The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “Stop talking and sit down, Lucius,” the girl interjected.

  “I swear, I didn’t—”

  “I said…” the girl replied, taking a step forward.

  That one simple gesture proved too much for poor Lucius, however, for the moment the red-haired girl stepped forth, the cowed pirate squealed and lunged at the door. Only, as he reached it, the door flew open, smashing against his injured eye, and as the world swam about him, Lucius was dimly aware of the trickle of blood running down his face as he fell upon his arse. As he looked up at the door, however, his heart froze as he caught sight of an azure phantom floating before the door, her grin wide and wicked.

  “Now, that was stupid,” the red-haired girl said as she sauntered over to him.

  Rising to his knees, Lucius turned to face her.

  “Please,” he begged, his gaze still upon the phantom, “please don’t kill—”

  “Shut up.”

  He did.

  The red-haired girl stared at him for a spell, then went to sit upon his bed, and as the silence dragged on, Lucius’s gaze darted from girl to phantom as he licked his lips.

  “It was very cruel, what you did today,” the girl said at last.

  “It wasn’t me fault, I tell you,” Lucius blurted, shuffling to face the girl square. “It was Byron, the dumb bastard—”

  “It was you Grace spoke to, not Byron,”

  “Yeah,” Lucius nodded, “but—”

  “And Byron gave you leave to talk with us in his stead.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “So why shouldn’t we just kill you and be done with it?”

  Lucius licked his lips once more, his one good eye darting between girl and phantom.

  “Well?”

  “Look,” he said, turning to the girl once again, “alright, it was me own damn fault for telling Byron, but how was I to know the bloody fool would go all feral-like, eh?”

  “Feral-like?”

  Lucius nodded.

  “Explain,” the phantom growled as it floated beside the girl.

  “Uh,” Lucius replied, “well you see, after me and Grace had words, went to see old man Weighton, didn’t I. Heard him mention that Agril name long time back, so made sense to start with him, see. Only had no idea the old man would go mental like he did. Kept asking who told me that name, and where that person was. Even grabbed me by the shoulder and started shaking me. Thought he was going to shake me bloody arms off.”

  Both phantom and girl smiled, and while their smile warmed the pirate’s heart, their gazes told him he was far from saved.

  “Well, when we was done talking, he made me swear to set up a meet with Grace,” he continued. “Said he wanted to talk to her about her employer and—”

  “You told him about our employer?” the girl glowered, her smile gone.

  “Didn’t have a choice, see,” Lucius replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Weighton was insisting.”

  The red-head held him in a stare that froze the blood in his veins, and before long Lucius found himself staring at her feet.

  “Then, what happened?” the girl demanded.

  “When I got back, Byron demanded a meet,” Lucius replied. “Wanted to know what Grace wanted, so I told him.”

  “And he didn’t like Weighton wishing to meet Grace,” the phantom said.

  Lucius shook his head. “Not one bit. Bastard was hollering about how Grace was looking to take his biggest client from him, and all that rubbish. Couldn’t get a word through that thick skull of his. Then he storms off, and next thing I know, he’s ordering us to go find you and Grace, and brokering a deal with the Crows and Whispering Gales to get rid of Grace and nab you so he can learn all he can out of you, sell it to Weighton, and split the money with them.”

  “And you didn’t think to warn us.” The girl sneered.

  Lucius frowned. “Warn you? Look at me face!”

  “What’s—”

  “Byron did this! Bloody bastard blames me for Weighton getting Grace, and us running out of town with our tails between our bloody legs!”

  “Still, she’s your friend, she’d have—”

  “Friend?” the pirate cried, climbing to his feet. “Grace tell you that?”

  Frowning, the girl nodded. As she did so, Lucius shook his head and laughed.

  “Aye,” he said at last, “time was when I’d call Grace friend. But that time’s long gone. And you’d best learn from me mistakes, girl, Crimson Blade don’t care for nobody!”

