Spy for a Dead Empire (The Adventures of Grant Scotland, Book One)

By Dan McClure

AELFA, THE GRAND CAPITAL of the once mighty Aelfan Empire, has fallen. Barbarian leaders now inhabit her buildings and attempt to ape her customs. Meanwhile, war parties and nomadic tribes still harass her broken legions across the shattered remains of her once rich lands. All that stands against them now is the city of Zyren, the last bastion of Aelfan rule.

But at least one man in the captured city stands with Zyren, too. Grant Scotland, a man leading a double life because his own had been taken away from him by the very people he served. An unwilling recruit into the business of clandestine missions and deceit, he searches for anything real to cling to as the world around him devolves into insanity. And when an old friend shows up asking Grant to help save his family by delivering a mysterious book to a shadowy figure, Grant's two lives collide and he is thrust into an even stranger world than he had known; one where ancient magic is wielded by deadly players who compete against one another for a prize greater than simply the rotting carcass of a dead empire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan McClure
• Release date: May 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310184215

Dan McClure

Writing, working and living in beautiful, historic Arlington, MA.

Book preview

Adventures of Grant Scotland:

Spy for a Dead Empire

Copyright 2014 Dan McClure

Published by Dan McClure at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Description

AELFA, THE GRAND CAPITAL of the once mighty Aelfan Empire, has fallen. Barbarian war parties and nomadic tribes harass the retreating and broken legions that once overawed them. All that stands against them now is the city of Zyren, the last bastion of Aelfan rule.

 Acting as a spy for Zyren is Grant Scotland, a man leading a double life because his own had been taken away from him by the very people he serves. An unwilling recruit into the business of clandestine missions and deceit, he searches for anything real to cling to as the world around him devolves into insanity. And when an old friend shows up asking him to help save his family by delivering a mysterious book to a shadowy figure, Grant's two lives collide and he is thrust into an even stranger world than he had known; one where ancient magic is wielded by deadly players who compete against one another for a prize greater than simply the rotting carcass of a dead empire.

Dedication

To my mother for encouraging me.

To my father for believing in me.

To my brother for supporting me.

To my wife for seeing the best in me.

To my friends for ignoring the worst in me.

And to my last job for firing me.

Contents

Description

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

The Adventure Continues . . .

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

LIFE IS LIKE A SINKING SHIP; it's lonely and uncomfortable and overwhelmed by the certainty of creeping doom. And wet. Very wet. Well, my life was like that anyway. At least, it seemed that way to me at that particular point in time—stuffed as I was in a barrel that smelled like old fish and listening to water trickle into the cargo hold around me. I cursed, shifted my legs underneath me, and lifted the lid to peek outside and confirm what I already knew to be true.

The hold was dark because the main hold doors above me were sealed tightly shut, but I could hear the water gushing in from somewhere. I knew that there was probably a narrow door located in a wall that partitioned the hold from the galley. After the galley would be the oars and a small ladder that ascended to the main deck. I eased myself out of the barrel I had been hiding in since they brought their cargo onboard earlier that morning, and then stumbled around on soggy sacks of grain until I could find a wall. Working as quickly as possible, I probed with my fingers and sloshed my way around, feeling the edges of the timber for the doorframe.

I found it just as the water level was up to my knees. I lifted the latch and braced myself for the small flood of water that pushed in from the galley. A loaf of bread and an apple floated by me into the hold. The water level was up to my waist now and the ship was certainly sinking faster than I would have liked.

I waded to the opening across the small room and could hear some shouts and voices fading fast as the last of the oarsmen climbed up to the main deck and jumped off. I peeked through the archway and saw no one left at the oars. Suddenly, the bow of the ship lurched down and I almost pitched backward with it, but at the last second managed to grab one of the rungs of the ladder nearby and hauled myself up as the sunken bow compartments continued to slowly tilt the stern of the ship into the air.

There was no one left on the main deck and only a few feet away was the door to the captain's cabin, tucked underneath the stern quarterdeck. I hoped against reason that he was still in there, waiting until he was sure nothing could be done or all his men were overboard or maybe just trying to save what personal possessions he could. The ship stabilized and stopped tilting, but I still had an upward run to reach the door. Once there, I turned the simple wooden handle and it fell open, spilling a few oranges and a candleholder down the deck toward the waiting water.

The cabin was small—most vessels this size didn't even have one—so it contained little more than a cot on one side and a chest on the other and a small table bolted to the wall opposite from the door. Above the table was a hatchway with the hatch open looking aft and showing nothing but blue sky. The captain was busy trying to mount the table and push himself out of the hatch when he turned and saw me.

