Abbalar Tales ~ 6 Corvalen

By Len Morgan

Skaa-Bae knew something was wrong as soon as they entered the city.   An air of uncertainty, of nervous excitement, seemed rife.   He reigned in holding his hand up to halt the band of surly mercenaries, following him in close order.   He was thinking he would have preferred to apply a little torture to that spoilt brat, but his orders had been specific and delivered in front of his men.   He knew several of them wouldn't be averse to ratting on him if he'd deviated from those orders.   After all, Grym-Baal was their paymaster so they did things his way until it suited Skaa to do otherwise.   As things transpired, the boy had probably suffocated beneath ten feet of sand, which was faster than Grym would have liked.   It was a shame also that there were no ants or crustaceans out there, which would certainly have been the case back home, but Grym didn't know that, and neither had his men, or the boy for that matter, judging by the look of terror on his face.   Beside his imagination would have been likely to conjure them up anyway…  

"What in Lyandra's name is happening?" he yelled at a scruffy looking street trader.

"The Caliph is dead, and there is one mother of a battle going on in the centre of the city, factions are fighting for control, many of the sons have fled to safer havens.  Don't you just love it when the rich turn on themselves, butchering their own kin, for a change?"   He ducked as one of Skaa's men cracked a whip in his direction, "Aaahhh!"

"Too slow old man.   Huhaaa!" the rider laughed cruelly, "mayhap now you'll learn some respect for your betters."

Skaa led them on, into the foreign quarter, without further discourse.

.-…-. 

"There was a storm.   You should have gone back to make sure of him.   Did you?"

"No, but that can soon be remedied” Skaa began, “I could send back…"

"No!   Take six men and do it yourself but, don't return without a cadaver, or you can say farewell to your pay," Grym snarled.

Skaa didn't rush.   He enjoyed a bath, and a good meal, before despatching one of his men, to fetch a young doxy he’d had his eye on, with the promise of silver.   An hour in her company soon restored the fire in his belly; so he was ready for anything.   The girl went on to entertain the other riders, to make the visit financially worthwhile. 

 They rode out of the city at first light.  Unknown to Skaa, one of his dog soldiers had ridden out earlier, to dump a sack, at the fringes of the city, containing the decapitated body of the unfortunate young woman.   It was close to the Pochette Platzi, an area where life is cheap and no questions would be asked.   As the seven riders passed the place one of them noted the sack was gone.  Just minutes after he’d dumped it the broken body had been stripped of its clothing and left, naked in the gutter, at the mercy of a pack of half-starved feral curs.   Even before the killer returned to the inn they were sidling closer, sniffing and salivating, summoning the courage to attack.   Before the seven set out on their return trip, to the desert, all trace of her was gone.   The dogs, however, went hungry because somebody, fearful of an unquiet spirit, rescued her remains and interred them safely below ground.

.-…-. 

After two days of fruitless searching, it was evident they would not be able to produce the corpse.   They could stay and search for another week, widening the search area, and still find nothing.   Grym had as good as dismissed them; if they returned without a body so now they were unlikely to get paid.

Skaa’s expression was sour, his temper worse, and so they gave him a wide berth.   Then without preamble, he announced, "we leave at sun-up.  We are returning to the city, we only have supplies for one more week and we may need them whilst searching for a new paymaster."

"Can't we go into business for ourselves again," asked the youngest member of the band hopefully?   Though youngest he was far from the brightest but, he possessed an animal cunning, and was a demon with a blade in his hand.   When it came to fighting none, in the troop, were Frek's equal.   Even Skaa, a blades-man of excellence, would avoid direct confrontation with him.  

"We've worked the highways before, and we didn't do so badly," Frek reasoned.

"Do you remember why we gave it up," Skaa said patiently, "do you know the price on our heads back home?" he asked.

Frek went silent and gazed sullenly into the flames, "I jus thought…"

"No, you didn't!"   Skaa yelled cuffing the youngster about the ears, "but, that's what I like about you Frek, you shake me out of my moods and cause me to think beyond the moment!"   He placed a fatherly arm around the young man's shoulder - "you've given me an idea, there may be something else we can do," he sat down and went silent for an extended period, so long, in fact, the others became restless.   Just as several were preparing to breach the silence, he spoke.   "We are now bounty hunters!"   His statement was met with puzzled looks.   "What do you think we are doing at this moment?"   He said, - nobody spoke - "we are searching for a brat in return for payment."

"But, who would we be chasing," asked Frek.

"That’s easy, how many potential male heirs did the old Caliph leave?"   His question was met with silence.   "Thirty-six!   Of those, one is now the Regent and five others are housed safely in the cells beneath the palace, leaving thirty.    Thirty potentially fat bounties."

"So, we just turn up at the palace with one of his brothers and he pays us?" asked a voice in the group.

‘A sceptical little bugger’ Skaa thought but chose to ignore him.

“First we must find a body, desiccated beyond recognition by the desert.   There is a village nearby, where the tradition is to bury their dead in the sand until they are mummified.    When they hold celebrations they invite their ancestors, to the jig, by digging them up and display them in their dwellings, in places of honour, so they can bear witness to what is happening in this world, inform those in the next.   Then seek their approval.   We will buy or steal a body then we return to Grym and collect what he owes us.   Then we offer our services at the palace.   Once we are accepted Fazeil will provide us with a complete list of our quarry, their ages, personal details, and descriptions, together with the possible bolt holes they might have headed for."

"Then we go get em!" said Frek licking dribbles of saliva from his lips.

.-…-. 

It took Skaa three days to contrive an audience with one of Fazeil's advisors and to obtain an official warrant to seize arrest and detain all persons named therein.   Eventually, they would be returned to the palace as potential enemies of the state.   They would be detained indefinitely at the pleasure of the Regent, soon to be Caliph of Corvalen.

During the next three weeks, they took two of Fazeil’s brothers and in so doing pocketed more money than they had earned, in two years, working for Grym-Baal.  

Skaa enlisted the services of the other six members of his band and set off to successively visit all the outlying towns and villages, intent on ferreting out others.   He had also enlisted the services of one of Endrochine's favourite courtesans, one who knew the members of his family intimately, and who had no qualms about hunting them down; Jazim had no love for those who had looked down their noses at a mere courtesan.   There was one only she remembered fondly, as a true friend.   With the help of Jazim, they were very quickly able to track down two more and at this point, they were all looking forward to a rosy future.   Then they encountered a mature adversary, a brother with a dozen private bodyguards of his own.   They lost four of their number before dispatching him and escaping with his head in a basket.   The next town on their visit list was Mandrell.

(To Be Continued)

Copyright Len Morgan