by Jackson Lear
His face hit one side of the opening. His thighs hit the other. His neck folded back on itself, snapping instantly. He flopped into the room down below, dead.
Something happened to my ankle. Not the easiest of landings I had ever done. Eight feet, straight down.
Greaser and Runaway had been ready. They weren’t quite sure what the signal was or what was about to drop down on top of them but Greaser was on one knee, his palms upright, fingers locked together. He sprung up, launching Runaway at an angle through the opening a second after the skinny one fell into the hole. Runaway slashed through the air, landed with one leg dangling back into the hole.
Greaser was in no mood to find out how I was doing. “Get back up there!” I grabbed the skinny one’s short sword. Greaser dropped down, launching me up like he had done to Runaway. By the time I was up, Runaway had taken a decent notch out of Jorna’s shin. Jorna had fallen back, clunked his head against the wall. He cried out. I swung my sword into his working leg, slicing through the top of his thigh and moved to the door.
Two more rattlers had to narrow themselves and their swords as they ran into the room. Runaway had one of them before he realized it was too late. Runaway skidded to the far wall, dropping down and skewering the first guy in the ribs. It knocked Runaway’s blade to the side as he fell but it dropped his attacker down to his knees as well. The guy behind him collided into his friend’s back. His first instinct was to pull his arms together, bracing himself from the impact. His next instinct was to lock himself as still as possible so that he wasn’t going to slice himself with his own sword. Easy pickings. I slashed them both through the side of the neck and doubled back to get the last one between his shoulder blades.
More boots crunched towards us, fast. Four of them at least. Runaway took the door. I helped Greaser up. The first guy came in, realized it was a trap instantly but momentum is a powerful thing. Three of us slashed at his guts. The next guy saw his buddy freeze. He was still in the street. I reached out, driving my sword into the open air and skewering his belly eight inches deep.
A thunderclap of energy burst out in front of him. A spell, charged gods know when. By the looks of things it didn’t seem like he expected to set it off then, either. The doorway and wall surrounding it blew apart. The inside of the room broke with shrapnel and dust. A high-pitched whine reverberated through my ears. The owner of the spell flew back, landing in a heap in a far worse condition than when there was simply a sword sticking in him.
Two more were still out there. They’d be hesitant, though. No way to know who was alive in here and who was dead. The power of the spell would’ve given them pause as well. Did we fire it off or was it their dying friend? If it was us then that was a demonstration of just how powerful we were in here. Two of them, three of us, only one spell used. A tough call to make.
Jorna screamed. “Get in here you fucks!”
“Greaser stays,” I said. Runaway nodded.
I charged out the room and onto the street. A guy ahead. Five yards away. His eyes widening in fright. He stepped back to give himself space to maneuver but he was flat footed and had no momentum left.
I slammed into the ground, the fist of a god thumping me in the back. A spell, but not from the guy in front of me. My feet kicked up into the air as I nearly rolled across my face.
The guy in front regained his footing and ran in, driving his sword towards me.
Greaser roared behind me. “EXUBRIUS!”
My attacker was lifted off his feet and flew back five yards, bouncing off a wall and flopping to the ground.
I stood. Behind me Runaway stepped away, his blade coated in red. The mage in front of him had a hand clamped over his throat. Blood spouted out from between his fingers. Runaway circled him, staying out of his line of sight, and finished the job.
Shakily, I walked forward to inspect Greaser’s handiwork. My attacker was crumpled on the ground, slowly getting one elbow beneath him. It seemed to be the greatest test of exertion he had ever been called upon to perform. The back of his head had flattened. There was a surprising lack of blood, only a greasy mess of hair. He tried again to get an elbow under his chest. I ran my sword into his throat.
I returned to Greaser. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stopped in front of Jorna. He may have been lying with his back against the wall with two legs that would barely function but he still considered himself in the fight. I checked his sword and skewered him between his chest and shoulder, rendering his right arm useless. Jorna cried out. His sword fell to the ground.
“Where’s Myalla Castor?”
“Fuck you.”
“Where are the doctors?”
“Piece of shit.”
“Where’s Día?”
I got another mix of gasping and swearing.
“There’s a building across the street from one of yours. A two story place with healers inside. They work on the bottom floor, make ointments on the top floor. Is that where Myalla Castor is?”
Jorna squirmed some more and decided he had nothing better to do with his life than to hold his shoulder with his left hand.
“When are the doctors leaving?”
Greaser came up beside me. “I thought you were good at this.”
“Against merchants? Yeah. Against these assholes?”
“You’ve done it before,” said Greaser.
I grumbled at Greaser. “How about you and Runaway make yourselves useful and dump the bodies in the basement?”
It had the added bonus of giving Jorna something to look at. One by one, six of his brothers were dragged over to the hole and dropped below. I remained close by, focused on Jorna, letting him imagine the very worst.
At last, Runaway dusted his hands free. “Room for one more.”
I asked Jorna, “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re a dead man.”
“Perhaps. Do you remember Kiera at all?”
