City Gates

Their captors were not the friendliest. Not to Malik, Mollie, Khris, Embre, and Egg. Not to each other either. They were vile, foul-mouthed, angry, and violent. Before they had even made it fifty steps, two of the mercenaries got into a fight about who would follow the furthest behind. Those two were probably still back there fighting to the death over something that was already pointless. 

Malik tried not to focus on his captors. There were plenty of other things he needed to lend his attention to. First, he needed to figure out a way to get away from being captured. He had wanted to get into the city gates, but this was not the way to go about it. This way would see him right to Sweet Tongue’s hands and eventually his death. This way would not lead him to rescuing Abrie. 

Malik looked to the others. He could see the determined look on Mollie’s face, but she did not think about their escape. Mollie’s eyes glued to Egg. Egg squirmed and gnashed at the thick strands holding him, but so far could not wiggle out. Malik wished Egg would free himself. At least then, there would be a distraction. They could not fight their way out of things, but they could run. 

Malik looked to Embre and Khris who were so far into their own worlds they followed like mindless animals. What was the point anyhow? If they escaped this group, there would be another waiting. There were at least seven thousand mercenaries in the camp and there was no way they would get out. They would arrive on a silver platter for Sweet Tongue and there was nothing that they could do about it. 

Malik tried to think of what Abrie would do during a situation like this, but he thought Abrie would have never gotten into a situation like this. Khris had been right up there on the hill. They should have never tried this stupid plan. They should have gone onward and left well enough alone. Malik had known there would be no way to save Abrie. Yet, he could not just leave it alone. 

Malik was the reason that all his friends and Khris would die. He wished he could tell them he was sorry, but they paid him no attention. 

“What do you plan to do with your portion of the capturing funds?” one captor asked another. 

“I plan to join the Tempre. I did not travel a thousand miles to get a sack of coin. Although, that will be a nice little bonus.” 

“If I get the coin, I need not be a Tempre. I can retire and relax for the rest of my days,” the first man said. 

Another man stepped up. This man did not look friendly to either of the others. “I say you’re an idiot,” he said to the man who had just finished talking. 

The man holding Malik’s ropes tensed. “Care to back that up?” 

The newcomer smiled and patted the sword on his hip. “Anytime.” 

The man dropped Malik’s rope, but it was still pointless for Malik to run. 

“Then let’s settle it right here and now.”

The newcomer laughed. “I can arrange that,” he said, pulling his sword from his belt. 

“Do we really have to do this? We all have so much coin coming our way,” the man who had initially been asked chimed in. 

Malik took two large steps back. He was still in the circle of mercenaries, as were the others, but he was now out of the direct line of swords. 

The two men came together to clash. They would fight over silly words. One of these two men would die for their pride. Malik thought back to his countless fights with the drunken patrons of the local inns and taverns. He had never wanted to kill any of them before. He could not say the same about those who fought him, but none of them had ever succeeded, mostly in part to Abrie. 

The newcomer stuck his hand out and pressed the pleading mercenary in the chest. “Move or you will be next.” 

The man did not move. While the newcomer had not been paying attention, the man had slipped out a small blade from his cuff and he drove it into the newcomer’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged, and then he crumpled in a pool of his own blood. 

“Well, that takes care of that,” the man said, wiping off his blade on the dead man’s shirt. 

The man who had asked stepped back over to Malik and grabbed his rope. “I hate when people can’t mind their own business.” 

Malik looked back to the dead man and realized soon he would meet the man again. 

“Let’s keep going,” the man pulling Malik’s rope said, while pulling hard on the bindings. 

Malik lurched forward without saying a word. There was nothing to say. Mostly, words would get you killed. Malik looked back over his shoulder at the dead body. No one stopped to check on the man, to see if he were still alive. Everyone just stepped over him as if he were a parasite. Malik’s stomach roiled at their blatant disregard for human life. 

Malik felt the tug again as he slowed down. The man carrying the rope did not look pleased, so Malik sped back up. 

Malik had once believed only a few miles separated them from the wall. He could see them hovering in the background. However, walls and mountains were funny like that. They were so large anyone could see them from extremely far away. Sometimes they never seemed to grow or get closer. Malik walked for a long time in his binds. There was no way to tell exactly how long it had been, except the morning sun had raised to the afternoon sun, and then set for the evening. 

