by Andy Remic
“Lose the weapon, friend,” he rumbled.
The man, weasel-faced with a short, forked beard, grinned, eyes glittering. He might have only been of slim build, but there was a wealth of nasty experience in those dark gleaming eyes. Narnok immediately disliked him. But then, Narnok immediately disliked most men.
“I’m not your friend, fucker. I paid my coin, and now I’m going to get what I paid for. A few little cuts won’t hurt. Will it, sweet cheeks?” He turned to Luleyla, grinning.
“He wants to hurt me, Narn. Please don’t let him!”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you, Lules. Go over there and get dressed.”
“Don’t – fucking – move.” The man turned back to Narnok, and the fact he’d had the balls to turn his back on the large man with his broad, powerful chest, hulking shoulders and fists like shovels was a testament to his courage; or his stupidity. He stared into Narnok’s brutally scarred face, with its criss-cross of thin white razor scars and the one milky white eye, and his face relaxed into a languid smile. “Why, you’re a pretty one. You’re Narnok. I’ve heard of you.”
“Only bad things, I hope,” growled the huge warrior.
“On the contrary. I know you know my people. Therefore, you should know me. I am Galtos Gan.”
“Never heard of you. Now drop the knife before I really lose my temper.”
“I am cousin to Faltor Gan. I’m Red Thumb, see? And I always get what I pay for.”
“Not this time.”
“I was told this girl likes to play rough. I’m ready to play rough. If you don’t like it – well, you can kiss my rosy backside. You know my boys will be round in the hour to torch this place if I just say the word.” He reached forward and patted Narnok on the shoulder. “So, be a good lad, and clear off. There’s a woman here needs a little bit of slicing.”
As his hand retreated from the pat, Narnok’s own hand struck swiftly, grabbing Galtos Gan’s hand and twisting it savagely against the joint, whilst lifting it high. Galtos was immediately forced down on one knee, a squeal of shock and pain erupting from his lips, his other hand dropping the knife and slapping the floor hard. Narnok held him like that for a moment, then let go, stepping back, scarred face narrowed.
“That’s your warning. Get your clothes and leave. Maria on the desk will give you back your coin.”
In silence, Galtos Gan pulled on his trousers and fine silk shirt, and a heavy overcoat of rich dark wool. He pulled on his boots, and stooped to retrieve his dagger, but Narnok trod on the blade.
“You must have missed our ‘no weapons’ sign on the door when you came in, friend. You can leave that there. Give us your address and I’ll have it sent on. After all, I wouldn’t like to upset the Red Thumb boys now, would I?” Narnok gave a crooked smile, as if he really didn’t have a care in the world.
“That’s fine,” said Galtos, straightening his heavy overcoat. He threw a look towards Luleyla, along with a narrow smile. He winked. “Be seeing you sooner than you think, sweet cheeks. After all. A perfect body like that needs a little scarring.”
As he turned back, Narnok delivered a powerful low right hook to the man’s ribs. Three broke with audible cracks, and the man doubled over, grunting, as Narnok’s knee rose into his face, snapping his head back with a splash of blood up the walls and breaking his nose in the process. Galtos fell back, gasping, whining, both hands clutching his face as he stared up through a mask of blood.
“You bastard! You broke my nose!” He clutched at his side and tried to rise. His fine silk shirt was sodden with blood.
Narnok reached down, grabbing the man’s hair and hauling him to his feet. “You threaten my girls again,” he growled, pulling him close enough to kiss, “and I’ll snap your fucking neck. You understand, you maggot?”
“He’s got a knife!” screamed Luleyla, as the blade slashed for Narnok’s side. He batted it away and head-butted Galtos on the broken nose, making him slam back into the wall, slipping down to the carpet, weeping and holding his broken face.
“Get dressed, Luleyla. And gather the girls together. Tonight is a good night to close early, I think.”
Luleyla ran from the room and Narnok took the knife and examined the blade. Fine silver steel, honed to a razor. This man was wealthy; there was no doubt. But was he really part of a Red Thumb Gang?