  “No,” the girl replied, shaking her head, “Grace isn’t—”

  “Bollocks she’s not!” Lucius spat, then took a step forward. “She tell you how I was her only friend in the world, eh? She tell you how nobody wanted to be round Crimson Blade? She tell you people be too busy pissing their pants to bloody talk to her?”

  Neither girl nor phantom spoke

  “Yeah well, that’s how it was back then.”

  “So she didn’t care about you back then?” the phantom asked.

  “Oh, she cared,” Lucius nodded, “it paid her to care.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Having someone to be lookout, to run errands in places she couldn’t go without risking a knife in her back. Aye, she cared alright, it paid her loads to care. Then, when she didn’t need me anymore, what does our precious Grace do? She buggers off and leaves me with these bastards.”

  “You’re a pirate, Lucius,” the phantom shot back, “you can’t exactly—”

  “I was twelve!” Lucius roared, ushering a deafening silence into the room.

  Girl and phantom alike stared at Lucius as the silence grew, their lips ajar and their eyes wide.

  “Aye,” Lucius replied at last, his voice quivering. “You know how many times me bloody arms were broken for the sheer bloody hells of it? You know how many times old Luther beat me so bad I couldn’t take me clothes off because me own blood stuck them to me? Do you? Hunh? You know how many times he loaned me out to…”

  Gritting his teeth, Lucius closed his eyes briefly before staring once more at the pair.

  “Who in their right bloody minds leaves a bloody child in the hands of a man like Luther, eh?” he said at last. “Who?”

  “She didn’t—” the girl began.

  “She didn’t what, eh?” Lucius interjected as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “She didn’t know? That the best you got?”

  “She…” the red-head began again, but words failed her.

  “She knew, girl. She knew! But she didn’t care. Soon as she was free, she just forgot all about me and went on enjoying her nice new bloody life, didn’t she. I owe her nothing, you hear me? Nothing!”

  The red-haired girl stared at the pirate for a spell, her lips moving but no words came forth.

  “You have every right to hate the person she once was,” the girl said at last, her voice soft and warm. “Hells, the more I learn about this Crimson Blade, the more I want to hate her. But she’s different now. She saved my life, Lucius, and I can’t leave her there.”

  Chuckling, Lucius shook his head. “Well, I hope you’re as powerful as the boys been saying you are.”

  “Meaning what, precisely?” the phantom frowned.

  Lucius turned to the phantom. “Weighton’s got her. Took her to his place, didn’t he. And the man’s got an army there, proper big one, all of them with them enchanted weapons that they can hurt ghosts with.”

  Then, the pirate leant forward. “Want me advice? Grace not worth dying for.”

  “Now you listen to me—” the phantom began.

  “Good on you for coming here and trying to make me talk,” Lucius said, turning to the red-haired girl. “Good on you for that. But Weighton wants you something fierce. Don’t know why, and don’t rightly care. But you go up there, you’ll never leave it alive. You still want to go, I’ll tell you all I know, but you’ll never leave it. And neither will Grace.”

  A charged silence fell on the room as phantom and child took
in the pirate’s words.

  “What about you?” the red-head said.

  “Me?” Lucius sighed. “I’m packing me things and getting the bloody hells out of this town.”

  “Where are you going to go?” the phantom asked.

  “I don’t bloody know, do I?” Lucius replied. “It’s Byron who’s deciding.”

  “Byron?” the girl exclaimed. “You’re still taking orders from him after he worked you over this bad?”

  “You talk like I got a choice,” Lucius replied. “I’m a pirate, girl. Pirating’s all I know. I leave Jackdaws, all Byron’s got to do is get the word out I’m some backstabbing little scum and nobody’ll take me in. Worse still, if word reaches the law, and they decide they want to take me in, you can bet your last coin Jackdaws, and all their friends, will be hunting me to the very ends of the bloody earth.”

  “But—” the girl began.

  “Hrm…” the phantom interjected.

  At this one brief utterance, the room fell silent as all eyes went to her. There was an undercurrent to her one word, one that piqued Lucius’s curiosity no end.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “What if we help you?”