Malik saw thousands more mercenaries. The camp ranged from pleasant areas to the run-down slums. There were makeshift taverns⎯tents selling rooms like an inn⎯and there were items for sale around every bend. No one else approached them. There had been several fights amongst the small group though. Two more men killed each other before their walk ended. One man stole food from another’s bag and another for joined the procession of captors without permission from the man holding Egg in the sack over his back those two men also greeted death. 

Malik still hoped, and wished Egg would somehow escape the entire walk. If those claws could get to work on the throats of these men, then maybe they could run. Over the course of the day, Malik realized there were two problems with the plan. Egg had already lost once with the overwhelming numbers, and there was nowhere to run. In every direction were more and more mercenaries. 

The city walls did eventually grow taller. They threw shadows onto the evening ground. Malik passed so many people it became apparent on just how devastating this was to the city. Having this many extra mouths, boots, and swords had forced Bently to stock extra men on the walls. There were so many men Malik could not find an empty spot in the lines. The wages Bently paid the men would strain his coffers even further. Malik wondered at how much money the kingdom of Luberg lost daily. He wondered how Bently kept the citizens at bay. Although, he supposed Bently could just threaten them with the mercenaries outside his gates. 

Malik wondered what the Tempre offered a king. Luberg, far from the largest kingdom Malik knew, did not have any problem bringing in revenue. Bently would have enough money, gems, and gold to last him a hundred lifetimes. He already had power, what more could he possibly want for?

Malik did not get a long time to ponder. 

“Open the gates,” the man with Egg yelled up to the smaller towers. 

The men in those towers would control the levers to open and close the city gates. One grizzled man stuck his head out. He wore chain mail and a metal hat upon his head. He sounded like a bear when he talked low and gravelly. 

“Who is asking and why?” 

The captor pulled the sack over his shoulder and held up the squirming Egg. The guard peered at the moving creature for a few moments. 

“I don’t even know what that thing is,” he finally said. 

The mercenary grunted, throwing Egg back over his shoulder. “Well, if that will not convince you then maybe this will.” The man turned, motioning for the two men carrying Minus to step forward. 

The guard only had to look for a fraction of a second to realize who they held. 

“Is he dead?” the guard asked, not sounding too torn up about it. 

“Not yet, and likely with help he will survive. Are you going to be the reason he dies?” 

The guard grumbled something and disappeared. The guards feared the Tempre that was abundantly clear. Soon the gates creaked open. Not the full large gates, but a set of smaller gates made for small traveling parties. The man with Egg waved everyone forward into the city streets. 

After everyone was in, the gates closed behind them. Guards flanked the small party on either side but did not speak. This would not be a causal visit into the city. Malik wondered why he had ever thought it would be easy to get into this place. There would be martial law inside the city streets. He doubted any of the citizens walked freely without being surrounded by soldier’s presence. The guards guided them into a small post and halted them with crossed spears. 

“Here you will wait,” said a soldier.  

The mercenaries were not pleased, made clear by the looks on their faces. The Soldiers relieved the two men holding onto Minus of their duty and Minus disappeared off some other path. Malik secretly wished Minus would perish before he reached the help of a doctor. With his luck, though, Minus would come back soon and much stronger than before. 

The remaining soldiers took up their stone men postures and did not offer any comforts to the mercenaries or their captives. They did not ask questions, tell stories, or even answer those asked. 

It was night before the soldier lines finally parted and a man stepped through the ranks. The man wore his beard long, flecked with gray. His hair pulled back in a tail, also flecked with the distinct gray of age. The man did not appear old, but Malik could pick out some wrinkles forming across his dark brow. Otherwise, the man looked like he could hold his own in a fight. On either of his hips, he wore war swords, proving Malik right. 

The man studied them. The mercenaries said nothing. By mere presence alone there was a demanding of fear and respect. Malik made the guess this would be the famed leader of the Tempre Warriors. His name, as Malik had heard, was Malum. He did not have a family name to follow. His family comprised the Tempre Warriors. Malik felt the hatred rise, coming to a boil. He could not claim Malum had killed his parents, but he had ordered it. This man held responsibility for it all. 