The Red Thumbs were notorious throughout Vagandrak, and every city or large town had a syndicate run by a collection of the most wealthy crime families in the land. They specialised in extorting simple, honest people from their hard-earned coin; either as “protection” money or by open threats and injury; even murder. They ran gambling houses, dog- and wolf-fighting pits, whorehouses, honey-leaf dens, and even resorted to open robbery if the reward was high enough. They were a jagged splinter in the side of every City Watchman, and an embarrassment to King Yoon who seemed, with every passing month, to ignore their presence with renewed vigour. It was a well-known fact you didn’t cross the Red Thumbs, for their name had come about from the people they had murdered. Each corpse was left with a bloody thumb-print in the centre of the forehead. Hence the name, and synonym with violence.
Narnok had had his fair amount of trouble on the streets of Kantarok, but always studiously avoided the Red Thumb Gangs if at all possible. A man didn’t need that kind of concerted trouble. Narnok ran his whorehouse with efficiency, kindness to the women, and an honesty which brought him little attention from the City Watch. But now, it would seem, the Red Thumbs had come calling on him, whether he wanted their attention or not.
Narnok pocketed the knife, and hauled Galtos to his feet. “Come on, friend. Let’s escort you out to the street.”
“You’ll die for this,” said Galtos, through his bloody face.
“You never know when to shut up, do you, son? Well, if I’m going to die for this…” Narnok delivered a heavy punch to Galtos’ belly, making the man groan, and another solid overhand blow to the man’s face, pulping the cheekbone within. Galtos sagged under Narnok’s grip, as he hoisted the half-conscious man behind him and strode down the corridor towards the reception where Maria sat, face pale.
“Is it true? Is he Red Thumb?”
“Possibly, although he may well be full of horse shit. A lot of these people are. Get the girls together and go down to Tanor’s Tavern. I have good credit there; he’ll let you share a few rooms until I get this thing done.”
Maria stood and grabbed Narnok’s massive bicep. “What are you going to do, Narn?”
He grinned, then, a quite terrifying sight from behind an insane criss-cross of thin white scars below a milky eye. “Don’t you worry you none,” he growled. “This bastard had it coming. Nobody treats my girls like that and walks away.”
“Yes, but… the Red Thumbs…” She gazed at him, terrified.
“We shall see,” said Narnok. “Lock the door behind you.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right? I can call my brother, Gellund…”
“Just do as you are told, woman!” Narnok dragged Galtos to the door, and peered out. The cobbled street was silent, for the hour was late. Distantly, he heard drunken shouting, but boots thudded away and silence returned.
Narnok hoisted Galtos Gan up, draping one of the man’s arms around his broad shoulders as if helping a drunken friend home; then he stepped out into the winter chill.
It was dark, and a biting wind cut through the streets. Narnok walked Galtos, who was groaning and mumbling, for a good ten minutes until they reached the wide street which ran alongside the Kantarok River. Narnok could feel the chill from the deep, fast running waters and he shivered.
He looked up and down the street, eyes picking out the occasional yellow glow of a fish-oil lantern. Then he walked the mumbling man across, propping him against the low stone wall which had been built to protect the city from flooding. In past decades, the Kantarok had been swelled by snowmelt from the White Lion Mountains to the northeast, bursting its banks and flooding the cellars of half the
city. The late, great King Tarek had funded the floodwall from his own royal coffers; but then, he had been a king of the people, loved by the people. Not like the latest dandy idiot, thought Narnok soberly.
He listened carefully. A wind howled from the mountains and for a moment Narnok was lost in their snowy embrace; he’d fought several campaigns over the mountains and the crossings, especially in winter, had been no mean feat. And yet… yet he loved the mountains with all his heart. No compromise there. Just iron. And rock. And ice. But equally, no ego, vanity or back-stabbing friends. Maybe that’s what he should do. Sell the whorehouse. Or even better, give it to the girls. Head off into the hills and build himself a lonely wooden cabin… Then he wouldn’t have to deal with situations like this.
