Mercs & Magi Read online

  MERCS AND MAGI

  A SHORT STORY COLLECTION

  Jamie Edmundson

  Contents

  STRIKING OUT: INTRODUCTION

  STRIKING OUT

  STIFF’S STANDOFF: INTRODUCTION

  STIFF’S STANDOFF

  DEMON DAYS: INTRODUCTION

  DEMON DAYS

  BLOOD TIES: INTRODUCTION

  BLOOD TIES

  BONUS 1: PREVIEW—OG-GRIM-DOG: THE THREE-HEADED OGRE

  AN OGRE OF THREE HEADS

  DARKSPIKE DUNGEON

  BONUS 2: INTERVIEW WITH THE DARK ELF

  INTERVIEW WITH THE DARK ELF

  Acknowledgments

  Jamie’s Series Information

  STRIKING OUT: INTRODUCTION

  This is the prequel story to my epic fantasy quadrilogy The Weapon Takers Saga. It was written at the back end of 2018, at the half way point of the series: books 1 & 2 were already done. Since then it has spent its life as an exclusive read for members of my newsletter.

  The story details a period in the earlier life of one of the POV characters in the series—Moneva. She refers, loosely, to these events in book one, Toric’s Dagger.

  It was fun to expand on this part of her history and give her the freedom to show her badass side. For various reasons, Moneva begins as a somewhat enigmatic figure in the series, though I think she grows to be one of the most dynamic characters. Striking Out gives her the early character development she deserves.

  STRIKING OUT

  COLDEBERG, CAPITAL OF BARISSIA, was arguably the second most important city in the Empire. But Moneva had never warmed to it. And Coldeberg Castle was the location she liked the least. Huge stone walls, massive towers, it stood like a giant grey beast on the top of the hill, looking down on the rest of the city, intimidating those in its shadow. No finesse, no sense of welcome to the visitor; just a brutal display of power.

  ‘What’s in the boxes?’ asked the soldier.

  They were standing in the yard of the castle, half a dozen wagons of goods ready to hand over.

  Moneva sighed. She really didn’t like Barissians. Some indefinable, can’t put your finger on it reason, that made her think they were all a bunch of arseholes.

  ‘It’s exactly what we agreed with Lord Orlin that we would deliver. No more, no less.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the soldier, speaking deliberately slowly as if she was stupid, ‘and what is it?’

  Ernst and Gernot stirred uneasily either side of her. Two big brutes of men, she had brought them with her to avoid this kind of bullshit. But it clearly wasn’t working. The Barissians had raised an army of unpleasant fuckers like this one, and clearly weren’t intimidated by her henchmen. This soldier had asked a question, and probably didn’t want to be seen to back down in front of the others in the castle yard. Pathetic little men with ridiculously huge egos. Yes, she remembered now. That was what she didn’t like about Barissians.

  She walked over to the first cart, jumping up into the driver’s seat where she had left her cloak. Rummaging in a pocket, she found the itemised list of goods.

  This whole job, a delivery run, was so beneath her. It didn’t require any of her skill set to perform. The only reason that Max gave it to her was that the profit they stood to make was staggering, and he didn’t trust anyone else with that kind of money.

  She returned to the soldier, his arms folded, a smug look on his face now that she was doing as she was told.

  ‘Did you want numbers, or will a list of items do?’

  ‘Items will do fine.’

  ‘Food: crackers, oats, bread. Peas, carrots, cabbages, and various other vegetables. Meat: chicken, duck, goose, lamb, pork, beef, salmon and various other fish. Hay fodder. Barrels of ale, mead, white wine.’

  Moneva paused, looking up at him.

  ‘Continue,’ he said imperiously.

  ‘Armour: plate, chain and leather. Shields. Weapons: spears, bows, arrows. Shoes and clothing, various.’

  The soldier nodded wisely, giving the list his own personal approval.

  Stupid bastard. Moneva sighed. ‘Sundry items: saddles and other accoutrements for cavalry. Oil. Timber. Nails, rivets, hammers…’

  Moneva needed a drink, and George’s House was as good a place as any. It was small, out of the way, and didn’t suffer from large groups of foreigners or soldiers. She sat by the bar, letting the tensions of the day seep away.

  It had taken a good two hours to get full payment for the items, having to cajole various soldiers and officials into honouring Duke Emeric’s contract with Max. And it wasn’t just that. What also stuck in Moneva’s craw was that they were helping Emeric and the Barissians to win a war they had started against the Black Horse tribe of the Midder Steppe. It was a war of aggression with little pretence at justification, fought to bring glory to an ambitious duke still brooding that he had been beaten to the title of emperor by Baldwin of Kelland five years ago.

  She took a swig of wine, a sharp Barissian white, inferior to Kellish wines in every way.

  That was how things were going now. Max gave her a job, Moneva fulfilled it, and each time they made a lot of money and made the world a little bit worse than it was before.

  ‘That any good?’ A man had taken the seat next to her, a soldierly looking type.

