The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - Assault in Stormguard

Assault in Stormguard

Larson and Garrett Adventure the Ninth by Aaron Dennis

Published by www.storiesbydennis.com April 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

On the outskirts of the city of Stormguard, capitol of Ruvonia, Larson, Garrett, Lyalla, Fortha, and Seanessy met with an old man by the name of Lennon. Detective Mathew deemed it a precaution for their safety since the forces of destruction were most prevalent in the capitol and its surrounding cities. While he was off investigating recent tribulations involving the king and his court, and Charlotte returned to the thieves' guild to obtain new information, Larson and the gang made an effort to relax inside Lennon's modest, one room, stone home.

It was an austere setting owned by Mathew's former informant, a man who had been employed by the Caulderstons, a family of merchants who traded with the country of Faaltosk to the north. After introductions were made, and Lennon assured the crew of their safety, they sat around a dining table by the light of candles. Eating and drinking while the rafters above them creaked and settled, they tried to joke about the mishaps involving Prince Roan's phase train, a magickal contraption, which was supposed to have delivered them safely from Xorinth to Stormguard secretly and without a fuss, but the detective's magickal ring, a trinket crafted from ether stone and forged to resonate with the Lagos artifacts, had interfered with the inter-dimensional engine used to power the train, so they had relinquished it in the plane of dreams just before making it to the city.

"The detective is always tryin' ta' do things beyond his abilities, " Lennon laughed in coughing spurts. He brushed back the strands of gray hair that surrounded his balding head before blowing his long nose with a soppy handkerchief, adding, "I remember all the trouble he got into when I snitched for 'im."

As Lennon readjusted his gray pants over his saggy midsection, he elucidated upon his past. He claimed that ten or so years ago, the Caulderstons told all the people from various cities across the northern border that there was a lot of work to be done in Ruvonia; that there were homes and businesses to be built, that the guard needed strong, young warriors, that vast and green farmlands needed tending, and since the country of Faaltosk was mostly a snowy, mountainous terrain, the young folk and the older folk were all more than happy to pay the Caulderstons for the trouble of being escorted into Ruvonia, but in the end, since there was in fact very little work to be done, the people of Faaltosk had little choice but to become indentured servants for the nobility just to survive, to keep their families together.

In the midst of those misdeeds, Lennon provided Mathew information regarding the Caulderstons' plots; they were making an attempt to gain the favors of influential noblemen, other families involved with international trade, and even members of the king's court. It was that information the detective had tried to use to keep the country from falling to wicked deceptions, and the information, which led to the discovery of the attack on Ulfberth and Mathew's subsequent banishment from Stormguard.

"He must be in grave danger now then, " Lyalla whispered while blowing at her cup of hot coffee.

"Ah, Mathew's a smart man." Lennon's saggy jowls creased when he smiled.

"Still, " Fortha fretted, "he's not allowed in the city, and he went to the castle, didn't he?" The group turned their attention to the elf. His eyes were baggy, and he looked pale, but they all looked the worse for wear. Seanessy finished his third mug of beer, belched, and remarked that Mathew was more worried about their safety than his own. "But that's my point, " Fortha heaved.

Lyalla grasped his wrist and smiled. Uneasy glances went around the room. Eventually, growing quiet, they looked at the table, half eaten meals, barren, stone walls, and listened to the howling winds whistling against poorly fashioned shutters. Breaths were drawn and sighs were heaved.

"So, what do yas' do now, " Seanessy asked the old man.

"Bah, I sit here an' rot away, " Lennon grumbled. Furrowed brows and cocked eyes were indicative of skepticism or pity. "I got enough ta' get by, an' I make a few coins 'ere an' there. I still know how ta' trade, so I buy low an' sell high when I can, but you young folks don' wanna' 'ere 'bout an' old man's ramblins'. This mess with the White Wraiths is what's important now."

Before the detective and Charlotte had scuttled off to handle their respective business, Mathew had delineated the crew was there to investigate recent White Wraith activity. Garrett puffed at their mention. He then looked to his compatriot. Larson rubbed his temples vigorously, scratched at his hair, which had grown in nicely since the bout with the wyverns, and released a yawn of epic proportions. Lyalla smiled.

"You're exhausted, " she whispered.

"Aren't we all, though, " Larson replied. "Lennon, do you know much about the White Wraiths?"

"I hadn't given' em' a second thought until a week or so ago, " he answered, leaning back in a wicker, rocking chair. "Alls' I know is that there've been more an' more men of all races paradin' around in white robes. Wasn't until last week when they gathered at Roan Square to preach about change that I thought they were up ta' somethin', but then it ain't the first time some people got a notion to meet an' speak 'bout changin' the way things is run, 'ear?"