  “What?” the girl frowned.

  “Help me how?” Lucius said.

  “How do you feel about leading the Jackdaws, Lucius?”

  Lucius faced the phantom square, a deep frown upon his lips. “Me leading the Jackdaws?”

  “Mhm.” The phantom nodded, her smile growing.

  “Where are you going with this?” the girl asked, her frown deepening.

  “Yeah,” Lucius nodded, “what you up to?”

  “You mean you have no desire to lead them?” the phantom replied.

  Lucius shook his head. “Wouldn’t say no to it. Gods know we’ve lost a lot of coin because of Byron’s bloody temper. But no way I can lead Jackdaws. Got some Jackdaws who be thinking the sun shines out of Byron’s arse, and Byron keeps them close, doesn’t he. Treats them like blood. You kill him, it’s one of them who’ll take over Jackdaws, not me.”

  The phantom smiled. “We’re not killing him.”

  Lucius’s frown deepened. “You’re not making sense.”

  “Yeah,” the girl added.

  “Well,” the phantom replied, her eyes darting from girl to pirate. “What if you help Weighton capture us? That would earn a great deal of respect from your greatest patron, wouldn’t it? Might even wipe the slate clean between him and the Jackdaws.”

  Lucius shook his head. “I do that, Byron’ll gut me for sure. I’ll be showing him up.”

  The phantom’s smile grew. “Perhaps, but first he’ll need to assert his position, both in Weighton’s eyes and the eyes of his own crew. Simplest way to do that would be to head to Weighton, sweet-talk the man into somehow thinking it was all his plan, and perhaps even bring you to heel while he’s at it. Don’t you agree?”

  “Aye,” Lucius nodded.

  “And he’ll need protection while there, won’t he…?”

  “Aye…”

  “The kind afforded by Jackdaws who think the sun shines out of his arse…”

  Lucius nodded, his frown deepening still.

  “And what would happen, I wonder, should Grace disappear with Byron under Weighton’s roof?”

  “What’d you mean, disappear? You mean escape?”

  The phantom shrugged.

  “What the bloody hells does Grace escaping got to do with Byron?”

  “You don’t think Byron capable of freeing Grace?”

  Lucius stared at the phantom as if she’d sprung a second head. “Why the bloody hells would he do that?”

  The phantom grinned. “After he spent much of his fortune for a chance at killing her, you think it beyond him to worm his way into Weighton’s place just to end her?”

  Lucius shook his head. “If that stupid bastard did something that insulting to Weighton, the old man would bloody kill…him.”

  A slow smile parted the phantom’s lips.

  Lucius stared hard at the phantom for a spell.

  “What’s in it for you?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Grace is free.”

  “And?”

  “And…what?”

  “What else you want?”

  The phantom smiled. “Not everyone wants coin, my dear. You help us free Grace, we help you be rid of Byron.”

  Lucius stared at the phantom in silence for a spell, then a slow warm smile parted his lips.

  “What’s your plan, then?” he said.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” the phantom grinned, then began laying out her plans for the night.

  “Remind me again why we’re meeting at the graveyard of all places?” Amala growled from the darkness within which she hid.

  “Because I thought you’d like skulking around in the dirt again,” Anieszirel grinned.

  “Thank you, phantom, it warms my heart to know you care.”

  Fighting back her smile, Marshalla shifted upon the tombstone on which she sat. The roughness of the stone was beginning to bite.

  “And, remind me again why we’re helping this pirate instead of simply compelling him?” Amala continued.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Amala,” Marshalla replied, “we’ve been through this a thousand times.”

  “I know, I know. Just, one more time, please.”

  “Look, we don’t have time for—”

  “Because Anise dealt him a rough hand,” Anieszirel replied, “and I personally would rather balance the ledger between the two of them than worsen things.”

  “Ah yes, a phantom with a heart of gold,” Amala muttered, “that’s the bit that melted my mind.”

