”
“We will be cautious.” Kobb told them, apparently guessing the woman’s feelings on the matter. “And we will be fine. Don’t worry.”
The Hardmen were raiders and mercenaries from the far-reaches of the south-west frontier, a still largely unknown area usually represented on maps by a big question mark or a fanciful drawing of some horrible monster or giant. Wherever they were from exactly, they made murder and pillaging a viable subsistence strategy, sacking coastal cities and settlements for fun and easy profit.
The Grizzwood was filled with runaways and savage violent criminals. The Wasteland was populated with nomadic barbarians. But the Hardmen were seafaring marauders. Freebooters. Wreckers. Cutthroats. There were serious debates in some quarters of the world about whether or not they were actually even human. Because no human could do the things they did to their fellow man.
In casual conversation, most people added the word “motherfucking” to their name, as if it was part of their actual title. Like, “Run! The Motherfucking Hardmen are coming!” or “That man is as crazy as a Motherfucking Hardman.”
It was not a compliment.
Tandy took a step closer to Tzadok without even realizing it.
The unexpectedly young man who looked to be the leader of the Hardmen’s small assembly, arrived in the clearing. A brutish slab of a man, muscular but with the gangly and unnatural build of a boy in his late teens, not quite filled out yet. His face was a mass of burns and scars, his features having an odd, uneven shape. The bones of his cheek and jaw had probably been severely broken and never healed straight, so that the entire side of his head looked dented and crooked. The left side of his nose had been torn away so that his nostril and ala were missing, exposing his septum. His right ear was gone, and he was missing his upper and lower left eyelid. The full circle of his eyeball was visible and terrifying in the reddish tissue surrounding it. His lopsided, uneven face was further marred by an odd handprint-shaped burn, fingers spread wide, which seemed seared into his flesh somehow. Like a brand.
Patches of matted hair were growing from his scarred scalp in random haphazard lengths, some clumps growing a dark red color and some growing in an odd pinkish shade because of damaged roots. He had the huge 2-handed great-sword of a Perraulti knight casually resting on his shoulder, because it was simply too long and heavy to carry any other way.
Even if he had still possessed his whole face, you still would have been able to look at him and instantly tell he wasn’t normal. He was twitchy and weird. Even his gait was… wrong. Unnatural. He walked slightly bent forward and twisted, like an animal lowering its head to attack or a gladiator entering the pit.
He stuck the blade of his huge slaughter-sword into the ground at his feet, so that it stood up vertically, taller than Tandy. In fact, if she walked behind it, she doubted anyone would be able to see her anymore. It was like a damned tree trunk.
“Mouse. The Thirteenth Son.” Kobb informed her quietly, introducing the young man. “He’s…”
“A delusional, murderous shitbag.” Tzadok finished for him, matter-of-factly. “Sinister, depraved, and out of control.”
“I was going to go with ‘troubled,’ but okay.” Kobb shrugged, accepting that description as accurate. “The Hardmen are a group which celebrates men of all shades of sanity.”
“And degeneracy.”
“Yes, that too.”
“Hygiene.”
“I think she gets the idea, Nephew.” Kobb crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s their shire reeve… their ‘sheriff,’ I guess you’d call it, Tandy. He is an enemy we don’t want to make. Trust me. I saw him fight once, when he was a boy.”
“He’s still a boy.” Tzadok scoffed in dismissal. “I doubt he’s even old enough to shave. I’ve got boots older than that creepy little fuck.”
“Which should terrify you as much as it does me.” Kobb turned to face him. “He’s a teenager and he’s already one of the toughest killers anyone has ever seen. And among the least merciful.” His voice grew more serious. “I am only scared of two men who walk this earth. One of them is me.” He pointed at the Hardman. “Mouse is the other one. The things I’ve seen him do… no man can do. Understand? Stay away from him.” Kobb shook his head to drive the point home. “This is not a man you want to needlessly antagonize, Nephew.”
“…Or this is a man we need to kill now before he becomes more powerful as he ages.” Tandy thought aloud. “This could be an excellent opportunity to cut off a problem for ourselves down the road.”
Tzadok turned to look at her in shock.
