The Chimney: The Merc Papers

by G. T. Spoor

  “You are a stubborn young woman.”

  “My father would wholeheartedly agree with you.”

  Emily opened the door and peeked out into the hall. It was deserted. No lights, no voices, nobody around.

  “Go, get moving. Get them to the jitney and get them out of here.”

  “I’m coming back for you.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Tar went down the hall first, followed closely by Mark. Alison paused for a moment at the door. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she handed Emily a small knife before tucking the books under her arm and running down the hall to catch up with the others. The knife was the same one Tar pulled out of the vir’s pocket when searching for the keys, only now, it was covered in blood. Emily glanced back to the locked cell door. Sometimes it’s better not knowing. She waited until Tar and the others turned the corner before slipping the knife into her pocket.

  From what she had seen so far, besides the two guards who she wanted to believe were safely locked in the cell, there were at least five other people involved with Galbassi’s operation. Shagra did say slavers operated in small numbers.

  Stefan, who was last seen heading back to the Amber Pot, was no longer a threat. She could deal with him at a later date. However, the two men in black he was working with could still pose a problem. She had no idea where they were and they might even be in the forge. Even if they were, she’d handled them once before. There was even a side of her that was looking forward to doing it again.

  That left the iron-shod boots and the tall man with the crooked nose. They, out of all of them, appeared to be the ones in charge. She knew which way they went, and hopefully they would lead her straight to Galbassi. Retracing their path down the hall and taking the first right, she silently navigated the darkened corridors. It wasn’t long before she heard their voices again, but this time, one of them was a bit higher pitched than the others.

  The door to the room was open, and she was able to slip in unseen. It was a long room with a barreled ceiling fitted with a massive ventilation system consisting of enormous fans and an unknown length of ductwork. A row of firepits, long since extinguished, ran the length of the floor. Against the wall were the remains of huge wooden bellows, while hammers rested silently on anvils.

  This must have been one of the places where the dowers crafted their finer items.

  On the far side of the room, two men were seated around one of the work stations. One was the grim-faced vir with the iron-shod boots; the other had to be Alaric Galbassi. As a howne, he only stood three feet high and looked more like a heavyset child than a man, except that he was smoking a thick cigar. The two were having a discussion about something, but Emily was too far away to make out what was being said. As for the man with the crooked nose, he was a lot closer. If he was there as a lookout, he wasn’t doing a very good job. He had his back to the door and seemed more interested in the tools left by the dowers than anything else.

  Before she could reach Galbassi, she’d have to deal with crooked nose first, and she would have to do it silently. Slowly she crept up behind him. He seemed unaware of her presence as he tried to pick up a blacksmith’s hammer with a pair of old tongs, although he wasn’t having much luck. When Emily was close enough, she kicked the back of his knee, then stepped up on his bent leg and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down. Wrapping her right arm around his neck, she pushed his head forward into the crook of her elbow, using her left hand. It took all of ten seconds before he went limp. A perfectly silent takedown, or it would have been had he not been still holding a pair of tongs.

  It was amazing how well the sound echoed off the barreled ceiling.

  Galbassi’s head whipped around at the noise. When he saw who it was, the cigar fell from his mouth and the color drained from his face.

  “It’s—it’s her,” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “Kraig, don’t let it get me.”

  The grim-faced man in the iron-shod boots slowly got up. He did not seem nearly as concerned as the howne.

  Emily dropped Crooked Nose and made a run for Galbassi, but Kraig quickly cut her off. Pulling one of the tyng from her jacket, she thought it to a comfortable two-foot length and faced off against the man while the howne hastily collected a large pile of money off the anvil.

  “You can’t leave. We have the place surrounded,” she lied. So much for the fourth tenet.

  Galbassi stopped midgrab, and a few fyn fell to the floor as he quickly looked to each of the exits. Kraig, on the other hand, simply laughed.

  “Yeah. And who exactly are we?” he asked.

  “The Red Wolf Mercs.”

  “Is that so? And… what? I’m supposed to believe you’re a Merc?”

  “Believe what you want, but we already have the rest of your men. Stefan gave you up.”

  The last lie seemed to strike a chord. Kraig was no longer smiling.

  “If you surrender now, things will go easier,” Emily added.

  It would appear Kraig had no intention of surrendering. Instead he ran toward her with his right arm extended outward. A memoria metal rod grew from his clenched fist, but it didn’t stay a rod for long. It suddenly went limp and dragged along the ground behind him. When he stopped, he whipped it around. The rod, now a rope, lashed out at Emily and wrapped itself around her legs. Kraig gave it a sharp pull, yanking her off her feet. Once she was down, the rope grew shorter and flattened to a point, creating a spear-like weapon. She barely managed to deflect the attack. The sharp sound of metal on metal rang out as she pushed the point aside; it drove into the stone floor beside her head. Rolling out from under Kraig, she quickly got to her feet and barely avoided being hit by a long-handled hammer. Stumbling back, she put the anvil between them. It would appear Kraig’s experience with the memoria metal far exceeded her own.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t press his advantage. Instead he stood between her and the exit, holding what now appeared to be a roundheaded swordlike ax. It defied classification, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he wielded it with ease. Behind him, Emily could see Galbassi collect the last of the fyn from the floor. He was now running toward the door on the far side of the room. If he made it into the maze that was the forge, she might never find him. He probably knew every bolt hole and exit to the place. It would only be a matter of time before he found his way back into the city. She also had to worry about Crooked Nose. He wouldn’t be out for much longer. She didn’t need him regaining consciousness anytime soon.

