Chapter One ~ Miscalculations
Riri Gast maneuvered her gilded war chariot behind a rise representing the natural border separating the cities of Asnium from the Libaias Empire. Her trio of horses, seeming to sense their master's apprehension, whined soft neighs while excavating the ground with steel shoes. She reassured the animals with an expert twist of leather reigns. A clean-shaven spearman sharing the chariot nodded in approval as the morning sun glistened off his baldhead. A scruffy archer, his pale skin a stark contrast with the spearman's ebony hue, flanking her right grunted a confirmation while unbuckling a simple leather cuirass. Riri pocketed the respectful gestures as a sign that the men would follow any competent leader, regardless of gender, regardless of deformity.
Captain Gast sensed a palatable tension while surveying her company of war chariots. She shared their trepidation as they changed into soiled cotton robes, obeying their benefactor's need for stealth. A miscalculation meant war against the fabled One Hundred Legions. Three thousand mercenaries stood little chance against one hundred thousand infantrymen.
The sound of approaching footsteps and foreign words caught Riri's attention. In the distance, a procession of hideous ogres, two thousand strong, marched toward the impromptu camp. Riri swallowed rising bile as the dread of the undisciplined hordes accompanying the Black Knight proved far more palatable than the imaginary threat of facing the One Hundred Legions. Suppressing memories of their weeklong march proved difficult, as scenes of ogres devouring captured enemy scouts arose unbidden. She did not begrudge the death of Asnium's enemies encroaching upon their lands, only the manner of it.
The monsters seemed to possess an unexplainable level of fear, respect, even love for the human leading the march. Riri admired his tirelessness. He favored marching with the horde, disdaining the horse she offered, and remained always armored in the dark mantle and chain skirt touching the tops of ebony boots.
The beasts stopped short of her camp, as always, but a dark silhouette crossed the invisible threshold, making its way toward her. Men paused in their work, offered bowed heads or salutes in its wake. The camaraderie never extended to physical displays of respect. Some shied away as he passed.
The shadow coalesced into the almond skinned stranger from unknown lands. His strange jewelry shimmered with each step. A sheathed long sword of unremarkable caliber swung from his left hip. In the right hand, he carried a pile of black and white blankets. The young man smiled, displaying gleaming ivory teeth while passing the ebony rags to her. "Put these on, Captain."
She frowned at the garment. Only Libaian slaves wore black. In anger, she threw the robe to the ground. "I am no one's slave." The din of human activity ceased. Riri noted her tone, the boldness of her actions, and gasped. "My Lord Bellemarr, I apologize." She lowered her eyes and prayed to the Secret Gods for Bellemarr to view her meekness as adequate.
The Black Knight said nothing as he retrieved the garment, shaking the dust and flecks of morning dew from it. "I understand, Captain. But you will have to trust me. A slave is invisible and can do things a normal citizen cannot." He unfurled an ivory gown decorated with crimson scrollwork along the sleeves and pulled it over his armor. "Stealth, my friend, is paramount." He walked off, toward the border city of Celecot. Riri rushed to follow while donning the thick robes.
The coarse linen itched and trapped unbearable amounts of heat. Lord Bellemarr nodded at her approach. "Good, you understand. Now heed these words. Stay behind me, always to the left and two paces behind. Keep your head down. Do not look left or right when Libaians can see you. And above all, do not speak."
They traversed the stone road, its straight paths and precise crossroads indicative of the unimaginative Libaian engineering. Riri could not help but regard the stark contrast of Celecot and the haphazard livestock trails that birthed the free cities of Asnium.
The Black Knight turned down a crowded street lined with Libaians of all castes. Disreputable looking vendors pandered questionable meats, tools, and wooden utensils from rickety carts, shouting over each other for custom. Wealthier merchants worked within stone buildings. A young seamstress dressed an ivory mannequin in linen. A fat grocer displayed slices of salted pork at his shop window. In the distance, heavy strokes from a blacksmith's hammer reverberated throughout the community.
Bellemarr approached a slender spice merchant adorned in a short-sleeved azure robe. He removed a rolled parchment from his robes. Riri noted the wax seal, a crimson eagle in flight, as the document changed hands. The men exchanged whispers in a foreign tongue, Bellemarr soft and calm, the proprietor excited and anxious. Coins exchanged hands before her master departed. He visited a wood worker, the blacksmith, and the grocer before leaving the merchant quarter. Each meeting ended with the turning over of a sealed message and gold.
They returned to the main road and headed east. Riri followed the Black Knight's instructions until he halted. She spared a glance from the stone road. A spiraling tower of brick and mortar commanded the roadside. Five legionaries, garbed in leather died with oxblood, formed a lazy guard around the entrance. Riri uttered a sigh of despair as Bellemarr led them into the lion's den.