“I see you brought quite the collection of specimens for us this evening,” Malum said. 

The man with Egg on his back looked nervous but stepped forward from the crowd. “Sweet Tongue offered a reward for those who brought these three.” The man pointed over his shoulder. “I figured we could get extra for bringing extras.” He lifted Egg off his shoulder, dangling him in front of Malum’s face. 

Malum looked interested in Egg, but his eyes did not linger there. He looked out to the other captives. 

“Sweet Tongue offered a reward, did he?” 

The man nodded. “That is the word in the mercenary camp.” 

“Well, if it is the word of the camp, then it must be true,” Malum said, shaking his head. 

The man drew in a breath to answer again but was never able to exhale or speak. Malum’s sword whipped through the air. It had to weigh at least fifteen pounds, but it flew as if it were a twig. It looked like nothing more than a silver blur. The man’s head departed his body. His body stood for an eerie moment before it too toppled to the ground. 

Malum drove the point of the blade into the ground at his feet. “Anyone else looking to get a mythical reward from Sweet Tongue?” 

As expected, not a single other mercenary stepped up to take him up on the offer. 

Malum did not pull his blade from the ground. He just moved around it, bending down near the rope sack holding Egg. He tentatively stuck a finger out. Egg gnashed his teeth hard. 

“Feisty little fellow,” Malum said. 

“Do not hurt him,” Mollie’s voice rang out over the empty clearing. 

Malum looked up. Malik felt the hatred still, but there, under that, fear crept into his heart. Malum’s eyes too blazed with hatred, a hatred of everything; an anger ready to escape at any moment. Malik wished Mollie would have kept her mouth shut. Maybe Malum did not care Sweet Tongue had desired their company. Maybe Malum would have ordered the mercenaries to leave the gates, taking them in tow. He did not feel like they would fare any better with the mercenaries, but at least there remained a flicker of hope. With Malum, their hope died. Malum would not hesitate to kill them. He would not care they were dead, and Malum obviously did not fear Sweet Tongue or his wrath. 

“Is this creature your friend?” Malum sounded interested. 

“If you hurt him, I will…” Mollie started but a fist from the mercenary holding her shut her up. 

Malum rose to his feet. 

“I want to hear her talk,” Malum said. The mercenary backed away it was his best idea ever. 

Malum reached out his hand, cupping Mollie’s jaw. Malik’s skin crawled. If only he had his bow. He thought for a moment. Then he came to the reality that even if he had his bow, he would not shoot it. Instead, Malik just clenched his jaw and watched in silence, trying not to draw the attention his way. 

“Do you fathom that this creature has feelings?” Malum asked, tilting Mollie’s chin roughly with his fingers. 

Mollie’s eyes set in a stare that would have made many men flinch, but Malum did not show he even noticed. 

“Wag your tongue again,” Malum said. 

Mollie reared back, swinging her head forward, trying to drive it into Malum’s exposed nose. Malum flexed his forearm muscles. Mollie’s head stopped in mid-thrust. Malik knew then they would all die. 

“Not a good idea,” Malum said, not loosening his grip. 

Mollie’s face turned red from the force applied to her jaw. Malik wondered if Malum could break her bones with just his fingers. He hoped he would not find out. 

“Are you ready to answer my question now?” Malum asked, loosening the grip enough for Mollie to move her mouth. 

“I will do nothing for you!” 

Malum sighed and let her go. He walked back over to his sword, still stuck into the ground. He lifted it out of the dirt and walked back to Egg. “Then I guess you won’t care if I kill it,” Malum suggested. 

Mollie’s fists clenched in anger. She darted forward and stood in front of Egg. Malik was defenseless to help her against the waiting death. 

“So, you think him a friend. Interesting.” Malum tilted his sword back down toward the ground. Mollie had bought herself at least a few more moments. 

Malum waved over a group of soldiers. “Take these two back to my rooms. I would enjoy speaking with them.” 

Before they could move Embre stepped forward away from her own captor. “You will not separate us!” 

Malik wondered where she had gained her courage. Malik did not feel any extra courage running through him. Just hatred, anger, and fear; mostly fear. 

“Who are you?” Malum asked. 

