Geltab Omnibus Volume II
The Ghost Legion: Stories I-X
By
Geltab
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Geltab on Smashwords
The Ghost Legion: Cold Blades
Copyright © 2011 by Geltab
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The Ghost Legion: Cold Blades
“There, that should do it.” Cannon said moving the folds of my robe inward to conceal what I carried.
“Are you blind or just stupid? I can see the damn things bulging under there a mile away.” Wormy had to put his negative two cents in, as always.
“Thanks Wormy, that makes me feel much better.” He shot me a hideous smirk out of his purple face and narrowed his eyes, and then he raised his bottle to me and went back to drinking.
“The robe needs to be longer.”
“And the man skinnier,” Cast and Spell, the two sorcerers of our lovely group, rare breed these days sorcerers, said having a good laugh at my expense. I was standing upon a wooden stool in the middle of our temporary field barracks while the huge man Cannon, also the outfits tailor fitted me properly. The rest of the company lounged, either drinking and playing cards or watching me, enjoying the show. I was glad to be the source relieving some of their tension; they knew what was to come as well as I did. All we could do was hope for success.
“You two is the bloody sorcerers’, make the damn robe bigger!” Cannon shot back at the two sorcerers now playing cards. They looked up from their game.
“But don’t make me skinnier!” I barked and pointed my finger. “I remember what you two did to that poor chicken.” They both snickered and pointed at each other accusingly, and then they joined hands and eyes, without missing a beat. As they did this my robe began to grow, down past my ankles and wrists until several feet of slack lay on the floor. They stopped; each took a drink and went back to playing cards. No big deal.
“Better to have too much than too little,” the big man Cannon said as he set about fitting me appropriately and providing proper cover of the items I would carry, somewhat awkward items I might add.
“Hold still Dagger or I’ll poke you in the balls!” Cannon bellowed, I held stiff as a statue from then on, ignoring the items strapped to my body.
We are brothers and sisters, assassins, mercenaries, heroes, terrorists, whatever you wish to label us; I suppose it depends on your perspective. Regardless, we are a family. We have been currently hired by King Lurel to infiltrate and destroy the main rebel base situated within the eastern half of his kingdom. The rebels there have been fighting for autonomy in the lands of Lurel for countless generations. We care nothing for their politics or problems. Their king paid us the highest price and we would wipe out the base and all within it, that’s what we do. To the world we are known as “The Ghost Legion.” We have no name for our outfit ourselves, we need none. We are all outcasts, our pasts forgotten, we are forged in the brotherhood of war, assassination and treachery. If the rebel leader Xaxer had paid us more, we would slay the king instead and destroy his castle. We are free; therefore we are dangerous to all sides.
As far as anyone knows we are also the most deadly of assassin brotherhoods because true magic still only exists within our outfit in the persons of Cast and Spell. They are the oldest of the outfit and only the ones’ they serve magically are more powerful than they are. Cast and Spell are therefore especially important to the outfit, even if they refuse to divulge their magic secrets or where their power originates, we are just glad they are with us, “the ghost legion” as the world says.
“Why do I have to do this again?” I asked, looking at everyone’s faces, they now faced the door. Cannon looked up, then quickly back down going to work again.
“Because I ordered it Dagger, do you have a problem?” It was the knight-captain, captain Iron was what they called him. Scarred and clad in our outfits red armor and blood red robes with hood draped halfway about his huge mangled head.
“No sir,” I managed to stammer as everyone stood to attention.
“As you were,” captain Iron spoke, and then entered the barracks. Every man was scared stiff, even the sorcerers. The knight-captain is rumored to have fought and defeated Bern, a great and evil mage, thousands of years ago. Captain Iron belongs to a race that is an offshoot of human, they can live for hundreds of thousands of years if not killed, and I hadn’t met a man yet who I thought could kill knight-captain Iron magic or not.
Cannon continued working on the robe, concealing the items as best he could.
“It really is an ugly color isn’t it?” The knight-captain scowled, examining the drab brown robe of the rebel armies’ religious order of monks I was draped in.
“Yes sir,” Cannon and I answered as the same time. We looked at each other, he went back to sewing.
The air was cold, your knees went weak, just being around the knight-captain was an event that took considerable power. He was a mystery to us. Every now and then after a successful mission, hopefully like tonight, he gets good and drunk, then I can get some stories out of him. Not much, but what he reveals scares the living hell out of me and all the others who hear it.
“There we go,” Cannon announced as he stepped back to examine his work. The knight-captain, Wormy, Cast, Spell as well as some of the other brothers were watching me intensely. (We call each other brother, whether female or male. For instance the sorcerer Cast is female.)
