Sigil of the Wolf - 1. Chapter 1

Eqyr-Ouso - Imperial Protectorate World

Water flowed through thousands of small rivers, washing down over the stones past the rickety wooden bridges, cascading over the edge of the waterfall into the valleys below. The dawn of spring brought with it the flood season on Eqyr-Ouso as the hard packed snow on the mountains melted beneath the relentless heat of the Ouso star, part of the Mara rotating spiral cluster.

The city was more a cluster of buildings hugging the rocks just above the pounding floodwaters, ropes helping secure the structures to the rock faces around them. The low round buildings resembled overturned pie plates to the young man crossing the bridge towards them.

He was weighed down with a heavy backpack, pots and pans rattling as he walked, the wind blowing his blonde hair into a mess. He bit his lip, taking a long sigh as he trudged onwards, his companion, equally as burdened, a step or two behind him.

"Why did we agree to this?" Doctor Kyr called ahead to him.

Elias craned his head back, tilting down his sunglasses, resting a hand on the wooden railing, "Because we're idiots?" he said, catching his breath. Three days of hiking; his blisters had accumulated yet more blisters, and his stomach growled angrily at him, reminding him that Marine trail rations were not its idea of good food.

"No, seriously," Kyr looked as bad as he did, dishevelled. His tweed suit had torn on the first day after a particularly rough incident involving a patch of briars. He looked like a beggar, which was probably a good thing given where they were going.

"Darien needs us to do this," Elias said firmly, looking back towards the remote mountain village perched teetering on the rim of the waterfall ahead of them.

"Sure," Kyr murmured darkly, catching the scents of the village on the air, the smell of real cooking as opposed to Elias's attempts at something called smoores that to a Kaynin were the most disgusting and gooey things on nine worlds. "But why didn't he get Nazzien... or better yet Colonel Mayfair, Mayfair could do a hike like that in his sleep..."

Elias shook his head, "We're nearly there, I promise we'll find the first bath and you can..."

Kyr shot ahead of him, his backpack swinging widely from side to side as he jingled along the wooden bridge towards the village. Elias smirked; he'd known that would work, and he took off after the doctor.

The two friends drew to a slow walk as they neared a small shack perched on a rocky island that connected the wooden walkways to the village. A couple of rough looking Tancred, the local indigenous humanoids, were watching them, picking up their old rifles and moving to block their path.

"Here we go..." Elias coughed.

Kyr slipped his hand into the large pocket of his coat, the small fist closing on the butt of the pistol he was carrying. He'd adamantly refused to go on this mission without it; a small Kaynin on this kind of rough frontier world, his only companion a blonde-haired, blue-eyed pretty boy who'd fall over in a stiff breeze...

The Tancreds were muscles on top of muscles, with a few extra muscles for good measure. Ropey arms held on to Amsus issue weapons as they stared through beady eyes under heavy brows, almost prehistoric in their appearance. Long white tusks protruding from their lower jaw ran with drool as they looked at the fresh meat coming closer towards them.

The first pushed the second as they moved to block the bridges.

"'alt!" it snarled, spiky bristles on its head rising colourfully, ''ho goes there?"

Elias held up his hands, "We're just passing through," he said, nodding further up the mountain, "On a pilgrimage to see the Avatar of Hon'isur, we need to buy supplies..."

"Let 'em pass," A third called, coming out from the shack. He wore an Imperial Marine jacket, the sleeves torn so he could fit it over his body, the Sergeant stripes visible, mirroring the ones he had painted by hand on the too-small Amsus trooper helmet on his head.

The two guards pulled reluctantly back to allow them to pass, Elias tapping his temple in a cheery thanks as they crossed off of the bridges and began for the last one that would take them inside.

"I changed my mind." The Sarge said, his smile deepening, "Take 'em!"

The two of them stood no chance against the three Tancred, especially not after three days of hiking, and as he was lifted, his pack being roughly wrenched from his back, the useless pistol already dropped somewhere into the mud, Kyr looked across at a struggling Elias.

"Him and his bloody plans!" He cursed as he was slung into a large sack and tossed over one of the Tancred's shoulders as he was carried towards the village.

