Borderlands- Act 1 Read online

  “Get to your horse, Guardsman. We have a patrol to re-join.”

  “Sir.” With downcast eyes he hurries past me and out into the roadway.

  Wiping the blood from my scabbard and re-clipping it into my back harness, I consider the groaning bodies around me.

  Despite his vile trade and behaviour, I have to admire the toughness of the chief debt collector. His battered face and the caking of mud regardless, he is already pushing himself to his feet. His eyes are slits of rage as he spits out a gob of blackened blood and snarls at me. “You are going to pay for that, soldier boy.”

  I tilt my head. “I think you just paid up on my behalf actually.”

  He wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You’re so far out of your depth. Don’t you know who you’re messing with?”

  I glance at his beaten companions. “As it appears, five thugs that just got taken down by one man who didn’t even bother to unsheathe his weapon.” He steps forward with a growl and suddenly the tip of my sword is under his chin. He lifts his head involuntarily as I press the steel up against his jaw. “In case that was too quick for you to follow, the scabbard is still on my back.”

  For a moment, we eye each other down the length of my blade before he replies. “It’s not me and the lads you need to worry about. We’re just doing our job.” He steps back and a nasty sneer spreads across his smeared face. “It’s the boss, see? By interfering with us going about our legitimate daily business, you just put yourself on the boss’ list of problems that need fixing. Only one way you’ll be coming off that.” He helps broken collar bone to his feet. “Come on lads, let’s be off. We need to be reporting back.”

  I slide my sword back into the scabbard and rest my hands on my hips. “That is a good idea. Run off to your little boss and explain how you just got pasted. Do not forget to mention who it was. Patrol Captain Banak Doneir, remember the name.”

  The last thing I see as they retreat into the shadows is the blazing hatred in his eyes. “Don’t you worry, soldier boy. We’ll remember your name all right. We’ll remember it real good.”

  With the threat finally banished, I turn and help Chalka to back out of the alleyway. Back on the road, I swing into the saddle.

  The waiting Guard smiles at me sheepishly. “Captain, thanks really, I…”

  “Name?”

  “Beck Diment.”

  “This matter is not finished, Guardsman Diment. I shall have words with you this evening in camp, but first we must re-join the patrol. So, for now, shut up and gallop.” With a blast of my whistle to warn the civilians in the street, I spur Chalka and we set off, the rescued Guard following close behind.

  The rest of the trade district passes in a blur of rattling bridges and shocked faces. Pedestrians leap to safety and voices call out curses as we weave between slow moving carts. As the last industry on the outskirts falls behind us and the traffic dwindles to nothing, I give Chalka her head. The roof of the Customs Bridge is already visible ahead and with our final sprint we are soon skidding to a halt before the entrance.

  On this side of Afreem, the town limits are marked by a final muddy stream that snakes around the edge of the swamp. The only crossing of any size is this bridge so all goods that enter or leave the town must pass over it. Anything that does, is charged a duty or toll. Built to discourage people from slipping by or attempting to ford the muddy ditch, the Customs Bridge is fully enclosed and accompanied by a fence that tops the nearside bank for an arrow’s flight in either direction.

  Though the far end of the bridge can be sealed with heavy double doors, the town end has a simple drop barrier. It is up, but three men stand with sloped halberds blocking the entrance. Town wardens, civil militia posted to guard the bridge and collect coin. The Guard is exempt from payment, but it would still be a bad idea to run them down unceremoniously. I keep my tone light. “Hello there, I am Patrol Captain Banak Doneir of the Aether Guard, let us pass.”

  Standing between his two colleagues, the bridge Chief chews whatever leaves he has stuffed in his face and considers the situation for a moment. He spits. “Patrol Captain you say?” He makes a show of straining his neck to look at the lone Guard behind me. “That ya patrol is it?”

  The guy on the chief’s right nods. “Yeh, not got much to show for such a big man, eh Chief?” The guy on the chief’s left giggles.

  First thugs and now clowns, fantastic! “Most of my men passed this way just before. I am re-joining them. We have duties to perform, keeping the Homelands safe for the likes of you.”

  Right nudges his chief. “Hear that, Chief? Likes of us!”

  Left makes a noise of fake outrage before returning to his sniggering.

  The Chief nods and repeats the whole insolent chew and spit cycle before speaking. “So that headless rabble was yours then was it? Figures, you’re not with them and you’re supposed to be the head.” He shrugs. “So yeh, headless.”

  Right agrees. “Headless! Yeh, nice one, Chief.”

  Left tries chuckling for a change. I briefly imagine providing him with a few more holes in his inane grin.

  The Chief continues. “What happened? Couldn’t you keep up on that old nag?”

  “Old nag!” Right repeats. Chalka snorts but I hold her back.

  Left returns to his giggling.

  “I was held up dealing with civil unrest. Such things are normally the concern of the Town Ward’s Office. However, Wardens were conspicuous in their absence, so we took it upon ourselves to safeguard the populace. Now, are you going to let me pass or not?”

  The moment hangs.

  Though Wardens do not train nearly as rigorously as the Aether Guard, they are usually competent enough. Conversely, my companion is effectively still untrained. The odds look bad for us if I have to take them on alone. Chalka would certainly come off badly. The first lesson anyone ever learns with a poleaxe is how to hamstring a horse.

  It occurs to me that I have no idea what the Chief has been chewing so enthusiastically. Depending on the leaves, his next move might be far from rational. Involuntarily, my hand reaches for the hilt of my sword. His weight shifts slightly and the grip on the shaft of his weapon firms. We lock stares.

  I can barely keep myself from sighing as he breaks eye contact and steps aside. “Of course you may pass, most respected Patrol Captain!” With a flourish, he bows deeply. “We just had to be certain of your credentials. More than our job’s worth to let some murderous renegade or criminal slip past.”

