Excerpt from The Black Wyverns

Following Blackmoor’s lead, the Wraiths slowly made their way through the dense growth of the Kladian jungle. They had waited until they were two hours out of the base-camp before they changed their heading and began heading towards their true destination. Main paths, roads and trails were out of the question, due to the secrecy of their mission, so they made their way through the darkest part of the canopy.

After traveling the better part of a day, they came to a road they would have to cross. If they could take the road, their maps showed that it would lead them directly to the city the battle was being planned for. Staying anywhere near it would be a large risk to their mission, and posed a threat to their discovery. The road didn’t seem to be patrolled, but it was a major thoroughfare, and was heavily used. Even with the area being under siege, many of the local farmers and trappers still used it out of habit.

“If we cross it, we will be seen. Unless we’re going to wait until night, I don’t see another way.” Blackmoor spat. “I don’t like it, and if anyone else has a better idea, I’d be glad to hear it.”

Weyer shook his head. “We don’t have until darkness. By the time the sun sets, we need to already be at the camp and already harassing them.”

Schumacher looked up through the canopy. “We got three, maybe four hours of light left. We’re still two hours from the camp. We need to make a decision quickly.”

“I have a solution, but it isn’t very quiet.” Brojde smiled and nodded. “There is a toll about a league down the road, according to the map. We could hit them there, and begin a little early.”

Sentas slowly met eyes with each of the Wraiths. “No one escapes. No one talks. No one cries out. Quick, silent and with finality. We want them dead before they know they are under attack, understood?”

Falling back into their traveling formation, the Wraiths crept along the road, keeping themselves in the brush. The map had proven to still be accurate, as six soldiers, wearing the livery of the Monarchist forces, maintained the post. Two sat on benches maintaining the gate arm, while the other four sat in the shack. A volley of arrows cut the men down in the space of a single breath.

The gate arm was raised, and the shutters closed on the gatehouse. Denuth, Manth and Alex were left to search the house for anything useful, while the others dealt with the bodies. “Other than a lot of coin, I’m not finding anything here.”

Alex looked up from the pile of clothing she was rustling through. “What do we do with the money? We can’t keep it, and it seems a waste to just leave it here.” She and Denuth looked to the lieutenant who was flipping through a logbook.

“I suppose we bag it up and take it with us. We can give it to high command who will probably just turn it back over to the Kladian government. It is their money, in all reality.”

Alex threw another handful of coins taken from a pocket into the box Denuth was sifting through. “I don’t think these men had any qualms about skimming a little off the top for themselves.” She shook her head in disgust as another handful yielded a woman’s ring, made of gold and set with three small rubies. Inside the ring was the inscription “Eternal Love – Mardas and Kimina”. The delicate leaf pattern etched on the outside of the ring was filled with dried blood. “Even if this war is won, these people will never be the same.”

Denuth took the ring from Alex, looked it over, and tossed it into the box of valuables. “This is only your first field assignment. Trust me when I say, I’ve seen invading forces do far, far worse. Manth, you remember when we got brought in after the invasion of Malacar?”

“I’m not sure that I’ve heard of Malacar.”

Manth grimaced and nodded. “Not surprising. It’s barely a country. The capital is grudgingly called a city. It would be more accurate to call it a large town. I think there are four or five other villages within its borders. You could probably cover the whole country with Duron City and the farmlands that claim it as their governing city. It’s on the northern end of the Azurian continent, ruled by a royal family that originally settled the place and built the keep that the town sits next to.” Manth took a deep breath. “They’re not far from Baratha.”

“The city of pirates? I always thought that was just a fairy tale you told children.”

Manth chuckled. “It’s not as bad as you hear in the stories, but they’re still not the nicest folk you want to meet. The council decided Malacar would be invaded and annexed. The king of Malacar hired us.”

“It didn’t take long to drive them out. They had already plundered anything of value.” Denuth shook his head. “One of the military commanders was an ex-Black Wyvern that had been court marshaled. He took the hiring of the Black Wyverns as a direct insult on his honor. As they retreated, he gave his men the order to kill any women of child bearing age or younger. The scouts were brought in as a direct plea from the king himself. A hundred and forty seven women were killed before we could stop the son of a bitch. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen the general waive the fee for bringing us in.” Denuth smirked. “I’ve heard rumors that we maintain a brigade of cavalry there now and the king only pays a crown a day, beside providing stables and housing for the men.”

