by Keith Walsh
“I figured you would prefer something more like a double-bladed battle-axe my good Sir,” said Shaper, acknowledging Magnus’ disapproval of the weapon he had picked out. “But alas I am only a small man and I had several weapons to bring,” he added. “I hope you can understand?” he finished, not really interested in any protest. Magnus just grunted but he secretly admired the perception of the little man.
“The blacksmith and the sword. The traveller and the axe. The tavern keeper and the mace. The lovable scallywag and his trusty dagger. And…” said Shaper, trailing off. Dallious noticed no weapons remained on the table. “The cripple and his missing hand?” continued Shaper, hesitantly but with a wry smile.
Dallious did not see the funny side of this comment. He fixed the little man with a fiery stare, long enough for Shaper to wipe the smile from his face. “Sorry, but you didn’t exactly cover yourself in glory last night, friend,” pointed out Shaper, holding his hands up in a submissive manner. “Didn’t think you would be much use in a fight,” he continued, still holding his hands up but now pointing a finger towards Dallious’ stump and grinning.
“Shaper—” scolded Durok. “Don’t bother,” interrupted Dallious, seeing that Durok wanted to say more. The blacksmith gave a glancing look at Dallious but held his tongue. “None of you need weapons,” added Dallious. “I am the one who has been wronged here. And the girl Beth. I will confront the Manson brothers alone and I will explain the full story to the Watch and they will listen. If they don’t and their corruption shines through then they will deal with me and that will be their end.”
“We have stayed to help Grott, Dallious,” said Magnus. “I don’t believe you have the right to dictate what our actions should be,” he added, with a mixture of confusion and frustration. Dallious turned to him and said, “I suspect you have the ability to handle yourself Magnus and your lack of action last night might even be pushing you to do so, but Durok is a blacksmith and Grott a tavern keeper with a limp. And Shaper here is unlikely to even take part,” he added, locking eyes with the little man.
Shaper held the look, shrugged and pursed his lips in a nonchalant fashion. “I will stand firm,” chipped in Durok. “As will I, limp or no limp,” said Grott. Durok looked hurt by Dallious’ comments. “And I do not approve of you suggesting I won’t,” he added. Dallious looked to the blacksmith and shook his head.
“I know you will Durok,” said Dallious. “And you too Grott,” he added. “I did not mean any disrespect to either of you. I do not doubt your courage, it is only that your ability to stand against trained fighters is as yet unproven and I would rather not see harm come to any of you.”
“Ha, the Manson brothers are not trained fighters,” scoffed Grott. Dallious gave him a measured look. “Although my memory of last night is still a little hazy, I seem to recall something about them being backed by the Town Watch and I can assure you that they are trained,” he responded, being sure to put emphasis on the word ‘they’. “I have had dealings with Town Watch before and some among their ranks can be quite skil—”
“I hate to interrupt this little spat gentlemen but may I remind you that they are indeed coming and will most likely be here at any moment,” said Shaper. “He’s right,” said Magnus, “we should prepare ourselves,” he finished, casting glances at the others. “You are not listening,” said Dallious, his tone heightened and his mood clearly that of a man running thin on patience.
“No, it is you who are not listening Dallious,” said Grott, angry now. “They will pay for what they have done to Beth,” he added, slamming his mace on the table they stood around and causing splinters to fly. Dallious shielded his face quickly as several flew towards him.
“Save it for the fight Grott,” advised Magnus, twisting the axe he had chosen menacingly in his hands. “You just don’t understan—” Dallious said again, forcing himself to remain calm. “We don’t have time for this,” interrupted Grott.
“Please, listen to him,” came a voice from behind the men. Durok recognised it instantly. Each of the men turned to see Lucy, the blacksmith’s wife. As they argued she had managed to make her way down the stairs and into their company without any of them noticing. “Please Lucy,” said Durok, laying the sword he held on the table. “Go back upstairs,” he continued, moving toward her.
The others watched as Durok and Lucy whispered to one another for a moment before she threw his comforting hands from her and looking past him said, “Just listen to him, please.” Durok, standing beside his wife, cast a look at the men that suggested she would not leave until they listened to Dallious.