Who the hell are you? he asked in a surprised shout. The timber of the hull creaked ominously.

Give me the necklace, I said through a hoarse voice. My throat was dry and pinched from the long night of waiting in the barrel and the terror that accompanied the prospect of sudden drowning.

How did you . . . oh hell, never mind.

The captain turned and resumed trying to exit the hatchway, so I sprang toward him and grabbed his trousers and used gravity to help pull him back. He lost his grip on the hatch, and we tumbled down against the wall, the captain almost spilling out of the door. He caught himself and cursed and quickly regained balance on the awkwardly tilted floor before drawing a small knife from his belt. His other hand held a small sack and he kept it pressed against the doorframe as he slashed at me. I pulled back just in time to keep the blade from slicing my neck and then dived onto his arm before he could try a backhand slash.

I pinned his knife hand under my right arm and quickly jabbed at his face with my left. He howled as I connected with an eyeball and tried to swing at me with the sack. It was awkward and barely grazed the side of my head and left him off balance. I grabbed the sack with my left hand and with my arms crossed in front of him holding him down; I thrust my forehead at his wincing eye. He gasped and let go of everything and began to fall through the door as the deck started to shift and tilt again. His hands scrambled at the doorway and managed to hold on long enough to keep from tumbling into the water that was slowly eating his ship.

I scooped up the knife and the sack and quickly checked to make sure the necklace was inside it. The captain was trying to climb back into the cabin and get ready to make another attack. I braced myself in the corner between the tilted floor and the wall and the bunk, and I showed him the knife and shook my head.

Don't.

Who are you? Who sent you?

Leave now while you still have your life.

I'll find you.

Wouldn't advise it.

The captain turned in the doorway and jumped into the water. I scrambled up toward the hatch and heaved myself out onto the stern of the ship as it rapidly tilted to an almost 90-degree angle with the water. I took the necklace out of the bag and attached it around my neck. Holding the knife I dived into the water and began swimming toward the shore about a mile away. I was reasonably certain the captain wouldn't try to swim after me, but I held onto the knife just in case, placing it between my teeth to make swimming a bit easier. At least, that's the reason I told myself. In reality, I hated the ocean—too many unfriendly things living in there that you just couldn't see until they decided to eat you. It was ridiculous, I knew, but the knife made my swim a little less anxious.

It was mid-morning by the time I dragged myself onto shore, crawled up to the shingle, and collapsed among the reedy dunes. Swimming a mile, as it turned out, was much more exhausting than walking one. I hadn't planned on the swim at all last night when I had planted the acid mine above the ship's water line.

The leak was supposed to have been only big enough to force the ship back to port for repairs. While the ship was being worked on, I had planned on stealing the necklace from the captain (because most merchant captains typically stay onboard while repairs are being done, but their crews go ashore) and slipping out unnoticed, or at least much drier. But, best-laid plans and all that.

After a few minutes of rest, I heaved a sigh and got up and started my walk farther inland. I didn't want to chance meeting any of the ship's crew on the way into town, so I headed around the east side of the city to approach it from the south. Most of the crew members would be getting ashore on the east or west sides of the bay or even somewhere up the north coast if they got caught in the current. Then they'd use the main roads to get back to town. It meant a bit of a walk for me across some farmland, but much better to circle the city and come in from the south than risk getting caught by the angry captain and a slew of water-logged thugs.

Around noon I determined that the strong sun of late spring had dried me out enough and that my belly was empty enough to force me to turn back north. After a short while I found the Emperor's Way, the major road that had once helped keep the glorious Aelfan Empire united and prosperous, and I used the road to guide me back to the city.

Now that the empire was no longer unified or prosperous (or even practically in existence), the road was rapidly falling into disrepair—the city, too, for that matter. Still, the cracked and weed-riddled cobblestones were in good enough shape to serve what little trade traffic still braved the countryside, and I was glad to see one or two wagons pass as I walked into the once-glorious city of Aelfa, former capital of the mightiest empire the world had ever known.

Legend held that the city was founded more than a thousand years ago by a race of immortals who had dwelled in the deep forests by the mouth of the Ael River. The city was meant to be a place where immortals and mortals could meet and trade and live side-by-side, but the mortals kept cutting down the forest in order to make room for their own buildings. Eventually, the immortals tired of this destruction of their beloved forest and began a war to eradicate their neighbors. The mortals had grown too numerous and strong and controlled too much of the city, and they defeated the immortals and drove them into hiding, never to be seen or heard from again.

