Song (The Manhunters Book 1)

by Jesse Teller

  Slinter laughed. She whipped her neck, and her tentacles flew wild, arcing her sweat in a fine spray. The sweat steamed upon Rayph’s robe, and he cursed, stepping back.

  “What happened, Rayph? Can’t get a hold on my wife? Can’t place your delicate hands on her tempting flesh?” Julius said. Slinter’s cruel mouth smiled, and she slid forward a bit.

  Rayph’s mind whipped furiously about, grasping at any idea, no matter how insane. He had to save the girl. He could not let her slip to the fate Julius promised. The blade scraped the girl’s neck, shaving the slightest bit of flesh.

  She screamed, her eyes wide and frantic, as her throat blackened under the blade. She kicked and thrashed about to no avail. Julius laughed, and Slinter slipped closer.

  “Let her take you, Ivoryfist, and I will let the girl go. I will plunge this foul blade into your flesh and send you on your way. When you get to my home, my son will gnaw your flesh and snap your bones, quite like he would this little girl. He will lap the marrow from your bones as you scream and watch, just as this little girl will have to watch.”

  Rayph touched his fetish, calling out for aid.

  “They won’t make it in time, Rayph. Black Cowl told me of your little league. Gathered heroes to keep you safe, I have heard. But they cannot get to me in time. The girl will die, no matter who you call. But she need not be damned to my Hell, wizard. Just give up your life. Let my sweet wife bring you to me, and I will kill you instead.”

  “If I give my life to you, you will do more evil in this city.”

  Julius laughed. “So you damn the girl, then. Is that what you’re saying?”

  The child screeched and Slinter laughed. Julius looked as if engaged in sex, his enjoyment peaking so high as to be nearly orgasmic.

  “I have a new plan,” Julius said. “A simple solution. Kill the girl yourself. Throw the dagger. I’m sure you can hit her from there. Look—” He gripped her by the neck and shoved her closer to the edge. “Throw the dagger into her heart, or her head if you would rather. Save her from the fate of the blade.”

  Rayph realized he still clutched the dagger of Fannalis in his palm. One simple throw, the likes of which he had made thousands of times, and the girl would slumber in peace.

  “Go ahead, Rayph, throw him. Throw the wizard’s dagger to me. I promise I will take good care of him,” Julius said with a laugh.

  “I will claim you once more,” Rayph whispered. “Let me save this child and I will find you when I have dealt with this monster.” Fannalis throbbed in his hand, and he drew the weapon back.

  “He will make such a great addition to my armory at home. The first thing I will do is send him to my tower, where I will hold the wizard indefinitely. Yes, Rayph, throw. Make the throw that will save her soul, and damn his.”

  Rayph slumped.

  Slinter laughed, and Julius smiled. “No?” he asked.

  “So your soul, and the soul of your friend, are worth more than this little girl’s then?” Julius said. Rayph wept and Julius laughed. “You really aren’t giving me much to work with, Ivoryfist. Well, if it is so worthless to you, let me take it.”

  Rayph sobbed as Julius stabbed his blade into the girl’s back. The steaming blade exploded from her chest, and her face opened in a silent scream. Her chest blackened, then her neck and throat. Her limbs rolled in on themselves, her arms snapping over and again as her limbs curled like a dying spider. Her skin became as black as leather, her hair going white in an instant, and with it all came a scream the likes of which Rayph had heard only one time before. The scream threatened to steal away with his sanity.

  Slinter spun, and her tail stabbed him in the chest. The bone shard at its tip buried into Rayph’s skin, and she ripped it free. Julius waved his hand. At once, arrows entered the air, and Rayph bounded back. A stray arrow slammed into his side, and he grunted as he made for the door he had come through.

  “Chase that beast down!” Julius screamed.