Manth chuckled. “I’ve heard the same rumor. Supposedly we make our money raiding any Barathian ships. The king gets fifty percent of the take so he can rebuild and we keep the other fifty in lieu of our regular fees.”

“I thought we didn’t take jobs that would get us directly intertwined with the government.”

“That’s why it is just a rumor.” Manth shrugged. “I suppose we normally wouldn’t get involved. On the other hand, by now you have to understand how the general feels about the appearance and reputation of the Black Wyverns. Because the commander who gave the order was an ex-Black Wyvern, you can argue that we were partially to blame. Even if we weren’t, I’m betting the general would still feel he was.”

“We’re not knights. We’re not particularly religious men. We don’t fight for some noble cause or lofty ideal. The truth is, we fight for the money.” Denuth opened a sack taken off of one of the dead guards and poured it into the box. “The only thing as important to us as our pay, is our reputation. It’s our reputation that earns us our pay. Our reputation is that we are honest and moral soldiers. Our job is to win fights and that’s what we do. We don’t take liberties with people’s lives, daughters, children, or livestock. We don’t steal. We don’t exterminate. We don’t do business with governments and organizations that do. You won’t find us working for necromancers, you won’t hear of us taking jobs for pirates, and if anyone goes to war with the Korganai, we make certain to offer them a contract before they launch their first ship.”

Manth threw a handful of gold teeth into the box. “You know, Alex, that’s the big reason we call ourselves professional soldiers and not mercenaries. Most mercenaries are nothing more than brigands being paid to ply their trade against a specific target. The general prides himself in us being ‘gentlemen warriors’. Think about it. The three of us here are the only ones who know of this wealth. None of us is keeping a small handful for ourselves. None of us have considered the idea of splitting it with the other two and not saying anything about it, even though the plunder we see before us is a small fortune and untraceable. It would damage our reputation as Wyverns and I know that I am far too proud of what I am to sully myself and stoop to being a thief.”

Alex gritted her teeth. “And yet we quite possibly have a traitor among us.”

Manth shook his head. “Personally, I think it's the Kladian general. It’s not a Wyvern, and the minister would be betraying an entire life’s work.”

“I don’t know. The minister wields a great deal of power. I can’t imagine an elected public official making very much money. If anyone was going to accept a bribe, it would be him.”

“But what if it is a Wyvern?” Alex looked down to the floor. “What if the traitor is one of our own?”

“It’s simple.” Denuth’s eyes narrowed. “If I found out who the traitor was, I’d run him through. The Black Wyverns are a brotherhood. We’re practically a family. They’ve gotten our people killed needlessly.”

Manth nodded. “They’re a blight in the name and don’t deserve to wear the uniform. I wouldn’t waste my magic on them. A short sword to the gut, that’s what they deserve.”

As they left the way station, they made certain there was no one on the road to see them. They met up with the rest of the Wraiths just as the last of the shallow graves were being covered. Schumacher, Weyer, and Blackmoor had already changed into monarchist uniforms. Denuth snorted. “You boys headed for a costume party?”

“We’re holding a surprise party in honor of the king.” Blackmoor curtseyed. “We’re going as saboteurs. Want to come with?”

Denuth clasped his hands together, put them against his cheek, smiled, and batted his eyes. “If you’re throwing the party, I’m certain it will simply be divine. Would you be terribly hurt if I brought Centurion Stonekeep to the affair?”

Blackmoor made a comical, pouty face. “I’d be crushed. I can’t believe you would choose a woman over me.” The wild-eyed centurion kicked at the dirt. “We’ve always done our maiming together.”

Weyer grabbed Blackmoor in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles briskly in the center of Blackmoor’s scalp. “Get over it you slut. I’ll go with you this time. About time you learned what an old man can do.

Blackmoor put his hands on his hips and snorted. “That hardly seems like a fair trade. She ends up with a sweet young thing and I end up with a guy so old and dried up he farts dust. How is that fair?”

Brojde chuckled low. “Seems to me, Blackmoor, you’ve been replaced.” Blackmoor stomped off into the brush in a fit of mock anger and the rest of the unit laughed.

“Enough fooling around. We have work to do.” Commander Sentas began to black his face. “You three prepare to go in. The rest of you, black up.”