A myth, no doubt, I thought as I walked through the South Gates, now unguarded and flanked by crumbling walls. But it must have sounded like a better origin story than a more historically accurate tale of slaughtering an innocent neighboring fishing village and taking over their town. That myth was probably more necessary now than ever before. Since the barbarian invasion and conquest of the city, the local Aelfan inhabitants had little to be proud of and even less to look forward to with their new Huthan rulers, who were more interested in plunder and oppression than construction and administration.

I walked up the Emperor's Way until I passed the Imperial Palace, the former home of the Aelfan emperors and current home of King Reynard, leader of the most recent sackers of Aelfa, a Huthan tribe called the Gregyans. I could see a few of them hanging around the palace steps and looking out of place in their heavy furs and ring-studded leathers. I made sure the necklace was well out of sight under my tunic and kept my eyes focused on the ground in front of me and quickly turned right onto the Trade Way toward the Docks District, where my home and business were located.

Orwen's Tomes and Journals wasn't really mine, but since Orwen passed away last year and didn't have any children to pass it on to, I sort of took it over. Besides, it wasn't like there was much of a bureaucracy in place to look after dealing with the estate of the deceased. I knew the trade and the business and that's all anyone cared about, as far as I could tell. In fact, not many people seemed to care about books at all in recent years, so business was usually slow. Aside from putting together religious texts for the various faiths sparring for the eternal souls of the remaining denizens of the city, there wasn't much call for book binding. Truth be told, I made more from dealing in underground pornography than anything else.

Around a dozen years ago, Aelfa had been sacked by the Gregyans, but instead of moving on and sacking other towns, they decided to stay and carve out a kingdom around the old capital itself. Although they were surprisingly reasonable rulers, they weren't terribly literate. All the great comedies, tragedies, and histories so cherished by most of the Aelfan people were of little interest to the Gregyans.

Instead, they found the simple smut pamphlets and lewdly illustrated bawdy tales of nymph porn to be endlessly amusing. That industry, at least, was booming. The religious cult associated with the current rulers was also especially strict when it came to tolerating forms of sexual expression, so although the smut was basically outlawed, it of course was also highly sought after and therefore lucrative enough to keep my humble business afloat.

I unlocked my door and entered my single-story stand-alone dwelling located between a run-down two-story apartment block and a wainwright. I felt a little guilty opening the store in the afternoon, but I figured I probably hadn't lost much business and hadn't much of a choice in the matter anyway. Solin hadn't given me much of a window of opportunity to snag the necklace.

I slipped behind my desk and into the small bedroom on the side of the shop and withdrew the jeweled piece from around my neck. It wasn't especially beautiful, but something about its simple silver chain and the deep blue of the lapis studs and the reflectiveness of the modest sapphire center piece made me feel very relaxed and even somewhat comforted; as if the sunlight reflected off it were also providing some warmth.

I shook my head and wondered what Solin wanted with such a piece. After folding it in a work smock, I stored it beneath a floorboard under the bed. I knew that was a lousy place to hide something, but it wouldn't have to stay hidden for long because I was meeting Solin that night to hand it over.

Solin was my handler in Aelfa. Technically, he was my boss, but I had been working with him for almost ten years now, so I tended to view him more as a peer than a superior. He, of course, still viewed himself as vastly superior, not just to me, but to most people, and rarely missed an opportunity to remind me about it. I took it in stride. He wasn't getting out of this crumbling city any quicker than I was.

I shut the curtain to the bedroom and busied myself with straightening the desk and dusting the shelves of books and scrolls. That never takes very long, so soon I was hard at work in the back of the shop copying various religious scrolls into one bound volume. I kept the front door open because it was getting to feel like early summer and the sun was warm and bright in the afternoon.

Afternoon, Scotland.

I turned away from the work table and saw Samael, the local constable, standing in the doorway. He was tall and broad for an Aelfan, almost as big as the lumbering Huthans. I was a half-breed myself, with the sharpened features and golden eyes of an Aelfan, but the larger body of a Huthan. My mother came from Aelfan stock and was still alive somewhere. I think.

My father was a Huthan who had served his time in the legions and had assimilated. Unfortunately, in the most recent conflict that ended with the conquest and subjugation of Aelfa, neither side trusted him and he didn't survive the conflict. It wasn't a memory I cared to revisit. Samael reminded me of him sometimes—the good parts, anyway.