  Rayph’s breath grew ragged as the arrowhead chewed into him, and he ran. The world around him broke out into the screams of Slinter and the heavy boots of chasing men. Rayph ran for safety, as fast as he could, as his breathing grew more labored and his vision wavered. He ran through the burned out buildings, now peopled with shadowy men clamoring to get to him, brandishing weapons with faces screwed up in rage. Rayph’s magic rushed back to him, but his lungs seemed to have collapsed. He struggled for breath, but nothing came. No air meant no words to shape his power. Rayph was in trouble.

  He cast a look back as he hit the open street, Slinter clawing down anything that got in her way. His heart quailed as he thought of what she would do when she caught him. Then an arrow hit her chest. None of his people used a bow. Rayph turned in the direction of the shot but saw nothing. He was stumbling now as men closed the gap before him. They waited patiently for him to reach them, their weapons out, their faces grim. Rayph braced himself for their blades when the first of them took an arrow to the shoulder. The second arrow hit the man beside him in the hip, and he dropped to the ground. Rayph stumbled past them, looking to a neighboring building. A form leaped to the next building in line.

  Cloaked and spry, this person shot as he ran, catching the next villain in the knee. Rayph emerged from the slums, breaking out into the marketplace and collapsing in a heap. The people around him stared down as he fought for futile breath. A cowled figure stood over him suddenly, and pulled a black blindfold over Rayph’s eyes. He fought to pull the cloth away, but the fast hands batted him away, and he was dying.

  Hands grabbed him, small, strong hands that tossed him over a horse, and the stranger climbed up to kick the beast. The horse clattered across the flagstones, and Rayph touched his fetish, connecting with his crew, only to gasp and wheeze to them. The rider kicked the horse savagely as it devoured the streets. Soon, the horse skidded to a stop. Rayph fought with the blindfold before being jerked to the ground and landing on hard, cold stairs. A knock on a huge door echoed into the building beyond. His hands were batted away and the door opened.

  “Who are you?” Another man’s voice.

  No response from Rayph’s rescuer.

  “Get back here.”

  Nothing.

  Men ran past him in pursuit as hands gripped Rayph and pulled him into a building. His shirt was ripped open, and he heard a gasp.

  “Take him to the altar,” a voice said. Was it Dissonance? It sounded like Dissonance. The pain in his chest was too great, the lack of air smothering everything. As the world went black, he fought to remain conscious.

  “This is a demon puncture,” an aged voice said. “Keep the bandage on his face and stop up his ears. The demon that did this can hear and see through him.” Darkness overtook Rayph, and he let himself pass out.

  The Gilded Marker

  Konnon walked out of the manor house and into the streets with his anger hot and his wrath held tenuous in his grip. He could feel Glyss behind him walking the shadows, watching over him and waiting for a safe time to approach. Konnon kept his head down and kept walking. It was not safe to come to him then. Glyss would respect that. Glyss would stay away.

  He had little money, a few spare coins Glyss had given him, but it was enough for him to purchase a room at the only place he ever stayed in Song. He walked past the wealthy and privileged, dining and drinking and talking of obscene things, and walked straight to the podium where stood Chester the pub owner and master of all things here at the Gilded Marker.

  The man looked at Konnon with pity and met him on the floor. He graced Konnon with an embrace, a gesture that might cost him patrons, and Konnon was grateful for it.

  “Can I have my room, Chester?” Konnon said. The room would cost him dearly and he had just enough for it and a meal, but as desperately as Konnon needed money, he needed this even more.

  “I can have it cleaned for you, dear friend,” Chester said. “I will give you a good price.”

  Konnon almost teared up. But he kept his emotions i
n check and simply nodded.

  “Are you hungry?” Chester asked.

  Konnon looked at the posh tables around him and the rugged clothing he wore, and he frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Let me make you a plate in the kitchen if you are uncomfortable in the dining room,” the man said.

  To serve Konnon in the main hall would be a blow to business. Men like him were not supposed to be in such an establishment.

  “That would be nice, Chester. Thank you.”

  The meal was rich, but Konnon had been raised since seven to eat fine foods, so it did not foul his stomach. He ate to the sound of men and women working in the humid air of boiling water and sizzling meats, and he was very grateful. When he talked of payment, Chester refused.