“Looks good to me,” knight-captain Iron announced. “If I didn’t know Dagger I would say he was a rebel monk, well done Cannon. Now, all that’s left is for our Dagger here to infiltrate their base and place the explosive magic devices throughout their compound unnoticed.” The knight-captain said with a hard edge on the word unnoticed as he raised an eyebrow. Of course, after the knight-captain found my robe disguise agreeable so did all the others.
“Oh yeah, looks great to me,” Wormy said drunkenly.
“Ditto for us,” Cast said for her and Spell without even looking up from their card game.
I gave them all a fake smile.
“I’ll leave you to finish preparing,” the knight-captain said as he left and all rose to say goodnight while he walked out of the field barracks. After a few moments of making sure captain Iron was truly gone Cannon spoke.
“Walk around some Dagger, let’s see if you look like a monk or we can see those damned explosive jelly candies you carry.”
Cast and Spell scoffed, “Those jelly candies you refer to have been magically infused by the highest of explosive powers, and they are no toy or anything to be played with. One false move by our man Dagger here and we’re all gone before we know it.” She took on a harder edge than usual; there was no playful demeanor this time. She slapped down a card.
“As you’ll find out in a few hours…should Dagger succeed that is?” Spell spoke after her as they both went back to their cards and drink. Sure didn’t make me feel better knowing I was a walking explosion. I walked around the barracks as everyone nodded approvingly.
“Good job Cannon,” Wormy spoke saluting him with the whiskey flask again.
“Right then, on to the mission. Dagger, go see the knight-captain,” Cannon said to me as he reached down and began cleaning. That’s how we brothers of the outfit are, once done one task we’re immediately on to the next with no fuss, no complaint, no need to make a big deal, we just do what needs done. I left the barracks and walked across the field to the knight-captain’s tent, captain Iron was standing outside, probably been waiting for me this whole time with my luck.
“Where the hell have you been Dagger? I’ve been waiting for you this whole time!”
“I am ready to go now sir.” I responded trying not to reveal my nervousness both about the mission and simply being in knight-captain Iron’s presence. I had been on many, many assassination missions, but one this ambitious, this deep behind enemy lines with no backup never. Never has a mission of such importance been up to one brother of the outfit.
“Cast and Spell will transport you close to the entrance of the rebel base.” I turned, they were both behind me smiling, snuck up on me again, how do they do that?
“Keep sneaking up on me and I’ll remind you two why the outfit calls me Dagger,” I jokingly said as I turned around.
“We know why you’re called Dagger; we’re hundreds of years older than you remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” their smiling continued.
The knight-captain clasped my shoulder, it felt like a ton and the grip was like a vice, I tried not to show it.
“Good luck Dagger, our reputation of hundreds of years depends on your success, no pressure.” The knight-captain squeezed tighter and then smirked, knight-captain Iron actually smirked! Then he turned away, I knew he was only half joking. In a way I suppose the hundreds of years of the outfits’ reputation did rest upon my shoulders. This operation would be the deciding factor as to whether or not we still had what it took to succeed on a large scale with so few members. Should I succeed we would also attract new members. I walked with Cast and Spell twenty yards from the knight-captain’s tent, there we joined hands in a circle.
“Clear your mind and imagine yourself at the entry point to their base,” they said in unison, there was no joking. As I began to relax I saw the base and its walls, the surrounding military road and trees. Bending, seeming to come into shape, I felt a rush of wind and a pressure like a hand on my neck, when I opened my eyes I was standing alone in a thicket not more than fifty to sixty feet from the entrance to the rebel base. Cast and Spell were nowhere to be seen. I pulled up the hood on my robe, tucked my hands together and began walking towards the entrance. Luckily for me, new initiates wearing the brown robe such as the one I was wearing take a vow of silence; hopefully this would make for a nice smooth entrance to the base.
I approached the gate solemnly as a monk would with my head bowed, stopped and dropped to one knee as is their custom and waited. I’m not sure I breathed until I heard the creaking of the old oak and iron doors. I stood, ignoring the guards, keeping my head bowed I walked until I was fully inside the base. The gate closed and locked behind me, giving me a chill I did not expect. “I must be getting soft in my old age,” I thought to myself.
This base was truly impressive; the king was in greater trouble than he had let on. There were thousands of men here and permanent stone structures. It was clear the kingdoms control had been lost in the east; still I had a job to do, for the outfit, for my brothers. I moved silently unnoticed as any other monk would in the base, more like a small city. Flittering here and there, jotting notes, examining structures, basically remaining invisible.
