The Guild War Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books in the Series

  Dedication

  Roho the Pounder

  Map of Andoran's Realm

  1 - ‡ Death ‡

  2 - ‡ Family ‡

  3 - ‡ Beginnings ‡

  4 - ‡ Advice ‡

  5 - ‡ Discord ‡

  6 - ‡ Lessons ‡

  7 - ‡ Assistant ‡

  8 - ‡ Employment ‡

  9 - ‡ Murderer ‡

  10 - ‡ Replacement ‡

  11 - ‡ Lure ‡

  12 - ‡ Malice ‡

  13 - ‡ Fatigue ‡

  14 - ‡ Tribute ‡

  15 - ‡ Magic ‡

  16 - ‡ Consequences ‡

  17 - ‡ Chosen ‡

  18 - ‡ Meetings ‡

  19 - ‡ Teachers ‡

  20 - ‡ Sex ‡

  21 - ‡ Guards ‡

  22 - ‡ Melancholy ‡

  23 - ‡ Rebound ‡

  24 - ‡ Assault ‡

  25 - ‡ Infection ‡

  26 - ‡ Outbreak ‡

  27 - ‡ Containment ‡

  28 - ‡ Breach ‡

  29 - ‡ Lives ‡

  30 - ‡ Survivors ‡

  31 - ‡ Loss ‡

  32 - ‡ Whirlwind ‡

  33 - ‡ Roles ‡

  34 - ‡ Faith ‡

  35 - ‡ Romee ‡

  36 - ‡ Secrets ‡

  37 - ‡ Activation ‡

  38 - ‡ Fallout ‡

  39 - ‡ Revelations ‡

  40 - ‡ Preparation ‡

  41 - ‡ Festival ‡

  42 - ‡ Underground ‡

  43 - ‡ Laboratory ‡

  44 - ‡ Retribution ‡

  45 - ‡ Life ‡

  Acknowledgements

  Index of Names

  About the Author

  The Guild War

  ‡ BOOK THREE OF ANDORAN’S REALM ‡

  M. Gregg Roe

  Text Copyright © 2018 M. Gregg Roe

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition — March 2018

  Corrected — September 2018

  ‡ ANDORAN'S REALM ‡

  Book One: Audrey of Farmerton

  Book Two: The Witch’s City

  Book Three: The Guild War

  Book Four: Andoran’s Legacy

  — For Clova, who was both my grandmother

  and my third parent —

  Roho the Pounder

  A mighty dwarf named Roho there was

  Battle axe he wielded just because

  Monsters a many were a slain

  But frequently ’twas all in vain

  For Roho often fell as well

  Requiring many a death knell

  He’s gone but we remember him still

  By naming our city Rohoville

  — Siljan av Sabrina, Self-Appointed Royal Poet

  1

  ‡ Death ‡

  Aside from the headless corpse, it was a lovely morning.

  The view from atop the city wall was breathtaking. To the east, the Witchmarsh stretched seemingly forever, lit by the rising sun and pink-dyed scattered clouds. To the west, surrounded by the perfectly circular wall, lay the Witch’s City. It was a sight that few people ever saw and Captain Hagen spent some time taking it all in. There was no need to hurry; the victim had been dead for hours.

  Unlike most fortified cities, there were no battlements, gatehouses, or even stairs. The wall was solid stone, and its top was perfectly flat. Pairs of his guards were searching the top in either direction, but he doubted that they would find anything other than bird droppings. Below, other guards were searching the base of the wall, both inside and out. Nearby stood Lieutenant Eomera, his second-in-command. The ugly elf was somehow contriving to simultaneously look bored, sly, and insolent. Even the casual way she was standing was somehow insulting. He knew the disrespect wasn’t personal, but it was still annoying.

  “Report, Lieutenant,” he ordered, taking a step closer to the body. It was at the outside edge, with the left arm actually hanging over the side.

  “As you can tell from the lack of blood, he wasn’t killed here.” She paused to stifle a yawn and scratch her rear. “It also looks like the head was removed after he was already dead. He was stabbed. At least twenty wounds—all to the torso.”

  Hagen squatted down and examined the stump of the victim’s neck. The head had been removed with a single stroke of a very sharp blade, something that required both strength and skill. The man’s shirt, once light brown, was now mostly the color of dried blood.

  “No sign of a ladder being used outside the wall,” continued Eomera as he stood back up. “No reports of anyone seeing or hearing anything from up here, or of anyone flying around.”

  “Could this be our new vigilante?” he asked. That, in fact, was why he had decided to return to the city earlier than he had originally planned.

  Eomera shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but the vigilante has just beat up people so far.”

  But it was more than that. The vigilante left his victims neatly tied up and accompanied by a handwritten confession of their crimes. Despite denials, the confessions had proven to be accurate, resulting in two men now languishing in prison. Neither of them remembered who had attacked them; the memories were simply gone. That was definitely something both new and unusual.

  “The killer wanted the body found but not easily identified,” he speculated.

  In the Witch’s City, solving a murder was often as simple as taking the body to a temple to be raised from the dead, and then simply asking the victim who had killed them. And it wasn’t common knowledge that removing the head prevented that possibility. Most people thought that magic could do basically anything.