A brute of man, large enough to look an ogre in the eye, peered down at Bellemarr, barking orders in the language of her enemy. Four hard-eyed men flanked the leader. Bellemarr smiled, displaying another sealed notice. The guard's tone seemed to shift, his baritone voice bordering on respect. More coins exchanged hands and a wall of crimson parted, allowing access to the tower. To Riri the men paid no notice, except the last, a wiry thing with stubble across a long chin groped her as she passed. Riri almost paused- almost.
They entered the cramped quarters. A small wooden desk, littered with documents, some opened some sealed, filled half of the first floor. An old man stood behind it, peering at a sealed parchment with a magnifying lens. A penknife shook in his other hand. The blade touched paper. Bellemarr coughed. The courier sliced the seal clean off and sheared the paper in two.
A face full of fury greeted them as Bellemarr took the room's lone chair uninvited. Bellemarr leaned forward. A menacing scowl marred his chiseled features. He challenged the old man in low tones, speaking the incomprehensible tongue of the Libaians. The elder's bluster deflated under the Black Knight's ire. The young lord stood, embraced the shamefaced administrator, and gestured in Riri's direction.
Keep your head down! The orders shouted in her mind as the gaunt Libaian ogled her. The old man took a cautions step, casting wary glances at Bellemarr. The Black Knight gave him a somber nod before climbing the winding stairs lining the tower.
Riri battled the revulsion she felt as knuckled, bone-thin hands pulled the cowl from her head. With bowed head, ebony hair filled her peripheral. A withered hand cupped her chin, forcing her to stare up into raven eyes. The lust behind the dark pools proved unmistakable.
The sound of birds screeching from above interrupted them. As he looked upward, the senior's eyes widened, as if trying to peer through the masonry. A second caw, pitiful and dying, spurred him into action. He attempted to clench Riri's missing limb, hidden beneath the disguise, and sneered once he realized the deformity. Clutching her forearm instead, he pulled the warrior upstairs with him. She struggled, contemplated killing the Libaian for a moment, before remembering earlier instructions.
A lone door greeted them at the top of the steps. The courier tried the handle, failed, and pounded on the wooden door. Spittle flew from thin lips as he shouted. Another screech answered the tirade. Hysterical, he turned toward Riri, drawing the penknife from his robes.
Riri backed away, imitating fear, praying to the Secret Gods for the strength to kill the fool. He raised the knife high. The door opened behind him, a gauntleted hand gripped his wrist and squeezed. The letter opener clanged to the stone floor as the Libaian howled in pain.
Shouts from afar and the loud bashing of fist of wood, echoed up the stairs. The Libaian shouted through the pain, leaning over the steps.
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br /> Bellemarr spared her a glance, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I had hoped for more time. But I miscalculated in using you for this ruse."
Riri pulled the garment from her body, using teeth and hand, exposing the leather mantle beneath. "You told me nothing of your ruse! What would you have me do?" She took a cautionary step back at Bellemarr's glower, the fear unfeigned this time.
The Black Knight released the prisoner and the whimpering fool collapsed, clutching his injured appendage like a lost child. Bellemarr disrobed, exposing the charcoal armor beneath, unsheathing his longsword while descending the winding staircase. "Do you think you can tie him up without botching things?"
She regarded him with silent incredulousness. Bellemarr halted, looking over his shoulder. "He is a loyal servant, not a combatant. We only kill when we must." He took another step before pausing once more, facing her, eyes filled with a mysterious wisdom belying his youth. "It's what makes us different from those you would call monster."
Shame coursed through her being as Riri nodded at his back. She began cutting the slave's linen into thin strips with the penknife. The nameless prisoner tested her, attempting to bull over the charioteer with his shoulder. Riri laughed at the masculine underestimation while driving a knee to his groin. Unperturbed, she bound hands and feet. The sudden clash of steel below turned her focus.
Five against one! Instinct took over as the captain abandoned the trial of tying up the resistant prisoner with one hand. She stretched for the small knife and drove it into the senior's heart, staining her hand crimson. She left him wallowing in his own lifeblood and sped toward the sounds of battle.
Bursting through the door, Riri beheld the impossible. Bellemarr held off five legionaries, their short gladius favored by the empire proving useless against his speed and the reach of his blade. None possessed a shield save one, the overlarge brute leading the charge.
Bellemarr gave her a cursory glance as the skinny soldier who fondled her missed his thrust, receiving a nick across the wrist for his efforts. "Did you take care of the messenger?"
"Yes."
The swordsman danced amongst the Libaians, his weapon a blur of parries and feints. "Go to the camp! Surround the city!"
