Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

“ A nd who the fuck are you?”

Rydon of Decu leaned in close to the thin man who had approached their table. Gabriol, his lieutenant in their former life, sat back, a broad smile on his bearded face. He lifted his tankard and saluted Rydon before taking a long swig.

The thin man in front of Rydon stiffened, but otherwise showed no fear. In a full tavern with so many unaware or preoccupied, it would’ve been a simple thing for Rydon to stab the man and carry him to a far corner with nary a glance from the patrons. Instead, the man turned his head enough Rydon saw the smile on his face. His eyes crinkled, genuinely amused.

“I see I have the right men,” he said, shooting a quick glance back at Gabriol. “If I may buy you both another round, I’d be happy to tell you who the fuck I am.”

Rydon looked across at Gabriol, who shrugged. He bellowed for the barmaid and gestured for more ale. The tired woman acknowledged him with a nod as she wove through the tables away from them. Gabriol kicked the chair next to the thin man with his boot.

“Sit, then, friend. And tell us who you are,” he said, his voice high for a man of his size .

The man—boy, really—inclined his head and put a pale hand to his chest. He had the nerve to wink at Rydon over his shoulder before pulling out the proffered chair and plopping down onto it with a loud sigh.

He slapped his knees. “Well,” he said, with another big huff as he moved his gaze between Rydon and Gabriol. “I have been looking for you two everywhere.”

“And why would you be looking for us?” Rydon growled. He sheathed his dagger and pulled out the seat next to Gabriol, eyes narrowed on the stranger. His clothes were travel worn but of fine material, so he must have some wealth. He had the sharp straight nose and almond-shaped eyes of the Heylisian noblemen from Metilai but carried himself comfortably amongst rougher folk such as were in that tavern. Rydon was certain the boy was anything other than the guileless fool he pretended.

“Before we get to that,” the boy-man said and slapped at his chest with his right hand, inclining his head slightly, “I am Croak. Twenty years as of two moons ago. I live with my sister—well, she lives with me, of course.” With that, he winked again at Rydon.

“What else? Oh! I am recently arrived in Laurica though this is not my first time. I am not originally from Heylisia, but I have sworn fealty to Emperor Solon, of course. I am fond of the carnivals of Paladia in Osta and had hoped they’d catch on here, although that’s not likely because, let’s face it, few dwarves venture east of the Oryon Pass. I break into a disgusting rash if I eat rattleberries and I have had one song written of me after a rather magnificent duel in Ermanel. I believe owing more to the cuckold than sword skill.

“No wait,” here he paused and muttered something to himself, his chin lifted as he squinted at the ceiling, one finger up and tracing something unseen. “Yes!” he shouted with a thump on the table, making Gabriol blink stupidly over at him. “Yes, I recall now. It was my sword skill that was immortalized by the bard, although a sword of a different kind, yeah?” He laughed and then exclaimed as the barmaid appeared with their ale. He held out both arms, offering profuse thanks to the barmaid he knew by name .

When the wench left, the young man lifted his tankard in salute. “And just lately, I am arrived in the lovely town of Laurica once more to hear friends tell of a new king, up in the savage lands of the north, who might be in the market for some hired hands.”

Rydon blinked at the young man, who regarded them both as if they were all old friends.

Gabriol leaned forward, blue eyes flashing. “Croak, is it?” At the young man’s enthusiastic nod, Gabriol pursed his lips. “You talk too much and look too stupid for us to give a shit about what you’ve heard. What we give a shit about is why you are here seeking us out.”

The young man, Croak, shifted his dark brown eyes back and forth between them. “Were you not listening? I just told you!” He took a swig of ale and smacked his lips. “New king, mercenaries.” He motioned with his tankard at both warriors. “I wish to join you, good sirs! To seek my fortune in the north. Hire out my sword, if you will.”

Rydon steepled his hands and stared across at the young man. “And who says we are heading north?”

Croak snorted. He wagged a finger at Rydon. “I am not as stupid as I look, gentlemen. You, for example,” he said, pointing at Gabriol. “Going by your braided fair hair and the tattoos I see peeking through your tunic, I’m guessing, Roison? You’re from Rois, aye? I met a man from Rois once. And you,” he said, turning away from Gabriol’s surprised face to squint at Rydon. He stroked his hairless chin. “Judging by the amount of earrings in your ear and the bones dangling from the leather at your neck, I’d say… Decu?”

Rydon’s eyes widened, shooting a scowl at Gabriol’s laughter.

“How’d I do? Did I guess it?” The young man asked, his face earnest as he looked between the two men.

“I’m Gabriol, and yes, I’m from Rois. This is Rydon of Decu.”

“Ha! Gabriol! Serendipitous! That’s my name!” the young man cried with a grin, pounding his fist on the table.