He grunted, the pain around his shoulder and legs swelling. The aggression fading. A deep resignation started to creep in.
“Nothing?”
“No.”
“What name did Vanguard give you?”
Jorna narrowed his glare some more. He bit back on his lips, trying to make his reputation more fearsome than it actually was. “Two Fist.”
I gave him a worthy nod. “You got the drop on a couple of army looters between here and Torne.”
“That’s right.”
“Nice work. I’m Raike, by the way.”
He coughed a laugh. “You? You’re Raike?” He coughed another one. “You should’ve joined Vanguard.”
“Imagine that. Working side by side with the people who took Kiera, only to finally snap the moment they kidnapped Día. Would you have helped me get her back?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then I joined the right outfit. I’m going to give you a choice. You know enough about the doctors for me to interrogate you. I know the rest of Vanguard have a very cozy deal with them. So, you can tell me everything you know about the doctors or I find eight more of your Vanguard brothers and violently encourage them to tell me instead. And before you think that I don’t stand a chance, I’d like you to remember that you were pretty fucking confident that eight of you could take on the three of us. And you know those two friends of yours from this morning? The ones with broken ribs and knocked out cold? That was me as well. Ten of you have been taken out of commission in the space of one day by us three. How long do you think it will take another company to realize that you’ve suffered that kind of hit? You lose anyone else – even just two more guys – and Ispar will see an opportunity. Peace Keepers as well. They will roll completely over you and the rest of Vanguard.”
There was a new glint in his eye. I had his attention.
“So what will it be? I either target the doctors and promise to leave you boys alone or I can find someone else in your chain of command and question them.”
Jorna gr
imaced at me, his breath wreaking of cheap wine. After a good deal of thinking he gave in.
“Are the doctors planning on leaving Erast any time soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Dawn? Noon? Dusk?”
“Some time after dawn.”
I looked to Greaser. “They’re going to kill her tonight,” he grumbled.
I returned to Jorna. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“In an inn?”
Sweat dripped into his eyes. “I – don’t – know.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Six.”
“And their security?”
“Probably the same.”
“What are their names?”
“I only know of Desten and his father.”
“What about Lysa?”
He shrugged. Unknown.
“Were you guys keeping watch over any particular street? Building? Plaza?”
Jorna nodded.
“Where?”
“Fuck you.”
“You tell me, and I’ll take out the doctors holed up in there.”
He squinted at me, debating, torn between holding onto his oath for a little longer or saving the type of the people he grew up with. “The old temple.”
“Which one?”
He shook his head at me. “No way.”
I took his sword, held the tip an inch against his throat. “Last chance to save your life.”
“I’m not going to beg.”
I ran the blade through the underside of his jaw, into his brain. He jolted, a spasm rocking through his body. I pulled the sword free, cleaned it, took his sheath.
Greaser came to me. “Which temple was he talking about?”
“No idea. An old one.”
“They’re all old, aren’t they?”
True. And there were certainly a few I knew from my youth. You played in those areas, you’d get kicked. I didn’t know at the time that they belonged to Vanguard.
I turned to Greaser. “Six doctors and six muscle. That many people together would be noticed unless they’re somewhere remote, right?”
His reaction was unusually slow. “… Probably.”
“Could they summon the Eyeless Ghost from a temple?”
“I wouldn’t. Those places are small. No windows. One main door. Even with only six doctors in there and one hostage, summoning a large and fast moving creature like that ghost is going to be very claustrophobic. And no doubt noisy. You can’t Childer’s Kiss a whole neighborhood.”
“Maybe a barn? Or some remote villa?”
“Better. You said Kasera’s place was on full lockdown?”
“That’s what it looked like,” I said.
Runaway added, “We were there. None of us saw anything like that.”
“And the two Destens arrived in a litter from aways,” said Greaser.
“So it’s unlikely that Día is at the Kaseras,” I said.
“Not impossible, though,” said Runaway.
Greaser squinted at me. “So far you haven’t mentioned anything about rescuing Qin or Castor’s daughter.”
“I’m here for Día.”
“Oh, fuck you, Raike. You’re here for Kiera. Día is just incidental. She could be a dozen different girls from that orphanage and none of that would matter because she’s not the one you’re here to avenge. It’s time to focus. We now have three people to find.”
“And there are four of us. We can split up.”
“Whoever took Qin should know how to find the people who have Día. We won’t be able to do that if we’re all dead.”
Runaway nodded at me, slowly, agreeing with Greaser. It wasn’t quite a mutiny but they had already made their minds up about which direction they were about to head in. Any disagreement now and they’d end up telling the Captain that I was responsible for killing eight of Vanguard’s mercenaries.
So, really, fuck them both.
I wasn’t yet capable of backing down. I asked, “Does anyone think Día is still in the city?”
No one answered.
“She would have to be somewhere remote, south of the river, where no one can hear her scream.”
“That’s not exactly where we thrive best, is it?” muttered Runaway. “We do streets and buildings very well, not barns and fields.”