"This appears the only city where they have free reign, " Garrett commented. "We fought them in the Xorinth sewers, but apart from the ruins of Atjibur, their presence has been squelched."

"Shocking to know they're running around so brazenly, and here in the capitol, " Fortha remarked.

Lennon shrugged. The crew took turns explaining their experiences regarding the cult, and told Lennon their reason for investigating was tied to magickal artifacts of astonishing potency. The old man grew concerned when he heard that the cult worshipped the God of Destruction, and he almost seemed afraid when they told him they were also tied to Parish, a minister of the Church of Knowledge. At that moment, the door came open, and Mathew strode in looking haggard.

"You're all still awake, " he asked them and took a seat at the table.

"Not like I got a bunch o' beds for 'em, " Lennon snarled.

"What did you learn, " Garrett asked Mathew.

They disregarded the old man's comment and gave the detective their attention. "First and foremost, I discovered the White Wraiths are moving freely here."

"That's what I told 'em, " Lennon interrupted.

"Yes, anyway, " Mathew continued and pushed his hair back with both hands. "I incurred some odd looks from a few people, and I'm afraid I may have been recognized."

"As Mathew?" Larson interjected.

The detective nodded. "Regardless, the most disconcerting news involves Parish, Lucas, General of the Griffin Knights, Gromar, the new General of the Storm Militia, Count Sothmire, who is head of commerce here in the city, and Briggitte, who is in charge of a new department regarding workers, a sort of guild or union for laborers. They all seem to be consorting behind closed doors."

"Dolf of the Griffin Knights told me he was investigating trouble in Talsador, and he mentioned trouble in Xorinth, " Garrett interrupted.

"Dolf, " Mathew trailed off. "I'm not certain I know of him, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was sent to gather information for Parish."

"What is Parish doing?" Larson demanded.

"I can only guess he's trying to incite as much instability as possible-since the White Wraiths are preaching change-in an effort to throw the country into chaos. What better way to incite destruction? Not to mention, he'll be able to see who's worthy of bearing the Lagos artifacts."

"Why would he want to see that, " Lyalla asked.

"Difficult to say, " Mathew took a breath in thought. "My guess is that he either wants to see who is likely to obtain them, so that he can steal them, or he is in direct contact with Lagos, and is the one who determines who should receive them."

"We're back at the beginning, " Larson argued. "Before Rolas died, we were trying to figure out where these artifacts are coming from! He said they were being distributed by a daemon from Lagos's world."

"I'm starting to believe that is not the case, " Mathew said, quietly. "The items are far too ancient, and the power within them is not of this age, it would seem impossible to transport them from dimension to dimension, but we're getting off topic, " he snipped.

"Just tell us what ta' do, mate, " Seanessy grumbled.

The detective rolled his head to loosen his neck. He then removed his spectacles and placed them on the table.

"I need you to hear me out, " he eventually said in a strained tone. "This is not some battle you can all charge into blindly. I don't have all the details, and to be completely honest, this is going to take a lot of guesswork, so before I tell you what to do, you need to listen." A moment passed. They all considered to whom they were speaking, and ceasing to worry over their own fatigue and frustrations, they nodded, or played with their food, or tugged at their hair and beards, yet they remained quiet and willing to hear more. "Let us consider what we know is happening here; the cultists are led by Parish, who has them in arms over the state of the country, a state of affairs, which he organized to create instability-he has people up in arms over the instability he created, in order to create more instability. Together, they are worshipping Lagos, a daemon trying to become the God of Destruction because, obviously, the daemon has provided them with unimaginable power. They are now using their power to influence significant people, but the key to stopping them is Parish, who seems to vanish into thin air; none of my colleagues know definitively where he resides, but they think he is staying at the castle, yet I have my doubts because I have heard that he is minister of the Church of Thaud in Glennmoor, however, if he is teleporting from city to city then it is possible he does reside here...."

Lennon shook his head and gave a potent exhale. "A fine mess this is...too big fer' the likes o' me."

The old man worked himself out of the chair by gripping the edge of the table and straightening his back. He then shuffled off to the only cot in the house and plunked down on the pile of hay and pelts. Since Mathew remained in quiet reverie, and Seanessy bolted outside to pee, the other four traded glances.

Eventually, the dwarf came back, and before he wriggled onto his chair, he said. "Oi, I got a question, " when they looked to him, he frowned and tugged his beard. "Why did we not teleport from Xorinth ta' Stormguard. Why'd we have to take that evil train?"

