it inside with surprising ease, his long limbs negotiating the aperture with impressive flexibility. Jerek proved less supple. A torrent of foul curses accompanied his grunts of exertion as he finally forced himself through the opening.

‘We’re here,’ Cole said. He stared down the stone passage to the steps leading up to the sanctuary. The Shards were doubtless even now fretting about his absence. He felt a shiver of anticipation. He had sustained wounds that would have surely incapacitated a lesser man, and yet here he was, the stoic hero breezing in, doughty new companions in tow. He could hardly wait to see the look on Sasha’s face…

‘Something the matter?’ Brodar Kayne enquired, jolting him out of his reverie. Cole shook his head in response.

‘The door ahead leads to the sanctuary. The Shards will be up there. Let me do the talking and everything will be fine.’ Cole strolled to the end of the corridor and climbed the handful of steps, then rapped out a complex sequence on the door at the top. He waited for a few moments, hearing muffled whispers from just beyond. Finally a bolt was released and the door swung open.

‘Cole!’ exclaimed Sasha. Her eyes assessed his battered face without a hint of compassion. ‘You’d better get up here.’

The Shards were gathered around the remains of the large altar that had, at one time, sat proudly at the heart of the Mother’s sanctuary. When, centuries ago, the goddess’s last few worshippers finally accepted her demise and abandoned the temple, they had stripped away the gold statues of the Mother in her various aspects, along with everything else of value. Now the place was bereft of adornment. Rainwater pooled near the base of the altar from a large crack in the temple ceiling above. It proceeded to trickle down into the nave, collecting dust, rat droppings and other assorted filth as it went.

To add final insult to the Mother’s memory, Garrett had his considerable arse propped up against the altar as he watched Cole approach. Ten other pairs of eyes turned to regard the young Shard. It was hard for Cole to be certain in the dim light, but they didn’t seem to contain the expressions of sheer relief he had been expecting.

‘You’re late,’ said Garrett. He tapped the pocket watch in his hand. It was a lavish device, a new invention from the City of Shades. Garrett had purchased it from a Shadowport trader at extravagant cost just before the conflict with Dorminia had exploded.

‘Better late than never, eh?’ Cole replied, giving his best rueful smile. ‘I was sidetracked by an incident with our friends in the Crimson Watch. No harm done.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Except to the nose. Don’t worry, Sash, it will heal.’

Someone coughed. Sasha shook her head and looked at the floor.

‘No such luck for the Watchmen, though,’ Cole continued. He paused dramatically, and then gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘They’re dead.’

Silence met his words. Eventually, Garrett spoke. His voice was soft. ‘Who are those men lurking behind you, Davarus?’

Cole glanced back at the door behind him, where the Highlanders were waiting in the shadows. His palms were beginning to sweat. ‘I was just getting to that. I met them on the way here. One of them, ah, lent me some assistance with the Watch. They needed a place to lie low, so I thought-’

‘Fucking unbelievable. Place is a shithole. What, you want us to hide out here? How about you fuck off. I ain’t staying here. This ain’t fair.’ Jerek emerged into the light and barked the words right in Cole’s face. The young Shard reeled back from the Highlander’s sour breath. Brodar Kayne melted from the shadows an instant later and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

As one, the Shards went to their weapons. Crossbows were raised and levelled at the two strangers. Jerek’s hands immediately went to his axes.

Cole closed his eyes. This wasn’t going quite as well as he’d hoped.

‘Enough,’ commanded Garrett. ‘Lower your weapons. These men are not with the Watch.’

‘Damn right we ain’t,’ said Brodar Kayne. ‘It was me that saved your lad here. He’s got some fruits on him sure enough, but it seems the blows he took scrambled his memory. He was down and out before I intervened.’

‘Is this true?’ Garrett asked. He was using that tone he had so often in the past when his protege had done something to disappoint him. Cole winced. It still held a certain power.

‘Well, yes, but I had a plan,’ he replied. Looking back, he realized all he’d needed to do was distract one of the Watchmen long enough to steal his weapon and then run them both through. He was a hero, after all. Success was practically guaranteed.

The old Highlander’s brow began to furrow. He had that same look Cole had seen back at the Hook. For all of his compatriot’s aggression, something told Cole that getting this man angry was every bit as dangerous as aggravating Jerek. ‘Plan or no plan, I’m grateful for the help,’ he added quickly.

‘Right,’ said Brodar Kayne. The Highlander’s expression turned thoughtful and he scratched at his jaw. ‘The fact is, we’ve got a city full of soldiers searching for us and nowhere to run. Not with the lockdown in effect. Young Cole said we might hide here for a time.’

Garrett suddenly leaped off the altar, his ample gut bulging out of his jerkin and his twin chins wobbling in a manner Cole would have considered comical, were it not for the seriousness of his words. ‘Tell me you gave these Highlanders a soporific before you led them here, Davarus!’

