Arcane mercenaries gener.., p.4
Arcane Mercenaries: General, page 4
“Hit them at the same time. Make it an overwhelming wave,” Grant said. He couldn’t believe he was working out how to help this group.
“Not enough resources to do that, big guy. We wouldn’t be sitting here working with you if it were that easy.”
“Easy, Cyril. We have a time-sensitive target that will make our efforts pay beyond our dreams,” Mistress Mariana said.
“Let me guess. It’s a tough target because there are skilled guards and effective defenses.” Grant had to admit their routine was effective, and he was hooked.
Mariana shook her head and then gave a dark smile. “All true, but even more difficult than you imagine.”
“Can’t wait. Who’s the target?”
“Sir Kamil Sklenar, knight of Bohem and hero of the Empire,” Mariana said.
“And now an arms dealer,” Cyril said.
Grant groaned. “I’m in.”
6
MORE INTEL
“Are we going after his house or his business?” Grant asked. The answer would define their strategy and dictate their timeline.
“His house is the stronghold of his business, Grant. We need to get after his records and a few other choice items. There’s a chance we can cripple his enterprise,” Mistress Mariana said.
“You want a slice of the arms trade?” Grant feared the answer. Was he ready to give control of the flow of weapons to a group of enterprising thieves?
“You have to admit the war’s gone on far too long. Combat inches closer to capitals, and rulers borrow recklessly to outfit their troops. It could be the most lucrative business for any thief,” Mariana smiled. She knew the hook was set.
“Ok, so what do we know about his house?” Grant struggled to keep his concern out of his voice. These thugs needed to see a cool, confident strategist.
Mariana turned to the shadows and gave quick hand movements. Grant couldn’t determine each gesture’s meaning, but he could make a safe guess these thieves could communicate simple messages by hand as well as any tactical unit in the field. Communicating in silence was an essential capability in most scenarios.
“We don’t need to discuss our plans here on the stage. Perhaps we could take you to our map room to discuss our effort?” Mariana said.
“Do you trust me now?”
“Absolutely not, big guy. But you’re in with us on this one, and we’ll have enough muscle to take down even a Touched thug like you.”
“I don’t like you, Cyril.”
“I don’t care, Grant.”
A Talon appeared out of the murky shadows and waited for Mariana, Cyril, and Grant to approach the side of the stage. As they stepped into the gloom, Grant saw the impressive backstage labyrinth of rooms and closets to support the actors. There was a world behind the curtain. Grant considered how it reflected the world these thieves owned, just past the veil of the king’s authority.
The rooms here were well-maintained, and Grant noticed the Talons' improvements. Reinforced doors and alcoves sheltered soldiers with ranged weapons and created a defensible maze. The Talon’s lair lived within the perfect camouflage of the old opera house, under the nose of the highest reaches of the monarchy.
He didn’t expect to see activity within the dark corridors, but men and women moved with a purpose throughout the structure. Thieves didn’t work regular hours, and a headquarters had to be ready to receive and use information. Several military camps could use this as a template for their operations.
Grant didn’t realize he stopped walking as he took in the efficiency of the Trusted Talons. Mariana and Cyril waited for him two doors ahead, and Cyril had a stupid grin on his face. Grant hustled to catch up with them and murmured an incomprehensible apology for making them wait.
“You might find you like it here, big guy. Quite the meritocracy.”
Whenever Grant thought he figured out the big bodyguard, Cyril surprised him. At first look, the man looked like a mountain of muscle ready to jump at the first hint of a threat. Grant assessed the man was far more than a bodyguard and served as an able number two to the organization. And he was no dummy. Grant wouldn’t underestimate him again.
The room they entered was probably once a large storage area for props and costumes. If the original owners came in today, they’d witness a complete transformation from a room of leftovers to a nerve center of information.
The walls had been redone with black wood to allow maps to be pinned and nailed to the surfaces. From floor to ceiling was an arrangement of maps of every part of the city, and critical locations included interior plans. Two Talons worked patiently with handwritten notes. They whispered as they compared information, found its proper spot on the wall, and then posted the change.
“Admit it. You’re impressed.”
Grant nodded to Cyril. “I can’t believe there are other thieves in the city who can compete with this.”
“My goodness, they can’t. But we haven’t taken a sweep through the city to put them all out of business. In fact, it’s good to have a few challenges around. I like to pick from the best; competition is good for sorting through the weak ones. I don’t want failures around here,” Mariana said. Those eyes burned into the darkness of Grant’s soul.
“Show me what you have on your target.”
The leaders took him to a section of the back wall. Hand-drawn maps and scribbled notes covered everything from scraps of paper to unrolled scrolls. The pair working in the nerve center of the organization stowed their notes and slipped out of the room. Grant wondered if it was out of respect, privacy, fear, or custom. He was alone with the pair of leaders.
“Don’t think about it, big guy. Pay attention.” Cyril watched his every move.
Mariana’s stubby fingers traced over the latest notes and silently worked her mouth as she read each new comment. Grant waited patiently while she processed the new information.