You attract trouble like a fresh-laid turd attracts flies, Dek had once said. Narnok had bridled, but Dek grabbed him in a bear-hug. Look at you! Too bloody handsome by far! If you weren’t so good looking I’d break your bloody face! They’d wrestled over that. A mighty contest. Narnok won eight silver pennies.
The memories drifted away like smoke on the biting, bitter wind, and Galtos Gan mumbled again. Narnok listened, but could hear no signs of the Watch. Just what he needed right now, some nosey guard sticking his big bloody nose in.
“What… what yer doing?” mumbled Galtos Gan, through a mouthful of blood and teeth shards. He drooled it down his already soiled silk shirt.
“Listen,” said Narnok, holding the man by the front of his heavy coat, good eye narrowing. “Tell me for sure, now. Are you really a part of the Red Thumb Gangs? Be honest with me, because a lot depends upon it.”
“Aye man, yes, so let me go or you will suffer greatly!” mumbled Galtos, easing the words out from his damaged face.
Narnok sighed, his heart heavy. “That’s what I was worried about.” He pulled free the expensive dagger, checked around once more, and pushed it slowly into Galtos Gan’s belly. The man felt the cold bite of razor steel and his eyes went suddenly wide, his body and mind suddenly fully awake as adrenaline and awareness flushed his lethargy away. He started to struggle, legs kicking, fists smacking weakly at Narnok, but the big man held him tight, and cut upwards with the knife, opening Galtos Gan like a fish on a block. The man wriggled, but the knife opened his heart and he spasmed in Narnok’s hands, then went suddenly slack. His mouth was open in an “O” of horror.
Narnok looked left and right again, and leaving the blade in the body, crouched, and hoisted it to the top of the thick stone wall. With one final look, he pushed the body into the Kantarok River. There was a splash, and he was gone in the blink of an eye, swallowed and carried away on powerful currents.
Narnok stared down at himself. Blood wet hands, and his own shirt stained.
Time to light the wood-burner in the cellar, he thought. And he’d not had to do that for a long time.
Not since Katuna. Not since her betrayal.
Narnok thought about his wife as he trudged home, hands deep in pockets to hide his murder. He thought about his ex-wife. He remembered her as she had been. Prettier than any woman he’d ever met, long black hair in natural curls, flashing dark eyes, skin the colour of olives! He’d been hailed as a hero back then, wealth and land showered on him by King Tarek after the killing of Morkagoth. Endless parades through the city streets, with people cheering and throwing flowers. Saved them all, he had, from a mud-orc massacre! The people loved him! And Katuna had loved him more. But then, he mused, his thoughts darkening, anger clouding his mind, fists clenching in his pockets, no wonder she’d loved him – when he had all that money!
They’d wed quickly and spent blissful weeks locked away in Narnok’s huge country retreat just outside the city of Drakerath. A ten-bedroom house, some two hundred years old and in its own mature grounds of thirty acres, with stables and a lake stocked with trout. Those had been days of bliss! Days to melt a man’s heart!
And Katuna! Loving! Doting! And a Hellcat between the sheets like nothing he’d ever experienced! His skin rippled with goose-bumps just thinking about her. But then… where had it gone wrong? His brow creased into a frown beneath the scars. He knew exactly where it had gone wrong. Other men. And greed. And a true Hellraiser attitude to life in general. She’d started spending mornings away from the house, but he’d hardly noticed, as Narnok was busy recruiting a new battalion for Tarek which kept him more than busy away from their love nest. When Tarek asked him to tour various towns giving his “Narnok the Axeman! Hero of the Desekra Fortress!” speech, he could hardly say no. He was gone for a little over a week, returning one Sunday morning just as the sun was rising. He’d picked wild flowers from the garden by the lake, where’d they’d made love frequently during the summer months, and crept up the stairs to their bed chamber to surprise her…
And found Katuna in their bed with another man.
In the darkness of the curtained room, Narnok had bellowed in rage, and there had been a savage fight, smashing up the furniture, curtains torn from rails, and for once in his life Narnok found another man who was a match for his strength, speed and aggression. They’d burst from the bedroom, tumbling onto the landing where lanterns still burned, and through bloodied teeth, Narnok saw–
Dek.