Dallious caught the look and needed no further invitation to have his say. “Right now, I am the reason these men are coming here. Perhaps the Manson brothers are corrupt but you cannot know that of the other Watchmen who accompany them. If you all go out there bearing weapons, which is against the laws of this town, then you portray yourselves as criminals and make the Manson brother’s job easier,” he continued, happy to see he had the full attention of those he spoke to.
“What then?” said Durok, eying Dallious. “You intend to face them alone?” he added before any answer could come. “I intend to meet them alone, yes,” replied Dallious. “Only if their actions or justice is impure will I face them and only then will each of you decide whether I am to be alone in that or not.”
“They have to be right on us by now,” chipped in Shaper, his expression anxious. Dallious acknowledged the look. “Stay here,” he said, while making his way to the door and beginning to slide back the bolts. No one moved to help him and Magnus noted they were all looking at each other almost as if waiting for one or the other to make the first move. Perhaps they were still muddling over the logic of Dallious’ words. The bolts now open Dallious shouted to Grott for the keys with his left hand open ready to receive them. Grott handed them to him reluctantly, still unsure about the plan or lack thereof.
Dallious’ hand closed around the keys but as he made to pull away Grott held them for a moment and looked seriously into his eyes. Dallious met them. “If things go bad…” Grott said, pausing just long enough to be sure he had Dallious’ full attention, “just know that you won’t be alone.”
Dallious’ expression softened and with a wry smile he squeezed the tavern keeper’s hand, keys included, very gently and then pulled away. This time Grott let the keys go and, turning away from Dallious, he felt a sense of relief when he saw Magnus and Durok nod in approval at what he had just said.
No sooner did Dallious begin turning the key and he could hear the sound of footsteps coming from outside. They were regimented and heavy, and due to Dallious’ experience he knew that whoever made them wore full plate armour.
“This is Captain Markus Van Bastion of the Town Watch of Tinnisvale speaking,” came a shout from outside. Dallious instantly paused. A Captain for a Town Watch? Fully armoured? Something is not right here, he thought. Shaking himself from his feelings he looked at the four men and the one woman in the tavern all staring back at him anxiously, and with a lick of his lips he said, “Put those weapons away, hide them as best you can.”
“What?” said Grott looking confused, as did the others. Dallious’ temper flared briefly and he flashed a wicked look at the tavern keeper, who felt his resolve melt instantly. “Don’t argue with me Grott. None of you argue with me. Things have changed, this is not a fight we can win and I will not have you throw your lives away needlessly. Do as I say, hide the weapons.”
Without another word the men began placing the weapons back on the cloth that Shaper had brought them wrapped in. Once all of them were in place, Shaper folded the cloth back over them and moved to the back of the bar and through the door. Dallious saw a look of relief flood over Lucy’s face. No doubt she felt better her husband would not be fighting after all.
“Good,” said Dallious, once the weapons and Shaper had disappeared. “Now do not follow me out this door, no matter what you hear,” he added, and without waiting for an
y response he opened the door and walked from sight, closing it behind him.
Chapter 17
What greeted Dallious on the other side blinded him briefly at first until he shielded his eyes. He could see a large solitary figure standing in front of him, shoulders back and full of confidence, most likely due to the plate armour surrounding his body. “Ah, at last,” came a muffled voice.
Dallious ignored the figure in plate who had just spoken to him. Instead his eyes darted around, scanning the area. “Damn this infernal helm,” came the voice again as the plated figure moved a hand over the visor of the helmet and snapped it up to reveal a middle-aged man with piercing brown eyes and a neatly trimmed greying moustache. “I am Captain Markus Van Bastion,” said the man, his voice clearer now.
“Dallious,” replied Dallious noting no hand extended in greeting and so refraining from making such a gesture himself. “A little heavily armed for investigating a simple crime are we not Captain?” said Dallious, having noted the six men who backed the Captain, each of them wearing leather jerkins over barely visible mail vests, holding shields and currently sheathed swords.
