Curse of The Seventh Sword: The Gauntlet of Feona (24 page)

“Let me tell you a story.”  Ergol said.

The tavern was fully occupied on this night with men and women, drawn to gorge themselves in the pleasures of ale and each other.  As such, there was a lot of talking amongst the many pockets of people that had naturally formed as the night went on. 
The tavern, poorly lit, had a lot of dark blotches here and there, where light was all but absent.  It presented itself as the perfect location for those who wished to be unseen to remain that way.  In one such corner of the tavern on the upper level, two hooded figures sat opposite each other, slowly drinking ale from two large mugs.  They had been there a while, saying nothing, yet absorbing every word they could from each tongue loosened by drinks and women.  Indeed they had learned a lot. 

“Your highness it seems your assumptions are correct. 
Davydd and the rest were here.”  Farok said. 

“Indeed.”  Sidion acknowledged. 

“They did not keep their presence a secret either.”

“No they didn’t. 
After all Tanak is dead.”

“Tanak… The old man they
found long dead in his shop.  He is the servant you spoke of?”

“Indeed. 
He was to secretly pose as a rare items trader in Sangwa, in hopes that he could discover the location of the gauntlet.”

“Or that someone looking to make a fortune would bring it to
him.”

Sidion smiled.

“That would have been easier wouldn’t it?”

“I take it he never found it.”

“He’s dead.  If he didn’t find it, he found out something of value to me.”

“And never sent word of it?”

“Someone here deadened his tongue.  We need to find out whom.”

“And how do we do that your highness?”

“We talk to the person who hears more than they should or care to.  The town’s grave keeper.”

“I suppose it is time I looked for him.”

“I believe I already found him Farok.”  Sidion nodded his head towards a man seated alone at a table near the balcony of the upper level.  The wash of light from a lamp hanging from one of the building’s wooden columns only partially lit his features.  He was a thin and gaunt looking fellow, most likely in his fourth decade of life, but looking much older.  His hairy arms picked up his mug of ale and directed it to dry and caked lips partly covered with a thick and unkempt shrub of beard and moustache.  The man was mostly bald except for some graying hair at the back of his head which fell down to his neck.  His reddened eye whites scanned the lower tavern area and the people there.  The man put down his beer mug on an area of the table, where the light from the lamp lit up.  It momentarily revealed his long dirty fingers and the numerous specks of dust trapped in his hairy arms. 

“He’s been working tonight.”  Sidion said as both he and Farok observed the man.  After looking around for a little longer, the m
an got up to leave.  He put on a scraggly hat and quickly made his way for the stairs, walking at a brisk pace. 

“We follow.”  Sidion said.  They both got up and made for the stairs as well.  On the lower level of the tavern, both Sidion and
Farok made their way through the crowd of intoxicated men and women as best as they could, without drawing attention to themselves.  Once outside, they quickly scanned the street for the man they suspected of being the grave keeper.  He had put some distance between himself and the tavern, walking – still briskly – down the cobblestoned main street of Sangwa.  The street was well lit in most areas but also had its blotches of darkness here and there.  Sidion and Farok followed the man at a safe distance.  The man turned right, off the street they were currently on.  Sidion and Farok quickened their pace until they were upon the intersecting street the man had turned on.  They turned as well and walked quickly until they had closed the distance between themselves and the man.  It was at this moment he heard them.  He turned around to see them walking quickly towards him and was seized with fear.  However, before he could run, Farok who had anticipated this caught up to him and grabbed him by the right shoulder.  Fear gave way to survival instinct, and the man whirled around and threw a right hand at Farok.  The punch never hit his target and before he could decipher Farok’s movements, the Angwelethean soldier had grabbed the man by the neck and slammed his back into the concrete wall of a building at the side of the street.  The man choked and coughed due to the pressure of Farok’s grip.  Farok slowly pulled the man sideways to the right, and out of the wash of light which illuminated them.  Sidion was soon with them. 

“Now
now Farok, there is no need to be so forceful.”  Sidion said as he disappeared into the blotch of darkness as well.  He motioned to Farok to loosen his grip, which the Angwelethean soldier promptly did.  Sidion looked at the man and smiled.