  Her only option was to take Kraig out as quickly as possible, and that meant bringing the fight to him. A prolonged battle would only be to the vir’s advantage. Emily adjusted her grip on her tyng. She would have to move fast, stay out of his reach, throw caution to the wind, but most importantly of all, completely ignore the first tenet. Surprisingly, the last part was no longer a concern.

  Leaping up onto the anvil, she launched herself through the air at her target. A two-handed over-the-head attack. Kraig easily knocked it, and her, aside. She knew he would, but she had to start somewhere. Hitting the ground, she rolled and came up behind him where she attempted her second strike, but he managed to block that one as well. From there, she spun to the left but pulled her attack, drawing him off balance, and whipped the tyng around to strike him below the rib cage. It was a good solid hit, or it would have been if he hadn’t been wearing some type of padded armor under his shirt. As he countered, his weapon slithered its way around her defenses, and like a snake, it bit her. It was a sharp pain, but nothing she hadn’t felt before. Kraig remained on the offensive, and his weapon flowed like liquid in his hands. It was impossible to tell where his next attack would come from or what form it would take. She took a few more hits, but nothing serious; it was almost as if he was playing with her. Countering his strikes, she tried feigning to the right this time but managed to turn at the last moment to take out the knee. She never connected. Kraig’s memoria metal rod wrapped itself around her tyng and yanked
it out of her hand. It then tossed it across the room before trying to flatten her by turning into a large silver fist. Striking the ground at her feet, it cracked the stone floor. It was also the first mistake Kraig made—he overcommitted himself to the attack.

  Jumping back, Emily pulled the small knife from her pocket and flung it in Kraig’s direction. It was never meant to hit him, and he easily avoided it, but it gave her the opening she needed. When he turned his head, she leaped onto the metal fist and, drawing the second tyng from her sleeve, found her target. It was a small point, right below and slightingly behind his right ear. As her momentum carried her past, she struck it with the end of the tyng, violently forcing his head forward. Kraig stumbled and collapsed, bouncing off the anvil before hitting the floor.

  She never waited to see if he was getting up. Retrieving her lost tyng, she pursue Galbassi into the heart of the forge.

  The howne had a head start. If he got away, she had no doubt he would spring up somewhere else in the city and start all over, so this had to end now. Fortunately, he was making it easier for her. The armfuls of cash he carried left a visible trail she could track. Down through a series of lit corridors, she followed the fallen fyn like breadcrumbs, until they led her to a narrow metal bridge. It crossed over the heart of the forge, a forty-foot drop to the floor below. Huge blast furnaces rose up from the ground like great stone trees while a series of platforms and interconnected bridges wove their way between them. It looked like a metallic version of some forgotten elfish playground. Overhead, massive cast-iron cauldrons were suspended on steel rails. Metal cars on tracks that had once carried supplies and material were now rusted in place. So much of the dower’s way of life was lost when the vir took over Kameria.

  Emily tested the bridge before attempting to cross. It seemed stable enough, but when she reached the halfway point, something struck one of the support cables. Diving for cover, she hid behind a large metal cog. It offered as much protection as she could hope for, but it meant she’d walked into a trap. For some reason, instead of escaping, Galbassi was lying in wait. He seemed as determined to stop her as she was to stop him.

  Sitting with her back against the cog, she weighed her options: returning the way she came or making a run for the far end of the bridge. It was about the same distance in either direction. Going back would be safer, but it would give Galbassi a chance to escape. There was also the risk of not knowing where he was.

  Emily peeked over the top of the cog, but there was no sign of the howne. She knew he was out there, and she had a pretty good idea of what he was armed with. She had seen it before, in the hands of a Blue Tiger Merc as well as an inebriated dower. A small cylinder that fired… something. Whatever it was, it was not something she wanted to get hit by, seeing as the support cable was still smoking.

  If she could get to the far side of the bridge and reach the platform on the other side, the stacks from the blast furnace would offer her better protection. It might even give her a better vantage point. With a deep breath, she jumped to her feet and made a run for it. She heard the second shot. It struck the bridge so far behind her she had to stop and see what he was aiming at. As far as she could tell, there was nothing back there worth targeting.

  Taking a chance, she stood motionless on the bridge and waited for Galbassi to appear. It took a few moments, but she spotted him hiding behind a broken cauldron, one that had fallen from the rails above. The section of the platform he was on had been damaged, and the bridge behind him was gone. It would appear the howne had trapped himself. That would explain why he didn’t try to escape—he couldn’t.