I placed an explosive magic charge on every structure on that base right down to the temporary tents over the next four and a half hours, I was able to cover everything. I was exhausted, and covered in sweat, thanks to this damned robe by the time I was finished. I leaned against the last building I had rigged to catch my breath as I began to walk my way out.
“No one notices a holy man,” I whispered out loud to myself.
“You shouldn’t pray so hard mister,” a soft voice came from behind me.
“What?” I startled and answered.
“You’re all sweaty and out of breath, the Gods hear you whether you are sweaty or not. See ya.”
“Wait…” Before I could speak the kid had skipped away, damn. “Leave now!” I said to myself, I knew better than to humanize my targets after all these years. I turned and walked out the rear exit of the base which led up a road on the side of a large mountain. I walked until I had the perfect view of the base, lit up by small fires and torches at night, soldiers drilling, machinery being repaired, I had no personal quarrel with anyone down there, and business is business. The outfit goes to the highest bidder, always has always will, simple.
I felt a cold wind bite me as I stood on that high bluff overlooking the rebel base and knew both Cast and Spell were now behind me. I did not move or react, simply kept staring at the base, going over the mental map in my head making sure I had rigged absolutely everything. I needed to do something other than think about the carnage I had wrought that was to come.
“Great job Dagger you got everything,” Cast spoke first. I eyed her curiously; I don’t even bother to ask how they know anymore.
“Now enjoy the show,” Spell said wickedly as he raised his hands.
Explosions rang out simultaneously; I was startled by the noise, standing there I watched just how well I had rigged the base, everything exploded at once. There was no dramatic crescendo, only flames and ruins. I don’t think the rebels even had time to scream, the kid skipping away crossed my mind and I looked down, tightening my eyes fighting tears. After all this time, I couldn’t help it, I still felt. Others in the outfit were merciless and felt nothing, I still had feelings, I wanted them, I deserved to burn in them.
The base went up in flames, absolute fire, less than an hour after the initial explosions nothing remained where a thriving base with stone structures had been. “Fire hot enough to burn stone?” I asked myself. Absolutely nothing but charred, smoldering ruins, never had I seen a fire burn so hot or so fast. Cast and Spell’s explosives must have truly been magical fire.
Before the embers died down our camp was struck and we were gone from the area. Another job, albeit a very important one, done and in the outfits history books, even knight-captain Iron gave me a pat on the back as we packed camp, though I wish he hadn’t. It was like a weight slamming my spine; the knight-captain is bigger than Cannon and twice as strong at least.
We packed camp; we were going to the court of king Lurel to collect the other half of our payment for a job well done. There were two hundred of us on this particular mission. Though none ended up being needed due to my subterfuge being successful, not even as clean up. Still, to the king’s court we marched, all in red as we always do. We look identical, everyone, civilian and military moved out of the way of our column as we passed and entered the city. Marching we came upon the entrance to the court. The king greeted old knight-captain Iron outside on the steps to his court as we stopped below. I couldn’t decide if it was a warm gesture or a way to keep us out of his court.
“Once again you have provided an invaluable service to the kingdom,” the king spoke to the knight-captain. Dropping to one knee, knight-captain Iron replied.
“Your majesty, our esteemed brother Dagger deserves all credit for this most successful mission.”
The king shifted his glance to me, “Rise Dagger,” I did so but kept my head bowed. I don’t know why, maybe so many years of being trained in the art of deception.
“You have struck perhaps a death blow to the heart of this insurgency, this cancer within my kingdom.” The king’s voice rang with superiority; it was the kind of voice that made you want to shut it up. Of course I could only stand there and take it, especially since we were still owed half our payment.
“All of you,” the king called, “Have done a great service, the ghost legion as people call you; the kingdom thanks you for removing the main rebel base and threat, now of course you must also be removed.”
I looked up, the knight-captain rose; the rest of the two hundred of us did the same. An army loyal to the king was emerging, surrounding us three rows deep, with spears and shields and snarls. It was an ambush. The hunters had become the prey.
“Damn, how could I have been so blind?” The knight-captain began cussing and stomping, Cast and Spell looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to believe someone with stronger magic blinded them to danger, they had not prepared anything. Wormy, well Wormy kept drinking and drew his blade, just like every other day. I did the same, we are brothers in the outfit, I don’t care how outnumbered we are, we’re taking a lot of these bastards with us on our way out.