  That was all she needed. Usually, two swords strapped to her back were enough to put off unwanted attention. But there was always the danger of running into idiots, drunks and worse, who felt like trying their luck. She gave him the once over. He didn’t look like he fell into those categories. Well-kept and not bad looking, though the hint of a smirk on his face that she didn’t like the look of.

  ‘Tastes like piss,’ she answered.

  ‘Only that bad? Give me a glass of what she’s got,’ he called out to the barkeep.

  ‘You’re in the army?’ Moneva asked.

  ‘Yes, for my sins.’

  ‘You don’t sound like a Barissian.’

  ‘I’m not, praise Toric. I’m from Magnia.’

  ‘I see. A mercenary, then.’

  He looked at her. ‘Do I detect a note of distaste?’

  Moneva raised an eyebrow. He was touchy. ‘Trust me. I’m in no position to judge anyone else.’

  He nodded, eyeing her with curiosity. His drink arrived, and he took a gulp, then made an astonished face.

  ‘By Toric, whose piss have you been drinking?’

  Moneva laughed despite herself. That was a good one, she had to admit.

  ‘So, what’s a nice boy like you doing in Emeric’s army?’

  He made a sour face, taking a second gulp.

  ‘Getting paid. Between you and me, it was a mistake. This war stinks. We’re treated like animals, and we’re ordered to treat the Middians like worse.’

  She had to admire his honesty. ‘Can’t you leave?’

  ‘Not really. Deserters are given an unpleasant death, for one. But it’s not good for one’s reputation to break a contract either. I’m thinking I’ll have to stick it out. Anyway, at least I’m here for the night.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I’m picking up supplies for my company. Salvinus obviously trusts me, or at least he trusts me not to steal too much.’

  ‘Who is Salvinus?’

  ‘Gervase Salvinus, leader of my mercenary company. Making quite a name for himself. If you want someone to kill innocent women and children for you, he’s your man.’

  Moneva grimaced. ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better.’

  ‘What have you got to feel bad about?’ he asked.

  ‘Those supplies you’re picking up are probably the same ones I just delivered.’

  ‘Ah. War profiteer. I had you down as a spy or an assassin or something. So that’s why
you’re in no mood to judge me. Well, at least you’re making proper money out of it. That must be some consolation.’

  ‘Not really. Even if it was, it’s not my money. I’m working for some bastard, same as you.’

  Moneva knocked back the rest of her drink and ordered another. It wasn’t like her to open up to someone else this much. But then, he was being pretty open too. He was studying her, a sly, thoughtful expression on his face.

  ‘Maybe we can do something about our situation. Do something for ourselves.’

  Moneva shrugged. ‘I’m listening. But that’s all I’m doing.’

  ‘It’s chaos in the army. Between Emeric’s officials, his noblemen and mercenary captains like Salvinus, no-one’s really in charge. Once I deliver these supplies they get inventoried, but after that it would be very easy to go and pick some up with no-one noticing. I get them, pass them on to you, and you sell them back to the army again. It could be a nice little earner, that only we need to know about.’

  Moneva considered it. Earning her own money, independent from Max, was tempting—though that could be the drink talking. It could be dangerous too, and she would have to trust someone she’d only just met.

  ‘I need to go back to Essenberg now,’ she said. ‘That will give me some time to think about the offer. If I think it will work, I’ll find you.’

  ‘How will you find me?’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Herin.’

  ‘If I want to, I’ll find you.’

  They cut east, then joined the Great Road that led north to Essenberg, the seat of the Brasingian Emperor.

  It felt good to be back home, in a proper city, where the people were too busy making money to be any more than moderately rude. She would have felt happy if she didn’t have to see Max. Their relationship was increasingly strained. She had adored him once. Now she felt shackled, and he knew it.

  Max was quite possibly the richest man in the Empire, but even his eyes lit up when he saw how much money Emeric had paid for his war supplies.

  ‘His chamberlain, Orlin, says they need more,’ said Moneva, handing Max a list.

  Max took it and scanned the list of items, whistling in astonishment.

  ‘How are they paying for all this up front?’ Max said. ‘Where is he getting his money from?’

  Moneva shrugged. ‘I don’t know. They’re acting like money is no object. They’re spending so much the war will be over soon,’ she warned him.

  ‘Don’t worry. While the tap is turned on I’ll be filling my cup. Still, I’ll need some time to get my hands on this little lot.’

  ‘Good. I could do with a few days off.’

  He gave her the look he used whenever he had suspicions about her absolute loyalty. She had never given him reason to question her, and that look was one of the reasons why. It spoke of what might happen if she did.

  ‘If you had to deal with the Barissians you would need some time off too,’ she said defensively.

  He smiled at that, though there was little warmth.

  ‘Fair enough Moneva. But I’ll need you to handle this for me again. You need to be ready to go back to Coldeberg in four days.’

  Four days. Just enough time.

  ‘This way,’ said Herin, leading her through the early evening half-light.

  Moneva’s nerves jangled. She didn’t like the Steppe—it was unfamiliar, alien terrain. Too flat, no buildings. And now she was here, she wondered at the wisdom of it all. For all she knew, Herin could be leading her into a trap.

  He looked about him, forehead creased in confusion.

