Chapter 14 Maximus
Maximus
Damien
“Ithink we should stay together tonight. Come to our wagon. There’s plenty of space,” I say to Eloise. I don’t trust this King Jaqual. Keeping us separate seems like a ploy to weaken us.
But Eloise shakes her head, and I know by her tone and the look she casts that it won’t be happening. “No. It isn’t done here.”
I cast her an incredulous look.
“You want their help, right? Then we need to live by their rules when we’re under their roofs.
They’ve provided us food and shelter at a reasonable price.
And I don’t think Jaqual buys that we’re peasants from Covellton anyway.
He told me as much. So, the fact that he hasn’t kicked us out of the caravan is all the hope we need that he’s willing to talk.
” We reach her pretty violet wagon, and she pulls out the gold butterfly-winged key.
“Just plead our case. Try to keep an open mind. I’ll see you in the morning. ”
She kisses me on the cheek, a quick peck that maintains enough distance to be appropriate for cousins, and then disappears inside.
“I hate this,” I say to Warbill, dark waves of foreboding rippling through me.
“Don’t waste all your hate on this,” he says. “Something worse is bound to happen soon. Especially considering you threatened the Rivertoad king with your sword at his throat.” He holds up our key. “Let’s go settle in and await the fresh horrors that will inevitably be sent our way.”
“You’re a real barrel of laughs, Warbill.”
“As are you, Sir Grump.”
“I may have made a mistake agreeing to bring you with us,” I grumble.
“Ah, good decisions rarely make for good stories.”
I make a lewd gesture in his direction and step into the wagon, pacing the small space as Warbill throws himself across his bed.
It’s so late, I can see the silver edge of the moon threatening to rise for the day.
We don’t have to wait long. A knock on the door comes after only my third lap.
I look over my shoulder at Warbill and then move for the door.
A familiar man in a patchwork tunic and breeches stands outside, a brown cape draped over one shoulder and a scabbard on his hip. His face is impassive as he says, “You are interested in hiring a sword?”
“Yes. Please come in.” I open the door wider, and he enters.
I know this man. He was once an umbrae under my command, but I can’t say anything without revealing my true identity, so I keep my mouth shut and pretend I don’t recognize him.
I back up toward my bed but don’t sit, opting to fold my arms over my chest instead.
The man positions himself at the center of the wagon with his back against the cabinets so he can see us both. “How many men do you need, and what are you willing to pay?”
“How many men do you have?”
“More than a peasant from the northwest Borderlands can afford.”
“You have no idea what I can afford.”
“Tell me more. How have you come by such a considerable sum as to think you can hire one mercenary, let alone many?”
I glance at Warbill, and he’s smart enough to know what I want him to do.
“What is your name?” Warbill asks.
“You can call me Maximus. I am the chosen leader of the band of mercenaries you wish to hire.”
“Commander of the Guard?” I ask.
“The Rivertoads have no guard. We are individuals who live by the sword, not nameless soldiers fighting for a power-swollen king.”
“Yet you do have a king,” Warbill adds, his brow furrowing.
Maximus chuckles. “I used to think like you.” He shakes his head. “The one we call king is not like the one that sits on New Stygarde’s throne. Things don’t work like that here.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“Maximus, my cousin Valerian and I have joined a growing insurgency with the goal of taking back New Stygarde from Brahm and his dark elf queen. You must have heard about the men training in secret in Aendor?”
“One hears many things on the road.”
“It’s a sizable rebellion, but we need more men, and I’m authorized to offer a considerable sum.”
“You don’t want to hire mercenaries—you want to hire an army.”
Warbill nods. “So I ask again, how many men do you have available for hire?”
The man scowls at a spot on the floor. “And if I told you a number, and you were able to pay the price, you would expect us to follow a simple villager from Covellton into battle?”
Warbill clears his throat, and I force my expression to remain unreadable as he adds, “Prince Damien is back. He’s alive and working with the rebels.”
Max snorts. “Rumor. Innuendo. I once fought under Prince Damien and saw him fall on the battlefield. But even if he were back, you’d be hard-pressed to get my men to fight for another son of Malek. Who’s to say he’d be any better than his brother? We might be swapping one tyrant for another.”
“Damien isn’t a tyrant,” I say, forgetting myself in my passion for the topic. “He wants a kingdom where everyone has a voice and the Rivertoads can remain free.”
“You seem surprisingly knowledgeable of the ways Prince Damien intends to rule.” He taps the hilt of his sword.
“I can take your offer back to my men, but unlike the silver coats, each person has a choice to fight or not fight. We each set our own price, even if we work collectively. I can’t tell you how many will entertain your offer, but I promise you, it won’t be many.
Rivertoads don’t fight other people’s wars. ”
“Don’t you see what Brahm is doing? Don’t you want a better Tenebris?” Warbill asks, growing defensive.
“It’s only a matter of time before Brahm’s hard-line tactics come to your wagon,” I say. “And when it happens, it will be too late to stop him. He’ll be too powerful.”
Maximus stands up straighter. “My men and I will look out for our own interests. I won’t stop any individual from bargaining with you, but I will not help you coordinate a large-scale enlistment. Good luck to you.” He turns to leave.
“Wait! What about your king? Will Jaqual speak with us about this?”
Maximus looks at the ceiling and then at me. “I thought you wanted men, not political relations.”
“Both,” I say.
He snorts. “Fine. I’ll let him know you’d like to talk. Good luck to you.” He pushes through the door and disappears into the night.
“Well, that went over like a wingless bird,” Warbill says. “Sounds like we’ll be lucky to have any men join our cause. And what was that all about a different type of king and each man having his own choices? I swear the Rivertoads are from another planet rather than another community.”
I grunt. “This conversation isn’t over. There is hope yet.”