  The man took Konnon up to the room himself when he could have sent him with a serving girl. The door opened and Konnon nearly wept. He looked at the bed where she had first held him and he crossed the room. He placed his hands on the soft covers and the down pillow and turned to see Chester closing the door. He left Konnon to the room that meant so much to him, and he loved Chester a little for it.

  Konnon stripped to his underclothes and climbed into the bed. He blew the lamp out and wrapped his arms around his body. And then Konnon sobbed.

  Sleep came to him tenderly and lovingly. It cradled him in its arms and brought him the scent of her. He dreamt of his love and the way she had felt in his arms. She giggled as he held her, and he smiled, truly happy.

  He woke to heartbreak, bitter and sweet, and he closed his eyes and braced himself for another day without her. Every day he did this. Every day he told himself he would be happy that day; he would not let his wound of loneliness and pain rule his emotions. Every day Konnon failed.

  Glyss tapped on the window outside the thick curtain and Konnon opened it and walked away.

  “That was awkward,” Glyss said.

  “That bastard is lucky to have a tongue after what he said to me,” Konnon said.

  “I asked him what he said. He told me. Maybe it was a lie,” Glyss said. “Or maybe it was harmless.”

  “I am not crawling back to Brole and begging his forgiveness. He shut us out after he found out we were in love. He called Bree an abomination.”

  “He loves you,” Glyss said.

  “He has no idea what love is,” Konnon spat.

  Glyss stomped his foot and Konnon knew he was mad. “How dare you say that,” Glyss said. “You have talked a lot about my father. Called him a monster and a fool. You have cursed his name and I have let it happen. I know of the bad blood between you two, and I have let you rage. But that man loved you from the moment he saw you. He brought you out of—”

  “I know what he saved me from!” Konnon shouted.

  “Then you know you owe him your life and your righteousness. You could have been a monster if not for him.”

  “I am a monster!”

  “Bullshit,” Glyss said.

  “You have no idea what I did back then. When I was a boy. When I was—”

  “Starving and scared,” Glyss said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Konnon said.

  “Good. Neither do I,” Glyss replied. “I do want to say, the only reason he got mad about you and Tiera is because he always saw you as a son, and he thought it wrong for you to marry his daughter.”

  “What do you want from me? Want me to run back and deny the love of my life? Do you want me to beg for his pity and implore him to love his grandchild?”

  “I want you to settle down. I want you to let it go and be happy,” Glyss said. “I don’t care if you ever set foot in that house again. If you never speak to my father I will still be here with you, bleeding and dying with you, saving your ass and letting you save mine. But I want an end to this misery. I want you to be happy, to smile every now and then, and let the world love you.”

  “My happiness is either dead or sitting in a wheelbarrow.”

  “Great, thanks,” Glyss said. He walked for the door and shook a coin purse at Konnon. “I am going to pay for a few more days in this place. I think you need it.”

  “Where did you get money?” Konnon asked.

  “One of dad’s friends, the one you threatened to kill last night. He knows how special this place is to you, and he gave me a few coins to help you stay here for a few more days.”

  Konnon wanted to curse the money, wanted to grab his things and walk away, refusing their charity and sending it back with a warning. But this was the only place he ever dreamt about her. He could not bring himself to deny it.

  The New Player

  Rayph woke up in the dark, with the bandage still over his eyes, and he left it there. He could not hear. Gentle hands touched his chest. He flinched and was soothed by the gentle touch.

  “You can’t unblind me or unstopper me? Tap my shoulder twice for yes or once for no.”

  Two taps.

  He could only hear his voice as a muffled buzz. “Am I in the church of Cor-lyn-ber?”

  Two taps.

  “Is Dissonance in the room?”

  One tap.

  “Can you get her?”

  One tap.

  “Fine. Can I eat?“

  Two taps.

  Minutes later, there was humble food in his hands, and he ate it hungrily.

