Four Horsemen: Chapter 15 Part 1 of 3

Chapter 15:

“Broken spear, a burnt piece of paper, a sword and a playing card.”

Desari touched a hairpin and Mya pulled off her hat.

“I think,” Desari frowned, withdrawing it and studying it. “When did I?”

Mya looked into her hat.

“One creepy ass chest that looks like its spent the better part of several centuries at the bottom of the ocean, got some funds and contracts, lots of contracts. A playing card of midnight black, blood red tracing and a golden rune.”

“A blade, more magic books, a medallion of a scorpion, stealth armor for an assassin. Various stealth weapons,” Desari looked up from her hairpin. “And a card.”

Petor pulled out his.

The gold rune flared and the blood red rune brightened, it flew from his hand, expanding, the golden rune disappearing as the midnight black spread, the red line cutting a bloody line, cutting between here and there.

Petor pulled out the broken spear, Valter’s blades slid into his hands, Mya holding a revolver and sword as Desari lowered herself, twin daggers in her hands.

The remaining demon landed on Petor’s back, he could sense him even as he couldn’t see him, the other two prepared to leap to his defense.

“Devil,” the Demon spat.

Twin mounts pierced the red-lined inky darkness, they were larger than most horses, armored hides of midnight black and stone grey with yellow eyes of captured lightning. The snorted heat as they plodded forward, dragging free a carriage, lamps at the four corners illuminated the gold painted and black wood carriage. Crates covered the roof and back of the carriage. Warm light spilled through the windows of the carriage.

The portal closed as the carriage came to a halt, the door opened and stairs unfolded to the ground.

A humanoid stepped onto the stairs, pointed ears sticking out of either side of his top hat. A monocole highlighted his yellow eyes, identical to his mounts. The monocole was attached by golden chain to the left breast of his doublet. It was a fine thing of golden stitched patterns, a cloak hung over his back, red lined and as dark as the wood of his carriage.

Black pants and boots filled out the man’s wardrobe, a fine blade hung from his hip.

“Friends!” He laughed, spreading his arms as he stepped down from the carriage, the light of the carriage back-lighting him and his impish smile.

“I heard that you four were dead, I’m glad to see it’s not so, and young Petor it looks like we’ll be working together a bit longer. I keep telling you, becoming a god’s paladin is a boring business. The things we could do together!” His eyes thinned and he stilled like a cat spotting another.

“Demon,” His voice was playful but the edge to his words and eyes was anything but.

“Someone doesn’t just open a portal because they want to,” Desari said.

“My lady I am wounded.” He swept down into an elegant, bow, pulling his hat off, black hair spilling forth. “I am no simple merchant. I take great care in my exceptional customers.”

He rose, winking and putting his hat back on, his hair drawn up inside the hat as he ran two fingers across the brim.

“And it seems that you are in quite a bit of trouble.” His voice low, his eyes sparkling.

Mya grumbled. “Fuck a duck.”

The merchant laughed, a rich thing as he snapped his cloak behind him and stepped forward, he waved out his hand, a chair appearing, he slid onto it, his legs dangling over one side, framing his face with his forefinger and thumb.

His monocoled eye passed over them.

“Exquisite.”

“Why did you really come here?” Mya muttered, stepping forward, like a boxer entering the ring.

“I had heard stories, rumors and whispers,” He waved his hand, eyes sharp and passing over each of them. “The four horsemen storming one of Jorai’s Cathedrals while its champion was away, leading fighters that follow Karenthal, Dreakoun, Ithram and Pekari.

“We have had many discussions in the past on young Petor’s wanting to become a paladin.”

Petor automatically changed discussion to argument in his mind.

“He has a reputation of taking on causes for the various gods with little in the way of payment, hoping his piety will get him one step closer to paladin-hood. Turning against the gods, especially one that has a very good public opinion. That seemed odd to me. Also there was the fact that your bodies were discovered in the cathedral, but Jorai’s paladin is looking for you.” The merchant twirled his fingers and pointed at Valter, a smile with the same emotions of a pleased cat stretching across his face.

“The Iron Sergeant, Armor of Velledes, his weapon turned his prison. A man’s soul lashed and bound to his armor.” The merchant’s smile faded as frost before the morning sun, he collected his legs under himself and stood out of his chair, moving with lethal precision, he pinched Valter, moving out the way of the reactive attack, studying him while moving through the attacks, holding his chin he stepped out of Valter’s attack range.