Samael sauntered inside the shop and grinned at me. He served as constable for the Docks District, helping to keep peace for whomever the current rulers might be at the time. In fact, we were lucky to have him, because most districts didn't have a dedicated native peacekeeper and were subject to the whims of whomever the king decided to appoint to look after them. Sam wasn't exactly loved, but on the other hand he generally kept the peace and also kept the worst of the barbarian gangs from roaming our streets.

What's the word, Sam?

I came by this morning, but you weren't open.

Stayed up a little late last night, so I decided to sleep in this morning. Sorry I missed you. Did you need something?

Nope. I was just in the neighborhood. A ship sunk just outside the harbor, so I was down by the docks helping to pull any survivors out of the drink.

Really? Sorry I wasn't there to help. Everyone ok?

I think we got everyone. No fatalities that I heard of, anyway. The crew had no idea what happened. None of them could explain it. It was as if the ship somehow immediately sprang a huge leak.

I got up and poured a cup of wine for each of us from a skin I kept hanging behind the desk and handed one to Sam. Well, that can happen. Boats get old. Timber rots. That kind of thing.

S'pose . . . Sam drained his cup and placed it on the desk. Ah, well. What the hell I know about boats anyway? Thanks for the drink. Certainly hits the spot after a busy morning. Sam got up and headed to the door.

Anytime.

He stopped before he left and turned back and looked at me. His cloth cap was in his hands and he was idly fiddling with it. So, you were in all morning, huh?

Yeah. Didn't even get out of bed until around noon.

Busy night?

Well, I was catching up on work. You know how it is. Work by candlelight and you lose track of time.

Sam's gaze slid to the back of the shop and then back to me. He gave a slight nod after a second and then walked out with a See ya' around, Grant.

I finished my wine and then returned to the work table. Sam might have been suspicious about my activity last night or this morning, but no more so than usual. He probably suspected I engaged in other activities besides bookbinding, but he had never accused me of anything and we had worked together on more than one occasion to keep the Docks District relatively safe from both crime and plunder. If anything, he might have thought I was a smuggler and he wouldn't have been very far from the truth. I've certainly done my fair share of smuggling in my line of work.

I wouldn't say I operated on the wrong side of the law, but I guess that was mostly because there wasn't much law to be on the wrong side of. Since the first sacking of Aelfa, the capital of the empire had shifted to Zyren far to the east. There, the empire still lived on and its armies were still fighting the tribes of barbarians who never seemed to stop pouring out of the mountains and the vast plains to the north and west.

It was Zyren that trained me and sent me here to spy on its enemies and perform certain clandestine operations whenever it saw fit. This wasn't exactly my dream job, but it was a living. Also, I hadn't been given much choice in the matter anyhow. My recruitment into the service hadn't exactly been voluntary.

As evening approached, I grabbed my ill-gotten gain, stuffed it in my tunic, and locked up the shop. Solin's clothier shop was on the other side of the Capitol District, in a part of the city that had once boasted the wealthiest citizens and the most exclusive merchants. Although his clientele wasn't as glamorous as it had once been, Solin maintained a decent business outfitting the new Gregyan elite in the styles of the old Aelfan elite. Everybody up there got a big kick out of that, and as far as I could tell Solin didn't mind. In fact, the more Huthans, Durfans, Nuuls, and Urkens he could meet, the easier it became for him to do his other job—collecting intelligence and passing it back to Zyren.

The shop would be closed for the evening, but I rarely went in the front door anyway, because someone like me couldn't afford anything he sold and there wasn't much he could claim he needed copying or binding in order to serve as a cover for our meetings. Instead, I turned off the main street about a block away and went around the back of an abandoned two-story dwelling.

The back door had long since rotted away from its hinges, but you couldn't tell by looking. I lifted it away, slid inside, and lifted it back in place. Inside, the place was largely empty, just some broken pottery and the occasional piece of disintegrating furniture. I was in what once must have been the kitchen and there was just enough light left to see a dark passage to my right. I knew it led to what once was the indoor privy. Still was, I guess, though thankfully no one was using it anymore. I headed over and felt around inside the small room for the cracked wood lid and opened it. Down the poop chute I went.

When I had started using it, I had spent a week cleaning it out and installing handrails. I wasn't worried about the building getting new tenants—Aelfa had only shrunk as long as I'd been there. As far as I could tell, I could count on this little privy being my own secret door for a good long while. It still smelled