Embre did not answer when Malum’s eyes flickered off her and over the others. First, he looked at Malik, but his eyes did not linger. Then he saw Khris in the back. He stopped then and cocked his head to the side. Then his lip curled into the most sinister smile Malik had ever seen. 

“Well, well, well…” he said, moving forward away from Mollie and his sword. 

Khris’ eyes perked as Malum made a straight line toward him. Malik thought he would not blame Khris if he loosed his bowels all over the ground. 

“I would have believed you dead by now. The village of your father hated you. Once he died, I figured they would take the very first opportunity to dispose themselves of you,” Malum said. 

Khris’ eyes did not show an understanding of Malum’s words. 

“I suppose they did get rid of you though, eventually. Here you are standing before me.” Malum reached down and untied the ropes from Khris’ wrist. They came away easily and fell to the ground at his feet. 

Khris did a double take. Malik’s confusion did not lift. 

“This one is free to go. I will house him. Get him food and drink. Maybe he too can come enjoy the festivities,” Malum said. 

No one moved to impede Khris or stop him from running away. Malik looked over at the boy again and Khris seemed to be just as shocked, but it could have been a show. Was Khris part of a bigger plan?

“Who are you?” Khris asked before Malum turned away. 

“Let us just say I knew your father well. He served me for many good years,” Malum answered. 

Khris shook his head. “My father was a trader!” 

Malum laughed for a moment. “Your father was one of my finest warriors. He killed so many men I once feared he would usurp me someday. Then he came down with the illness that eventually killed him. Even the mighty fall, it seems.” 

Khris had tears streaming down his face, but he did not fight back. Maybe he had known, or maybe it was not hard to see. Malik did not know, but his hatred grew for Khris. No wonder his village wanted to banish him. 

Khris stayed quiet, shocked into silence, or excited at the prospect of being free, Malik did not know.  

Malum did not fully turn around before Mollie swung his own sword at his head. Malum did not look shocked or worried about the prospect of his head being lopped from his shoulders. Instead, he stuck his hand up and turned his arm sideways, exposing his forearm to the blade. 

Malik’s emotions leaped. He was about to witness Mollie killing the leader of the Tempre Warriors. He had the opportunity to watch the Tempre cut off at the head. The building excitement was almost too much to contain. Mollie gave a loud grunt as the heavy sword struck Malum’s forearm. The sound of death did not resonate with Malik, however. He did hear one sound above everything; the clang of metal on metal. Malum stumbled back a smidge, not much, but a bit. His arm did not bleed, and he did not die. 

“Quick on your feet, you see some people would respect that.” Malum reached out his hand and grabbed Mollie by the throat. “I am not one of those people. I don’t like the prospect of dying, or almost dying.” Malum lifted her off the ground. Mollie’s face instantly grew red again. Her feet kicked, looking for solid ground. Malum was too strong for her to break free of his grip. He would kill her this time and it did not matter if she were friends with Egg. 

Malik looked back to Egg, noticing he was no longer trapped inside the ropes. Mollie had freed him before she grabbed the sword. Egg leaped into the air. There lived a small sliver of hope. His claws tried to dig into the chest of Malum, who dropped Mollie to the ground, but the clanging sounded again. Malik realized Malum would cover himself in armor across his entire body. Malik supposed hundreds of people wanted to see Malum dead daily. 

Egg bounced to the ground and hovered over Mollie. Mollie gasped for air, but she would survive if Malum did not attack her again. 

“We will all go with you, if you don’t kill her,” Malik said. 

Malum looked up, seeing him. 

“Who are you in all of this?” 

Malik did not answer. Malik was the coward in all of this, but it would do them no good for Malum to realize this. Malum bit his lip, and then looked around at the group again. 

“Bring them all back to the King’s castle. Tonight, they can sleep in the dungeons, aside from Khris. In the morning, the others can be taken to Sweet Tongue. I think he will be most interested in the creature. I think it may help us on our little goal.” Malum turned away.

He had seemingly forgotten all about taking Mollie and Egg back to his quarters. The mercenaries made room for the soldiers to grab the captives. They did not bother to retie the bonds or put Egg into another sack. Malik figured they knew there was no escape for any of them.