Sudden dread struck Cole like the pommel of the Watchman’s sword. ‘I didn’t think… There were no mindhawks in the sky…’ His voice trailed off before the collective fury in the many pairs of eyes now boring into him.

‘You may have given our location away to the Watch,’ Garrett said quietly. ‘They could be on their way here even now.’

‘Not likely,’ said Brodar Kayne. ‘There ain’t been a mindhawk in the High Fangs for years. Turns out we don’t give up our secrets as easily as you Lowland folk. Stronger wills, I reckon.’

‘You’ve learned to hide your thoughts?’ Garrett asked. He sounded surprised.

‘Can’t say I know anything about that,’ Kayne replied. ‘Thought-mining just don’t work on us. The Shaman roots out dissenters the old-fashioned way.’ His voice trailed off as he spoke. The old warrior suddenly had a troubled look in his remarkable blue eyes.

Relief flooded through Cole. He glanced over at Jerek, who was standing with his arms folded, a dark scowl on his face.

‘Well then,’ said Garrett. The merchant’s panicked expression had been replaced by one of careful consideration. ‘That eases my fears somewhat. I am Garrett, and I lead the men and women you see before you. We are the Shards, a rebel group opposed to Salazar’s tyrannical rule.’

Jerek snorted. His voice dripped with derision. ‘A rebel group. Fucking priceless. I ain’t gonna stand here and listen to this shit.’ Without another word the angry warrior stormed off down the stairs leading to the nave and began examining the ancient stone benches arranged there. He chose one, threw his pack down on the floor next to it, and then lay down on his back, hands folded behind his head.

Several of the Shards had raised their crossbows again. The Urich brothers were red with anger, murder in their eyes. Garrett gestured frantically. They relaxed a fraction at his command but continued to shoot furious glares in Jerek’s direction.

His compatriot looked mildly embarrassed. ‘The Wolf’s just a bit irritable,’ said the old barbarian apologetically. ‘He gets like that when he’s tired. He don’t mean no disrespect. I’m Brodar Kayne-’

A bitter voice echoed up from the nave, interrupting the tall Highlander. ‘Well, ain’t this the very lap of luxury. A just fucking reward for surviving the deadliest places known to man.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ Kayne finished. He cleared his throat. ‘Now that we’re acquainted, you mind getting us something to eat? All this excitement is making me hungry.’

Cole stared into the flames and listened to the rain drumming on the ruined dome of the temple. They’d managed to get a small fire going away from the damp, in a spot where the roof was mostly intact. Loud rumbles of thunder competed with the crackling of fire and Jerek’s snoring to overwhelm Garrett’s droning voice as he informed Brodar Kayne of the finer details of the group. The tension had eased somewhat, though certain of his colleagues still appeared uncomfortable with the presence of the two grizzled warriors.

‘-and this is Sasha, our best seditionist,’ Garrett continued. ‘She plots to stir up resentment against Salazar and his Grand Council. It is a fine line to walk. Hatred, as with every other strong emotion, is like a flare to the mindhawks. We have to be cautious.’

Too afraid to do what needs to be done, Cole thought. If it was up to him, the Shards would be taking the fight to Salazar in a far more direct manner.

‘Vicard here, our alchemist, manufactures the narcotics that allow us to shield our thoughts from those magical mutations in the sky. Consuming too many of the drugs can be dangerous — and our supplies seem depleted as of late.’

‘The more we push, the greater the demand,’ Sasha said, somewhat hotly. ‘We’ve spoken about this, Garrett.’

‘I know,’ Cole’s mentor replied in a soothing tone of voice. ‘It was simply an observation. The ingredients grow ever more expensive and difficult to get hold of. I keep us as well stocked as I can.

‘You’ve seen our physician in action,’ Garrett continued, gesturing towards the thin old man sat opposite him. Cole’s eyes narrowed. He was sure Remy had taken a sick pleasure in clicking his nose back into place. It was all he could do to stop from screaming as tears poured down his face. At least his ribs were only bruised and not broken. Remy had warned against any kind of physical exertion for at least a fortnight, but Cole had quietly decided to ignore his advice. Heroes didn’t sit around waiting for their wounds to heal.

Brodar Kayne gave him a broad grin. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile back at the Highlander. Like Cole, the old barbarian was clearly a man of action.

‘And these two strapping fellows?’ Kayne asked, nodding across the fire. Cole frowned. He disliked the Urich brothers, who had given him a hard time as he grew up in Garrett’s care.

‘Aram and Garmst,’ answered Garrett. ‘Twins, if you hadn’t guessed. They’re the fiercest fighters in the group,’ he added, to Cole’s displeasure.

‘If there’s killin’ needs doing, we’s your boys,’ growled Aram, shooting Brodar Kayne another glare.