“Stand and fight brothers, we serve no king, no queen, no land, we are the free outfit, the ghost legion, the cold blade,” the knight-captain screamed to all of us, it was the first time I had heard captain Iron use the term ghost legion or cold blade when referring to the outfit. The two hundred of us huddled into a circle, swords and spears sticking out like a vast porcupine, as the king’s soldiers encroached on us. The king had disappeared, “If I see that son of a bitch,” the knight-captain growled.
Cast and Spell seemed out of it, not knowing what else to do and knowing we would be dead without them, I slapped them, as hard as I could.
“Do something! Damn sorcerers what good is magic if you’re dead!” I couldn’t help myself; I lost it at that moment for the first time in years. My slap and panicked screaming seemed to work though as instantly they joined hands and I saw before my very eyes little Cast and Spell merge and grow into a grotesque monster from some nightmare shadow. They grew into a shaggy grey, thirty foot tall fanged beast; the king’s men stopped their advance. Only the knight-captain seemed unfazed by the transformation of the two little sorcerers.
“Seen it all before,” I thought as I looked as the scarred old face of knight-captain Iron, what a complex bastard! He looked at me like he knew my thoughts and pointed at the beast.
“Watch,” he mouthed silently to me as if he knew what was coming and was preparing to enjoy the show. The great beast that was Cast and Spell had begun trampling the circle of the king’s men which was three deep that had surrounded us, walking around their formation squishing them as if they were mere ants. With its unnaturally long arms it also reached down and swept away dozens of men at a time, some were eaten; others were flung hundreds of yards away like yesterdays trash. I was mesmerized and frightened at the same time. I knew both Cast and Spell were sorcerers. I had seen them do some impressive things, but this, I had no idea they were capable of such a feat. I was hoping for merely a force field, perhaps a call for help, even a few shadow monsters. Never would I have imagined them this powerful, I was sorry I slapped them now. I hope they didn’t hold it against me. They were the oldest in the outfit according to the knight-captain, but how old?
Suddenly there were so many things I began to realize I didn’t know about my brothers. As it is with us all I suppose. Like I said, we are outcasts, when we joined the outfit we tossed aside and forgot our past no matter what. I certainly was glad to forget mine, we were held together by something much stronger, our code of assassination. Money is not more important than the outfit, only everything else. That’s what every member is taught from the beginning and understands. The outfit and your brothers within it come first. We serve only the highest bidder, never their cause, we are our own cause. Many former brothers have been executed due to their treachery disobeying that golden rule. The outfit over money, this is one reason our ranks have thinned compared to times past, there are fewer honorable men.
The king’s men were in a panic and we took advantage. Though we were outnumbered at least five to one we charged what remained of their lines and began decimating the panicked soldiers. They were easy pickings, as the Cast and Spell monster had already dispersed their formation and broken their ranks. There was nowhere for them to run, only narrow footpaths which we blocked. We cut them down like cordwood, it was sickening. The sorcerers’ monster crushed thousands as if there would be no end. There of course was an end.
In the end when all was said and done the king was brought, bound before the knight-captain, all of his men were either dead or had defected, pledging to join the outfit or die trying as we had lost over fifty men thanks to this treachery when we could not afford to lose one. Knight-captain Iron was pissed, he was always pissed and scary, but never had I seen his face this red. It matched his armor.
We all stood stoic covered in the blood of his men as the king begged for his life like a traitorous maggot.
“Why not just pay us? You were so rich, why be so greedy? All my years, I will never understand those like you.” The knight-captain grumbled kneeling next to the now gagged king. There was no muffled answer, knight-captain Iron began to pace. He looked at me with his steel eyes, “What do you think Dagger?”
“I think we should take all his wealth for the outfit, there’s bound to be tons around this city. Then we should ransom him to the rebel leader Xaxer for all of their gold as well. Pathetic as he is, he should net us a tidy profit. Two birds with one stone.” The knight-captain stared at me silently considering what I had just said. He decidedly quickly as he usually does.
“Very well, brothers, ransack the warehouses and send everything back home to our secret outfit base. Wormy, you arrange it all and make sure it arrives, not one coin missing. After you have this city and its treasures headed to our base, do the same with the rebel loot I am going to send Dagger to collect.”
“Yes sir,” Wormy answered and was gone in a flash. That little drunk sure can move when he wants.
“As for you Dagger, take Cast and Spell as well as Cannon with you to the camp of Xaxer with our fair king here; see what we can get for his sorry ass.”
“Yes sir,” then I turned, Cannon would be a fine addition to the group, if the king tried anything he would be smacked right back down.