“What?” She sniffed indignantly. “I’m just offering another viewpoint, I’m not suggesting that we murder him.” She cleared her throat nervously, because both men were still staring at her in amazement. “In… in order to have a rational debate on an issue, all options need to be examined… that’s all I’m saying.” She shifted on her feet again. “It’s… it’s perfectly logical.” She paused. “There are…” She trailed off weakly, realizing she was babbling.
She went back to silently gawking at Mouse.
Tandy didn’t know anything about magic or auras… but this man wasn’t right. Even she could feel it. Everything inside her was screaming it out in warning. On some deep elemental level, something was very seriously wrong with Mouse.
The gruesome horrible man noticed that she was staring at him in grotesque fascination, and his lidless left eye swiveled in its socket to pin its gaze on her, unblinking. He was not someone you wanted to make eye contact with. His inhuman stare was blank, like he wasn’t really seeing her at all, but was instead looking at something a thousand yards off, straight through her. It caused a sudden wave of revulsion and fear to shoot through her. “Well, that there bae ah tasty lil’ morsel.” He remarked in a spooky hollow tone, looking around questioningly to the men assembled in the clearing. “Who she belong to, eh? Spake. Spake or lose ‘er quick.”
“She’s mine.” Tzadok growled, stepping in front of her immediately. “Touch her and I’ll gut you where you stand, you psychotic dog. Only warning you get.”
Kobb winced.
Half the people in the vicinity took a step back.
The other half tensed.
Seconds ticked by in silence.
“Bae eaaaaaasy…” The chewed-up travesty of a man drew out, his voice sounding like ancient iron being dragged across rough stone. He held up his large hands and smiled good-naturedly. The action showcased that he was missing several teeth, no doubt lost in a drunken brawl or perhaps from biting a dog or something equally insane. “Just askin’, Mouse was.” The teenager assured Tzadok, a sinister edge to the words. “There bae no harms ‘tended or needs to go bae gettin’ angry overmuch, eh.” He returned his hands to his sides, but kept his creepy predatory eyes on her. “Innocent as a mite babe, bae Mouse. Payin’ comp’ments, was.”
His words did nothing to defuse the situation, if that was his intention. He didn’t carry any sort of weapon at the moment and he was smaller than Tzadok, but even Tandy could sense there would be bloodshed. Someone was about to die.
It happened that fast here.
“Pay them somewhere else, Hardman.” Kobb suggested as he stepped forward to stand next to his nephew, his voice low and level, as if talking down a rabid animal. “The girl is not plunder.” Kobb gave an exaggerated shake of his head. “Friend, Mouse.” He tried slowly, obviously using the simplest words possible so that the boy would understand. “She’s your friend…”
The ghastly and tattered creature which only slightly resembled a human man considered that for a moment, the gaze of his lidless eye darting around the clearing randomly as his damaged brain vainly tried to process Kobb’s words. The Hardmen weren’t renowned for being great thinkers at the best of times and the devastating damage which had apparently been done to the young man’s skull couldn’t have been helping that.
Mouse hesitantly nodded in delayed understanding and then leaned in closer to Tzadok, like he was c
oncerned someone else might overhear. His proxemics seemed to be miniscule, always standing well within the other person’s personal space. She wasn’t sure if it was done to intimidate or because the man was out of his mind, but either way, it was disturbing. Being close to him, Tandy noted with distaste that he smelled like… blood. Like raw meat at the butcher’s shop. “The blue dog will never win.” He whispered urgently, as if that meant something and was a logical reply to Kobb. “It’ll nev’ah fookin’ win that dog race.” He nodded his head to drive home the point, as if answering a question. “Truth.”
Tzadok squinted at him in confusion, trying to decide if that was a threat.
Tandy pursed her lips, trying to come up with various interpretations of what the statement meant. The words chosen were precise and did not seem to be any kind of euphemism or metaphor. He was speaking about a literal blue furred canine, participating in a literal sporting event.
“Good to know.” Kobb praised after a momentary pause, humoring him. “Thank you for that information, Mouse.” He smiled a little too pleasantly, clearly trying to simply get out of the conversation as quickly as possible before the boy tried to eat them or something. “We sure do appreciate your friendship. We are honored to know you, aren’t we, Nephew?”