Cole couldn’t help himself. ‘Just don’t ask them to do anything more complicated than hit something,’ he quipped. ‘I’ve heard they check each other’s trousers each morning to make sure they’re not back to front.’

He grinned at the faces around the fire. Brodar Kayne chuckled softly. The Urich brothers gave him looks that promised grim retribution. Everyone else stared back at him coolly except for Sasha, who wore a faint smile. In Cole’s estimation, that made it worthwhile.

‘On to business,’ Garrett said. ‘I received news last night. News that could not wait. Salazar has summoned his Augmentors to the Obelisk. Every single one of them.’

What? Cole could hardly believe his ears. ‘The Augmentors are Salazar’s elite force,’ he added, in response to Brodar Kayne’s puzzled expression.

Garrett shifted on his haunches and exhaled slowly. He looked every inch the wealthy and successful merchant — and as far as his colleagues in the Grey City Cartel were concerned, that was exactly what he was.

None of Garrett’s peers could have suspected that he spent much of his considerable wealth funding a rebel organization dedicated to overthrowing the Tyrant of Dorminia. Cole loved his foster father dearly, but he knew that when the time came for him to take the reins of leadership and guide the Shards, he would achieve more than the humiliation of a few magistrates. He would see the Magelord dead.

‘The war over the Celestial Isles will not end with our navy’s defeat,’ Garrett was saying now. He placed a hand on his stomach and made a sour face. ‘The political situation in the Trine is on a knife edge. Marius of Shadowport and the White Lady of Thelassa know Dorminia is weakened. Salazar will seek to strike back, and quickly. He will not accept being relegated to the position of third power in the Trine.’

‘But why gather all his Augmentors to him?’ Vicard said, rubbing at his nose. He did that a lot, Cole noticed.

‘He’s working great magic. Magic on a scale that has not been attempted for many years. He’s siphoning.’

‘From his Augmentors?’ Sasha exclaimed. ‘Is that possible?’

Garrett nodded. ‘Salazar is served by at least forty Augmentors. The raw magic he has spent decades accumulating is invested in swords and spears, shields and helms that elevate an Augmentor above any normal soldier. Yet that magic is still tied to him, to be drawn upon and added to his own formidable reserves. He could be working a spell to wreak devastation on a scale not seen since the Godswar, when he and his peers slaughtered the deities. Murdered the very goddess whose temple we now shelter in.’

Everyone was silent for a time. Eventually Cole spoke. ‘Salazar’s Augmentors defend Dorminia’s territory from abominations and other threats. If he consumes their magic, they’ll be useless. He can’t afford to lose his enforcers. Can he?’ He suddenly felt a surge of possessiveness towards Magebane. He looked across at Brodar Kayne and the magical dagger at his belt. As if reading his thoughts, the Highlander placed a hand over the weapon. With his other hand he took a huge bite out of the old apple he was eating and spat the core into the fire, where it sizzled slightly.

‘Salazar is utterly ruthless, as we all know. He will do whatever it takes to further his aims,’ said Garrett. He rubbed at his stomach again before continuing. ‘The Celestial Isles are the greatest source of raw magic in the known world. Dorminia’s existing supplies will have dried up within a decade. A Magelord who holds the Celestial Isles will ensure their domain goes unchallenged for centuries. Augmentors can be replaced, new items of power forged and bound to those Salazar considers worthy.’

Sasha leaned forwards. Cole couldn’t help but notice that her eyes looked huge in the firelight. ‘With his Augmentors at the Obelisk, Salazar’s assets are suddenly vulnerable,’ she said. ‘This could be our chance. Our chance to do something big.’

Garrett’s heavy moustache twitched and he smiled at the group. ‘The Wailing Rift,’ he said. ‘Dorminia’s only active magic-mining operation, and hence of great value to the Magelord. It is usually guarded by at least a dozen Augmentors. We are going to sabotage it.’

‘But the city’s under lockdown,’ protested Garmst. His brother nodded sagely, as if this detail had escaped everyone else around the fire.

‘Let me worry about that,’ Garrett replied. He turned to Sasha. ‘You will lead a small group down to the harbour where my contact awaits. I’ll give you the exact location when I brief you. Vicard is going with you. Remy, your presence would also be useful.’

‘Not me,’ the drab physician replied. ‘I’ve no taste for adventure. Besides, I must spend the evening with a patient, one of the city magistrates. He won’t be happy if I fail to turn up.’

Garrett sighed and then turned to Brodar Kayne, who had finished the apple and was now attempting to dislodge a particularly stubborn pip from the back of his teeth. The merchant’s expression became grim. ‘I would have you speak your intentions, Highlander. You and your friend now know enough to get us all killed.’

The old barbarian raised an eyebrow. ‘I saved young Cole’s life. I reckon we’ve earned your trust.’

