Hope (Knights of Av'lor - Book 1)

Chapter 34

Drewton, a Mercenary of the First Order of Av'lor, sat at a table in the private room of his favorite tavern, the Thistle Crown. The scarred table took up most of the room and held the remains of their modest lunch. He downed a cup of ale before turning his attention back to Talein.

"Drewton, what's your interest in blue root? You know it's too expensive, and poison is a coward's weapon of choice. I thought better of you." Talein, one of Drewton's oldest friends and the second in command of his squad, eyed him skeptically while draining his own mug.

Drewton's friend, Mikael, sat at the other end of the table and stared into his ale, appearing to ignore the exchange, but Drewton knew he listened intently. He'd joined Drewton yesterday afternoon and had stopped drinking only to sleep. Drewton worried he would do something drastic.

"You know me better than that, Talein," Drewton responded. "I turned down a job last week involving the elimination of a knight. I then trailed her to try to figure out why she was a threat. I found her purchasing a blue figurine and that blue wasn't makkei juice."

"A knight? Killing knights is despicable. Using blue root is even worse." Talein turned his head to the side and spit upon the floor. "I've seen you with that look in your eye before. What are you planning?"

"Planning? Why do you think I'm planning anything?" Drewton smiled and rose from his chair. "You worry too much, old man."

"Old man? You're older than I am by ten cycles!"

"Yeah, well, you look older! Seriously, I can't let them kill a knight. We need all the knights we can get or the Daemons will eat us all. I want to track down everyone who ordered blue root. I remember the woman at the stall. All I have to do is look at everyone who ordered it to track her down. I'm sure there aren't many women for hire for that type of thing."

Talein raised an eyebrow and frowned at Drewton. "What makes you think the woman was the person who ordered it? She could have just been paid to sell it to the knight."

Drewton shook his head. "True, but the way she acted made me think she was having too much pleasure in performing the act. Besides, she wore gloves. If she were just hired to give the knight the figurine, the payer wouldn't have bothered to tell her what was on it. I want you to ask around and have one of the boys go through the taverns. If they keep their ears open, maybe someone will be bragging about this type of hit. It's definitely one which would earn them a reputation."

Talein snorted. "Killing a knight is not a reputation any sane man would want. Who in their right mind would even accept the job?"

"You'd be surprised what some people would do for money."

"I should get going now, Drewton. I don't want to worry Jenna." Mikael was just rising from his chair when a knock sounded upon the door.

"Enter," Drewton responded, piling the mugs and pitcher onto a tray. "Ah, Pevet, you have news?"

"Yes, Drewton, I have some most interesting news. I went to that tavern on Jint Street, the one with the five trees on the black sign. At first, I thought I had found your guy; he was talking quietly to another about his new contract. He mentioned the word knight, so I immediately used an eavesdropping spell to listen in. It appears there's more than one contract out there."

"More than one contract? For the same hit?"

"No sir, multiple hits in the Knighthood. I didn't recognize one of the names, Lady Kathryn, but, sir, they mentioned certain names, names I couldn't believe were uttered when talking about a hit. There are contracts out there for the deaths of Lord Alextor and Sir Lanclor."

Drewton shook his head and snorted in disgust. "Who would want to kill off the only people who are protecting us from annihilation?" Av'lor's going insane.

"They didn't know who their employer was, sir, but they did mention Vikten's name. I think his squad is acting as the middlemen between the employer and those they hired. You know how he is, no honor whatsoever. He'd kill his own mother if someone paid him a few silvers." Pevet spit over his shoulder to emphasize his distaste.

"We need to do something. Allowing them to kill any knights is irresponsible. Allowing them to kill two Soulbearers is unthinkable. We have to warn the targets. We can't guarantee we'll be able to stop the hit in time, so perhaps if they know it's coming they can protect themselves."

"What do you suggest? We just walk up to the castle, ask to speak to the leader of the Knighthood and the Knight-Commander, and tell them that we were offered the job but declined, but assassins have been hired to kill them?"

Drewton smiled. "That's an interesting suggestion, Pevet. I think that's exactly what I'll do."

Mikael shook his head at Drewton. "Drewton, you know Sir Lanclor hates mercenaries. Maybe I should go in your place?"

"I'm not going to miss the fun, Mikael. You're welcome to come along, but I fight my own battles."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Just don't expect me to protect you when the feathers start flying."

Drewton stood in front of the arsenal of weapons he kept in his private chambers. Mikael leaned against the doorway, tapping his foot while he waited for him to make a decision.

Drewton sighed and grabbed a sword. "Well, if I'm going to speak to Soulbearers, I need to look like a respectable warrior or they won't take me seriously." He strapped his long sword to his side. The sword was made of fine blue steel and had been a gift from his father before he had died several cycles ago. His father had spent his life savings on it and Drewton held it close to his heart. It was worth a small fortune now that smith Banwer had passed.

A short while later, they rode to the gates of the castle. "I wish to see Sir Lanclor, the Knight-Commander."

"Sir Lanclor? What business do you have with him?" The knight at the gate wasn't as young as expected.

"My business is not to be discussed with anyone but him, Sir Knight. I hope you understand," Drewton said as they dismounted.

"Aye, you're right. I don't have the right to question anyone, especially anyone bold enough to demand an audience with Sir Lanclor. I must ask you both to leave all of your arms here at the gate. Not even knights are allowed an audience fully armed. You're welcome to pick them up on your way out."

"Of course, I expected as much," Drewton said as he unbuckled his sword. "I do ask that you not let them out of your sight. This sword was a death-gift from my father and I treasure it highly."

"I assure you, sir, we're honorable. No harm will come to your weapons and they'll be returned to you upon my word." He nodded as they handed over their weapons. "It's a truly fine piece of work, if I may say so. It looks like Smith Banwer's work, is it not?"

Drewton smiled. "You have a good eye, knight. My father knew him well and appreciated his work, even though he himself wasn't trained in its use."

The knight nodded with a sigh. "It was a sad day when Banwer passed to the Goddess. It'll be ready upon your return. Sir Lanclor's workroom is within the maze of the High Barracks. I'll arrange for another knight to escort you."

"An escort would be most welcome. We don't intend to stay long and finding our own way would waste time."

A few minutes later, they walked the halls of the High Barracks on their way to see the Knight-Commander. The height of the ceilings was impressive and served to intimidate anyone not of the Knighthood who entered. Drewton had heard many things about Sir Lanclor. The Knight-Commander was supposed to be the most gifted with a sword, including the Royal Guard. His temper was notorious as was his anger at his curse. He was the Soulbearer of the Destructor and while most of the people of Av'lor had chosen to forget the deeds of the man he Bore, the Knight-Commander never forgot and pushed himself relentlessly as if for redemption. Sir Lanclor also hated Mercenaries.

Drewton would have to do everything he could to convince Sir Lanclor he was honorable and that his news was genuine. The knight escorting them stopped by a plain looking door and gestured for them to announce themselves through the partially open door.