* * *

Masconi lounged against a wooden wall, playfully toying with the tassel on Nazzien's ceremonial frock coat.

"Stop that," The Orion snapped irritably, feeling like a pompous ass standing there in the muddy village, brightly clad in Orion finery. A brightly coloured target for anyone to pick off with a well placed shot from a sniper rifle.

"I'm a slave girl," Masconi said, uncoiling from the wall, and shaking her hips, the silks rustling and parting to show the secrets hidden beneath, "I'm supposed to." She nipped her teeth at him and draped herself on his arm, "Admit it, you find this kind of kinky."

"I'd settle for my gun," Nazzien grumbled, looking towards the large round hall with its worn and rusted communication towers, "How long do we have to stand here? I'm an Orion, I shouldn't be kept waiting by some backwoods pirate..."

"Not that long," Masconi nodded to the two wriggling sacks born by some Tancred guards, loud cursing in a decidedly high pitched voice, the Kaynin accent definitely audible inside it.

Nazzien nodded his approval, "You know if we did that back home we might get some peace and quiet..."

Masconi dug her sharp fingernails into a soft part of his flesh, the Orion's eyes going wide as his breathing hitched, "Okay, I'm sorry..."

"Lord Zixor will see you now," Both of them turned to face the brown haired human. Standing a mere five foot seven, he didn't appear that threatening. His features soft and non-descript, the black padded armour he was wearing was finely made, half hidden by the rough woollen coat. He'd appeared from nowhere, managing to approach both the Imperial warriors without them hearing him.

Masconi withdrew her nails as Nazzien walked forward, tugging on the delicate golden chain that was attached to her throat, "Come," he tugged again, calling her like a dog.

She flashed him a murderous look that said he'd be wearing the collar very soon, as she dropped to a crouch and scurried after him, following behind the human as he guided them into the great hall.

It was smokey, smells of a wood cooking fire boiling cabbage and other foods. The old wood, ripe with rot, was just as rank. Nazzien sniffed, trying to ignore the pungent odours as they crossed the round floor towards the simple wooden chair sitting on its dais.

He frowned at the delicate young man standing beside the 'throne'. Wrapped in beautiful silks, he appeared so out of place, a light ceremonial cloth wrapped around his shoulders up to cover his mouth, and a tarnished silver circlet over his brow. He was staring at them with shattered blue eyes, a boy whose soul was broken and existed in perpetual misery.

Nazzien glanced at Masconi; she was looking in shock at the boy. It was not what they expected from the rumours of Lord Zixor the Aga-Khan of the Nizari Isma'ili sect, the fearsome Pirate Baron who had once ruled the Commonwealth with an iron fist.

The last Pirate baron, Nazzien thought with a certain pride.

"What brings an Orion to my court?" The voice startled both of them, turning to look up at the upper gallery behind them. The angry man stood with his hands braced upon the banister, his round eyes glittered under heavy brows as he seethed. His silky, straight, grey hair was pulled back from his face in a vaguely oriental style, reminding Nazzien of a plume of smoke. His pale skin was almost translucent beneath his tight-fitting black-padded armour of the same style as the man that had shown them inside. His robe, however, was of an intricate shifting pattern. Tiny nano-bots caused the golden pattern to flow as they adjusted the colours of the rich robe.

"My lord Zixor," Nazzien began, "I come to discuss the renewal of the..."

Zixor shook his head, "You've come from Taine. I know all about his pet Orion and the Kardiac woman." His eyes turned as they looked at Masconi, appreciating her curves as they lecherously slid over her figure.

Nazzien glanced about him, at the men melting literally from the shadows, armoured figures drawing black blades from wrist sheaths: the Fida'i. The deadly remnants of a long lost order whose origins were locked in ancient human history. Nazzien again instinctively reached for where his gun would be, his shoulder sagging as he remembered that he'd had to give it up to enter the village.

He instead lifted his hands, "I'm going to kill Darien," Nazzien murmured, glancing at Masconi.

Masconi lifted her hands, "Not before I get my hands on him first." She murmured angrily.

* * *

The Amsus Raptor screamed down the valley, swinging up over the waterfall, his VTOL engines taking over as he swung about over the top of the village, his dual plasma cannons rotating as he effortlessly shot the SAM emplacement that was preparing to launch a missile.

