Mercenary War - Book 2

Chapter 1

         “Please! Spare me!” The elven boy cried out in desperation as the mercenary gagged him and hauled him away from the temple priest. Ignoring the screams of the slaves he had sold to the fortress, Weknon greedily counted the money in his hand. This business was lucrative, against his pledge as a priest, but so was rape. One can only obey so many rules, he thought to himself, walking back to his office with a merciless smile.

         The mercenaries had tied the eight boys behind the horses and restocked their supplies before taking their leave of the city. The less people saw of them, the better. Rumors only made their assignment more difficult to complete. Complications never ended well, especially when it came to their contract holders. Giatro thought back to Orin. The pitiful steward earned his end. He had been ripping off the mercenaries for years. A few gold coins here, a few goods there, a few coins of higher tax over there. It had been two years since the taking of Kezna by Fallon and the princess. Giatro spat in the dirt at the thought of that despicable rogue sitting on a jeweled throne in a castle surrounded by servants, getting fat and lazy just as Orin had. He cursed aloud as he passed through the gate, causing the gate guards to look up curiously. Quickly, he dropped his hooded face and pretended to have tangled his reins to hide that he was a mercenary. Despite the high amount of money given to the temple by the fortress, very few people knew of the corruption behind the scenes and wholeheartedly believed in the sacredness of the priests and their practices. The mercenaries and those that worked inside the sacred building knew otherwise, though. It was not that none of them believed in Misheth. It was just that the limited number of people felt that their work put them above the law of the temple and its god because of the result or their positions. The priests served consistently and therefore were subject to less strict requirements of obedience to their deity, while the mercenaries gave great amounts to the temple that continued to provide the priests and the temple with everything needed to endlessly buy and trade slaves and goods from the surrounding cities and nations.

         A rope tugged at Giatro’s saddle and pulled him from his thoughts about one hundred meters past the gate. He pulled his mount to a stop and turned around. One of the elven boys had tripped and fallen and was struggling back to his feet, his hands bound behind him. The man let out a sharp whistle and held up a hand, halting the small group as he gave the boy a moment to right himself before he dismounted and did it for him. It was not that he didn’t want to bother the young elf. Quite the opposite actually. He was just too comfortable to get down from the saddle at the moment. In a panic, the boy recovered himself and glanced up in terror, awaiting the consequence of bringing the entire group to a stop. Giatro glared at him in annoyance, but signaled for the others to continue on as he kicked his horse. This was going to be a long trip back.

         The sun poured through the large windows in the throne room, giving the king something to stare at while ignoring the updates that afternoon. He could see the dust particles floating through the beams of light, like miniature wraiths rising into the air. His mind wandered to the upcoming festival he would be hosting in the city as well as his training later that day. The king subconsciously flexed his left hand on the armrest of his throne.

         “My lord?” A pause. “Your highness?” Fallon turned his attention back to the man kneeling before him. He had absolutely no idea what this man had been saying.

         “My apologies. Can you repeat that?” One glance at his wife and he knew that was the wrong thing to say.

         Calya cut in quickly. “Go and tell your family to move closer to the walls. We will provide farmland and send workers to help clear the unworked ground immediately.” The queen stared at her husband as the man bowed his head lower before standing and hurrying off, his furtive thanks still proceeding from his lips.

         “What?” Fallon looked bored and annoyed.

         His wife simply stared at him in frustration. “Have you no shame, my lord? Do you really find your position so tiresome that you have lost the consideration for those who live under you?” She rose from her seat and lifted their infant son from his cradle.

         “Cal, you know I care for our people. But the sitting and listening and delegating day in and day out… It’s exhausting.” He threw up his hands, exasperated as he walked beside her.

         She turned to an old man standing in the doorway to a long hallway. “Cornelius, please continue with the people. My husband is tired.”

         In anger, Fallon grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her to face him. “Do you mock me so easily, my lady?”

         “Never. I simply repeated what you told me.” Calya gave the still sleeping child to a maid and went to the kitchen. “Can someone make me a cup of tea?” Every servant turned to her and bowed, scrambling to be the first to start the task.

         “How can you act as if you do not degrade me in front of others?” Fallon’s eyes swirled from orange to red and back again as he stared at his wife in anger.

         “How long do you expect me to come up with excuses, Fallon? How long do you expect me to make up a reason why you are not present when your people come to ask for your favor, assistance or protection? You are a king, this is your duty to the people you chose to serve!” She had raised her voice to just shy of yelling. A few servants turned to look at the two, surprised. Others simply scurried away in awkward forced ignorance. The king and queen’s arguments had become more often and more volatile. They had even seen the guards rushing to their bedchambers.