“Damn, they’ve added three additional guards to the roster.” Mariana shook her head at the revelation.
“They on shift?” Cyril asked.
“Don’t know. Not enough here to tell,” Mariana said.
“You think we’ve been made?”
“We’ve got our best on this, Cyril. You picked them.”
“Doesn’t mean they didn’t get made. You want to press?”
“Let’s see what the mercenary thinks.”
Both turned toward Grant.
“Orient me,” Grant said.
Mariana took a long breath and began, “About three blocks from here is an exclusive area where the wealthiest merchants live. It’s about a block from the river and only a block away from the bridge.” On an earlier visit, Grant saw the looming castle across the bridge that overlooked the entire city and was the center of power for the kingdom. “Sklenar bought out several local merchants and created a small compound of buildings.”
“How high is this fence?” Grant’s fingers traced the outline of the sketches.
“Ten feet. Stone for the first six feet and topped by steel bars. All decorative, of course, but very functional.” Cyril shook his head.
“That a guard shack?”
“There are two inside the compound. The first is here by the gate and always has two guards. The second is near the front entrance and has a single guard. But they also have a roaming patrol of two guards that meander through the entire compound,” she said.
“I can’t tell by the scale. How close are the adjacent buildings?”
“The closest is a good fifty feet away.” Mariana would have been an exceptional tactical leader. Grant wondered if she served in the Mage Wars.
“Higher or lower?” Grant asked.
“Why?” Cyril challenged.
Grant fumed. “You want my help, then answer my questions, Cyril.”
“Lower.”
“That means we can’t use it to slide down to the compound from above,” Grant said.
Mariana nodded her head in appreciation of his tactical sense. Cyril didn’t like the poke, but Grant didn’t care. He had an assault to plan.
“Back of the house doesn’t look like it has much open space.” Grant looked over the notes for the back of the compound.
“It doesn’t, but the fence surrounds the compound,” she said.
Grant looked at the tactical problem. “How many inside the house, and how many military-aged individuals are in the compound?”
“We don’t know,” she said.
“We have an interior layout?”
“No.”
Grant pulled his eyes away from the wall and stared at the pair. He rubbed his beard and chose his next words. “So we know there are five guards on the outer grounds, but we know nothing else but the compound’s layout.”
“Yep, sounds about right,” Cyril said.
“We have so much work to do.”
“We need to launch our attack tomorrow night, Grant. No ability to delay this,” Mariana said.
“Mariana, this can’t be done—”
“You don’t know what resources I’m putting into this, Grant. We’re committed to this attack and can make it work.”
“I don’t see it. We’re planning a frontal assault into prepared defenses against unknown forces. We’d have to outnumber the defender by at least five to one. I’d like six to one to feel like we’d have a real chance. And the losses could be terrible or even catastrophic.”
“But that’s why we brought you on board, Grant. Your arrival was perfect for our plans, and we know, with your assistance, we have a chance to pull this off and change the shape of Maro politics,” Mistress Mariana said.
“And the underworld,” Grant said.
“That will be a nice side effect, yes,” she said.
“So we just assault the gate.”
“You may have to kill every guard on the way in. Witnesses are never a good idea, and they will probably resist.” Mariana’s eyes were cold as she talked about murder as if they were discussing dinner plans.
“And they will have excellent weapons, big guy. He’s an arms dealer.”
Grant paced the room as he stroked his chin and worked over his mustache with his fingers. The odds would be difficult with a military team with good intelligence. But the calculus was different if you didn’t care about the losses on either side. Mariana and the Talons focused only on the end state and what they might gain. Talk about the definition of a Pyrrhic victory. They would be darn close.
With little time to plan, they would have to go in violently.
“The losses will be—”
“My goodness, Grant. I don’t care if it’s a bloodbath. Kill who you have to and tell me what we need for forces. We’re sending a message to the city, and the Talons will find a new way to lead. I’ll hire whoever I need after I get the arms industry.”
“Why do you think this will work?”
“Because you are going to lead it, Grant. That’s why I’ve been looking for a Touched individual,” Mistress Mariana said.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Since you showed up in Maro.”
“And I’m going with you.” Cyril smiled.
7
A PLAN GONE WRONG
“You gonna keep up with us, old man?” Cyril slid through the darkness with a grace that defied his size.
Grant snorted and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine a more diverse pair of thieves slipping through the darkness toward their objective. Cyril’s size loomed in the shadows, and he bristled with weapons. Grant was a whole foot shorter than his companion and slinked through the gloomy streets, carrying only his stolen blade.
One sword in Grant’s hands was enough, but he noted not a single Talon offered him another weapon from their stash. He must still be on probationary status with the outlaw group, even though they needed his experience and talents to pull off this job.
“Why are we rushing this, Cyril?”
“Because Mariana said so.”
Grant looked up at the man as he scanned the streets for onlookers and potential witnesses. He signaled commands that broke the strike team into groups of four. Figures disappeared into the murky alleys to run their routes to their assembly point. It wasn’t bad for an impromptu plan, and the group was professional. Grant was concerned about the price Cyril would pay to satisfy Mariana.