We transported right into the middle of an emergency war meeting Xaxer was holding with his remaining generals. Trying to figure out what happened to their main base in the east. To say they were surprised by our intrusion would be a bit of an understatement. Weapons were drawn, curses were shouted, and guards were summoned. I spoke before it got out of hand.
“Wait honorable Xaxer, I am Dagger of the ghost legion, we bring to you king Lurel, the crown jewel sought by your insurgency.” They dropped their weapons and softened their faces when they saw the bound up king. I noticed gray hair, the lines of worry etched on Xaxer’s face. At this moment however, Xaxer and the entire room seemed overcome with joy at the gift placed at their feet. But this was no gift. We are not merry men friendly to strangers.
“Shut up!” Cannon boomed in a voice so loud I swear a brick above the hearth cracked. They all froze.
“Thank you Cannon, do you think he is a gift? No, we come to treat.”
“Treat, huh? What’s to stop us from killing you now and taking him?” Xaxer’s eyes narrowed and his hand fell on the hilt of his sword. I smiled,
“Come now sir Xaxer, you don’t want to end up like your friend here,” I kicked the bound and gagged king, getting a whimper out of him. “We don’t serve him, no need to die for him, he has served his purpose. Surely he is worth a great deal to you and your generals, especially after what he just did to your eastern base and the thousands stationed there.”
“True, he is, he is. I’ll tell you what…Dagger is it?” I nodded. “I’ll make you a deal, you show me how you got that name, just you alone, no help from your friends here, just you against my two bodyguards and not only will I give you my entire horde of gold and jewels, but my army will be on call should it ever be needed to suit the ghost legion’s purposes. Deal?”
Cannon, Cast and Spell looked at each other and stood back, they knew what was coming.
“Deal,” I answered in a higher pitched, almost questioning tone as I smiled.
Xaxer stepped back as his two bodyguards clad in mail armor stepped forward. One was tall and skinny with a short stabbing blade in one hand and knife in the other. The second bodyguard was shorter and wider, he was holding a one handed axe in each hand. They approached me slowly, crouching in fighting stances.
“Simple bastards,” I thought to myself. They have no idea I am over one hundred years old and have killed thousands of men tougher than them for a whole lot less. I was quite the son of a bitch in my younger days.
Tall and skinny struck out first with his short sword; I pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees ending up behind him as he ended up on his knees with a dagger in his throat spraying blood all over fat axe boy. He seemed shaken by my speed and the blood on his face that a minute ago was in his friend. I would be.
Before he could react I used tall and skinny who was on his knees as a launching pad. Springing over the short axe man’s head in a somersault, as I swung by him I deposited a dagger in each carotid artery. I removed them as I landed; he collapsed in a sickening fountain of his own blood. A move I had perfected over many decades ago. Xaxer’s face had gone white, deathly white; my brothers laughed and collected their money from Xaxer’s soldiers who had bet on my death as I gathered my blades. I stood and looked at Xaxer as I cleaned my daggers.
“Yes, Dagger, I see.” Was all Xaxer said, he waved his hand and twenty four wagon loads of gold, silver and jewels were ours. Wormy had appeared towards the end of my fight and immediately set about inventory and shipping the goods to our secret base.
“Do we also have your rebel army should we need it?” I wanted to remind Xaxer of that part of the bargain also in case my little demonstration made him forget.
“Of course Dagger, of course”
“Tell me Xaxer; now that king Lurel is out of the picture, I assume soon to be dead, will you keep fighting?”
“We will fight if the new ruler refuses us autonomy in the east, we owe that to those who have died.”
“I understand, best of luck to you Xaxer, you may hear from one of us should we require it. Goodbye.”
Before he could say goodbye Cast and Spell had transported us out of there and back to our temporary base. The knight-captain was on us immediately and wanted to know every detail right away. I explained the ransom we received and the right to call on the rebel army should it suit the outfit’s needs. Knight-captain Iron immediately contacted our secret base to make sure the wagons of loot were arriving and to speak to Wormy. Sure enough, they were arriving as scheduled, with Wormy right on top of them. We made out clean, but I was beginning to feel dirty. Who did we serve? Are we no better than those we work for? The outfit has to stand for more, there must be a reason the ghost legion still exists after so many battles over so many hundreds of years.
I was snapped out of my thoughts by an alarm, there were visitors approaching the perimeter and they didn’t look friendly.
“Goblins,” Cannon growled.
It was a contingent of green skinned, sharp fanged and double crossing goblins. Our kind of people, they were led by a rather large goblin covered in scars and body piercings. I recognized him, it was Slice. This meeting could either be something good or very, very bad. My history with Slice had been a mixed bag.