         “Then maybe I should not have become king,” the man said through gritted teeth as he spun on his heel and walked away.

         Frozen in shock, Calya stood, watching his orange cape wave behind him as he retreated from her and down the hall. Blinking a few times, she regained her composure and hastened after him. “Fallon!” she hollered at his back, but he did not stop. She ground her teeth and, picking up her skirt, ran to catch him. “Fallon, do not walk away from me!”

         The king spun in frustration and pushed her against the wall, holding her hands against the stone above her head. Uncertainty mixed with defiance and swirled in her bright eyes. “What do you want from me?” he asked, sounding as if he was in turmoil.

         “I want an answer. Why did you even want to become king?” She almost regretted the question the moment it left her lips.

         “What else was I supposed to do, Cal? How could I have stood by to watch you find a husband? You could not marry me unless king was the position I would have.”

         “Well, I’m sorry you regret your decision so much,” she spat out at him, enraged and hurt. Pulling herself free, she pushed past him and walked elegantly down the hall to see their child who had just begun to fuss.

         Fallon fumed and stalked away, down a series of halls and out a door, heading to the armory. Gammir stood at the entrance and stepped aside to avoid a collision. It was obvious that the king was in a mood and it would be wise to not get in the way. “Gammir!” Fallon bellowed.

         The guard fell into step beside him, “Yes, my lord.”

         “Call my hunters to me now.” The king’s face was full of rage and his veins bulged as he tried to contain his aggression.

         “Yes, your highness. Right away.” He ran to complete the task and had rallied the king’s personal guard within minutes.

         Fallon was going to pound them all into the dirt to vent his self-abhorrence. They walked into the training area to see their king swinging his sword around in one hand. Instantly they knew he was here to vent and they were in for a painful and harrowing training session. The lord paced around the training ring in challenge and his soldiers knew he was waiting for one of them to accept.

         Ventris, the youngest of the group and the only full blooded elf, was the first to unsheath his double blades and enter the circle. He walked slowly toward his king, waiting for the attack with every step. Still Fallon stalked around the ring. Then he moved, almost faster than anyone could see, but Ventris was prepared. His bloodline gave him a great advantage in battle and he was one of the few that came anywhere near to rivaling the king. Ventris murmured under his breath and disappeared from sight. Yet even hidden from view, the lord’s blades clashed with his, almost catching his ribs. Fallon seemed to fight with air from a few moments until, suddenly, the young elf reappeared a few meters away, breathing heavily. A series of thundering blows came from his king and he finally backed off and threw down his blades, readjusting his gauntlets slightly. When Fallon came again, Ventris caught the blade between metal claws protruding from holes in his leather coverings, locking the sword between them and flipping over his majesty to try to loosen his hold on his broadsword. Though his attempt failed, he was able to catch the older man off balance. Fallon went down with a thud in the dirt. Using his sword, he pulled Ventris closer, pressed his boots into the man’s abdomen and proceeded to launch him across the ring, barely managing to hang on to his own weapon. The elven soldier landed on his feet, sliding to a crouched stop before nodding for the next man to take over.

         Kole stepped forward next. He was the last recruit to be brought on. However, despite the king’s hesitation in bringing him on, he was a force to be reckoned with. He met Fallon head on, and though he was four inches shorter, he held his ground. He gritted his teeth, sword locked with Fallon’s, his boots digging into the dirt beneath him. His king’s eyes were filled with a dark fury and the younger man’s knuckles turned white on his hilt. This seemed more a battle of wills than a test of skill. With a heaving grunt, Kole pushed his monarch back in the dirt, taking his feet out from under him. Fallon dropped and took Kole’s legs out when he did. Both men were in the dirt, when the soldier felt a fist collide with his cheek. He felt his teeth dig into his cheek and he spit out blood, wiping his mouth. Another fist appeared in front of him and he caught it. Without getting up off the ground, he swung Fallon up and threw him away from himself.

         The king hit the dirt on his side, letting out a heavy growl as he slid away from his opponent. Kole vanished, the dust hiding him from both Fallon and Ventris. He appeared above his lord moments before his knuckles connected with the other's face. Then his hand went around Fallon’s neck and the king tapped his shoulder to let him know he did well. The younger half-breed gave a wary smile, even while blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and a bruise formed on his face.

         Fallon had finished sparring and made his way back to the great hall. He went searching for his wife. He had vented his anger and was ready to talk or not talk. But if they talked, the king just needed her to listen.