  “Alright, enough!” Marshalla snapped. “What’s done is done. We’re doing this, Amala, so I suggest you—”

  “Someone’s coming,” Anieszirel interjected, then faded from view.

  Springing to her feet, Marshalla’s gaze darted about her as her heart beat that much faster.

  “I won’t be far away, Marsha,” Amala whispered. “You’ll be safe, you’ll see.”

  As Marshalla moved to speak, her eyes beheld a light in the distance. Biting her lip, she instead took a deep breath, keeping her eyes upon the light as she brought her fear to heel. In the silence that followed, she watched as the light neared, and before long, she could see the people surrounding the light. There were twelve in total, with Lucius at the fore, holding a lantern aloft. Beside him was an old man, a human, one whose robes spoke of wealth and status, and behind him a line of men and women, all dresses alike, all with hardened faces.

  It was Lucius who spotted her first, and soon the group was standing before her, the sellswords forming a line behind Lucius and the old man.

  “You must be Marybelle,” the old man said.

  Marshalla remained unmoving.

  The old man smiled. “I don’t sense your phantom, girl, nor do I sense your fear. I take it you’re not afraid of me?”

  At his words, Marshalla searched her own heart. He was right, there was no fear within it, only a courage she could’ve sworn was beyond her.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Marshalla couldn’t help but smile.

  “You smile!” the old man said. “Perhaps you don’t recognise me?”

  “You’re Daniel Weighton.”

  The old man’s smile grew. “It’s been a long time since I met someone who can keep so calm in the face of such overwhelming odds.”

  Marshalla shrugged. “You don’t know the full extent of my power.”

  “Of your phantom’s power,” the old man corrected.

  “Same difference.”

  “What…does that mean precisely?” the old man frowned.

  Marshalla smiled in response.

  Shaking his head, the old man ploughed on. “You know why we’re here, don’t you?”

  At his words, Marshalla turned her now icy gaze upon Lucius.

  The pirate shrugged. “Need to
think of me future, girl. Nothing personal, see?”

  “Betrayal is always personal, Lucius.”

  “My dear, I know why you’re in Kirsk,” the old man continued.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” Marshalla replied as she turned to him once more.

  The old man nodded. “Yes, and I’m here, not as a captor, but as a friend.”

  This surprised Marshalla and it showed.

  “Yes,” the old man nodded. “I only wish to talk.”

  In response, Marshalla stared at the sellswords behind the old man.

  The old man smiled once more. “They’re not here for you.”

  “So send them away.”

  Sighing, the old man stared at Marshalla for a spell, then turned to the sellswords. “Go wait for us by the entrance.”

  “But sir—“ one spoke up.

  “Go on,” the old man said.

  The sellswords stared from their master to Marshalla, then did as ordered.

  “What in the hells is he playing at?”

  “There,” the old man said once the sellswords were out of sight.

  Marshalla frowned at the old man, staring hard at him.

  “You know, before Lucius came to me, I was convinced you came looking for a means to bring Tien’razul under thumb. But when he told me of your plans to free Grace, I realised just how wrong I was.”

  Marshalla said nary a word, even as her mouth ran dry and her heart climbed up her throat, choosing instead to simply stare at the man.

  “That butcher owes you nothing,” the old man continued. “Hells, there’ll be many who’d be happy to see her rot where she is. And yet, you’re determined to free her. You’re not the kind to go looking for simple gain, are you? You’re here for something more noble.”

  Still, Marshalla said nary a word.

  “You’re here to free Terril from Tien’razul, aren’t you?”

  At the old man’s words, Marshalla’s heart began beating like drum, threatening to burst free from her chest. But still she held her peace, fighting for all she was worth to keep her feelings from her face.

  “My,” the old man grinned, “I’ve never met one so young with such command of their emotions.” Then, the old man’s grin faded. “Terril has lied to you, my dear. He’s lied to you for as long as you’ve known him. It’s not his fault, even he doesn’t know he’s lying. But I can show you the truth. Then, you’ll see just how dangerous this path you take is, not just for you, but for us all.”