Read Online The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) by Anthony Gillis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anthony Gillis
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barrels.
The advancing men paused, and some of them stared stupidly at the flying vial.
It shattered against the rusty steel helmet of an ill-favored man with a scraggly beard and a scar-slit nose. The man scowled in surprise. Black smoke poured out from the fragments.
"Now you," said Palaeon to Talaos. The latter spun, leapt, and gracefully darted down the shaft to the sewers. Imme diately behind him came Palaeon. As the gang boss shut and locked the trapdoor above them, Talaos could hear shouts and choking gasps from the basement beyond.
They climbed down swiftly, more than thirty feet, and Palaeon did not explain anything as they went. At the bottom, two of Palaeon's men had already lit one of two small lanterns hanging on hooks on the wall. Talaos found himself in a foul, filth-smeared corridor with a narrow ledge running along a gutter of waste water. The stench was formidable.
"Nice place you've got, Palaeon," said Talaos.
The gang boss made no reply. He motioned in the direction they should go, and with Talaos immediately behind him, they followed in single file. A man took the lit lamp. After a short while, they came to the intersection of a larger, but no better smelling passage. Here it was possible to walk two abreast.
There was also, hanging upside down by a chain from the ceiling, a man, bound with rope at wrists and ankles. His shoulders and head were submerged in the filthy, dung-strewn water. He was not moving.
"Friend of yours?" asked Talaos.
"The man who gave my location to Cratus," replied Palaeon in cool, matter-of-fact tones.
After a short while more, they came to another smaller passage, and then a niche with a ladder up. They climbed and emerged at a sewer grate in a dark junk-strewn alley. Talaos knew the place. There were sounds of fighting. Palaeon pulled a little flute from his tunic and made a low quiet whistle. Men appeared from hidden positions.
Then, together, they raced down the alley, a side street, and onto the street with the entrance to Palaeon's headquarters. There, Palaeon's men had rolled a wagon in front of the door and smashed the wheels. The door was shaking as men inside tried to smash their way out. Talaos could hear coughing, wheezing, agonized gurgling noises, and desperate yells.
In front of the door, a bloody battle was taking place as a small number of Palaeon's men defended the wreck of the wagon from a larger number of Cratus's. With the arrival of Palaeon, Talaos, and the men with them, those odds quickly reversed.
Palaeon moved with deadly catlike grace, killing men with single swift strikes through their throats or faces, and just as swiftly slipping away from attempts by the enemy to strike at him. Talaos whirled to the attack alongside him, and the rest of the men mobbed around the enemy. It was over quickly.
Behind the door, the knocking and the coughing stopped. The faintest tendril of black smoke curled up, and even at a distance, Talaos could smell something acrid.
"That cuts down greatly on Cratus's advantage in numbers," said Palaeon, with a cold dangerous smile, "Now Talaos, do you have your crew together?"
"I have Sorya, Katara, and twenty others ready in my gang," answered Talaos.
Palaeon seemed to notice the contrary choice of words, but did not directly react to it. He continued, "And Daxar's people?"
"His brother stepped in to organize the ones ready to fight, and his cousins got a lot of angry relatives and friends together. They had thirty or so in total, when I last checked in," answered Talaos with a faint, black smile . "They are looking for blood, but I don't think you have to worry about them becoming a gang."
Palaeon did not seem amused. He replied coolly. "Then as per plan, my people will surround the place and come over the walls, while Daxar's mourners share their sadness with Cratus's guards at the front gate, and you..."
"I'll see if the back way still works," replied Talaos.
4. A Better World
Talaos stalked
The advancing men paused, and some of them stared stupidly at the flying vial.
It shattered against the rusty steel helmet of an ill-favored man with a scraggly beard and a scar-slit nose. The man scowled in surprise. Black smoke poured out from the fragments.
"Now you," said Palaeon to Talaos. The latter spun, leapt, and gracefully darted down the shaft to the sewers. Imme diately behind him came Palaeon. As the gang boss shut and locked the trapdoor above them, Talaos could hear shouts and choking gasps from the basement beyond.
They climbed down swiftly, more than thirty feet, and Palaeon did not explain anything as they went. At the bottom, two of Palaeon's men had already lit one of two small lanterns hanging on hooks on the wall. Talaos found himself in a foul, filth-smeared corridor with a narrow ledge running along a gutter of waste water. The stench was formidable.
"Nice place you've got, Palaeon," said Talaos.
The gang boss made no reply. He motioned in the direction they should go, and with Talaos immediately behind him, they followed in single file. A man took the lit lamp. After a short while, they came to the intersection of a larger, but no better smelling passage. Here it was possible to walk two abreast.
There was also, hanging upside down by a chain from the ceiling, a man, bound with rope at wrists and ankles. His shoulders and head were submerged in the filthy, dung-strewn water. He was not moving.
"Friend of yours?" asked Talaos.
"The man who gave my location to Cratus," replied Palaeon in cool, matter-of-fact tones.
After a short while more, they came to another smaller passage, and then a niche with a ladder up. They climbed and emerged at a sewer grate in a dark junk-strewn alley. Talaos knew the place. There were sounds of fighting. Palaeon pulled a little flute from his tunic and made a low quiet whistle. Men appeared from hidden positions.
Then, together, they raced down the alley, a side street, and onto the street with the entrance to Palaeon's headquarters. There, Palaeon's men had rolled a wagon in front of the door and smashed the wheels. The door was shaking as men inside tried to smash their way out. Talaos could hear coughing, wheezing, agonized gurgling noises, and desperate yells.
In front of the door, a bloody battle was taking place as a small number of Palaeon's men defended the wreck of the wagon from a larger number of Cratus's. With the arrival of Palaeon, Talaos, and the men with them, those odds quickly reversed.
Palaeon moved with deadly catlike grace, killing men with single swift strikes through their throats or faces, and just as swiftly slipping away from attempts by the enemy to strike at him. Talaos whirled to the attack alongside him, and the rest of the men mobbed around the enemy. It was over quickly.
Behind the door, the knocking and the coughing stopped. The faintest tendril of black smoke curled up, and even at a distance, Talaos could smell something acrid.
"That cuts down greatly on Cratus's advantage in numbers," said Palaeon, with a cold dangerous smile, "Now Talaos, do you have your crew together?"
"I have Sorya, Katara, and twenty others ready in my gang," answered Talaos.
Palaeon seemed to notice the contrary choice of words, but did not directly react to it. He continued, "And Daxar's people?"
"His brother stepped in to organize the ones ready to fight, and his cousins got a lot of angry relatives and friends together. They had thirty or so in total, when I last checked in," answered Talaos with a faint, black smile . "They are looking for blood, but I don't think you have to worry about them becoming a gang."
Palaeon did not seem amused. He replied coolly. "Then as per plan, my people will surround the place and come over the walls, while Daxar's mourners share their sadness with Cratus's guards at the front gate, and you..."
"I'll see if the back way still works," replied Talaos.
4. A Better World
Talaos stalked
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