Riri rushed to relay the order. A keg shaped legionnaire broke from the melee to intercept her. Bellemarr sliced his thigh as a parting gift, the blade sinking deep, and received a thrust to his unprotected flank from a longhaired youth.
Riri wanted to fight, relished in another opportunity to prove the doubters of her beleaguered past wrong. Yet the Black Knight ordered her to surround the city, so she ran- until a scream halted her. She faced the battle as bystanders ringed the combatants.
Bellemarr backpedaled over longhair as the boy screamed in agony. He struck a bearded fighter to his right in the face, parried an overhead strike from the groper to his left, and winced as the pervert used superior strength to drive the Black Knight backward. Steel rang against steel. Bellemarr received a slice above his eye from the giant and a precise thrust to his right calf from the keg-bodied one replacing a dying beard-face. Three stood against one.
Captivated by the bravery, Riri watched the knight, her knight, fight like the heroes of legend. She joined a ragged cheer from the audience as her champion impaled the groper upon his sword, screamed as giant's gladius bit into his forearm. Bellemarr retreated from the assault, leaving his weapon inside groper's chest. Reality overtook the euphoria blotting Riri reasoning as she realized that legendary heroes never took wounds. Bellemarr wailed in pain and backpedaled from the circling thugs. The storybook heroes never screamed in pain either. Two stood against one.
Weaponless, with wounds across face, leg, and arm, Bellemarr rushed the fat one and wrestled him to the ground. The men rolled around in a frenzy of curses and punches. Giant stalked the pile, short sword ready to plunge. Riri wasted little time as the brawl's rotation exposed the large one's back. She sprinted to the dead boy and retrieved his weapon. Fearless, the Asnium charged the Libaian. Shouts from the crowd threatened to expose the plan, but the large one remained focus on his task.
Bellemarr surfaced atop the rotund one. The giant shouted in triumph while thrusting his gladius downward. The Black Knight scampered away and the blade disappeared into keg-body's chest.
She stabbed the aggressor in the back as he tried to unsheathe his weapon from his colleague's gut. Not waiting for the body to drop, she rushed to the Black Knight, bleeding and broken. Riri helped him stand, placing his good arm around her shoulders.
He coughed, shaking his head as she pulled him into the tower, not trusting the intentions of the mob around them. "I told you to surround the city."
Riri slammed the door, tossed the ungrateful lord into the stone chair, and barred the door with the oak table. Secure for the moment, she faced the Black Knight. "If not for me, you'd be dead." She knelt in front of him and pulled the chain dress up, inspecting his wound.
"There is no need."
Ignoring him, Riri inspected the thigh, pushing, probing, kneading, and searching. Confused, she brushed away dried blood, and found unmarred skin.
A soft hand pushed hers away. "I told you there was no need."
Are the rumors true? Awed and frightened, she looked up into his chocolate eyes. "What are you?"
His eyes, dark pools hidden behind a tight curtain regarded her with suspicion. "A man, nothing more, nothing less." Outside, a crow cawed. Bellemarr's eyes grew wide. "I had no time to kill the last bird. Did you restrain the messenger?"
Riri tilted her head to the side, baffled by the query. "There was no time. I killed him." His nostrils flared at the answer. Injuries forgotten, or vanished, the Black Knight rose and took the steps three at a time. Riri followed, puzzled by the mystery.
A door stood ajar, displaying the trail of blood and fowl corpses within. The courier lay amongst blood soaked parchments, clutching a crimson quill in his death pose.
Bellemarr rounded on her, his expression furious. Although of a similar height, Riri felt small, insufficient, and shied from under the dreaded gaze. "Lord Bellemarr, what- what-"
"Your incompetence has wasted our time here. You had one job, one job! And you allowed this- this buffoon to best you!"
Her eyes watered and Riri prayed to the Secret Gods to steel her against the pain. He would not see her cry- he would not! "I don't understand. I had to save you. Surely you can see that."
Bellemarr sighed, a weary sigh. His shoulders slouched, as if the carrying the world. The Black Knight looked less a hero, and more the longhaired youth dead in the yard. He turned away, gazing out the window as the sun began its descent. "You were- compelled to disobey. It is a game as old as time. One you don't comprehend. I understand and forgive you." He faced her, demeanor calm, features icy. "Next time you feel compelled to countermand my orders, ignore it. If I tell you that a flea can pull a chariot, don't fight against it, simply believe in me and hitch the flea."
Bone deep shame flooded her being as the forgiveness hurt more than anger ever could. "I shall announce the retreat."
Bellemarr grunted in humor. "My ogres have instructions to sack the city should we fail to return by sunset. I have come too far to stop. Nothing will dissuade me from this course. But know these two facts. Every death here is on your head and when the legions march against us, it will be your fault."