“I thought you said your name is Croak.” Rydon growled.

He shrugged. “Croak’s how I’m known, but Gabriol is the name my mother gave me. Gods keep her soul safe.”

“How’d you know where we’re from? ”

“I’m good at shit like that. I’m good at a lot of things. And I have many friends who look out for my wellbeing, and part of that wellbeing is my employment status, of which I am, currently, in between jobs.”

Rydon continued to glare at him. Croak shrugged. “I asked around about the new king and was told a couple of mercs were heading north. He’s looking to build an army, aye? Thought I’d join you and make some coin.”

Gabriol laughed. It was a hearty bark of laughter, causing the younger man to startle, but he covered it up with an uncertain chuckle. He raised his tankard once more.

“And what gave you the impression we’d let a weasel such as you join us wherever the fuck we’re going?” Gabriol asked.

Croak shrugged. “I am an adventurer such as yourselves. I wish to see the world. Meet beautiful women. Get blooded in battle, fighting alongside the right and righteous.”

“Are you daft?” Gabriol asked. “Or blind? Have you not seen the Imperial soldiers rounding up men?” He glanced at Rydon with a half smile. “Suppose we hand this one over, boss? Think they’ll give us silver for him?”

Rydon smirked. “I think they’d laugh in our faces if we told them this scarecrow was heading north to fight for the new king.” He leaned across the table, brows furrowed. “If you are sworn to Solon, why would you want to pledge to the northern king?”

Something about this fool was off, and yet he could not put his finger on it. He was most assuredly alone. Anyone calling him a friend would’ve made themselves known by now. The young man neither glanced about nervously for intervention nor seemed to play for time.

“Ha!” Croak snorted. “That man! Do not get me started. I have given him years of my life and he keeps leaching more off me every day.”

Both men looked wide-eyed at the young fool, waiting.

“I am sick of being taken advantage of! I want to work for someone who knows my worth, who values my loyalty as well as my sword arm. He has made a fool of me for the last time! ”

Rydon and Gabriol exchanged a look.

“I am a freeman,” the young man went on, lifting his arms and face to the ceiling. “Well, as free as a man is without employment.”

Gabriol looked over at Rydon. “And what kind of employment would that be? What’s your trade?”

“Much as yourselves, as you see.”

Rydon laughed, his grin stretched wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

He leaned forward so fast the boy startled. Rydon’s grin faded and his eyes narrowed. “We’re mercenaries, fool. And you are not.”

“Ah, but I am indeed! And you will see the truth of my words when we reach the new king.”

“We?”

“Of course! I wish to travel with you. Me and my companion.”

“Companion?”

“Did I not say?” Croak laughed and wiped his mouth. “It is indeed your lucky day, my dear fellows. Along with my brilliant company, you also get the sword of my traveling companion, who is a mercenary, such as yourselves— our selves.”

Rydon frowned, making a show of looking around. “And this friend is where?”

“Oh, she’s on an errand. But we’ll see her at the end of the week. Just in time for us to head north!”

“You’re not going with us,” Rydon said, his face impassive. He motioned for the barmaid and looked back at the young man next to him. “We travel alone. Always have.”

“We can pay our own way, if that’s what troubles you,” the boy replied, leaning forward. “And we can, well, she can—my friend, that is—she can be of much use to you if fighting breaks out. She’s a warrior.”

“I don’t care,” Rydon said, his voice low and menacing, “if she’s Athena reborn. We travel alone.”

“Best you leave, young Croak, ‘fore Rydon makes it difficult for you to leave,” Gabriol said as he stared pointedly at the young man. “And don’t let us catch you hanging about or next time we won’t be as nice. ”

Croak looked from one to the other and shrugged. “No bother, my new friends. No bother at all. I predict the next time fortune smiles on you with my presence, you’ll be the ones seeking me out. My companion’s a tracker.”

He rapped the table with his knuckles and stood so swiftly his chair fell over, knocking into the back of a burly man’s legs. The young man slithered into the crowd, leaving the angry patron to growl at Rydon and Gabriol.

Croak hummed as he sauntered down the stairs and out of the tavern onto the back alley. He winced and put a cuff to his nose, the stench of urine and rotted food overwhelming. He strode away quickly and turned onto a quiet street, away from the town center, winding his way up into the more gentrified area of Laurica.

Despite the hour, Croak saw five Watchmen within a minute. The people in this part of town enjoyed a much more attentive guard than the merchants. Here, there were not only influential citizens to be guarded, but great wealth, or as great a wealth as those living in central Laurica could claim.

Croak walked as if he belonged, nodding to a Watchman he passed.

