Arcane Mercenaries: Insurrection, page 6
“Not likely,” Ez muttered.
Grant chuckled and turned back to the bishop. “That’s not something I would put down as one of our advantages. Money, weapons, people, training. I can work with those things.”
“We will help with morale,” the bishop said.
Grant bit down his frustration. He just agreed to take on a StarTouched ruler who dominated Megenland. There had to be more to their efforts than quiet prayers and hopeful thoughts. Why risk bringing Grant on board at all and revealing their underground operations?
“I’m sorry, bishop. I need to know more about the efforts before Ez and I can offer meaningful help.”
Bishop Milne winked at Mairi and adjusted his clerical garments. He stood and tucked his hands in his sleeves before he bowed to the small gathering.
“It was very good to see you, Grant. I would offer each of you a blessing, but I know your relationship with the church is stressful. Please accept my thanks for helping us.”
Stressful was an understatement, but he couldn’t focus on his relationship with the church with this brusque dismissal.
“You may stay as long as you need,” Bishop Milne said. “The agents of the warlord don’t watch the bishop’s palace, and there are many exits for resourceful people.”
Without another word, the man left and secured the doors behind him.
“Thank you, Grant,” Mairi said. “The past ten years have become progressively worse. Erland doesn’t age, and he doesn’t care about the people he’s crushing.”
“I wish I knew more about how to help,” Grant said.
“You will,” Mairi said. “I’ll take you there.”
“Well played, Mairi,” Ez said and chuckled. “You watched that entire exchange with a straight face. You wanted to see what we would do, and the church was your cover.”
“I wasn’t expecting Protection Day when we arrived,” Mairi admitted. “But you saw the brutality destroying lives. The bishop has quietly supported the people of Liswall and the surrounding countryside, but his support has limits. We can’t let Erland control Megenland for generations.”
“We?” Grant asked.
“There’s a resistance—pockets of people who offer token resistance and others that gather resources. It’s a small insurgency that gains strength with each Protection Day, but we fiercely protect our identities. The church helps us regularly, but they do it in a manner that avoids suspicion.”
“It’s easy for the priests to get on board when facing a StarTouched despot. What will they think when two StarTouched mercenaries join the fray?” Grant asked.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Mairi said. “It doesn’t have to be harder than that.”
“Will people remember me?” Grant asked.
He couldn’t shake his thoughts of his peers, all in their forties with stable lives and loving families. They were trapped in the grasp of a dictator impervious to the passage of time, and no one was coming to help them. Protection Day worsened each month, and there was no hope of changing their fate without outside assistance.
Grant could stay and help the resistance. He didn’t have leads for StarFall, and Liswall’s citizens’ plight weighed on him. Grant couldn’t leave them like this. His prowess as an experienced soldier and commander would be indispensable. He steeled himself for the tempest about to sweep Liswall.
“Many will remember you,” Mairi said. She avoided further eye contact with him.
“Who?” Grant asked.
“It would be best if you meet them,” Mairi said. “We use the tunnels under the churches and through the catacombs. This room has an entrance, but you must go the rest of the way yourself.”
Grant raised an eyebrow.
“I know who runs the operation in Liswall, but I can’t know anyone else in his group. We keep our cells separate to protect our identities,” Mairi said. “I’ll free up some funds in Torness for your operation, Grant.”
“You’re part of the resistance in Torness?” Ez asked.
Mairi smiled. “I run it.”
“Who runs the operations here?” Grant asked.
“Your brother,” Mairi said.
“Quite the family business you’ve got here in Megenland,” Ez said with a low whistle.
Grant slumped back in his chair, his gaze unseeing as it swept over the wall of books that lined the opposite side of the room. His thoughts wrestled with the day’s staggering revelations, struggling to comprehend the events that had transpired since StarFall. The sheer magnitude of everything that awaited him upon his return to Megenland had been utterly unforeseen.
His brother was in Liswall.
Mairi stood near a bookcase, her hand gripping the bust of an unnamed saint. With a firm pull, a hidden compartment glided open, unveiling a tunnel that burrowed into the depths of the catacombs. It was an ingenious escape route befitting a bishop, and Grant had little doubt that the palace concealed a myriad of other secrets designed to ensure the bishop’s safety.
“Your brother retired from the Ismorian navy two years ago. He was a captain wounded in the line of duty. He’s on a full pension and lives the life of a retired officer who served with distinction and honor. No one suspects what he does. He’s very loyal to the queen.”
“Thank you, Mairi. It’s going to be hard.”
“Be gentle with your brother, Grant Gwydian,” Mairi said. “He’s struggled as much as you have over the past fifteen years.”
“How did he avoid the priests?” What Grant meant to say is how he dodged the same fate as his parents.
“By staying at sea as much as possible. He was loyal to the queen and the navy, and no one questioned his relationship with you.” Mairi paused at the door before she descended into the darkness. She lit a candle and turned to Grant. “I hope I’ll see you again, Grant Gwydian.”
Grant watched the woman walk as fast as possible while keeping the flame lit. The yellow glow faded and disappeared into the hungry darkness.