“What is your
name?”  Sidion asked.

“Why would you want to know it?”  The man retorted.

Sidion sighed and continued.  “I suppose your name is of no importance to me.  I was merely asking out of courtesy.  The next few questions however, should be met with the right answer or else…”

Farok tightened his grip around the man’s neck for a few seconds, before letting go again.

“Do you understand?”  Sidion asked.  The man nodded as best as he could. 

“Good.  Are you the grave keeper of Sangwa?”

The man nodded again.

“Then you
must have recently buried a rare items trader.  He was murdered a moon ago or so.  What can you tell me about him?”

“I know nothing about the man.”  Farok’s grip tightened again.

“Now now grave keeper.  Lying is not your best skill.  We wouldn’t want to keep you with us longer than we have to.”

The grave keeper struggled to breathe, as Farok’s grip had practically depressed his windpipe.

“O… O..kay.  I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Good.  Now talk.”

“The man who killed Tanak the trader goes by the name of Kazan.  There were rumors that Tanak was struck by a poisoned arrow and I know of only one man who prefers this weapon.  Kazan.” 

“Who is Kazan?” 

“The son of Ivan the terrible.”

“The pirate king.”  Farok noted. “Is he not dead?”

“He… was thought to be.  Then the rumors began to spread about his return.  Some say he dwells in the Sangwa and in the lands not too far off from here.  All I can tell you is no emissary of King Vitalis has been able to find him or kill him.”

“And I take it any who has come close, h
as been sent to the afterlife by Kazan.”

The grave keeper nodded.  “That is all I know.  Please let me go.  My wife and chi…”

“You don’t have to use your family to plead for your life.  I have no intentions of taking it.”  Sidion leaned in.  “However, if I or any of my men hear mention of us in this town, I will come for you and then not even your family pleas will be able to save you… or them.”

The man nodded again.  Beads of sweat formed on his face and trickled down.

“Let him go Farok.”

“Your highness.”
Farok said and released the grave keeper from his grip.  The man staggered and stumbled as he ran away from the two Angweletheans.  “We know not where to begin looking for Ivan.”  Farok noted.

“We do
not have to look for him.  If what the grave keeper said is true, then he knows of the gauntlet’s location and is going to great lengths to hide it.  With Davydd and his followers here, Ivan will retreat to his most comfortable element.”

“Water?”

“Indeed.  We are going to do the same, and have the men silently travel the seas near and around Sangwa until we find him.”

“Your highness if King Vitalis…”

“I am well aware of the danger of discovery Farok.”

“Indeed your highness.  Accept my humblest apologies.”

“None needed.  We retreat for now.  You and I will return with more men and under cover of night we shall hunt down Ivan’s men.”

“What about
Davydd?”

“If I have found the gauntlet, then
Davydd would have failed to prove his is worthy of being king and would probably be dead.”

Farok
nodded quietly.

“We retreat then.”  Sidion said once more as the men began heading back the way they came.

“I cannot decide who is more incompetent, yourself or that wretched Sidion.”  Omni bellowed.  “How could you let four commanders under your authorit
y leave unscathed?”

“Three left
unscathed.  One is dead.”  Trudor replied tersely. 

“Do not mock me human.”  Omni stood up from his seat and rose to his full imposing height.  He towered above Trudor and
yet Trudor was no man of average height. 

“You wil
l do as I say or else…”

“Or else what?  You’ll kill me?  You’ll kill my family?  You’ll massacre Angweleth?  I have no such
fear or bonds the way Sidion does.”

The most powerful principal of the drago
l rushed towards Trudor and grabbed him by the torso.  Omni’s hands wrapped around Trudor’s ribs and lifted him up as though he had no weight to him.  Omni slammed Trudor on a wall, the Angwelethean soldier held at a daunting height above the ground by the principal’s arms.  Despite what had just happened, Trudor remained calm.

“You could have killed me now Omni.  Why didn’t you?”

The principal growled.  “Who is to say I won’t?”