         Turning a corner she spotted him walking up the corridor toward her. "Have you finished venting your anger again instead of talking? Do you think swords can solve everything?" She was obviously still perturbed at how their argument ended earlier in the day.

         "I gave up my life for you and you are angered that I would still wield a sword in training? Do you want there to be nothing left of me?" His temper flared instantly. Gone was the cool headed husband that hoped to talk things out with his wife. Gone was his resolve and reason. He was deeply upset and offended that Calya would cut at him without even giving him a chance to speak his mind.

         "I gave up myself, too, Fallon. I gave myself up to you, our people and our son. How dare you talk to me about sacrifice as if I have lost none of who I was over the past year and a half." She did not cry nor show any weakness to him. It was the one thing he hated about how he had changed her. He had not seen her cry in a long time. Never in arguments, not from tragedy, and not even when she gave birth to their child.

         The king took his wife’s arm and pulled her behind him. They went down the hall and stopped in front of their bed chamber. He threw the door open and shoved the queen through the opening, slamming the wooden door shut behind him. The woman jumped and became pensive. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. This was a bad move on his part, but he started it and he was not one to do things halfway. “Listen to me. I have never downplayed you being a mother or the queen. And I would be nowhere, if not dead without you.”

         The woman met his eyes with her own fiery gaze. “Am I going to be your captive forever? Are we going to continue this ritual of you locking me in a room until I cave?”

         His eyes clouded and the red flame threatened to envelope the orange. He still struggled to control his own blessing as she once had. He suddenly realized how strong she had been when they traveled together. She had somehow learned to keep her blessing in check quite quickly. “This is our bedchamber, Cal.” His voice had softened. The hurt was evident. He knew that he had misstepped and misspoke. He came close to her and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. With a quick step he locked the large wooden door. A step more and he was back with her, his body against hers as they stood in front of the bed. “Tell me you don’t want me. I will not leave unless you tell me you wish me gone.” He held her face in rough, scarred hands. He kissed her on the forehead. “Tell me you do not want this and I will disappear. I promise. I will not stay to cause you more pain.”

         A pain so deep it hurt him filled her eyes. She closed them momentarily before meeting his gaze again. “I cannot. I need you. I just cannot help but feel you do not need me the same.”

         Fallon’s heart pounded in his chest. He could not find the words. How long had she felt like this? How long did he voice his complaints, driving her into this room with every argument until he was satisfied it had been worked through? How many times did he convince her by his actions that he was still that mercenary who held her hostage? “I need you more than you need me.” The king raised her chin with his hand and kissed her mouth, gently at first. She responded, the hurt evident in the tension he felt from her when she matched his kiss. He lifted her and placed her on the bed, searching her eyes for some sort of encouragement. This time, she pulled his face down to her.

         It was late when Trayzer finally fell asleep. Fallon came back into the bedchambers just as his eyes were fading back to orange. Calya looked up and smiled, chuckling when she saw the change. "You should really learn how to get our child to sleep on your own. It should not take a blessing from a prophet to put your child to bed."

         The king shrugged. He was happy to have a son, but he felt as though he was not father material. He wasn't a gentle parent. His expectations were too high and the only way he had related to children was fighting them and brainwashing them to be fearless, heartless killers. His fathering skills were obviously lacking. "I will take whatever assistance I can, my queen."

         Calya stood from the bed and hugged him around his torso. "Can we finish talking, Fallon?"

         He stiffened and shifted uneasily, not hugging her back. "Do we have to?"

         She looked up at him, concerned. "Yes. I need a husband, not just a king."

         He turned away to look out the window at the moonlit trees. "That is the position I asked for, though. I did only say I wanted to be king." He flinched at his own words as soon as they left his mouth. Why did he always do this?

         She backed away from him. "Well, Fallon, today has just been filled with encouragement from you, has it not? You regret being king and now you say you never asked for me, only the position. I guess there is nothing to discuss since I have obviously misunderstood your intentions these past two years." She spun on her heel and walked to the bedroom door.

         She felt her husband grasp her wrist. "Please do not act as if you believe that."

         Her face flushed. "Why? You do."

         Anger overtook Fallon and he released her and punched the door, his fist cracking the wood. Calya jumped and backed away cautiously. His fist had been a mere six inches from her head. She stayed silent. The man's breathing was heavy and his eyes were closed, his fist still against the broken wood. He let out a yell and punched the stone wall. His wife almost expected the stone to crack as well. He punched it again. Calya was on edge. He punched the wall again and split the skin on his fist. The queen ran and opened the door to the bedroom, calling for Gammir. "Gammir! Please help!" He heard her from in front of the baby's door and started running. He heard a cry of anguish from inside followed by a cracking sound. He easily recognized the sound of bones breaking.