Tzadok didn’t say anything, continuing to glare at Mouse and decide whether or not to kill him.
Kobb elbowed him. “Aren’t we?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tzadok deadpanned. “I might just piss myself in excitement.”
“Righto, Saltlings. Righto.” Mouse swallowed, his disturbing eyes darting around wildly. “Mouse still bae wonderin’ why he had tah come all da way here IT’S DESIGNED TO LOSE!!!” He unexpectedly screamed again, changing topic and volume midsentence without warning.
This time everyone in the assembly took another cautious step away from him.
The Bearskin surreptitiously placed a boarding axe onto his own lap, so that it was within easier reach. Just in case.
Mouse made a sound somewhere between a crazed giggle and a cough, appeared to shudder uncontrollably for a moment, then turned back to them and said something in his own language.
Tzadok immediately interpreted it as a threat and spun around to get confirmation from her before attacking the man.
“Umm…” She cleared her throat. “Loosely translated? I believe it comes out to something like: ‘May you find pleasure in all of her… umm… holes.’” She swallowed nervously. “Which… which really sounds less vulgar in...”
Tzadok looked uncertain for a moment, obviously still trying to determine if that was an insult to Tandy’s honor or a genuine expression of… something.
Tandy decided for him. “Thank you.” She told Mouse quickly, hoping to keep Tzadok calm and avoid a confrontation. “I’m… I’m sure he will.”
Mouse unexpectedly whistled sharply to his companions and signaled with his hand. His fingerless gloves showcased the fact that his fingernails were painted black. Or perhaps they’d just somehow been scorched in the same fire which had burned his face.
A tall woman from the Hardmen tribe appeared out of the darkness, dressed in the garb of a warrior-woman from some unknown culture. She looked dangerous, strikingly beautiful and nothing like her hideous companion. When she spoke, her smooth voice was filled with complete authority and a lyrical accent Tandy couldn’t place, but which was entirely different from Mouse’s. “Ella, the Queen of Ashes.” She announced. “Survivor of The Feast of Burning Kings. Last of the Line of Ye Xian. Goddaughter of the Fairy. Chieftain of the Hardmen.” She stepped aside and another man stood behind her, carrying a small girl on a shield. The tall woman bowed her head to the wan and delicate child, who couldn’t have been more than 13. “Her anger burns the world to cinders.” The woman intoned with near religious reverence. “Hurl your empires against her and watch them break.”
The tall woman got down on her hands and knees and the second man placed the shield and its passenger down onto her back, so that she supported its weight and kept the queen from touching the ground.
The frail girl was small, even for her age. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the shield, looking like she was dressed for a funeral, wearing a prim black dress and a shawl over her shoulders which showcased the Hardmen colors. She looked grave, sickly, and pale, with dark circles under her eyes. On her feet, she wore glass slippers, presumably signifying that she didn’t have to run from anybody.
The House of Ye Xian was one of the world’s old powers. Ancient as the land itself but now all but gone except for the girl. Somehow the child had survived the inferno which burned her father, and had gone on to take control of a wandering band of foreign half-breeds, mercenaries and murderers, despite the fact the Hardmen had been at war with the girl’s former kingdom and family for years. Just how she’d been able to do that as a pre-teen was anyone’s guess. Through them though, the child was beginning to cut a bloody swath of destruction through the south; burning, raping, and pillaging the Southern Isles and beyond. The Hardmen had always been a threat. Under her rule though, they were becoming an absolute plague on the world.
Ella, The Queen of Ashes, was one of the rising powers in the post-Feast of Burning Kings world. A jackal who feasted on the bones of civilization as it crumbled. And by all accounts, she had her eyes set firmly on further expansion and conquest.
Ella turned to glance at Tzadok, her face dour. “Saltlord.”
Tzadok unemotionally nodded in greeting. “Cinder Queen.”
It looked as if a moderate breeze could have knocked the little child over, but Tzadok seemed to treat her as a credible physical threat for some reason. Personally, Tandy didn’t find her very menacing, unless whatever was making her look so pale and afflicted was somehow contagious.