“Perhaps,” said the Captain half-turning his head back over his shoulder, acknowledging the observation of the men standing behind him. “I have it in good stead, however, that you are not alone and you and your companions may be armed, with intent,” continued the Captain, eyeing any response from Dallious.
Dallious said nothing. Instead his eyes continued to scan his surroundings and when finally they rested on the man known to him from the previous night as Dennis, he spoke, “And who in this realm would say such a thing I wonder?” Dallious’ eyes burned into the squat figure of Dennis, who refused to hold them and shuffled back, disappearing into the shadows.
Captain Markus noted the transgression and smiled. Gutless, he thought. “Well, I can assure you Captain,” said Dallious holding his arms out in a nonthreatening manner and shifting his gaze back to the Captain. “…you have been misinformed,” he finished, smiling warmly. Captain Markus noted the gesture and he took a moment to allow his eyes to flick warily over Dallious’ open arms looking for any signs of deceit. He found none but he couldn’t help lingering on the spot where the man’s right hand should be.
Dallious resisted the urge to shy away from the Captain’s stare. He still had not come to terms with his disability and having it so openly scrutinised made him feel very ill at ease. However, he didn’t want to give anything away and remained still. “I’m sorry,” said Captain Markus at last. He could feel the discomfort of the crippled man standing in front of him and even admired the way Dallious’ had fought so hard to hide the fact, but he had always been good at reading people.
The fact that Captain Markus’ first words after his inspection were an apology told Dallious that, despite his best efforts, his discomfort had been apparent. “Please forgive my rudeness. I did not mean to cause you discomfort,” Captain Markus said. His words fell on deaf ears however as Dallious, no longer concerned with trying to hide his feelings, begun thumbing his injury, the memory of Sister washing over him. He pictured her briefly in her beautiful silk dress, the one she wore in his dream before his mind jerked him back to the moment of her death, and he could see again Kalen’s blade slide horrifyingly across her neck, while he stood helpless to stop it.
Captain Markus watched as Dallious began to press his fingers harder and harder into his stump, and he could sense anger rising within the man. Worried at where this might lead, Captain Markus prepared himself for the assault he anticipated was about to follow.
“Dallious!” shouted Markus in warning.
Immediately Dallious snapped back to the present. His stump reached instinctively to where his rapier would normally be, his eyes blazing, his nostrils flared. Captain Markus was taken aback a little by the sudden action, but just as quickly he calmed himself, remembering that the cripple was unarmed. Dallious blinked several times as the realisation of the situation came back to him. He looked accusingly at the stump slowly retreating from the left side of his waist. Had he been armed, no rapier would now be in his hand, for he of course no longer had his sword hand. He cursed softly and his eyes flicked up to meet Captain Markus, who said, “So the disability is recent then?”
Dallious couldn’t help but be impressed. Captain Markus did not miss much, if anything. He straightened and relaxed and noted the Captain doing the same. “Recent enough, yes,” said Dallious with a somewhat sad expression. Captain Markus ignored it. A man with reactions like this cripple did not warrant sympathy but caution. An awkward silence fell between the two men as they studied each other.
“Let us be frank for a moment,” said Captain Markus at last, gesturing with his hand as if awaiting agreement. It came with a nod. “You are unarmed, crippled and severely outnumbered…” Captain Markus paused just long enough to see he had Dallious’ attention. He did. “Yet I see no fear in your eyes. And your little demonstration moments ago, no matter how unintentional, tells me you are a man to be wary of.” Dallious laughed – it was out of place but he couldn’t help himself.
“You find this amusing?” asked Captain Markus, his expression darkening. Dallious ignored him, instead saying, “I find it amusing that you say I am the one to be wary of when you stand before me, fully armoured, and with six other Watchmen backing you.” He smiled after he spoke. Captain Markus’ mood lightened a little and he stood straight, shoulders back and he placed his hands on his hips. “I suppose that is a fair reason for amusement,” conceded Captain Markus, nodding. “However, what if I told you that we went by the blacksmith’s on our way here and discovered not only that Durok and his wife Lucy were not there, but their premises have been broken into and upon peering through the window that had been used to gain access I could see weapons were missing from the display.”
