Book 2, Chapter 9 - Conspirators (2/2)

“It’s about time.” The old man fished a pocket watch out of his clothes and took a glance. “Come with me.”

The young man with the ponytail was wandering aimlessly around the bar, bored stiff, when suddenly he spied the man with the goatee and his companion quickly leave. After a brief tremor he dropped what he was holding and hurried after them.

The old man had planned this down to the minute. It was the busiest time for the streets of Sandbar Outpost, and the crowds were fierce. When he and the middle-aged man joined the fray they instantly vanished. The young server tried to keep up but stopped when he reached a crossroads. Several streets and alleyways slithered before him like a spider web. He had no idea which one his targets had taken.

***

Several minutes later, in an abandoned warehouse.

Dust and the stink of mold permeated the air. The light of a candle struggled against the breeze. Its frail light flickered against the darkness, and like the old man it just hoped to fill the world with a little light and warmth before it burnt out.

“These are the young men I was talking with you about.”

There were six people standing before the man with the goatee. The youngest of them was about twenty, and the oldest no more than forty.

“I’ve hid them here. They’ve helped me gather the information we have for the last decade or so. The product of constantly looking for talent. Every one of them has followed me through the fire and they all have unique skills. Whether you train them as spies or frontline fighters they will be your most trustworthy soldiers. I can guarantee that with my life.”

Buzzard nodded. “I’ll make sure to pass your personal recommendation on to Wolfblade.” [1]

“Wait! If we leave what about you?” One of the men with a large black sword on his back spoke up. “I’m with you. Wherever you go I’m going as well.”

“And me!”

“Same!”

Buzzard was moved by their loyalty. Most members of an independent Dark Atom cell dreamed of joining the main group. That was especially true for borderland spies like them. It was a promise that they could move somewhere without worry for food or clothing, where they would be taken care of. Who wanted to live like this? Like rats in a sewer?

Yet these men were willing to give up that opportunity to stay with the old man who led them.

“Death will come for us all one day, but faith is indestructible.” The old man answered them with a pleasant smile. He picked up the dying candles and used them to light others, spreading the light farther. “So long as we pass on the flame of our convictions, one day it will be a wildfire. What regrets would I have in death? Do not forget our goal!”

The six men looked at one another.

Buzzard interjected, curious at their reaction. “You have other goals?”

The old man nodded matter-of-factly. “There’s an inconspicuous chink in Skycloud City’s proverbial armor. Give me a little time, so long as that opening remains we can use it to administer a poison that would kill tens of thousands of city residents. It will be a catastrophe the likes of which the holy city would not recover from.”

As the plan slipped from the old man’s lips his face turned monstrous and eerie.

Buzzard had never seen hatred at this level. This man’s solitary purpose in life was to see the downfall of the holy city. But it was an interesting plan, and he opened his mouth to inquire further when –

Ding, ding!

The sound of a small bell softly flitted through the air. Clear and melodious, it stabbed at their ears like a poison dart.

“Shit!” One of the men by the door scowled. “Someone’s trying to sneak up on us. I think we’ve been made.”

An enormous black man hoisted an equally massive gun from his back. He began pulling bullets the size of thumbs from the bandolier around his chest and began feeding them into the firing chamber. Click! Click! He stepped forward, aimed at the door, and fired.

BANG!

A shocking boom tore through the area, the warehouse door was blown to pieces.

With a cry of shock and pain the bullet hit someone on the other side and sent them flying. At the caliber this large man was using it didn’t matter that the bullet first passed through the door. Whoever he hit was dead.

“Fuck!” The old man shouted. “Buzzard, get out of here now!”

“But you-“

“Now isn’t the time!” He shook his head, cutting the other man off. “Think about what that notebook is worth. You need to get it to Wolfblade, no matter what. Otherwise all our effort is wasted! Now shut up and go!”

But even before his words could sink in the intruders were reacting. Suddenly the whole building roared like a hurricane had descended upon them. [2] The windows rattled and the wooden walls clacked as suddenly a hail of arrows fell.

“Find cover!”

Buzzard kicked over a table and hid behind it, just in time to see the deadly heads of seven or eight bolts poke through the wood. The others scrambled for protection, but one of the younger men was too slow and a crossbow bolt caught him in the eye. He was alive long enough to scream and then crumbled to the floor lifeless.

1. The name should be familiar. It’s the name of the Dark Atom’s leader.

2. For those who have never experienced a hurricane, here’s what they sound like. Headphone users beware. Missing is the deep groaning rumble that underlies this. Almost everyone describes a hurricane passing over their house like being run over by a train.