The explosion sent Tancreds running for the AA Guns. The Raptor swept back as it tracked those as well, gliding on a cushion of air as he levelled the twin barrelled cannons at the pair of Tancreds who wrestled with the wheel, trying to reposition the guns. Faced with only two options, they stopped, lifting their arms in surrender.

The Raptor hovered in the middle of the main square, dropping to the ground, its ramp dropping as the armed marines marched down the ramp, more an honour guard than a strike force. The man walking in their midst, wearing the long black greatcoat with its blood red lapels, remained unconcerned by the amount of Tancred who were appearing out of buildings taking up arms.

Colonel Mayfair swallowed as he looked back at Taine, "Sir, with due respects, are you out of your mind?"

Darien ignored him as he surveyed the area around him, looking towards the hall, "Go," he ordered calmly.

Mayfair shook his head, gesturing to his marines. The group of Karin's best retreated back up into the body of the Raptor, the captured vessel firing its engines again as it lifted off, curling skywards and vanishing into the sun.

Darien watched it go, turning his head to look at the Tancred moving towards him, forming a circle, one of them nudging another and pointing to the greatcoat. There was a murmur from the crowd, one of them lifting his assault rifle, another pushing it down with a loud snap of his jaws and a shake of his head.

Darien's eyes swept over the crowd, walking forward towards the hall, watching as the crowd of aliens parted to let him through, a few of them doffing their helmets, shifting uneasily as they refused to meet his gaze.

He mounted the steps to the hall and pushed the doors open, walking inside, aware of the Fida'i that lurked waiting inside for him. Again he remained calm, his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the throne.

Zixor sat with the shattered youth beside his throne. The Pirate Baron's brow was creased as he contemplated the madman who had just walked into the middle of his lair, unescorted.

"I had heard that you were brave," Zixor commented, "I didn't think you were merely insane."

Darien looked up, his hair - which he left a little long - fell in strands across his face. There was a confident, hard look in his eyes, "I've come to arrest you for crimes against the people of the Empire."

Zixor rested his fingers against his chin, holding up his hand to stay the Fida'i who were closing in around the foolish man. "Simply because you wear the coat of an Imperial Warlord does not mean you are one. VonGrippen's legacy may carry weight with the Tancred, but that legacy will not save you here. It'll be a great pleasure dragging you through this village and casting you off of the mountain top."

"You underestimate the power of a symbol, Aga-Khan," Darien said calmly, shrugging out of the greatcoat and tossing it aside. He stood, white shirtsleeves rolled up, black waistcoat hanging open, two red Gorean embroidered upon it, the curling saurian creatures resembling oriental dragons facing one another. A pair of silver revolvers were tucked under his arms.

"I understand symbols all too well," Zixor said, reaching out to pull the shattered boy forward, "I know exactly what they mean."

Darien looked left and right at the Fida'i, arms crossing to rest on the butts of the pistols, taking a ready stance, "Do they know why he hasn't spoken?" Darien asked calmly, staring into the eyes of the boy, "Do they know how you became his voice?"

Zixor smiled as he stood, "Control is for the one that can seize it."

"Yes," Darien's pistols drew in a single fluid motion, and the Fida'i readied to pounce, their black blades held at the ready. If Darien's grip tightened on his triggers he would die. His hands spun the weapons, holding them out butt first to the Fida'i, "But I should warn you, shortly I will seize that control."

Zixor shook his head, "Take him." He waved dismissively, descending to pick up the greatcoat that Darien had discarded.

The Fida'i took Darien by the arms, Darien's eyes never leaving the boy's face, watching the tear trace its way down the alabaster cheek.

* * *

Kyr struggled in the sack, trying to breathe as he felt the close, warm air around him. He fought for oxygen, feeling claustrophobic, scrabbling as he tried to keep his hyperventilation under control.

It reminded him of his time as a boy when his mother had told him stories about naughty pups being stuffed in a bag and dumped in a river...

He had to get free.. he fought harder, feeling the sack swinging as he began to panic...

"Shh!" Elias's voice reached him and he felt a pair of hands on him, as a sliver of light reached his eyes. He forced his hands through the hole, tearing it open and sticking his head out, gasping for air.