“Family affair,” Ez said and stood up.
“That’s not a good thing, Ez.” Grant didn’t try to rise. He was too numb from the day’s revelations.
“Let’s go find out.” Ez grabbed a candle and coaxed the meager flame to life. She waited for him at the stairs, and Grant was amazed she still put up with him.
He had another ghost to face before he took on the demon ruling the island. Grant didn’t know which one he feared more.
11
LEADERSHIP
Grant cupped the candle’s flame as he descended the uneven steps into the catacombs below. Ez secured the door behind them with a resounding click and confirmed they could escape that way if an ambush awaited them in the tunnels below.
Their feeble light cast eerie, dancing shadows in the claustrophobic stairwell, the darkness below concealing all manner of horrors. Grant strained to see the landing ahead, but the light couldn’t penetrate the deep gloom, and the scraping sound of their boots on the carved stone stairs echoed far beyond his meager vision.
Ez’s footsteps behind him kept his emotions in check. He wasn’t alone, but he was to face the surviving member of his family, Captain Owen Gwydian. Grant was the leader of the famous Arcane Mercenaries, and Ez, one of the greatest warriors in any country, walked behind him with a candle over her head to light their way.
Why didn’t he feel more confident?
Seeing his brother and challenging Erland meant he had to face his past. The demons danced in his soul with each pulse of his heart. Images of the deathly stares of his family nearly dropped him to his knees in the icy embrace of the catacombs. Fallen soldiers, the carnage of battle, and the moans of the dying clawed at his awareness. His nightmares haunted each step in the catacombs’ darkness.
His brother wouldn’t accept excuses. He never did.
Grant paused when they reached the landing, his eyes struggling to see the corridors leading away from the bishop’s palace and deeper through the city. Ez laid a hand on his shoulder, sending a jolt of energy reminding him of the present without saying a word.
His heart slowed again. Grant sorted through his thoughts about his brother. He’d face the demons another day and locked those memories away.
“Where to?” Grant whispered to Ez. It was silly to whisper in the surrounding darkness. Who was he afraid of hearing them?
“If you’ll follow me.”
The female voice made Grant reach for his sword. The speaker didn’t move closer or make another sound from the darkness, and Grant’s power flared with energy to find the speaker concealed by the gloom. Ez did the same to see through the catacomb’s murky embrace.
A woman draped in a heavy cloak stood at one of the four exits from the dimly lit room, her face concealed by her hood and a mask. She waited without movement as Grant approached with the flickering glow of his candle. They could have walked by her statuesque figure in the gloom and never known she was there.
Without a word, the woman turned toward a nearby tunnel, indistinguishable from the others leading out of the underground chamber. Grant scrambled to keep up with the woman as she held up a hooded lantern to light the remainder of their journey through the maze.
Grant kept his hand on the wall for balance as they traveled deeper. The stone, likely limestone, was cool and dry, not what he had expected so close to the water’s edge. They might be veering away from the coast, deeper into the hills.
The seasoned warriors lost all sense of time as they navigated through the labyrinth, at times ducking beneath low wooden beams and, at others, darting along straight passages. The woman held the light steady, never looking back to check their progress. If they lagged, they were not worthy of their leader’s time.
Grant rubbed his eyes, convinced the glowing light ahead was a figment of his imagination. After relying on candles for so long, his senses played tricks on him. But the faint outline grew brighter, and a carved chamber materialized before them in the heart of the underground facility.
As they entered the room, six figures garbed in heavy black cloaks and masks emerged from the shadows, their faces shrouded in mystery. Grant could discern two swords glinting at their hips, and he suspected more weapons lurking beneath their cloaks.
One person among them stood out, unable to conceal his identity. Owen Gwydian’s stormy blue eyes mirrored his turbulent emotions as he locked eyes with his brother. The cane in his right hand clattered against the ground as he hobbled forward, favoring his left leg.
He threw back his hood, revealing far more gray than brown in the thinning hairline on his head. Owen tugged off his mask and stared at his brother. Unlike Grant, he was clean-shaven, but he had the same intensity.
“I’m not saluting you, field marshal,” Owen Gwydian said.
It was the first time they had talked in over fifteen years. Owen was at sea during StarFall, and Grant was gone before his brother returned. Grant struggled to find the proper response, but his brother waited.
“Retirement is treating you well, captain,” Grant said.
Owen didn’t smile.
“Commodore.” Owen growled the word like a challenge.
Grant straightened up and adjusted his jacket. He saluted his brother and held the position until the look in Owen’s eyes softened. Owen switched hands holding his cane and returned the gesture.
“Just a mercenary captain, now,” Grant said. “Those field marshal days are behind me.”
“And the emperor business?”
“Didn’t work out,” Grant said. “Harmed far too many people.”
“So you ran home to Ismore. After all these years, you finally ran out of people to hurt on the mainland, so you came home.”
Grant was ready to lash back at his brother. Owen followed in their father’s footsteps and was the pride of the Gwydian family. Grant was the youngest and got all the extra attention, always creating tension between the siblings. Everything Owen said was true.