         Rushing in the room, he tackled the raging Fallon to the floor, knocking the wind out of himself when they hit. He struggled to regain his breath, and hold the half-breed king in place. A few more guards came in to help, lifting them off the floor and stepping between the queen and her husband. Fallon quickly calmed down, pulling his arms free of his guards and sitting down on the bed. Calya walked over, pushing past the guard, and knelt before her husband. Her eyes flared red and she held his large, broken hand in her two smaller hands. The bones moved back into place and reconnected and the skin closed and healed without so much as a scar leftover. Fallon took his hand from her and sat holding his head.
         Calya dismissed the guards, instructing Gammir to wait outside the door. The men looked uneasy and uncertain, but they reluctantly agreed. "I know there is more than you let me in to. Your constant anger and frustration prove it. When will you start being honest with yourself and me? For a year and a half, I have stayed by your side and made excuses for your excessive reactions. But I cannot protect you from yourself, Fallon. For once in your life, just be completely honest. You know what you want. You need to tell me."

         "I need to leave. I need to get away from you and the baby. Not forever. I am afraid, Cal. I am afraid to lose you. The mercenaries have been adding elves to their ranks. There is only one reason for that. They are preparing to take me out in a way none of us can escape. I am only as feared as I am because no one knows I am a half-breed, Calya."

         Calya's eyes filled with fear. "So you are actually leaving me." She swallowed her fear and hurt and stood upright. "Then go."

         He stood and held her by the arms. "Calya. I have not been as honest as I should have been. And I know that. I cannot have you with me if I am to keep you safe. I have to take out Harta. But I have to do it tactfully, strategically. I have to draw them out a few at a time. They will assume I am still as ruthless as I was and they will make sure there is no chance to underestimate me. I would be lying if tell you I will not enjoy it. Part of me does miss it. I did not want to tell you because I did not want you to fear. I will come back to you and Trayzer. But this is eating me alive. My personal guard is ready to go with me and Gammir will be guarding you. The only way I can be free of all of this," he lifted the hand Calya healed and continued, "is to get rid of Harta and the mercenaries."

         His wife pulled from his grip, hand on her forehead, her face white. "Then I will most likely lose you. Whether because you have died or find that you enjoy it too much."

         He hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek. "You will never lose me. I will not lose my life to them and I will never turn against you. Even if my love for it is too strong to be a good king, I will forever protect and defend you, my queen. If I can't do it beside you, I will do it from a distance. But I cannot sit here while the demons in Harta taunt and mock me at night."
         Calya knew she could not argue with him. She could hear it in his tone. He was leaving and no one would be able to stop him. "I will wait for you. Whether it be out of foolishness or wisdom, I will wait to see you riding back through our gates. I will make sure that no one outside the city knows you are gone. Just remember your wife, your son and everyone who loves and respects you is here. You will find none of that out there."

         She felt him nod behind her. She could not bring herself to look at his face. She was too afraid of what she might see there. Fallon squeezed her with his arms and kissed her one more time before letting go and moving out of the room. The queen put her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry as she slowly sank down onto the bed.

         Neither king nor queen slept that night. Fallon prepared with his personal guard to set out. They packed food, cloaks, bandages, salves and weapons. They all changed out of royal clothing. The king stripped off his royal garments and set his crown down in a chest. He took his old sword out of a box he had set aside after the blade had been repaired and polished. He pulled black and crimson clothing out of the box as well and dressed, pulling black, iron-lined boots on and securing a black cloak around his neck. He met his guard outside the royal hall in the courtyard where the horses were waiting for them all. He had retired his old stallion from battle, but had a black mare his horse had sired as his steed now.

         As he exited the great hall, his men looked up and froze. He looked every bit like the mercenary they had been told stories about or saw destroying villages. His eyes also held a dark gleam that made their skin crawl. However, their king had trained them for this every day for the last two years and they would follow him to the fires of hell and beyond if he asked them to. Because they were mercenary hunters.

         Fallon gave the signal and they all mounted up, ready to ride. He looked back at the hall, his eyes searching for his queen. She was nowhere to be seen. With a heavy sigh, and a steeling of his will, he urged his horse forward, down the steps and through the city. As they passed through the streets, the people stepped aside and bowed, their faces full of a terrible awe. They had known what their king was, but seeing him like this struck a chord of fear in each and every one of them.