“I would say Durok would be most upset to hear that. He is currently inside the tavern with his wife Lucy,” said Dallious, making no effort to tell a lie. “They offered to stay and help with the girl, Beth, who I might add was almost killed last night.” Captain Markus had not been expecting Dallious to be so forthcoming and it only gave fortitude to his rising doubts that things were as Dennis had described, but he would press the matter a little further before completely dismissing the baker’s testimony.
“Almost, you say?” said Captain Markus, before glancing back over his shoulder to stare accusingly at one of the Manson brothers. “That’s correct,” said Dallious, while following the Captain’s line of sight. Once he realised who the Captain was looking at his eyes burned into the man, who met them with a look of arrogant dismissal. Dallious felt his blood boil and despite all his wise words about staying calm and always being in control, something within him snapped. You fool! You’re unarmed, outnumbered and weaker than ever before thanks to a missing hand. Think!
“Shut up! Scum like Kalen cannot be allowed to survive!” Dallious screamed, his eyes wild. Captain Markus turned swiftly to see Dallious shouting at himself and also noted that he was marching toward the Manson brother he had just been glaring at. Dallious struggled with his rage.
That isn’t Kalen. Stop! You’ll die here. Is that what you want? But Dallious ignored his mind’s pleas, lost to his rage. “Stop! Stay right where you are. Do not take another step,” ordered Captain Markus, but he could see his words fell on deaf ears as Dallious walked past him.
Grott, Magnus, Durok, Shaper and Lucy could all hear the shouts from outside the tavern but Magnus was the first to react. He grabbed a hold of Grott and shook him, demanding the tavern keeper open the door. “Dallious told us not to, no matter what we heard, remember?” said Grott. Magnus tried to reason with him. “Something isn’t right out there and you – we – gave our word to help him. Now open the door.”
Lucy tried to protest, but Durok silenced her. Shaper ran towards the back of the tavern, presumably to get the weapons, while Grott fumbled at the bolts on the door. Magnus towered over him, urging him to hurry.
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Outside, Captain Markus moved to step in front of Dallious and began drawing his sword. Instantly, the out-of-character Dallious lashed his fist into the Captain’s sword hand, forcing him to stop in his action of drawing the blade. No sooner did Dallious feel the lack of momentum from the Captain and he spun, driving his elbow into the still open visor of the Captain’s helm, smashing the man’s nose with expert precision. Captain Markus fell back with a loud scream as blood sprayed from the blow. His eyes blurred and ran with water and he felt dazed.
Dallious did not hesitate to take advantage of the Captain’s confused state and recovering from his spin he stepped to the staggering Captain and pulled the man’s sword. Once he felt it clear the scabbard he sent a vicious kick with his right leg into the Captain’s chest, sending him flying towards his six Watchmen. Screams rang out from around the small crowd that had gathered, people shocked by the sudden brutality and unexpectedness of the cripple’s actions. Two of the six Watchmen had no choice in their actions but to catch their falling Captain.
The fact he flew into the middle two meant the group were now split. There was a pair of Watchmen on Dallious’ left, two catching Captain Markus as he fell and a final two on the right. The pair closest to Dallious on the left drew their swords and raised their shields, advancing on him tightly packed together. Dallious turned his attention to them and grinned. Makes you difficult to penetrate from the front but stifles your agility, he thought. He sprinted at the two men aiming for the leftmost one.
The Watchman made a competent yet unsuccessful swipe at Dallious’ head, but he ducked under it with graceful ease before stabbing his own sword into the leg of the attacker. The man let out a roar as the blade bit home and he fell to his knees, dropping his sword and shield to clasp at the bloody wound.
Normally that man would be dead but Dallious had regained some composure, his instincts were so natural it had happened without him really trying and he knew these men were just doing their jobs. As long as circumstance afforded him the luxury of taking them down alive, that is what he intended.