Elias, his hair a mess, was smiling looking up at him, holding onto a small pocket-knife.

Kyr took another gulp of fresh air, calming himself as the sack, suspended from a hook, swung too and fro. "How'd you...?" he asked, coming to his senses.

Elias shrugged, "Not my first time in a sack," he replied, giving a rakish grin as he went back to cutting Kyr down, "Come on, we're running late."

"Late for what?" Kyr grumbled as the sack suddenly split and he was dumped unceremoniously onto the cold stone floor, coming up and shaking himself off.

"Darien's execution," Elias smirked.

Kyr rolled his eyes, "'K, someone should invite me to these planning sessions, no one mentioned anything to me about sacks and executions when I was volun-told to come on this mission."

Elias chuckled, "Nazzien wasn't told either," he said, reaching into his pack that had been dumped onto a table, pulling out some tools that he tucked into his pockets.

"Great, so the Orion's gonna bitch the whole way home..." Kyr grumpily recovered his pistol trying to smooth down his hair, "Don't suppose there's any chance we could just let them execute him?"

Elias shot his best friend a look.

Kyr sighed, "Right then, the two of us to the rescue... Did I mention this is a dumb plan?"

* * *

Nazzien paced the cell, trying to think of a way out of their predicament. He was trapped, unarmed, in the cell complex of Zixor, Pirate baron. There were worse situations, though for the life of him Nazzien couldn't think of any at that moment.

"Hi!" Elias said from the doorway.

Nazzien turned, inwardly groaning, as the situation just got worse; he'd never hear the end of being rescued by Elias.

Masconi looked up from her bunk, "I'm going to kill him..." she said quietly, feeling the same way Nazzien did for their illustrious leader at that moment.

Elias folded his arms, looking at both of them in the cell. Behind him they could see Doctor Kyr holding onto an archaic pistol covering the door, trying to ignore the old man in one of the adjacent cell reaching for him and promising a nice surprise for such a pretty mouth.

"Be nice," He teased.

"Open the goddamn door," Nazzien snarled, rattling the bars.

Elias grinned as he began to fumble with the lock, concentrating as he worked the stubborn mechanism, finally relieved when he popped it, stepping back and gesturing for them to join him in the hall.

Nazzien stalked past, liberating the pistol from the nervous doctor as Masconi fumbled in her silks, pulling razor thin wires from her support garments, tugging handles from the tight corset she was wearing and clipping them into the pins that had held her braid up. She clipped the items together into a pair of short Orion thin blades.

Nazzien blinked, "You had those the entire time?" he protested.

"You really think I'd go through with this," she gestured to the outfit, "Without some kind of weapon hidden in it?"

"Good point," Nazzien said, "What now?" he looked over at Elias.

"We have to stop them from executing Darien..." He said, pointing upwards.

"Do we have..." Both Nazzien and Masconi said at the same time.

"Already tried it," Kyr muttered looking at the Engineer, "He won't let us."

* * *

Darien was led towards the edge of the village. They worked their way down some worn wooden stairs and out onto a low platform that had at one time been used as a meeting place for the village council to mete out what the Tancred considered justice. Executions were an example to all, and Darien had the feeling that Zixor relished those examples.

Zixor stood on a balcony overlooking the scene; behind him, the silent boy stood, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. Zixor had donned the Imperial greatcoat, mocking its symbolism as he looked down.

Darien stood between two of the Fida'i, his back to the precipice. He could hear the roaring water cascading over the edge as it fell hundreds of feet to the sharp rocks below, drowning out any other sound.

The Tancred had gathered, standing around and watching, held back by more of the Fida'i, staring not at Darien, but at the pair of rampant Gorean on his waistcoat.

"And so it ends," Zixor said, raising his hand.

"No," Darien stated evenly, "I've already won."

Zixor looked into Darien's eyes. Seeing a flicker of something, the Aga-Khan hesitated. Darien stared up at him with steady resolve, a confidence of a man who...

There was a resonant roar that drowned out even the roar of the waterfall, the Raptor curving up from the valley on its VTOL drives, the plasma cannons rotating and sighting in on the Pirate Baron.

Zixor stared at the ship, moistening his lips as if hypnotized by its sudden appearance.