“Got to be a better answer than that. What if a team doesn’t show?”
“We go. Tonight is the night, big guy.”
“Death wish,” Grant said. He couldn’t believe Cyril didn’t have a minimum force requirement to take on Sir Sklenar and his retinue. They were rushing to failure, and the Talons would pay the price.
“We have advantages.”
“Sure, surprise is always good. But that’s not enough when we get inside the front door. We’re fighting on the arms merchant’s home terrain.”
“Look, old man, we know the merchant leaves with a large weapons shipment headed to Alenann in the morning. You showing up means we don’t have to wait for the next one. The fighting season will be over soon, and we’d have to wait until spring. If you’re done, we have a job to do.”
That was a good reason to push with limited intelligence, but the risk was still enormous. Why not wait until spring? Grant wasn’t planning on staying in Maro until then, but he’d solve that problem later.
Grant moved forward, and Cyril grabbed him by the collar. Before Grant could spin on the giant and throw a punch, he caught the shuffling feet that alerted Cyril to the town watch’s approach.
A pair of sentries walked along the street and checked the doors. They peered into the alleys with the feeble light from their flickering oil lanterns. Grant, Cyril, and their two compatriots shrunk in their alley’s shadows.
They held their breath as the watch paused at the alley’s opening and looked in. Dark clothes, darkened faces, and piles of refuse did nothing to hide their beating hearts. Moments passed as the alert guards performed their duty. The patrol moved down the street, and the group breathed again. Cyril rose to his full height.
“This is a tremendous risk for the entire group, Cyril. Those guards are expecting something, and we don’t know what’s waiting for us in the merchant’s compound. What’s special about this shipment?”
“Sir Sklenar is going with the shipment to ensure delivery. Our intelligence says he intends to offer his services to Alenann. We’re not sure when he’ll be back.”
“You’re looking for something to keep him here in Maro?”
“Not bad, old man. Not bad at all. We also get a piece of the arms business if we find the right leverage.”
Grant nodded at the complexity of their plan. Even if they moved fast and created a ruckus, they would tie down the arms merchant with a police investigation. The Talons could claim they drove off a fictitious rival attack.
If the Talons could compromise Kamil Sklenar, they gained a powerful ally close to the king and deep into the arms business. The outcomes looked good in either situation, and the potential profit was worth the danger.
Their most significant risk was getting caught before their destination or end up defeated by Sir Sklenar’s guards. Grant rubbed his beard. The Maro night watch in this district was unusually professional tonight, and the Talons didn’t know what was waiting in the compound.
“Anyone else know about this?” Grant asked.
“Nope, just the Talons. You always talk this much before a job?”
Grant didn’t bother with a response. Excitement pumped into Grant’s veins, and the thrill of the fight sharpened his senses. He couldn’t help himself as the challenge of another impossible mission took over his soul, and his misgivings evaporated.
They padded the last few blocks to the merchant’s compound. Grant admitted their intelligence on the outside structures was good. The fence’s first six feet were stone, and the steel bars rising another four feet weren’t decorative. A gravel circle lined with white stones ran between the cluster of four houses within the compound. The adjacent buildings were too low to give the Talons an elevated position above Sir Sklenar’s defenses. The compound was quiet, and the gates were locked.
So far, so good.
“Ten minutes until we start. Last chance, old man.”
Grant caught the sounds of shuffling feet and armor rattling. He tugged on Cyril’s cloak to point out the new threat. The other Talons retreated into the comforting arms of the alley’s shadows. Grant leaned forward and peered toward the locked gate.
Four city watch members shared a conversation with a pair of guards inside the fence. The city patrol looked in no rush to move along, and traces of laughter echoed in the city streets.
“Time?” Grant asked under his breath.
“Two minutes,” Cyril grunted.
“Call it off.”
“Can’t.”
“The guard knows we’re coming. Call it off.”
As Grant finished his last words, the rippling thunder of a pair of gunshots echoed through the streets. Grant didn’t see smoke or flames, but the guards inside and outside the fence initially ducked and then lurched back to their feet. With a few shouts, the patrol spread out, and the guards inside moved to raise the alarm.
“That was your plan? A couple of gunshots for a diversion?” Grant rolled his fingers across his blade’s pommel and drew its length. It would have to do.
Cyril motioned to his group to stay put and staggered out behind their cover. He swayed and caught his balance as part of his drunk routine, and the alert soldiers watched but didn’t challenge him. Cyril’s body bobbed as he walked, but he stayed on the opposite side of the street from the compound.
The hair on Grant’s arms rose as Touched power flowed nearby. It had to be Cyril.
The man continued his haphazard gait, but Cyril focused on the guard shack. He held out his arms in a feigned attempt to retain his balance and held his fingers out like he was picking up a small object off a table.
His target wasn’t any object. Cyril grabbed the keys off the hook within the guard shack and slipped them past the guards inside. The iron ring of keys silently rose over the fence and made its way across the street.