“Me.  I’ll tell you why.  I am well aware that you and your kind can only enter our realm for short periods of time due to a curse… A
cursed placed by Rikard Miljorn.”

At the pronunciation of his name, Omni growled even more fiercely.

“A name you detest I see.  No matter.  If you kill me now, the soldiers are on orders to kill any dragol seen entering our realm from Angweleth and to put up the first line of resistance once…
if
the gauntlet of Feona were ever uncoiled.”

“How have you come about this information?”

“Through my own means.  King Sidion would never entrust me with this himself.  He is a careful man as he should be.  After all, he knows the danger of courting a traitor in his house.”

“My army will overrun Angweleth in as much time as it takes you to breathe.”

“Not if Angweleth is already allied with the other kingdoms.  You need a place to begin your quest against the humans.  Where else would you rather emerge?”

Omni let go of Trudor, who promptly dropped to the ground.  He got to his feet after catching his breath.

“Your usefulness will be no more once the spell is lifted.  You have merely bought yourself some time.  Once Davydd finds the gauntlet and uncoils it, your life is forfeit.”

Trudor laughed out loud.  “You now hope for
Rikard’s son to find the gauntlet?  You do not trust Sidion?”

“I trust no human.”

“Then know this.  As long as a human such as me has the heart of a principal, you will never truly rule Terrianus.  This is a pact we have and you are neither my lord nor master.  In the aftermath of your crusade, I want what Sidion wanted.  To rule alongside the principals and be master of worlds… and I shall have it.”

O
mni glared at Trudor in silence.

“The great Omni the manipulator is at a loss for words.”

“No.  I only look at you in amusement.  Davydd Miljorn started out as a nuisance.  Now five moons later, a brother of mine is dead and he has an army.  He has an army taken from your brothers.  Pray your plans go according to plan human.  Pray you do not blink for if you do, death will be the least of your concerns.”  And with that, Omni was gone from the room, leaving Trudor to contemplate his last words.

Davydd flipped over the blade that threatened to separate his torso from his waist.  He landed on his two feet on the other side, and brought up Balek’s sword to block Lady Lynda’s second swing.  His right hand wielded his standard blade, which he used to parry her left-handed attack.  Before he could react, he felt the force of her kick to his mid-section which sent him flying through the air.  Davydd arched backwards in mid air and plunged his blades into the wooden floor beneath them, stopping his motion and landing on his feet once more.  Lynda was already upon him, but Davydd ripped his swords out of the ground, sending splinters of wood in her direction.  It was only a momentary distraction, but it was enough to allow him arch backwards low enough to avoid the crisscrossing swipe of both her swords in scissor-like fashion.  Using his leg strength, he parried her swords out of the way and made to hop-skip to her side.  However, Lynda was already upon him and he had to side step a downward slash from her right blade.  It shimmered in the darkened room, its bluish light pulsating as it hit the ground.  Davydd swung with his right blade at Lynda’s torso but missed entirely.  She was off the ground and in the air.  She pivoted and spun with her blades extended and spinning with her in a windmill motion.  Davydd kept his eyes focused on her motion and reacted just in time to block one of the blades as it passed through in an arch that would have split his skull vertically in half.  He fell on his back as Lynda came down with both blades pointed at his chest.  Davydd lashed out with his legs and caught her in the mid-section, pushing her up and over him.  She fell on her back as well.  Davydd sprang up to his feet the same time as she did.  They both attacked and defended equally with their dual-wielding techniques.  Davydd twirled his sword in his right hand between attack and defense.  It made a swooshing sound as it spun menacingly in a vertical arching motion beside him.  He attacked Lynda again. 
Clang. 
She had blocked and countered. 
Clang. 
He had done the same. 
Whoosh! Whoosh! 
It was the sound of his swords twirling in between each clash.  However, the twirling wasn’t just an aesthetic habit he’d developed.  If Lynda came close enough, each arbitrary twirl would evolve into a lethal swing and she knew it.  She had fought an all too familiar technique long before.  He was getting faster, stronger each day they dueled and his technique, once rough and unpolished, was now fluid and assured.  Up on the balcony, two men watched the mother and son duel.