  How long must they keep me here? How is my wound? Where is Dissonance? Am I healed? Who was the man that brought me here? All these questions raced in his head, but he could not have them answered. He sat back against the headboard of some bed, and he crossed his arms. He felt petulant and frustrated. He held back his wrath. Allies cared for him. He did not feel tired, but there was nothing else to do so he lay back in the bed and rested.

  There was a hand on his shoulder and a rush of cold wind in the room. Rayph reached out, touching a gentle, callused hand. The bandage was taken from his eyes, and he squinted in the sudden light. His eyes took a moment to adjust and the wax was pulled from his ears. He looked up at Smear.

  “How long have I been out?” Rayph asked.

  “About a week. Almost lost you. Slinter must have hit you in the chest.”

  “She did.”

  “Demon venom. Nasty stuff. Not much could be done but let it run its course. You’re through it now,” Smear said. “What happened?”

  “I was dumb. Almost ended up dead from it.”

  “Where were you, and why didn’t you call us?”

  “Julius had a hostage. Couldn’t provoke him. I was in the slums.”

  “Alone?” Smear said.

  “Stupid and arrogant. Wanted to let them see me, show of force kind of thing. Didn’t think Julius would attack me. I underestimated him.” Rayph thought of the child with the tear-soaked eyes, and he felt the wind knocked out of him. “Cost a girl her life.” Rayph shook his head. “And her soul.”

  “Could you have stopped it?” Dissonance asked. Rayph looked to the corner, seeing her in a chair and Dreark staring out a window.

  “If I hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Let it go,” Dreark said.

  “It’s the soul of a little girl,” Rayph said.

  “Fine then, let it eat you up and defeat you,” Dreark said. Rayph looked through the portal that seeped cool, dry air. A vista of Ironfall stood beyond. “You got beat. It happens. You messed up. That happens, too. Let’s not forget the axe.”

  Dreark was still very angry for Rayph’s past mistake. Rayph felt suddenly old and wanted out of this room. “Can I leave?” Rayph asked Dissonance.

  She shrugged. “We kept you here to stop Julius from finding Ironfall. The danger is gone now. The demon venom spent. I would say you could leave.” She stood and grabbed her spear. “Tithe first.”

  Rayph nodded. He dropped an offering to the church, thanked the head priest who had saved his life, and went back through the portal. He walked the streets of Ironfall for long hours, his mind wrapped up in a little girl and the screaming Hell
she now haunted. He did everything he could to make any bit of peace with it, but could not. He inspected the magistrate’s holding cell, finding it dark and dank, but clean and reasonably comfortable. He nodded to Dreark and went looking for a drink.

  Four Manhunters sat around a stone top table. Smear and Rayph sipped their ale while Dreark gulped his down. Dissonance sat with her mug upside-down on the table. “There is one more thing before we move on,” Rayph said. “I was saved. They had me. I was breathless and dying. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t cast. An archer came out of nowhere and shot me free. Took me, threw me on a horse and brought me to the church. Did anyone see him?”

  “Warriors pursued him,” Dissonance said. “They said he rode well, but they got in front of him. Said he wore a red cloak with golden filigree around its hem, carried a short bow, and a short sword on his back. He was slight in build, but hefted a full grown trimerian, so he must be strong. Blond with a trim beard. Fast. He was cornered and rushed into an alley. They lost sight of him in the shadows, and when they went in after him, he was gone. The horse was still there, but the rider disappeared.”

  “Took some hidden alleyway,” Rayph said.

  “Doubt it. My men know that city. They were born there. They knew that neighborhood. The man didn’t slip into a passageway or a hidden door. My men would have checked for that. He just vanished. I think he is a wizard.”

  “A strong, fast, wizard-archer who can run along rooftops, who kills no one he attacks, and knows the effects of demon venom.”

  “Sounds like a man I would like to meet,” Smear said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Rayph said. “There is another player in Song. We have to find him.”

  Meeting Medey

  Rayph dropped a bag of gold on the bar top in front of the owner of the Rain Barrel. The man scooped it up greedily, his eyes wide and mystified by the amount.