         A woman ran out from where she stood and yelled one of the soldier's names. He turned in his saddle and spotted her, pulling his horse up short, his face full of angst. She ran to his horse and held onto his thigh, crying. He reached down his hand and took hers. She kissed it. He leaned down and kissed her before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and saying farewell. He kicked his horse forward and left her behind.

         The men passed under the gate as the townspeople crowded in behind them and the guards on the walls watched in solemn silence. Then he heard it. "Fallon! No! Fallon, wait! Don't go!" The king swung his horse around and saw his wife, the queen of an entire realm, holding her child to her chest, her dress hiked up, running down the street behind them.

         Fallon dropped down to the ground and caught her up in his arms, kissing her as if to soak in her very soul. Then he held his child to his shoulder and kissed him. The crowd and his guard watched silently as the family said their heartbreaking goodbyes. Fallon gave the baby back and held his wife's face in his large, rough hands. "I love you, Calya. Just because I've never told you that does not mean I don't. I love you." His voice was low and strained.

         Calya's tears poured from her bright eyes and she embraced him tightly, afraid to let him go. The sight of him dressed in black again made her blood run cold and her heart stop. It made her think she was losing him forever and she could not handle even the thought of that. She kissed him again before hesitantly letting him go. He mounted back up, took one more look at his wife, son and city and turned his horse, riding off into the rising sun with his men.

         The group stopped at nightfall. One of Fallon’s men, the one who the woman ran up to, knelt before him, his head bowed. "I'm sorry, your majesty."

         Fallon looked down at him. "Who was she?"

         The man continued looking at the ground while he answered. "She is my betrothed. I have no excuse. I know we all pledge to remain single to keep from having distractions and connections that may hinder our job, but I promise that I will be no less efficient and sacrifice no less than any other man."

         "Ventris, if I did not trust you, I would not have chosen you. Just know that you may leave her alone, missing you if you do not return." The king looked more compassionate than frustrated. "Though I wish you had not kept her a secret until today. You could have given her a proper farewell without worrying about being disciplined for it."

         "Again, I am sorry, my king." And he really was sorry. He knew he had caused her more pain than necessary and made the job for himself harder than it should have been.

         Fallon gathered his men close to him. "From this point on, do not use any title for me. If you cannot help yourself, you may use sir. Do not kneel before me and talk nothing of Kezna or the queen. You will see things that will sicken you and possibly even drive you to madness. Yet this is what you have been trained for. Steel yourselves, and do not falter. No matter what you see or hear, you know what your job is and you are to complete it. We have to take down Harta. If we fail, none of us will return home. I hope you all will ride back with me."

         Silent nods were seen around the campfire as they all agreed. One of the men spoke up. "But what if you do not return."

         They all stared in solemn expectancy. "I have an heir. Let's turn in for the night. Ventris, since you lied about your betrothed, you take the first watch." For a moment none of them moved, while his answer sunk in. And then slowly, one by one, they all stood and made their way to lay down for the night.

         Fallon was at a campfire, standing, staring into the darkness. Hannon stepped into the light, a sinister, mocking smirk plastered on his no longer smooth face. Fallon drew his blade. They exchanged insults and threats before clashing. Just when he heard a footstep from behind, Calya came to his aid. A man went down, distracting his commander just long enough for Fallon to land an iron boot into his ribs, most likely breaking or cracking at least one. The man's cloak caught on fire and for just a moment Fallon thought of watching him burn to death. But the satisfaction of doing that would not be enough for him. He lifted his sword and killed the man. Again and again he swung. Hannon’s body became unrecognizable and blood covered the grass and Fallon. He felt it on his hair, his skin, his clothing. He relished the feeling.

         Fallon woke up suddenly. What would have normally felt like a horrific nightmare was just a bad dream. Except that this bad dream made him wonder what it would be like to butcher the rest of the mercenaries. He lay awake, thinking and planning until dawn, when the guard taking the last watch woke up all the men so they could eat something and leave.

         It would take a couple of weeks to get to Dorsha. They would stop there and check their supplies. The men kept their hoods up as they traveled, keeping themselves from being recognized by others. The next two weeks passed uneventfully. They came across no one other than a merchant or two and had no hold ups. This, unfortunately, gave Fallon too much time to be in his head. He was becoming antsy, excited. He could not wait to run his sword through someone. It was his only purpose to be out here, of course. He kept telling himself he was excited to rid his family and realm of the threat for good. However, even as he convinced himself a little piece of his walls began to rebuild inside.