The crown jewel of this district was the Temple of Sassia, who, like many of her generation, was martyred by a god during the Immortals War, but not before she saved a dozen children from the fiery rage of the gods by squirreling them away in the basement of an alehouse. Sassia’s temple stood over that blessed tavern.

Boasting two large oak doors with intricate scrollwork and polished brass handles the length of a man’s legs, the temple itself was only two stories, modest by temple standards today. Still, it had the beautiful detailing and gilded buttresses the modern temples adopted. The white marble was greyed in some areas but had none of the mildewed crevices Croak had seen in the capital. Here, Sassia enjoyed a humble but clean and expensive home, owing to her patrons’ attentiveness and the priests’ avarice.

Croak pulled on one of the door handles as the skies opened up. The door swung open easily with only a slight whoosh as if Sassia herself had let out a sigh of expectation.

Croak swallowed.

The interior was a dance of shadows, the dim illumination coming from the tiny candles lit throughout the chapel. There were no pews here, only the marble floor reflecting the shadows and light so it seemed the surface of water.

The illusion carried the eye toward the altar, where a large marble slab lay beneath the life-sized statue of Sassia. Behind the statue, large domed windows depicted Sassia in stained glass going about her many kind deeds.

Croak stepped slowly toward the statue of the heroine and removed his sword belt, letting it drop to the ground at his side with a clatter.

“You are lucky she did not strike you down as soon as you entered!”

Croak jumped a foot. He clutched his chest and let out an unmanly squeak as his eyes searched out the body that went with the voice.

At last, a chuckle sounded to his left, and he frowned, seeing the man come out of the shadows. “You are a toad,” Croak said at last.

Ormano Parador, a cleric under the High Cleric Christos of Metilai, grinned like a buffoon. He stopped close enough Croak could have wrung his neck if he’d wanted. Instead, he slapped his friend on the arm and frowned.

Ormano grabbed at his arm as if wounded, then laughed again and wrapped his plump arms around Croak. “Wait,” Orry said as he pulled back, his nose wrinkled. “Did you shit yourself?”

Croak shoved away as his friend laughed. “I could’ve killed you, you know.”

Ormano guffawed and jumped back a step as Croak made to hit him again. “With what? You’re unarmed.”

“I am not without resources, as you well know,” he grumbled. He snatched the lapels of his jacket and yanked them down to right himself.

Orry’s smile did not waver. “Aye, true, but she’s not here, is she? Your ‘resources’?”

“Oh, you are hilarious.”

“And right, as always,” Ormano said. “So? What are you doing here? Not a place I’d ever thought to find you.”

“I’m looking for you, you idiot,” Croak said.

Ormano lifted an eyebrow. “How’d you know I’d be here? You know what? Doesn’t matter.” He punched Croak lightly in the arm. “I missed you. Where’s Terena?”

“Off to Metilai,” Croak said and crossed his arms. “Left me here on an important fact-finding mission.”

“Busy work to keep you out of trouble, you mean?”

“Leave off,” Croak grunted. He strode toward the ledge of the sanctuary and sat on the first step. “The better question, and the one I’ve come up here for, is, what are you doing here?”

“I was volunteered. By Christos,” Orry said with a shrug. “Came with General Peleon. I was looking for your sister, actually, and hoped I’d find her here. In Laurica, I mean.” He gave Croak a smirk and took a seat beside him.

“Your intent was correct, but your timing is abysmal, as usual. She’s already set off. Left me behind to deal with some ruffians.”

“Gather gossip, more like,” Ormano smiled. “So she’s gone, truly? Well. I can’t go back yet. I’m to wait for Prince Lerek and his convoy to arrive, and then we travel north together.”

“North?” Croak said, instantly alert. “Well, that’s a weird coincidence.”

“Why?”

“Terena’s coming back; end of the week. We’re to accompany a couple of mercs north to find work under the new king’s banner.”

“Coincidences abound, my friend. We are to the new king as well. Ours is a diplomatic mission.”

Croak crossed his arms at his chest and lifted his chin. “So then, why are you all here ahead of Lerek? ”

Ormano pulled a face. “Imagine it’s to thin some of the herd, as it were. Too many folk in Laurica now. Can’t have the prince and his retinue ride through with so many risks present. Too much of a tactical headache. We brought the horses and provisions, too, as they’ll be taking the ferry from Gall. Emperor wants as few people to know about the convoy as possible.”

“They would’ve found out, regardless.”

“Aye. Maybe. But hopefully not until after we’ve gone.”

“And why are you going? You hate travel and you hate the cold.”

“All truths. I’m going for the same reason I’m looking for your sister. And the same reason I suspect she herself wishes to head north.”

“She’s curious to see what the king wants with trackers, is all.”

“He’s interested in trackers, huh? That may be what the king wants, but you know your sister better than that,” Orry chided softly.

Croak was silent.