Kobb recognized her confusion and leaned down to whisper in Tandy’s ear. “Careful of that one.” He gestured to Ella with his head. “She seems timid and frail, but she’s mean. You piss her off,” he looked pointedly at Mouse, “and she will bare her teeth.”
One of the horsemen from the Steppe clan didn’t appear to find her scary either. “This is not a matter for children.” He patronizingly observed. “Perhaps you should run off and go find some sweets or...”
Ella silently pointed at the man with one small hand, calling attention to him.
“’Sweets’!?!” Mouse instantly rounded on the man like a vicious animal set loose by its master, his words slurred by utter savage fury. “The Queen o’ Ashes bae roastin’ s’mores on yer feckin’ funeral pyre if ya bae openin’ yer shite mouth again, HOW BAE THAT FER ‘SWEETS’!?!” The words came out as a hoarse guttural roar, accompanied by a spray of angry spittle. “Ya understands Mouse, rabbit!?!”
“I can’t speak for him, but I know I’m finding it unreasonably difficult.” Tandy complained. It was as if the man had a dozen different accents at once, each entirely unrelated to the other.
“You don’t scare me, you fucking gargoyle.” The horseman insisted.
“Then you’re a fool.” Kobb remarked to no one in particular.
“You’re just some ugly thoughtless thing,” the horseman continued, “serving a child not much younger than he is, because the degenerate geldings in his pathetic little gang don’t have to balls to rule for themselves.”
“You bae servin’ ‘er too, ‘fore too long.” Mouse promised ominously, pointing at the girl with one hand. The action displayed the “armor” he wore on his forearm, which appeared to be someone else’s arm bone strapped onto his with rough leather strips. “’Ole world bow tae our wee queen soon. And bae overmuch proud ‘bout it too, eh. Like Mouse.”
“Sir Mouse?” Ella was soft-spoken and her somber voice was one of highborn perfection, but tinged with traces of the thick accent of the south-west. “If Topher of the Horseman clan speaks again, you are to kill him.” She sounded so calm as she ordered the man’s murder, she might as well have been requesting a cup of tea.
“Aye, Chieftain.” Mouse
pounded a fist against the emblem of a swan made of blood and blue flames, which was emblazoned on his chestplate. He prowled towards the man like a hungry scavenger approaching a wounded animal, a madman’s grin on his face, his whole body vibrating with fury and mania. “Ooooh, please spake again, rabbit, ‘cause Mouse is only getting started, yah. MOUSE WILL….” his head turned to the left suddenly, and his tone became almost friendly and soft, “ya don’t have ‘issues,’” he patiently reassured some unseen person, “ya just tired, s’all. Calm down. It’ll come tah ya.” He pursed his mangled lips in deep thought. “Umm… ‘Timewaster’? ‘Shirker’? ‘Slacker’? What bae the context? Read the sentence.”
Everyone at the meeting stared at him silently; bewildered and appalled.
Tzadok opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask what the heck that meant, but then Kobb placed his hand on his arm and shook his head. “Don’t.” Kobb mouthed in warning.
“It is against Chox’s word, The Bandit’s Gospel, and The Decrees of the Great Horse to harm someone at a council meeting.” Kharash insisted after a moment, obviously trying to get the conversation back on track before Mouse killed one of his men. His claim was made all the more ridiculous by the fact Stendec was currently leading his corpse-laden horse from the meeting in question, however. “A man who does so walks forever in shadow and shame.”
The Ghostmaker calmly tipped his hat to the dark-haired woman as he strolled by her with his gruesome cargo. “Ma’am.” Then he disappeared into the darkness.
“The gods are on the side of the strongest, Kharash. As always.” Ella informed the Steppe’s leader. “They…” She started coughing before she could finish the thought, and Mouse quickly handed her a plaid handkerchief from his pocket. She nodded at him in thanks, hacking into it as she spoke. “They… they will understand…” She got out softly, in a dry sickly wheeze. “…I’m sure.”
“Why won’t that little bitch just die already?” Hawser whispered to Aix. “Why must she linger so? The gods tease us.”
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 28