Mathew's eyes widened for a brief second, but slowly he replied, "Phase magick is very complex. I can't teleport multiple people from one area to another, but even if I could, the ring would have interfered, and there's no telling where we might have landed. That gives me an idea."

"Yes?" they all spoke.

Mathew put his glasses back on his face, pushed his hair back, took a breath, and smirked. "Considering how phase magick works, Parish is probably using a circle of teleportation, that is, ancient and potent symbols bound to one another, but to be of any use, there must be another circle or circles in order for him to move from one destination to another, which means there are probably circles here and in Glennmoor...."

"Okay, " Garrett nodded, slowly.

"There may even be a circle going to the plane of destruction, which would make transporting the artifacts possible."

"You just said it was impossible, " Larson reminded him.

Mathew shrugged, indicating he, too, was in the dark. "This is just sounding worse and worse, " Lyalla remarked.

Fortha nodded. Larson shook his head and threw his hands up in resignation. Garrett fluffed knots out of his hair, and Seanessy poured himself another round. He offered Mathew a mug, but the detective waved it off.

"So, what was your idea, " Garrett finally asked.

"It doesn't matter."

"What?" Larson squawked.

Mathew shook his head vigorously and raised his hand, implying it inconsequential. "We have more pressing matters anyway. Remember, I told you I wanted to check on my d-I mean King Roan's condition? Well, I managed to speak to his daughter, who has been evading my probes from Xorinth, and from the two minutes she graced me with her company, all she said was that there are no problems, and that she's been consorting with Lionel Owens from Owensbrook to right any wrongs the country might be experiencing."

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" Garrett shouted.

"I only have the one mouth, " Mathew sneered. "I was getting to it, but listen; we know Owens is in league with Parish, that together, they planned the attack on the libratoreum, which leads me to wonder what kind of trouble awaits us in Owensbrook, not to mention the mess here in the capitol and all thanks to Princess Roan and her relations with Lionel...a fine mess, indeed."

"I thought we was goin' ta' Glennmoor, " the dwarf said between chugs of beer.

"You are. I am not."

"When do we leave, " Fortha asked.

"After Charlotte returns, " Mathew replied.

"Where is she, anyway, " Larson pried.

"Wherever there are thieves, " Mathew said, cryptically. "She knows to come here when she's done, and none of us should make a move out of the city until we have a better idea regarding how to proceed; I assume the White Wraiths have an eye on the city and any newcomers. That said, we need to get a jump on this ordeal now, so, here's the plan; Larson, check the Temple of Akalabash. Garrett, Lyalla, the Temple of Tarielle; speak to Magister Saren, he is a friend of mine, well...not a friend of Mathew's.... Anyway, Fortha, Seanessy, visit the pubs, find out what people are saying about the cultists and try to glean news from Glennmoor and Owensbrook. In the meantime...I am going to research the idea you gave me, " he said, his eyes resting on the dwarf.

"No time for rest, eh?" Seanessy chuckled and climbed down from his chair. "Alright, elf, we're off ta' drunk!"

Fortha smiled, saying, "I think he means drink, but I'll keep an eye on him...we'll get it done. Everyone, stay safe."

As the elf and dwarf made for the door, Larson came to his feet. He nodded to the two leaving before scrutinizing the others.

"Be careful, " he said and started out for the temple.

"You, too, " Lyalla and Garrett said.

They then looked to one another. Garrett stood and held a hand out for Lyalla. She took it and stood while Mathew also came to his feet, but not before nabbing his glasses from the table.

"We'll meet back here soon, " the detective said, confidently. "Lennon, stay well, old friend."

Unfortunately, Lennon was snoring on his cot. They smiled, and after trading a final glance, they parted ways to tackle their respective duties.

****

Charlotte wandered down All Fighter Alley, a street where the famous Bloody Brawl Room gave the lowest of lives a place to fight fair. Outside the establishment, a jaunty, upbeat, piano tune bled through the cracked door and open shutters. Men and women stood, tending to minor cuts and abrasions. Some of them smoked pipes, others dabbed their skin with damp rags. Charlotte ignored the whistles and catcalls of aroused drunkards and made her way past the hulking, half-orc bodyguard to step inside the establishment.

Whooping and hollering gawkers drank under candlelight while two men circled each other on a blood splattered wooden floor. They threw a few kicks and punches while the crowd cheered on, but the thief pushed through the crowd to have a seat at the jam-packed bar. The barkeep was a tall and haggard man in dark clothing. His black topknot was pulled back over the loose strands, which rested on his nape.