Petor’s grip tightened on his spear at the man’s casual abilities.

“True flesh, bound with the sould seamlessly. Recreated perfectly.” His eyes widened, his monocole dropping from his eye.

Valter held himself back, as the merchant drew out a smoking longstem pipe, releasing a stream of blue vapor.

“You four truly do not disappoint.” He laughed, growing in depth and volume, his eyes jumped around smoking.

“What are you saying trader?” Mya said.

He savored his smoke as much as his words.

“Information is power, but you have truly outdone yourselves. No wonder all five gods are enraged and Jorai’s allies are pissed.” A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Clean words, not ambling half-truths,” Valter said.

“Seems that memory loss is part of the transference.” The merchan pursed his lips and sat down on his chair, crossing his legs and holding his pipe.

“It appears that your souls were transferred into god avatars. The divine made flesh that would allow them to descend to this plane and wield their believers power. Karenthal, Dreakoun, Ithram and Pekari must have learned of this, but instead of them stealing the avatars away from Jorai, your souls, not the souls of the gods inhabit these avatars. By the size of your Demon.”

It hissed over Petor’s shoulder, calming with Petor’s absent pat.

“It appears that the transfer consumed a massive amount of your power, this would be a problem normally, but in these new bodies it is possible to recover. I would estimate you are at the level of an adventurer recruit. Barely in the copper ranks. Copper low rank. Though it is no worries, there are many tasks I know of that would require those with your skills. I would be willing to pay in reagants and treatments that would increase your levels rapidly.” His quiet smile danced on his lips again.

“I think not,” Mya said. “Though we would be interested in looking at your wares.”

“Are you sure? This continent is embroiled in war, the gods are stirring and looking for ways to step across the planes. I will even take you across the planes myself,” He opened his hand to the carriage behind him.

“A devil’s word is in the contract, and nothing binds a devil more than their name,” Mya held out a piece of folded paper between her fingers.

“Isn’t that right Limos?”

He hissed at Mya, his upper lip revealing sharp curved teeth.

“Be wary of how you use my name pirate.”

Mya smiled and sat down on a log.

“As per our contract, you are not to reveal any information on the four individuals infront of you, known as the four horsemen. Any working contracts are to be written out clear of modifications and other bindings. Information is your trade among other things, tell us about this continent and what is happening. Tell us about us.”

“Information has a cost.”

“Ah, but goodwill will be repaid in spades, right merchant?”

He put away his pipe, pressing his lips together in thought.

“You mentioned how we have the ability to increase in power, and you thought us worthy enough to come into contract with us.”

His face bloomed into a smile.

“An investment in your futures. Forty gold denal should be enough.”

Mya laughed. “I may have lost my memories, but I didn’t lose my mind. Three silver Denal.”

“Silver,” He spat to the side. “I do not move a finger unless it is for a gold Denal.”

“Fifty Silver, half a gold denal,” Mya shrugged.

“Ten Gold denal.”

“Goodwill dear Limos,” Mya smiled and leaned forward. “We are in need of gear and we have items to be sold.” She drew out a shield with one of the god’s symbols on it, holding it against the ground.

“It has been already consecrated to a god.”

“Consecrated metal can still be melted down and the power of the sigils drained. Power of the gods is one of the easiest powers to use once free of their bindings,” Valter said.

Limos clicked his tongue.

“One gold Denal for the information.” He snapped back to Mya.

“For information on ourselves and the continent.” She held out a gold coin.

“A deal is agreed to.” The air stirred with his words.

“A deal made,” Mya smiled and flipped the coin. Limos shivered as the gold touched his palm, disappearing in a moment.

“You four are known as the four horsemen. Death,” he pointed at Mya. “War,” He pointed at Valter. “Conquest,” Desari. “Famine,” Petor shifted his feet.

“Horsemen,” Mya made a show of looking down her breeches. “That don’t seem to be a hundred percent right, more like fifty.”

Limos ignored her. “Death was part of one of the largest trading merchant families on Samarra, the Asmani traders. When they killed bandits and pirates they turned them into undead serfs, the family donated their bodies in death to act as undead minions for the living. Using necromancy they became the strongest traders on the planet and were stretching out to other planes when the family tried to take over Samarra. They were defeated, but the war and the debts of the family, caused the survivors to sink into a massive recession. Samarra never recovered and is now dominated by pirates.”