  As he leaned around the broken cauldron, he held something with both hands. There was a flash of blue light followed closely by the sound of another impact. This one was nearly ten feet to the left of where Emily was standing. It would appear Alaric Galbassi was not very proficient with this type of weapon. Still, she had a feeling it would only take one shot to mess up her day. As he ducked back behind the cauldron, she made for the safety of the furnace stack.

  It seemed to take him a few minutes to load the weapon. If she timed it right, she should be able to reach the stack on the next platform, the one he was hiding on. Then it was simply a matter of stopping him before he could get off another shot. Unfortunately, the closer she was, the better his chances of hitting her.

  Picking up a small stone, she tossed it down the bridge, toward the metal cog. Sure enough, the howne popped out from behind his cover to fire again. The shot hit the stack right above her head. Either his aim was improving, or he was getting worse. Using the few minutes it took him to reload, she made for the second platform. She was already behind the stacks when he took another shot. Where he was aiming that time, she had no idea.

  “Give it up, Galbassi. The Red Wolves have the place surrounded.”

  The lie worked once before—why not try it again?

  “I… I don’t believe you. I know what you really are and who you’re working for. I won’t let you take me to her.”

  That wasn’t the reaction she expected.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They sent you, didn’t they? Don’t deny it. They… they want me dead.”

  “Who wants you dead?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re working for them. I… I know what you are. I had nothing to do with her death, but they don’t believe me.”

  “Whose death?”

  “That… that female Yastazie.”

  “Yastazie?”

  “The one they called Amanda.”

  That was all Emily needed to hear. Charging out from behind the stacks, she rushed Galbassi’s hiding place, but he wasn’t there. He had somehow gotten around behind her. Howne could be quiet when they wanted to be. She turned; he fired. The shot burned into her left shoulder. The recoil caused him to stumble backward toward the edge of the platform. As she fell to the ground, she extended the tyng in her right hand. The memoria metal rod curved into a hook, catching him as he went over the edge.

  He was surprisingly heavy for such a short howne. His weight nearly pulled the tyng out of her hand. Sliding toward the edge of the platform, she grabbed a section of railing, but the pain in her arm made it hard to hold on.

  “Don’t let me fall. Don’t let me fall.”

  She could hear him crying as he tried to climb up the metal rod. Bracing herself on the platform, she made her way to the edge. Galbassi was staring up at her, clinging to the end the hook. He looked terrified.

  “What do you know about Amanda?” she demanded.

  “Pull, me up and I’ll tell ya.”

  “Not until you tell me about Amanda.”

  “All I know is she’s dead.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I saw her die.”

  “You lie.”

  “It’s the truth. I—”

  The tyng straightened out, and Galbassi was gone.

  Emily stared into the darkness.

  Rolling away from the edge, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The memoria metal betrayed her, or maybe it did what she couldn’t. It didn’t matter now. She had broken the first tenet beyond repair. Galbassi was gone and if she believed the howne, so was her sister. The whole reason she came to New Doral was to find Amanda, and now it would appear she was too late.

  As Emily struggled to get to her feet, something ricocheted off the cauldron. She quickly turned to where the shot came from. Kraig was standing on the bridge.

  He seemed a little wobbly and was having trouble aiming. Her attack might have left him dazed, but he was still a better shot than Galbassi. Emily took cover behind the cauldron.

  “Come on out,” he shouted. “You got nowhere to run.”

  She heard him stumble as he crossed the bridge. His footsteps were unsteady. He was hurt, but she was in no condition to continue their battle.

  Anoth
er shot rang off the top of the cauldron.

  “Don’t make me come over there,” he shouted.

  “If you leave now, you might still get away.”

  “Don’t give me that char, skelk. I know you’re alone.”

  He fired a third shot, which was followed closely by a fourth. There was no way he could reload that quickly. She peeked over the top of the cauldron. Kraig had reached the platform, but he was just standing there. If it wasn’t for the large hole in his chest, she might have thought he was simply waiting for her. He slowly sank to his knees and fell on his face.

  Emily moved out from behind the cauldron and carefully approached Kraig. There was no doubt about it: he was dead.

  “The Cabba wishes to speak with you.”

  Shagra stood on the far side of the bridge, green overcoat and all.

  Chapter 17

  A Successful Audition

  Shagra said nothing more. He simply turned and walked away. Emily ran to catch up with him.

  “What are you doing here? How did you even know where to find me? What did you do to that man?”

  “You should know by now. You speak with the Cabba first.”

  “You can at least tell me how you found me.”

  “We were told you were here.”

  “By who?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Tar. It was Tar, wasn’t it? Is he all right? What have you done with him? How about the others? Did everyone get out safely?”

  Shagra stopped walking, hung his head, and sighed. “We have done nothing with your friend,” he answered. “He is safe, as are Galbassi’s recent victims. Now, if you would please hold your questions until you see the Cabba.”

  “Fine. Lead the way.”

  They didn’t go back the same way Emily came in. Instead, Shagra took her through the lower levels of the forge. He seemed to know the place well and led her down through the storage areas to the main foyer, where several well-dressed men were waiting. They wore dark suits and even darker expressions. Not the type of men one would want to encounter alone while in an abandoned dower forge.