"I am Darien Taine, the Highlord VonGrippen." Darien stared up at Zixor, the jet wash from the Raptor whipping up his hair and blowing his waistcoat, "This is an Imperial protectorate world and you, are under arrest."

Zixor turned to retreat back into his hall, but backed up as Masconi dropped from the upper gallery, her hands a blur as she fought with the Fida'i there, her thin-blades lunging as she danced a deadly dance with him. Nazzien left her to fight as he covered the Pirate Baron with the pistol. Masconi was more than capable of handling herself.

Zixor backed out onto the balcony again, "Kill him..." he turned and pointed to Darien.

The Fida'i tightened their grip, ready to drag the human to the edge. The Tancred, like a sea, cocked their weapons and raised them, training them on the Fida'i. Surprised, the dark-armoured men found themselves backing up from the horde of villagers who now centred their weapons squarely on them.

"I warned you about symbols," Darien called out, "Did they not tell you the story of how VonGrippen saved their people from the Gorean Xier during the Apilon Rift war?" he looked down at Xier's heraldic symbols he wore on the waistcoat, "And how they owe a blood debt to my House."

Zixor looked first at the ship, then down at the Tancred, before looking back at Masconi battling his bodyguard and the Orion training a gun at him. "The Fida'i will kill you..." Zixor vowed.

"No," Darien stated flatly, looking at the boy, "They won't."

The boy looked down at the ground before lifting his head and staring angrily at Zixor, shaking his head. The Fida'i holding Darien released him immediately; the one battling Masconi dropped his blades and dropped to his knees, pressing his face to the ground submissively.

Zixor spun, looking around him as his own people turned against him, hissing as he threw off the greatcoat, grabbing for the boy. He pressed his own blade against the boy's throat, "I want passage off of this world." He demanded.

The Fida'i prostrating himself before Masconi turned his head, rolling with speed and such agility that he almost flew to his feet, the blade flipping from the floor as he caught and threw it all in a single fluid motion, striking Zixor squarely in the back.

The poison-coated blade sank deeply into the former Pirate Baron as the man choked, his hands clawing at the boy's robes, the shattered blue eyes watching him die. He pushed the man off of him as he backed up.

Darien reclaimed his revolvers, sliding them back into their holsters as he waved the Raptor off. Walking through the deathly silent crowds and climbing the wooden stairs to the balcony, he paused to pick up his greatcoat and slid it on.

Masconi, Kyr and Nazzien all gave him evil looks, while Elias beamed happily.

* * *

The Tancred hall was filled with the din of celebration, the villagers plundering Zixor's food stores, breaking out the first feast they had since the Pirate Baron had claimed their world years before.

Darien had at first refused Zixor's chair, but the shattered boy had insisted, all but pushing the Imperial Highlord into the chair. Darien had reluctantly agreed once it became clear that the Fida'i would kill him if he refused. VonGrippen or not, piss off the boy and he would incur their wrath.

He sat, VonGrippen's greatcoat braced across the shoulders of the chair watching as his people were exposed to Tancred hospitality, which of course meant poor Doctor Kyr being set up on one of the tables on a stool. Something to do with him being the smallest in the hall; sometimes alien customs were bizarre.

He laughed as a couple of the Tancred tried to introduce Elias to mead, the young engineer turning a sallow green as he spluttered on the noxiously sweet liquid, choking as he swallowed.

The shattered boy was watching him, standing at his shoulder as if curious. Darien turned to look up at him. "The Empire will protect this world," he said quietly, "We won't let anyone take advantage of your people again."

The boy looked distant, almost wistful, and then looked back down at Darien, touching his chest and extending his hand.

"He says you are his Aga-Khan. These people are your people."

Darien turned to look at the Fida'i who had struck down Zixor, his worn woollen coat pulled over again to cover his armour. His name was James; Darien had been introduced to him early into the feast.

"No," Darien shook his head, looking back at the boy, "I didn't do this to rule here..."

"No," James said, "It is for that reason he has made you Aga-Khan. Because you will command the Fida'i to protect his people."

"I don't know..." Darien murmured.

"Where the Aga Khan leads, the Fida'i will follow." James vowed.