  “The killer was showing off,” countered Eomera, still looking bored. “I’m guessing it was some kind of grudge. A major grudge.”

  That fit with the excessive number of stab wounds, but Hagen wasn’t so sure. The whole thing felt odd. Why not leave the body where people would see it? The body had been arranged so that the guards at the nearby East Gate would spot it once the sun rose. It wasn’t visible from inside the city at all.

  Eomera yawned loudly. “We’ll obviously question spell-casters, but we should also check with the alchemists to see if anyone bought levitation potions recently.”

  The woman was annoying, but she was competent. Magic had almost certainly been used to transport the body to the top of the wall, but that didn’t mean that the killer was a spell-caster.

  Hagen examined the body again. Identifying the victim wasn’t going to be easy. He was a human male of average build with a common skin color. The clothes were inexpensive and unremarkable. Most of the population dressed that way, and the majority of them were human. It was even possible that they were looking at an unusually large half-elf, although he thought that unlikely. A detailed examination would resolve the matter, but as far as the man’s identity, their best bet was to see who was reported missing in the next day or two.

  Hagen took one last look around. He had been on top of the wall before, but not recently. It really was a lovely view.

  “Lieutenant, have the body taken to the Temple of Arwon. I’m going to get something to eat and then head to my office.”

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied, saluting sloppily. “I’ll see you later.”

  Hagen sighed and walked over to the tall ladder. Two guards below spotted him and promptly took hold of the bottom. He already felt tired as he began to climb down. It was going to be a long day.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Audrey narrowly dodged the snap kick, deflected the knife hand, and then saw an opening. Her left p
unch—with the first two finger joints tightly folded—stopped just short of her opponent’s throat, almost touching. Kora stepped back and held up both hands, acknowledging her defeat.

  The bout had only taken seconds, but that was normal. At their level, the first person to make even a small mistake lost. Because they were sparring in class as part of their training, control was vital. In a real fight, Audrey would have extended her strike farther, crushing the throat. That would incapacitate; it might even kill.

  Audrey’s opponent didn’t exactly look threatening. Kora was short, plain, and so quiet that people tended not to notice her. But she had been studying Shorinken—a form of unarmed combat—for years, developing impressive skills. She was both remarkably flexible and stronger than she looked.

  They faced each other, bowed, and started another bout. This time it was Audrey who made the mistake, allowing Kora’s right hand to close on her own left forearm. As Kora wrenched her arm and closed, Audrey attempted a knee strike, but that further unbalanced her. Extending her right arm and twisting her body lessened the impact as Kora threw her down onto the padded floor, but it still hurt. Kora promptly let go, and Audrey sprang to her feet and acknowledged her own loss.

  Before they could start another bout, Grasapa announced that the class was over. After bowing to their teacher, everyone went to the side table where towels and water could be found. There was no talking as they all drank and toweled off their faces and necks. It was early Autumn, but even with the windows open, it was hot in the room.

  In the woman’s changing room, Audrey took her time. There had been something off about Kora today, and she wanted to talk to the young woman. Kora was slow as always, meticulously folding her uniform, toweling herself off, and methodically donning her clothing. Then came the thorough brushing of her waist-length, light brown hair. The other two women were much faster, so it wasn’t long before the two of them were alone.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Audrey. “You usually win most of our bouts.” Today, Kora had barely won half.

  Kora stopped brushing and blinked, clearly startled. “You haven’t heard? Lady Aurelia died in her sleep two nights ago. It’s sad.”

  It was sad, especially since Audrey knew that Aurelia had planned to retire in less than three months. Audrey hadn’t known her well, but Kora had spent three years of her life working directly for the old elf. Elves had twice the lifespan of humans, but even they weren’t immortal.

  “I just got back yesterday,” explained Audrey. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Kora’s green eyes blinked again. “That was about those girls being kidnapped?”

  “Yes.” Audrey forced a smile. “They’re fine now.”

  “Did you have to kill anyone?” asked Kora earnestly. “I don’t think I could do that.”

  “I only killed one creature, but yes, there was killing.” That seemed to be part of adventuring.

  “Creature?”

  It wasn’t something that Audrey had given much thought to, but now she had no choice but to explain. “It’s called a gnoll. It’s kind of like a man with a dog’s head. And they’ve got fur all over. I broke one’s neck with a kick.”

  “So they’re just animals?” asked Kora.

  Audrey was suddenly uneasy. “They had clothes and armor and weapons. One was a spell-caster.” She suddenly wondered if the one she killed had a family.

  “Couldn’t you have just knocked it unconscious?”

  “Kora, before I killed it, it was chasing me around waving this big axe. Then it attacked Gabriel. I had to do it.” Besides, Audrey had a feeling that the dwarves had hunted down all the gnolls in the area after that incident. “I didn’t enjoy it.” But that was a lie. She had felt real satisfaction after killing it.

  “Okay.” Kora resumed brushing her hair.

  “Do you want to go somewhere and talk? I’ll tell you all about what happened, and you can tell me stories about Aurelia.”

  A slight smile appeared. “I’d like that. The Blue Hammer Tavern?”

