Richard Tuttle - Winged Warrior

There was a small wooden beam that ran along the edge of the roof. Fisher laid one end of the strap over the beam and jabbed his knife through it. With all of his might, he pushed the knife as deep as he could into the beam. He tied a not in the strap where the blade had slit it so that it would not continue ripping. When he was done, Fisher lowered his body over the side of the roof, just above the chosen window. Hanging from the wooden beam, Fisher reached out and carefully griped the strap, hoping that it could hold his weight.

When Fisher let go of the roof with his second hand, he heard the fabric of the strap start to rip. For a few terrorizing seconds, Fisher hung immobile. The strap held and Fisher exhaled slowly. Very slowly, Fisher lowered himself on the hanging strap. When he was at the right altitude to enter the window, he stretched out one foot to snare the window ledge. Pulling with his foot, Fisher managed to get his second foot in the window before the strap snapped. His hands immediately let go of the strap and flew out to grasp the window frame. He caught the frame with one hand and pulled hard. His body tumbled through the window.

Fisher half expected to slam into the floor, notifying the whole building of his entrance. As luck would have it, the Jiadin who occupied the room had moved his bed under the window. Fisher landed on the bed with minimal noise. He immediately sprang from the bed and placed his back to the wall beside the door, a knife automatically sliding into his hand.

When no one came in response to the noise, Fisher put his ear to the door. He could hear faint voices, but nothing else. He decided to risk opening the door. The spy eased the door open and peered out. The corridor was dark, as the evening torches had not been lit yet. He slipped out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.

Fisher tiptoed along the corridor until he reached the stairs leading down. The voices became louder, and light from the first floor spread upward to paint the stairs a ghostly yellow. Fisher dropped to the floor and crawled forward so he could peer down the steps. He stared in fascination as Brakas stood talking to half a dozen Jiadin. One particularly large man was standing toe to toe with Brakas. They appeared to be arguing.

“Why don’t you try listening for a change, Harmagan,” shouted Brakas. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in this hole of a city?”

“Don’t push me, Brakas,” the large man retorted. “Meliban might not be much, but right now it is my city, not yours. If you don’t like the way things are going around here, just keep on moving. You already have enough Jiadin dead on your watch. That fiasco in Khadora cost us many fine warriors.”

“How many times do I have to go through this,” scowled Brakas. “What happened in Khadora was not my fault. The person who portrayed me was a fake. I don’t know how he did it, but I wasn’t even there.”

“Look,” interrupted another Jiadin warrior, “this arguing doesn’t do anything for any of us. Khadora is ancient history. Why don’t you tell us why you have come here, Brakas? Then we can be about the business of doing nothing for a while.”

“Alright,” Brakas sighed. “I actually came to help you guys. There is no reason that Jiadin warriors should be forced to live in some wooden city when the riches of Angragar are available.”

“And you know where Angragar is?” taunted Harmagan.

“If I knew,” Brakas shook his head, “would I be standing here now?”

“Then what is the point of flapping your gums?” spat Harmagan. “We don’t know where it is either.”

“But Wyant does,” smiled Brakas. “And he is coming here tonight or tomorrow.”

“Wyant wouldn’t give us the correct phase of the moon,” Harmagan shook his head. “We have asked him a thousand times already. He just won’t say.”

“Perhaps you haven’t asked him properly,” smirked Brakas. “You said this was your city. How can you let Wyant come and go as he pleases without answering a simple question?”

“Are you insane?” asked Harmagan. “You are proposing that we try to force Wyant to reveal where Angragar is? Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“Wyant is going to kill all of you?” balked Brakas. “You men are no longer Jiadin warriors. You are all clova. You sit around this city all day being fattened up for the kill. You are all a herd of clova.”

Harmagan’s face turned red with rage, his features contorting as his hand went for his sword. Brakas swiftly stepped close to the large Jiadin and grabbed him by the shoulder. Harmagan’s face turned from rage to fear as his body began to spasm. His fingers fell away from the hilt of his sword as his arms began to twitch uncontrollably. Suddenly, Harmagan fell to the floor and curled into a ball, his lips quivering as he sobbed.

“Don’t ever think about pulling a sword on me again,” snarled Brakas. “I will not stand for it.”

The other Jiadin warriors backed away from Brakas, but their hands were conspicuously held away from their swords.

Brakas sighed and shook his head as he looked at the other Jiadin warriors.

“It looks like I will have to do this on my own,” Brakas declared. “Don’t mention to Wyant that I am in town when he arrives. I will find out the location of Angragar before he leaves Meliban. The rest of you should start preparing the men for a long ride. Go on! Get out and start getting your men sober.”

The Jiadin warriors fled the administration building through the front door. Brakas stood for a moment staring at Harmagan who was still curled up on the floor. Brakas shook his head and spat on the Jiadin leader before exiting the building. Fisher stared at Brakas as the man left the building. There were several things about Brakas that bothered Fisher. The story he told about being impersonated didn’t make sense. Aakuta had declared that he had killed Brakas, and Fisher believed the dark mage.

What bothered Fisher even more was the weird angle of Brakas’s left hand when he stood normally. Most people’s palms face their legs when their arms hang at their sides. Brakas’s left palm faced forward. By a strange coincidence, the only other person that Fisher knew with such an abnormality was the spy that he had seen just recently on the Island of Darkness. It was the only thing extraordinary that Fisher had noticed about Clarvoy.

Now that Fisher knew what Clarvoy was up to, he had to find a way out of the administration building, and a way to foil the spy’s plan. Fisher was not prepared to jump from the second story window into the alley. That meant that his only exit was down the stairs, and that would force him to walk right in front of Harmagan. Fisher thought about his situation for a moment and then rose from the floor. He walked normally down the stairs and in front of Harmagan.

The Jiadin leader’s eyes opened in alarm when Fisher walked by, but he said nothing, the shock to his body still gripping him. Fisher searched the lower floor and found the kitchen. He rummaged through the supplies and found a loaf of crusty bread and a barrel of ale. He broke off a large chuck of bread and filled a mug with ale. He carried the food into the main room and knelt beside Harmagan.

“Bite the bread,” instructed Fisher as he pried the Jiadin’s mouth open and shoved a corner of the bread into his mouth. “Try not to think about the pain. It will go away.”

Harmagan’s eyes looked confused, but he bit down on the bread. Fisher grabbed the Jiadin’s legs and pulled them to straighten the man’s body.

“Chew it slowly,” advised Fisher. “Just concentrate on chewing the bread. Think of nothing else.”

The Jiadin leader closed his eyes, but Fisher could see the man starting to chew. After a few moments, Fisher noticed the man’s muscles cease quivering. Harmagan opened his eyes and stared at Fisher.