“It’s there, Croak,” Orry said as he leaned closer. “It has to be. And with the new king’s appearance, it all but confirms?—”

“It’s bullshit.”

“No,” his friend said as he grabbed Croak’s wrist. “No, Croak, it’s not bullshit. It has to be where we find the portal. Terena always thought it’d be in the north. And she is right. The veil to the Olympians is?—”

“A myth! The gods were killed in the Immortals War! There are no gods left!”

Orry swore and pursed his lips. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Croak hung his head and stared at his boots. “I know.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

Croak snapped his eyes to his friend in disbelief. “You have to ask?”

“Croak—”

“They will kill her if they find out,” Croak hissed, leaning close enough to see the gold flecks in Orry’s brown eyes.

“Not if we find the portal. ”

“And you think this new king will help her do that?”

“It can’t be coincidence, Croak. Everything that’s happening?”

“Why now, though?” Croak asked himself out loud.

“What does Ren think?”

Croak pulled a face. “I know you know what she thinks. You two are thick as thieves every time we see you. I’m with her when she writes to you and I’m the one she has run to the Sergeant in every town to send off notes to you on every trinket we find. I sent one off before we left Aurora, so I’m assuming that’s how you knew we’d be here.”

He leaned in and narrowed his eyes, pointing his finger at Orry. “What I want to know is, what does,” he waved his hand and blew lip bubbles, “a thousand year old mystery have to do with my sister’s real parents?”

Orry wiped at his nose. “We’ve always been told the mortals killed the gods. But what if they didn’t? What if they banished them instead, to another realm? A realm that can only be accessed using the Shroud of Faybhen?”

“Why would anyone have lied about that?”

Orry looked at him as if he was dense. “Why else? If anyone knew the truth, what’s to stop someone from bringing them back? Can you imagine having the Olympians reign over mortals once more? I can think of at least one person who would not like that idea much.”

Croak snorted. It had been a millennium since the Immortals War and in the centuries that passed, much had changed in the region, with power over most of it in the hands of Emperor Solon and the Heylisian Empire.

“I’ve found some interesting texts in the archives,” Orry went on, his brown eyes thoughtful. “It seems many were not in favor of outright killing the gods. They feared angering the Titans. I found a journal at the monastery in Mount Athos detailing a meeting between King Justinian and Hekate. She proposed banishing the Olympians into another realm using a portal only she could create. And so Justinian agreed, but had history changed to say the Immortals were killed and that’s what’s been passed down through the ages. ”

“Ah ha!” Croak slapped Orry’s knee. “So how do you know the book you read is the truth?”

Orry smiled in that pompous way that grated on Croak’s nerves. “Because a priestess devoted to Hekate, who was present when the bargain was made, wrote the journal.”

“Great. And you just found it, huh?”

Orry shrugged. “Only found it through one of Terena’s visions. Someone definitely didn’t want this particular bit of dirty laundry found.”

“Speaking of dirty laundry,” Croak said and dug inside his jerkin to pull out the oilcloth covered bundle Terena had given him. “Terena said to give you this.”

Orry took the bundle and unraveled it, only to gasp and cover it back up quickly.

“This is the shroud!”

“Aye.”

“Why is she giving it to me?”

Croak’s brows furrowed. “I thought you’d know.”

Orry shook his head. “Your sister’s note said she’d found something in Agraboda. I didn’t realize it was the shroud. Did she find anything else?”

“Some writing I didn’t understand. In the chamber I found where the shroud was hidden.”

“ You found?” Orry asked with a wink.

“Yes, man , I found it! Did she mention in the note she sent we were attacked by Magi?”

“What?” Orry exclaimed and leaned back. “No, she didn’t! Did you not read the note you sent me?”

Croak shrugged. “I never read the notes.”

Orry ran a hand over his face. “Magi. Incredible.” He shook his head. “What were they like?”

Croak looked at him sideways. “Fucking terrifying. Everything turned black. It was like fighting in a void. Which is something else you should ask Terena about. They came out of nowhere, screaming and brandishing scimitars. Oh! I took one; I’ll show you, but I left it back at Benson’s. Thought it might attract some unwanted attention.”

“Well, at least now we can all go north together!” Orry said happily.

Croak rose with a loud groan. “Fantastic,” he said, grabbing his sword belt and fastening it.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Going to get a drink, Orry. Want to come?”

“I can’t,” Orry grumbled. “Peleon wants me to stay close to the bathhouse. He only let me out because I was coming here.”

“Fine. I’m off, then.”

“Well, where are you staying? Where shall I find you?”

“Find me at the inn on Pitts Lane. Or leave word with the blacksmith.”

“This is exciting, isn’t it?”

“Thrill of a lifetime,” Croak called out as he held up his hand, giving Orry his middle finger.