  “Perfect.” It was nearby, and, apparently, Kora’s favorite place to eat.

  They were there for hours, starting off with drinks, but eventually having dinner. Kora really was upset by Aurelia’s death. Audrey learned all kinds of things about the woman as Kora told story after story. In exchange, Audrey told her all about the girl’s kidnapping and eventual rescue, including the parts she had only heard secondhand. Clearly fascinated by the story, Kora asked many questions.

  After walking Kora to her house, Audrey went home. She found a note there from Cinda, telling her of Aurelia’s passing and also saying that there would be a tribute ceremony for the woman later that month. Audrey decided that she would go to see Cinda and the other courtesans tomorrow to offer her condolences.

  Lying in bed that night, Audrey’s thoughts kept returning to the dead gnoll. Had it—no, he—had a wife and children? Did they curse the one that had taken their loved one away? She had never killed an intelligent creature before, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to again. Sleep eventually came, but not reassurance.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Gabriel held his sister gently by the shoulder as she continued to dry heave. Marryn’s stomach had already disgorged its contents, but she seemed unable to stop. The sight of the brutally slain young woman had undone her. Unlike him, his sister had never seen the results of such violence visited on an innocent.

  It was anger, not nausea, that Gabriel now felt. The perpetrator of this crime needed to be brought to justice, to perhaps pay with their own life. It had not escaped his notice that most of the wounds were concentrated in one particular region, making it an even more hideous crime. The woman’s face was now frozen with a look of horror, made worse by the fact that her brown eyes were still open. Her arms were a mass of cuts—evidence of a concerted effort to defend herself. She looked vaguely familiar to him. Her slightly pointed ears and facial features marked her as a half-elf, but the strawberry blond color of her hair was unusual given her swarthy skin.

  Marryn finally managed to stop but was still breathing heavily. Gabriel promptly led her away from the body and the mess that she had created with her vomiting. She gave him a grateful look, her eyes red and face stained with tears.

  Rapidly approaching footsteps caused Gabriel to react automatically, stepping in front of his sister and putting his right hand on the hilt of his dagger. He relaxed when he recognized just who had arrived. Even simply dressed and with her dark hair tied back, Aliva radiated sensuality, not surprising given that she was half succubus. Her face went hard as she halted to view the body.

  “I recognize her,” said Aliva, glancing over at the two of them. “I’ll go get help.” She turned and ran before Gabriel could reply.

  “Why would anyone do that?” begged Marryn. “It’s horrible.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “Do not fear. Her assailant will be caught and brought to justice.”

  “Do you promise?” she begged desperately.

  “I promise.” It was a comforting lie on his part.

  Before long, more footsteps heralded the return of Aliva and two members of the Witch’s City Guard. Gabriel nodded at the taller of the two. He not only knew Erik but sometimes fought practice bouts against him. The man was usually smiling, but not now.

  “Master Gabriel,” said the other guard, stepping forward. “What, pray tell, did you witness of what transpired here?”

  As an elf, Ilia was much shorter than her human partner, who was now examining the body. She also looked younger despite being over a decade older. Her formal speech marked her as a member of one of the city’s older wealthy families.

  “We heard her screaming from an adjoining street,” he explained. “By the time we reached her, she was dead. I did hear someone running in the distance, farther down the alley—”

  “But Mistress Marryn had need of your protection,” said Ilia, and then winked.

  “Yes.”

  Ilia was giving
him an excuse for not having pursued the culprit. Truthfully, he wasn’t a fast runner, and his sister really did need protection. Marryn seemed to think that the one self-defense course she had taken made her safe, but it had just made her foolhardy from what he could tell.

  “Gods!” exclaimed Marryn, her pale blue eyes wide with shock. “She was pregnant!” She collapsed to her knees and began to retch.

  Obeying Aliva’s gesture, Gabriel walked away with Ilia while Aliva went to see to Marryn. He had hoped that his sister wouldn’t figure it out, but she wasn’t stupid.

  “Aliva has informed us of her identity,” began Ilia in a low voice. “We will seek out her employer, family, and friends for questioning while we await her return. The unborn child, alas, cannot be revived.”

  That was one of those sad truths that no one could explain. A newborn could be raised from the dead, but not a child still connected to its mother. The young woman would soon be restored to life, and hopefully implicating her killer, but she would likely be devastated by her loss.

  “Crimes of this nature occur far too often in my opinion,” continued Ilia in her melodious voice.

  “I agree.” He saw that his sister was now standing and clinging to Aliva. “May we leave now, Corporal Ilia?”

  “Of course, Master Gabriel. Thank you for your assistance.”

  Aliva accompanied them all the way to the Witch’s Castle but didn’t go inside. Marryn went straight to her room, leaving Gabriel to explain what had occurred. His father, predictably, shared his anger, while his mother’s primary concern was consoling Marryn.

  That night, lying awake in his bed, he could hear his sister still sobbing. There was something that he had been considering, and he was now certain. During his adventures, he had frequently defended those in need and aided in the capture or slaying of villains. How could he not do the same in the city he called home? It was time. Tomorrow he would apply for employment with the Witch’s City Guard.