Garrett had that calculating look Cole had seen on those occasions he had accompanied the merchant to negotiate business. ‘I have made my fortune out of my ability to read people,’ his foster father said slowly. ‘There is little that escapes me. I note, for example, that your compatriot’s breathing seems to have slowed a fraction — and that his hands are mysteriously closer to the axes at his side than they were a moment ago.’

Cole glanced across in surprise, just in time to see Jerek’s eyes shoot open and witness his silently mouthed shit. He felt a sudden rush of admiration for his wily old mentor.

Brodar Kayne, too, appeared vaguely impressed. ‘You got my word,’ he said. ‘I ain’t never broken it except once, and in the circumstances I would have called any man who acted differently a damn fool.’

Garrett nodded. ‘As I said, I have made a living out of judging men. I suspect that, even outnumbered five to one, the two of you would turn this temple into a bloodbath if it came to it.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘But enough of such talk. I have a proposal for you.’

‘Go on.’

‘The Rift is at the very edge of the Trine. Bandits often cross over from the Badlands to the north. And the area is plagued by abominations.’

Brodar Kayne raised an eyebrow. ‘Bandits and abominations? I reckon I got more experience with them than most.’

Garrett nodded. ‘Sasha and Vicard will require some muscle to accompany them. I would send the Urich boys but they’re needed elsewhere. How does ten gold spires sound?’

The old Highlander stopped picking at his teeth for a moment. ‘The way I see it, this magical dagger is fair reward for rescuing your lad Cole. I reckon I would get more than twenty spires for it in the Unclaimed Lands.’

Garrett shook his head. ‘You will find that Magebane is useless to you and most anyone else who attempts to wield it.’

Brodar Kayne looked puzzled. ‘Why’s that?’

Despite his growing annoyance, Cole couldn’t help but grin. He knew the answer to that question.

‘Magebane’s magic will only work for those possessing the blood of a true hero,’ Garrett replied. He shifted a little as he said it, as if the words made him slightly uncomfortable.

Brodar Kayne scratched his nose and then grinned. ‘Counts me out then. I never claimed to be no hero. But what’s to stop you refusing to pay up after I’ve fulfilled my part of the deal? It ain’t like I could find you again in a city this size.’

The leader of the Shards pursed his lips and said nothing. In the silence that followed, Cole could hear the tick tock tick tock of the timepiece in Garrett’s pocket.

‘I’ll hang onto this dagger,’ Kayne said eventually. ‘When our business at the Rift is concluded I’ll hand it back to your lad here. Just as soon as I’ve got the thirty gold spires you’re about to offer. Fifteen each for both me and the Wolf there, I reckon.’

Garrett narrowed his eyes. ‘You barter like a merchant,’ he complained. ‘Fine. We have a deal. Just be sure to keep that dagger safe. Its value cannot be underestimated. It is the one thing that can negate a Magelord’s magic.’

‘I won’t let it out of my sight,’ said Brodar Kayne.

Cole had heard enough. He rose angrily. ‘It looks like I’ll need to find another weapon. What time are we leaving?’

‘You’re not going anywhere, Davarus.’

Cole paused. What was Garrett talking about? ‘Look, my ribs are fine,’ he said in exasperation. ‘Even with these injuries, I’m still quicker than anyone here.’ He swept his gaze over the assembled Shards, daring any of them to gainsay him.

‘It’s not about your injuries.’ Garrett’s voice was heavy with weariness. ‘You nearly got yourself killed today. You disobeyed my explicit instructions and almost drew disaster down on us all.’ His voice softened slightly and grew sad. ‘I’ve raised you since you were eight years old. I love you like my own son, Davarus. But you refuse to do as I ask. You think only of yourself and glory. You must learn to act as part of a group before I can trust you again.’

Cole could hardly believe what he was hearing. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he protested. ‘I’m the best man for this mission! You know I am! This is what I was born to do!’

‘I’m sorry, Davarus,’ Garrett said.

Cole looked around, desperately seeking support. No one met his gaze except the old Highlander, who remained silent.

‘I’m Davarus Cole!’ he shouted furiously. ‘My father was a man without equal! You can all cower around and pretend you’re making a difference. I won’t stand by as an innocent is murdered in the street.’ He reached down under his leather vest and withdrew the green quartz crystal Garrett had given him on his eighteenth naming day, when he had been officially sworn in as a member of the Shards. It hung on a simple cord of leather. He gave it a hard tug and the cord snapped around his neck.

He stared at the crystal for a moment as it rested in his palm. He remembered how proud he’d been when Garrett had presented it to him. Twelve years the man had been as a father to him. Over half his life. And this was how he treated his prodigal foster son?

Cole shook his head in disgust and, to the collective gasps of those seated around the fire, tossed the crystal into the flame. Then he stormed out of the temple of the Mother and into the stinging night rain where two hundred miles to the south the city of Shadowport had at that moment ceased to exist.