  “Murderous Renegade!” Right stretches the words out like he is savouring a fine wine and finishes with a grin.

  Left’s giggling briefly steps aside to let a cackle through.

  When I make no move to walk Chalka on, the Chief smirks and takes another shot at me. “What’s the matter? Still want to hang around? Savour the delights of an evening at our esteemed establishment?” He motions at the boards of the Customs Bridge.

  “Doubt it Chief!” Shaking his head, Right drools sarcasm. “No way he'd want to hang around here, with the likes of us, n'all.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The Chief gives another spit. “I’m thinking he might be feeling lonely, what with his patrol deserting him n’all. Perhaps, he’s looking for some new friends to play with.”

  Left doubles over with whooping laughter. He clings to the shaft of his halberd just to stay on his feet.

  I take another glance into the black wooden cavern of the Customs Bridge. The double doors at the far end are firmly closed. It is not so much the darkness as the idea of getting trapped inside with these three clowns at my back. “If you can open the door then I shall be on my way.”

  The Chief claps a palm to his cheek in a parody of shock. “Of course, how foolish of me. Let me remedy the situation at once.” He bellows over his shoulder. “Open up!” At the far end, one of the doors swings silently open. I cannot help doing a double take. Dvi Uvgea? A portal spirit? Since when did a lowly Customs Bridge qualify for something like that? The C
hief spots my surprise. “That’s right, Captain. Never underestimate a town warden.” He thumbs at the bridge. “Now, it’s been nice passing the afternoon with you 'Patrol Captain Doneir of the Aether Guard going to re-join his patrol', but if you can just be on your jolly little way, we can get back to our more important duties.”

  “Yeh, more important duties.” Chimes Right.

  Left slips to his knees in gales of weeping laughter.

  As we enter the bridge’s twilight, Right continues. “Nice one, Chief. Showed that snotty up in the air on his stupid horse Captain, who’s in charge round here didn’t we? Ey? Showed him good, didn’t we?”

  “Yeh,” comes the Chief’s gruff voice, “but not nearly as much as he deserves.” The dull thump of a heavy boot cuts Left’s laughter off abruptly. “On your feet you fool. You’re an embarrassment to the Ward, kneeling in the dirt like that!” The echoing of Chalka’s hooves drowns out any further exchanges.

  With the bright patch of the open door directly ahead, my eyes struggle to adapt to the deeper shadows in the bridge. “Evening.” Chalka recoils a step in surprise at the unexpected rumbling words and my sword is already drawn before I even realise that it was a voice.

  I point my weapon into the deepest shadows just behind the open door half. “Dvi Uvgea te’bokae! Reveal yourself door spirit!” Shock robs my command of authority, but a hulking shape does step forward. Lit from behind by the open doorway it takes me a moment of blinking to realise what the shape is. I relax. Though truly massive, it is just a man. A fourth warden, not a portal spirit after all. “What were you doing lurking there? Setting an ambush or something?”

  “Sorry to surprise you, Captain. I just wanted to wish you well.” His words vibrate in my chest, deep and sonorous. “Not all wardens are...” he glances past me at the others by the drop bar. “...like that. Got nothing against the Guard myself.”

  Gathering myself, I put away my sword. “So, you get to stand alone in the dark, opening and closing the door, whilst those three behave like idiots?”

  “I really don’t mind. I prefer it to,” another nod at the other Wardens, “well, you know.”

  “Indeed, well a good evening to you too.” I am just about to flick the reigns when a thought occurs to me. “What is your name?”

  “Zaer Pant.”

  “Can you ride a horse?”

  “If it’s big enough, yeh.”

  I smile at his quip. “You can never have enough muscle when it comes to destroying Spawn. Ever thought of patrolling yourself?”

  He shrugs. “Not really. Don’t see why not though.”

  I nod. “Well Warden Pant, let us continue this chat when I return. Shield of the Homelands!”

  He is momentarily taken aback by my salute but then stands tall and beats the butt of his pole axe against the boards. “Captain! Until your return.”

  I spur Chalka out into the farmland beyond. It feels good to be properly back on patrol at last. Despite the dusking light, I smile.

  Victory awaits.

  About the Series – Borderlands

  Trapped in an eternal battle against the all surrounding Realm of Chaos, the nations of the Rationalle fight to preserve the purity of their oasis and its most sacred relic, The Temporalis.

  In the shadow of the Realm’s corruption, where steel turns to dust, stone walls crumble and spells turn on the caster, the battle-hardened Aether Guard hunt down and destroy the ravening Spawn before it can reach their home.

  Skill and experienced notwithstanding, their sworn enemy surfacing deep within the Rationalle itself catches them completely un-prepared. On this new battle front politics and ambition prove even deadlier than the Spawn they pursue. Can they keep up with their enemy, or will the Realm of Chaos finally desecrate the Temporalis itself?

  Grimmdark marries Bronzepunk in this hard fantasy epic where action abounds in a unique and immersive world of captivating characters and frightful monsters.

  For the latest news about release dates for future instalment in the series, visit ‘www.charlesgull.com’ and subscribe to the newsletter.

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  About the Author – Charles Gull

  Born in ‘the smoke’ in 1970, Charles left London at the age of 13 when his family moved to ‘the sticks’ to build a house in a remote corner of Wales.

  After graduating with a Master of Philosophy in Computer Integrated Engineering, Charles began his career as an expert in advanced design and analysis techniques. After moving to Germany for work, he crossed over to ‘the dark side’ and became a salesman.

  On his daily train commute, Charles draws inspiration from both his technical background and the many marvellous people he meets on international business trips to build coherent Sci-Fi and Fantasy worlds filled with passionate stories populated by multi-dimensional characters.

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