“I want to help, Owen. I can’t change the past. Believe me. I’ve tried. I’ve fought, hid, killed, and died. The past is beyond changing, but with the help of some friends, I’ve learned we can still shape the future.”
“I’m not offering forgiveness, Grant.”
“I know I have to earn that, Owen. Let me help you with Erland.”
The resistance members stiffened at the name of their warlord and shared glances. They didn’t expect Grant to be so forward, but Owen was a naval officer and appreciated the direct approach. The brothers didn’t need to mince words anymore.
“What are you offering?” Owen asked, taking another step closer.
“A pair of StarTouched warriors who led the Arcane Mercenaries across the Mage Wars. This is Ez, my second-in-command and the most dangerous sharpshooter in the world.”
“The pleasure is mine, commodore,” Ez said. She could put on the charm when the situation demanded a small push. She also saluted, and the conspirators in the room relaxed.
“Two of you isn’t much,” Owen said, gripping his cane in two hands. He struggled with the decision to let the mercenaries in, but Grant gave him time.
“We do the one thing you haven’t been able to do since the warlord took over,” Ez said. “Neutralize his advantage. We’re StarTouched.”
“We could try it,” Owen said, his resolve firming.
“There might be an issue,” Grant said. He was reluctant to bring up his situation with the sheriff and tax collector, but if Owen planned on bringing them into the fold, he would have to do it quickly.
Lighting flashed underneath Owen’s features.
“What did you do?”
“The sheriff and tax collector came out to the homestead in Mackay. Someone warned them we were coming, and half of them are buried there.”
Before Owen could explode, Ez intervened. “Erland will know we’re here in the next day or two. It might even be less, and he’ll launch a full search for the killers. Protection Day will be a warmup after we defended ourselves.”
Nice touch, Grant thought. He wasn’t going back to prison, especially not one run by Erland. Self-defense was a stretch, but it wasn’t far from the truth.
“We have time, Owen. Make the move now, and we’ll lead the charge,” Grant said.
“This is crazy,” Owen said.
“So was StarFall,” Grant said.
Owen glanced at his co-conspirators for confirmation, but all deferred to their leader for the decision to admit Grant into their inner circle. Doing so would accelerate their plans before they might be ready for open action.
Insurgencies could be crushed if they acted openly too soon.
“I never thought I would count on Grant Gwydian to fight at my side.”
Grant smiled and stood next to his brother.
“But the people of Liswall can’t continue under Erland’s reign. We’ll fight, but you better deliver.”
If Grant had a gold coin for whenever someone doubted him and suspected he wouldn’t pull through, he could buy out the Queen of Ismore and send her away to a comfortable exile.
“It’s good to be with you, Owen,” Grant said.
“Don’t let me down, Grant. There are too many people counting on us.”
12
STORM
Owen had agreed to speed up their efforts, recognizing the need for swift action before Erland tracked Grant and Ez to Liswall. The retired commodore had ordered agitators to stage protests in the streets, pulling Erland’s enforcers away from the palace and the cathedral. Meanwhile, Grant, Ez, and five of Owen’s most experienced revolutionaries would storm the palace and confront the warlord head-on.
Grant feared they were taking a tremendous gamble, but he knew it was the best they could do with the limited time available. The fate of the resistance and the future of Megenland hung in the balance, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.
“You look worried,” Ez said. She checked her sword in her belt and procured a pair of daggers from Owen’s team. Ez would have loved a pistol or two. “We’ve tried crazier missions than this.”
“Those were soldiers. Everyone knew the risks and had fought together,” Grant said. He checked his weapons and fiddled with his cloak. For the first time on this mission, he wished Jafran were with them.
“You sit around, rubbing your beard and thinking deep thoughts. People think you’re this distant, calculating commander,” Ez said, placing her hand on his right arm. He stopped fidgeting and looked back into those deep brown eyes. “You save lives. Varenne, High Forest, Krosno. Name any battle with the Arcane Mercenaries, and I’ll explain how you risked everything to save a few soldiers and end the carnage.”
“In the early days, I wanted to die. I’d go out into that battlefield and hope my powers would fail. Whatever afterlife awaited me, I’d accept,” Grant said.
“It’s different now,” Ez said.
“I want to live,” Grant said, loud enough for Ez to hear him. She squeezed his arm.
“Then let’s go save Megenland from your childhood bully.”
Grant snorted a laugh, readying his kit for the upcoming battle.
They had been holed up in the ancient catacombs beneath the city for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the signal to strike. The limestone structures dated back thousands of years, and Grant couldn’t help but wonder about the people who had once sought refuge in these subterranean caverns.
As Owen issued orders to his followers, Grant watched them come and go, all without writing anything down. The risk of leaving behind incriminating evidence was too great. If this plan failed, Erland and his enforcers could use any written records as proof against the conspirators.
Grant wondered if he looked as tense as his brother. Owen listened intently as each group reported in, his expression darkening with each piece of bad news. But even in the face of adversity, he remained steadfast, offering encouragement and confidently delivering orders. Would Reece Gwydian be proud of his sons?
