what he intended, the horse under him turned and lurched forward after the fleeing zard. Lord Gregory knew that, if they let it get away, a hundred more would be on their trail. There was no telling what sort of system the skeeks used to deliver messages, but all it would take was a single bird to Southport and half of Queen Shaella’s army would be looking for them. He gained on the fleeing creature, but had to rein his horse toward the side of the road to avoid a whizzing crossbow bolt. After it loosed at Lord Gregory, the zard-man tore off into the forest. Lord Gregory drove his mount headlong into the trees after it. He ducked and twisted in the saddle, narrowly missing a low hanging branch and took a whipping snap across his face from a smaller limb, but he didn’t slow his pursuit. His horse leapt a chunk of dead fall then darted around a gnarled old stump. Just as he caught up to the zard, it looked back with fear showing in its black eyes. Lord Gregory’s horse stepped on the zard’s tail just as the Lion Lord’s blade swept down. The result was the lower half of the zard-man being trampled under the horse while the upper half rolled away into a tree trunk where it smashed to a halt with a wet crunch.
Lord Gregory trotted back out onto the road rubbing the welt on his face. He was bloody from the branches he’d ridden through, but he didn’t care. He was hefting the familiar weight of his father’s blade in his hand and feeling more hope than he had in ages. Lady Trella had escaped the invasion of Westland with little Zasha, and Mikahl had found him and returned his treasured heirloom. The Lion Lord of Westland couldn’t help but let out a roar. To his delight, his primal call was answered by the roar of another young lion. Mikahl was feeling it too.
The Highwander soldier who had lost his arm was so near to death that Maxrell Tyne pushed his blade quickly into the man’s throat and walked away. The man had been semi-conscious at best, and they were in no position to give proper aid. Mikahl saw the deed and swallowed his anger. Tyne had done what he couldn’t have, and it was probably for the best. They pulled the barbed bolt from Grommen’s shoulder and patched the wound as best as they could, then the five of them rolled the big geka carcasses to the forest’s edge and dragged them out of sight. It wasn’t easy. They were as big as three horses each, but it had to be done. After that they dragged the rest of the dead into the forest too. This part of the road wasn’t heavily traveled, but all it would take was one passerby to raise an alarm they couldn’t outrun.
As soon as the road was cleared they started back toward Midway. The first ship out of Westland might get them out before queen Shaella learned of the mess Lord Gregory had left back at Lake Bottom Stronghold, but if they lingered they were done. There was no time for reminiscing. In spite of everything Mikahl wanted to say to his one-time lord and mentor, he held his tongue. Lord Gregory did the same. There was plenty he wanted to learn about the state of affairs abroad. Neither could suppress the joy of being reunited, though, especially since the last time Mikahl had seen Lord Gregory, the man had been one heartbeat away from death, and Mikahl had been nothing more than a frightened squire.
Lord Gregory, before Queen Shaella’s invasion, had been the liege lord over most of Southeast Westland. With his hood down he might be recognized in Midway, but in his defiant mood he didn’t care. The people of Westland had always loved him and he knew they wouldn’t betray him to the zard. He hoped to use his status to get a fishing captain or a small cargo ship to sail them away from Westland as quickly as possible. They could easily find a ship if they rode through Midway and continued on to Southport, but the extra day on the road would put the group, and more importantly High King Mikahl, at great risk. Lord Gregory had taken the knee before Mikahl just before the hellcat had attacked them in the Giant Mountains. He had known all along that Mikahl was King Balton’s intended heir. His duty to protect his king overrode all other thoughts in his mind, save for those of getting to his lady wife.
He told Mikahl his thoughts as they galloped into the outskirts of Midway. Neither of the two sell-swords, nor the Highwander soldier could offer a better plan, so Mikahl agreed.
The people of Midway were wary of the travelers. The road suddenly cleared as the bloodied group came passing through. Lord Gregory and Mikahl both looked on in sorrow at the emptiness and gloom that hung over the once lively town. The people were still there, they were just hiding. The smell of cook fires was in the air. The fall of peaked curtains was seen as they made their way toward the wharf. Fresh laundry hung in the late morning sun and a few older men labored away with their heads down and eyes averted.