  ‘Surely you know where it is?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s dark,’ he responded hotly, brushing his hand through his hair irritably, ‘and everywhere in this place looks the fucking same. There,’ he said finally.

  He took her to a patch of grass that at first sight looked just like any other. He knelt, brushing away dead grass and debris. Moneva joined him to help.

  It was cleverly done. Beneath the grass were wooden boards that they lifted to reveal a large pit dug into the ground. Inside was a treasure trove of the most expensive items Herin could lay his hands on, mainly weapons and armour.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Moneva conceded.

  She turned around and put her fingers to her mouth, whistling into the evening sky.

  She heard a rumble in response, as Ernst and Gernot brought the wagon to the location. They walked the horses past the pit, jumped down and flung open the rear door ready for loading. A third figure joined them. Ernst and Gernot were big men, but this man was even taller, and all muscles, making them look small by comparison.

  ‘Are you sure we can trust him?’ she asked Herin.

  ‘Of course. He’s my brother. I trust him with my life. Can you say the same about them?’

  She couldn’t, so she kept quiet.

  There was a substantial amount of heavy equipment, but Herin and his brother handled the lifting with ease. She had never seen Ernst and Gernot work so hard before, not wishing to be shown up by the two brothers. Before long, Herin was replacing the boards and camouflage over an empty pit.

  ‘I don’t foresee problems selling this stuff,’ she said to Herin. ‘We’ll come back soon with your share.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Herin.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re a woman of your word,’ he replied. ‘But I’m not letting you get your hands on all the money. Too many things can go wrong. I’m coming with you, to make sure I get my share there and then.’

  Moneva shrugged. She would have done the same.

  ‘Won’t you be missed?’

  ‘Clarin will cover for me. He’ll tell them I saw a band of Middians and followed them. When I come back in a couple of days I’ll just say I lost them.’

  ‘Very well. We need to get back to Coldeberg before nightfall.’

  They cut it fine, the guards at the West Gate letting them through once they explained their business and handed over a bit of coin.

  Ernst and Gernot were happy enough to sleep in the stables of George’s House and keep an eye on their wagon full of loot, especially once Moneva said she would pay to have a meal brought out for them. Herin and Moneva got a room each and shared a meal downstairs, toasting their imminent success with a bottle of Barissian white. They both agreed that it tasted no better the second time around.

  Back in her room, Moneva found that she couldn’t settle.

  She had never crossed Max like this before. It wasn’t even crossing him, not really. It was striking out for herself.

  Still. She didn’t know what she felt about it. He had become her parent since her own died; her mentor; her boss; her lover. He was in her blood, her soul. Was she feeling guilty? Feeling free of him? Feeling strong and bold, or scared? It was all of those things, and more.

  Her head spinning, she left her room and went to Herin’s. She opened without knocking. He was lying on his back on his mattress, not a care in the world.

  He turned to look at her, then got to his feet.

  She shut the door behind her.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away much longer,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  She marched over to him, put one hand round his neck, and pulled him in. Her heart thudded in her chest as they kissed, Herin’s hand sliding down her back. He pulled away.

  ‘I have this effect on women,’ he said, sounding almost serious. ‘But you should know, I’m not the falling in love, happily ever after type.’

  ‘This has got absolutely nothing to do with you,’ Moneva said, and pushed him back onto the bed.

  Early next morning they brought their wagon to the yard of Coldeberg Castle. A tired looking guard gestured for them to come in.

  ‘What have you got?’ he asked brusquely.

  ‘Weapons and armour.’

  Maybe he recognised them from last time because he didn’t seem intere
sted in interrogating them further. Or maybe he’d been on the night shift and was ready for his bed.

  ‘I’ll fetch someone. Wait here.’

  Moneva grew nervous with the wait. She would be glad when they had got rid of the stolen loot and left Coldeberg behind.

  ‘Shit,’ Herin murmured. He dived down behind one side of the wagon, hiding himself. Moneva looked. The guard was returning with one man: tall, well built, he walked like he owned the place.

  ‘It’s Salvinus!’ Herin hissed. ‘He’ll recognise me. I’ve got to go.’

  Moneva felt her stomach lurch. These weapons were from Salvinus’s own stores. Would he be able to tell?

  Ernst looked about for Herin, unsettled. Moneva caught his eye and gave him a stare. They had to act normal. He nodded at her, pulling himself together.

  ‘So, you’re our weapons dealer?’ came a voice. It was measured and composed, spoken by a man who was completely confident that he was in control of the situation.

  Moneva instantly disliked him.

  ‘If I’d known you were such a fox I’d have made the effort to meet you earlier.’

  Now she loathed him.

  ‘If I’d known you were such an ass I’d have avoided you.’

  Salvinus laughed. ‘Well, that would have been a shame,’ he said as he approached, walking up so close to her that she had to prevent herself from taking a step backwards. ‘Let me see what you’ve got,’ he said quietly, still so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

  Moneva gave a silent sneer, but walked around to the back of the wagon, pulling down the door. He followed her, peering in. He picked up a sword, studying it closely.

  Oh fuck, he knows, he knows what we’re doing.