Greaser moved to a calmer voice. “The doctors have been in damage control all day, fending off the blame for taking Castor’s kid. Things weren’t going well for them until they actually met you. You did it. They know that. So does Kasera. It’s much easier to pin the blame on a mercenary than a group of rich and respected doctors. Somehow they found Qin and the girl. They haven’t released her yet and they won’t until Día has been successfully sacrificed. I guarantee you that Castor is going to find out that you did it. The only way you can survive this is if we free his kid.”
“After Día.”
“No. First. This is how hostage situations work.”
Runaway nodded again. “If we lose Qin as well, on a job the Captain didn’t even want us to do …”
For fuck’s sake.
I moved to the window. The sun was setting, casting a mix of gold and salmon-pink hue across the rippling clouds. My face stung like hell. My ribs had been broken from a kick by an overzealous soldier. My chest and jaw had taken another hit when that spell blasted me face-forward onto the stone ground just outside. I found that I was now limping thanks to dropping through the trapdoor.
I couldn’t wait for the doctors to return to Erast, not if their visits were spaced years apart. But would they even return with all of the trouble I’ve caused?
Greaser and Runaway were watching me carefully. I might’ve been able to convince them to leave Myalla and Qin until after Día but that would burn every last ounce of goodwill I had with them. I wasn’t ready for that. Not after they helped me to kill eight members of Vanguard Company. They’d be watching their backs for years to come thanks to what had just happened.
“Okay. We get Qin and Myalla.”
Greaser and Runaway sighed with relief.
“Here’s what we’ve got: The doctors know we’re onto them. They know their usual safe houses might be compromised. If their deal with Vanguard is as sweet as it seems to be then they’ll cash in a few old favors. Case in point; sending eight of Vanguard’s dumbest to stake out this basement. Does anyone else have the feeling that the doctors and Vanguard don’t actually get along? Rich and educated people with handpicked mercenaries who are now used to a better life, trying to mingle with bottom-of-the-barrel scum?”
They agreed.
“That creates a problem for the doctors. They’ve located Myalla Castor but they can’t risk being seen with her. If even one Vanguard idiot realizes that the doctors did kidnap her, then the rest of Vanguard will find out within an hour. The doctors will know that Spider doesn’t want a war against Castor so his safest bet would be to pin the kidnapping on the doctors. That won’t be too difficult if Castor finds his daughter tied up in their custody. Either that, or the doctors are forced to pay off Vanguard to keep them quiet. That will cost them a fortune.”
Again, they agreed.
“So the safest option for the doctors once they’ve found Myalla is to clear out one of Vanguard’s areas completely. That way, no idiot can come along and see that they’ve actually got her as a hostage. Right?”
They agreed.
“Then we have good news. There should be a pocket of Vanguard territory formerly looked over by Jorna and the other seven that is now completely empty of Vanguard mercenaries.”
“No doubt in the heart of their territory,” said Runaway.
“At least we know it’s near an old temple.”
Begrudgingly, we accepted the set of problems we were faced with. We had to find a bunch of temples which qualified as old, then figure out which of those were being watched and which weren’t, then figure out which building in the unwatched area held Qin and Myalla. We had t
o do it without being seen and we had to do it quickly.
The sun dipped below the horizon, turning the pink sky into a velvet purple.
Greaser tapped me on my back. “We have about six hours to find Myalla and hand her over to Kasera’s daughter. If we don’t then his assassin is going to do to you what you did to Jorna.”
Chapter Thirty
We tried. Holy shit, did we try. We met up with Lieutenant, each of us with a full head of sweat and wounds that hadn’t been noticed back by the river. They were light but each one was a timely reminder that we weren’t invincible fifteen year olds anymore. A crick in your neck now takes days to wear off. A bad back will be with you for years. Not that we told the new recruits any of this. They had to discover the perils of surviving another fifteen years on their own.
Lieutenant had little option but to shake his head at us. “I leave you three alone for two hours and you start a war …”
“I didn’t like the idea of being run through by a pair of swords,” I said.
“I know, but even so …”
“Nor did I like the idea of my friends being run through by a pair of swords either.”
“You should’ve bribed them.”
“I did. They weren’t interested.”
“You should’ve bribed them better.”
Runaway muttered, “They should’ve fought better. Eight of them against three of us. They won’t be so eager for a repeat like that.”
“Even so, Vanguard still outnumber us.”
“Not at the rate they’re going,” said Runaway. “Imagine if we had you with us.”
He smiled. Begrudgingly, but he still smiled. Probably because he rated his negotiating skills better than mine. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that in all likelihood I would’ve been tasked with telling the Captain that we needed a new swift talker.
Lieutenant sighed. “Fine. Whatever. We’ve lost Qin. Let’s go find him.”
We had a haphazard map of south Erast drawn up by a variety of innkeepers. They were great at knowing which temples were where since many out-of-towners often wanted to pay their respects to some ancient deity. We lost a solid two hours listening to old biddies ramble on about the history of each place. What we wanted was to know which building was old. What they wanted was to tell us everything that had ever happened in the history of ever.