“Look,” Mikahl pointed down the way toward the dock as it came into view. Only one ship was tied to the moorings. It was a large two-masted vessel with a double row of oar portals along its side. It was a slave-powered galley, and Lord Gregory’s heart sank when he noticed the banner flapping lazily from its mast: the trident of Dakahn.
Just then the door of the tavern beside them burst open, and a young, shabbily dressed woman hurried away with tears in her eyes. A drunken man stumbled out after her. Gregory put a restraining hand on Mikahl when he started to intervene. The man was wearing fairly new studded leather armor, and the fancy hilted sword strapped to his belt spoke of either authority or experience. He paused when he noticed them looking down at him from their horses. He half growled, half laughed then stepped back into the doorway.
“Captain Konrath, we’ve got company,” he said with a heavy Dakaneese accent.
Maxrell Tyne eased his horse up between Mikahl and Lord Gregory. “Pirates,” he said under his breath. “Follow my lead.”
Under normal circumstances Captain Konrath would have ignored the men outside. They posed no threat to him. He had eight men on the ship watching over his supplies and the slave rowers, and six more men were not too far away enjoying the hospitality of the Midway tavern girls. These waters had been picked clean, had been for a time. He was of a mind to hire out to Ra’Gren, and a few more men behind him would increase his leverage. Looking through the tavern door, he could tell that the men outside were armed. A half dozen ways to either hire them, or cheat them of their belongings, passed through his head.
He gave a nod, and a pair of his unoccupied men followed him out. Like the Captain, they were well armored and carried quality steel. The Captain though, standing well over six feet, with legs as big as tree trunks, and a leather mask plate that covered one of his eyes, was by far the most imposing of the three. When he stepped out of the doorway and the morning sun caught his grisled visage, even the horses backed away. There was a hole in the mask to accommodate the covered eye. The white of that orb seemed far larger than normal, like there was no skin around the socket. It was unnerving to look upon.
“Seeking work maybe?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“What sort of work?” Maxrell returned. His Dakaneese accent was as pronounced as the pirate’s.
“Ra’Gren’s hiring all the swords he can gather,” the pirate captain said, putting as much promise as he could into his voice. “Could be steady through the summer they say. It seems that King Jarrek and that so-called High King have been causing the old bastard some trouble along the Valleyan border. Killed a handfull of overlords and cut loose their slaves.”
“Guarding land borders then?” Tyne asked with distaste showing plainly on his face.
“Some of it,” the Captain took a pull from the bottle in his hand. “But from what I hear, he’s gonna try and take all of Wildermont while it sits near to empty.” The man leaned in and lowered his voice, his one brow narrowing conspiratorially. “My man said there be plenty of valuables to pick through. Slave whores aplenty too. That fool Glendar left behind as much as he stole. And those that stay around and fight for Ra’Gren are ’sposed to get a bit of Wildermont land as payment for the service.”
“I’ll fight for gold,” Tyne responded with a smirk. “I got no need for land or trinkets. Besides, we have business on Salazar. Might be we could find you when we’re through.” He paused for effect, and gave Mikahl and Lord Gregory a knowing glance. “If we still need any coin then.”
At the sound of the word ’coin’ Captain Konrath pricked his ears up, wondering what sort of business these men had in Salazar that might afford them the luxury of turning down months of good paying work. Salazar wasn’t even out of his way. Maybe a day, but he could provision his ship there instead of in Southport and save a handful of coin by avoiding the Dragon Bitch’s tariffs. Even if these men didn’t sign on with him, he could fatten his purse and save some expense by taking them to Salazar on his way back to Dakahn.
“Salazar is where you’re headed then?” the pirate gave a gap-toothed grin that combined with his menacing face plate to make him look utterly insane. “If you’ve a few coins for passage, the Shark Tooth ’s your ship, and I’m your captain.”
“If you can pull anchor right now, I’ll fill your fist with coin,” Tyne jingled his belt pouch and glanced at the two zard-men sitting just inside the tavern’s doorway.