"Hey, Charl, " he said in a gravely voice. "Where's your boyfriend."

No sooner had Charlotte relaxed that she hollered, "Mathew's not my boyfriend! He just looks after me."

"You're so easy to piss off, " he chuckled.

"Stupid people rub me the wrong way, " she asserted. The orcish patron next to her chuckled, and she shot him a deathly leer. The muscled drinker returned to his empty glass. "I need to speak to Marla."

"She's busy, " the barkeep answered while wiping a mug.

"It's important."

"Oh, then, she's busy."

"Damn it, Stewart, it's about the White Wraiths."

"Right, right...she's busy."

Charlotte gave a groan of exasperation and pounded the counter. By then, a half-orc lass on the fight floor claimed she was taking on all comers. The crowd cheered again. Whether warriors were testing their mettle, citizens were settling scores, or drunkards were trying out their liquid courage, the patrons of the Bloody Brawl Room loved a bare knuckle fight.

"Stewart, " Charlotte screeched. "Let me talk to Marla!"

"Whatever you got to say to her, you can say to me. I'll decide if it's important. Anyway, you ain't even paid your dues in two months."

Grumbling, the thief counted twenty, gold coins from her pouch and plunked them down on the counter. Stewart scooped them up, pulled a little, black ledger from his apron, scribbled down notes regarding the payment, and then pulled two shot glasses from beneath the counter. He poured two shots of whiskey, knocked one back, and slid the other one to Charlotte. She sipped hers.

Laughing, Stewart said, "Chug it."

Rolling her eyes, she obliged, and coughed while catching her breath. The barkeep laughed again.

"I paid up for the whole year, " Charlotte claimed and cleared her throat. "Get Marla."

"What's this about, " he asked, in a tiresome tone.

"Just tell me the latest events regarding the White Wraiths, " she replied, raising her hand in aggravation.

"Well, " Stewart poured another round for them, chugged his, and continued. "Last month or so, just before you ran off with your boyfriend–"

"He's not my boyfriend!" She pounded the counter.

"If yer' single, I be your boy friend, " the orc joked.

While Stewart doubled over laughing, she pulled a knife from her belt and told the orc she'd gut him like a fish, so the patron cursed in his native tongue and left. "Stewart, " she groaned.

"Lately, lots of those cultist been hiring us to do some odd jobs, thefts, mostly, but they also wanted us to place the stolen items in the possession of certain people and homes in order to incite conflict within the nobility. Odd when you think about it, what with the fact that the White Wraiths are supposed to have been wiped out long ago, but they been prancing around Stormguard for a while now, always preaching that the nobility is the cause of suffering."

She picked up her glass, took a breath, and knocked it back. It went down much smoother than the first, but her diminutive frame coupled with her lack of regular drinking made her head spin.

"I, uh, " she said, placing the glass on the counter. "Mathew had me try to catch some of them alive. Apparently, they like to commit suicide rather than snitch on their pals."

"Why are you after them anyway?"

"That's a stupid question. Mathew hired you guys, and you sent me."

"But he always asks for you, " Stewart smiled, adding, "your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, " she laughed nearly hysterically, but caught herself and tried to get angry. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to stop grinning like an idiot. Stewart figured she'd had enough to drink, grinned right back, and poured her a third shot while he took a swig from the bottle. She pounded it, and laughed again. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Sure, sure, but I was asking, why are you after them?"

"Who?"

"The White Wraiths, " he laughed.

"Oh, pfft, those, robeded clowns, " she chuckled. Again, Stewart laughed uncontrollably, and she joined in. "Ohh, I don't know. They're trying to revive the God of Destruction and they, um, killed an elf in Xorrr-uh-inth."

"No kidding, " Stewart said, nonplussed. "They haven't killed anyone around here to my knowledge. They've just been inciting rebellion and, you know, trying to out the king and all."

"Nope, " she yelled. "Nuh-uh, see, it's like, um, they're uh...." She wiped her face with both hands, smacked her lips, and shook her hair back. "They're in league with the Parish, Count of Minister Thaud. I mean, they're working for Minister Parish."

"From the Church of Thaud, " Stewart corrected.

"Right, " she hissed and pointed while squinting. "Another one, " she said, tapping the counter.

"No, you're cut off, lightweight."

"One, just please, okay, one more."

Smiling and shaking his head, he poured her one final shot, which she downed with ease before swooning in her chair. Stewart pulled his pipe from his apron, lit it, leaned on the counter, and puffed away while Charlotte tried to explain their recent endeavors; her slurred speech and derailed train of thought made for an interesting conversation.