His sword brother. His blood brother. His friend.
He’d been stunned into inaction; felled, as if by a pick-axe handle. And Dek, with tears streaming down his face, whispered, “I’m sorry, Narn,” before fleeing down the stairs and out into the early dawn light.
For a long time Narnok simply stood, then he’d strode down the hall to his armoury, kicking open the door and hoisting his double-headed axe from its pride of place above the panels of armour and chainmail. The large weapon was dull and black, the blades nicked from years of combat and real-world battle. But the blades were razor sharp, the balance perfect, the axe a part of Narnok.
Katuna ran into the armoury. “No, Narnok! No!” She grabbed his arm, and he back-handed her across the room.
He strode down the hallway, but she came after him with a long knife, leaping onto his back trying to cut his throat. That’s when he lost it. That’s when his rage swamped his mind and the next thing he remembered, he was sat astride her, her face bloody and broken, her eyes filled with… not terror, exactly, but a cold understanding. He’d never seen a look like that on another soul, and knew he never would.
Leaving his axe, for fear of what he might do, he saddled a horse and went on a three day drinking spree around the seedier districts of Drakerath. When he arrived home, filled with remorse, and apology, and regret, still half-drunk from the many flagons of wine he’d consumed in the city, they were waiting for him. A hammer blow to the head saw him unconscious and when he came round they were in the old stone cellar, his hands and feet bound by wire to a sturdy oak chair.
Six men, large, swarthy, with the eyes of killers. They carried helves and knives. One carried a bottle.
At first, Narnok had no idea what was going on. Until from their midst stepped Katuna, his lovely, beautiful, sexy Hellcat Katuna! Her face was still bruised, and when she spoke the words were like ice spears through Narnok’s heart.
“This is Narnok, my husband. He betrayed me with a long line of bitch lovers, then beat me again and again and again.” Narnok could hear the growls of anger from the mercenaries. “You can still see my bruises,” whimpered Katuna, lowering her head as if in great shame; as if she regretted this whole sorry business. “Now,” she said, words a low whisper, “he wants to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine. He won’t allow me to leave. He won’t give me money, but I know he has plenty hidden in the house.”
The right hook knocked Narnok, and the chair, over. He hit the ground hard, smacking his head. Two men rushed behind and hoisted him up and his eyes flashed with anger.
“Don’t listen to her. It was not I who cheated, but her! She lies, I tell you!”
A small man pushed to the front of the group. He was narrow and quite old, his head bald, features poi
nted. He smiled at Narnok. In his hands he carried a cork-stoppered bottle. “You need to listen very carefully, Narnok. Very carefully indeed. I am Xander. I used to work King Tarek’s dungeon; my chief responsibility was torture, pain, confessions. Now, I am freelance – it would seem Tarek no longer wishes to rule his people by fear and punishment; a foolish choice, but his by right of monarchy, I believe. Still, that is history. What should concern you right now, is that we are in this young lady’s employ. You have been most dishonourable towards her…”
“Yes, he has,” whimpered Katuna, patting her bruised face.
“But in all truth, this is a paid job. If you do not tell us where the money is, then we do not get paid. So, we will begin with blades. And if that does not work,” he held up the bottle. “This is acid. I will burn out your eyes.”
Narnok started to struggle violently, but a helve blow to the back of the head stopped that, knocking him once more to the ground, half unconscious. He came around real fast when the razor cut a strip of flesh from his face…
His screams lasted long into the night.
And in the end, he told them where the money was.
Narnok stopped by the door to the Pleasure Parlour and checked around with his one good eye. He spat a heavy ball of phlegm, as if by removing the bad taste from his mouth he could remove the bad memories of Katuna, his ex-wife, from his skull.
I wonder where you are now, he mused, and opened the door. Hopefully, some scumbag has cut your throat and left you dead in an alleyway.
And Dek. Oh, you bastard of a bastard. I wonder if you still breathe our fine Vagandrak air? Or did some pit fighter break your spine? Maybe gouge out one of your eyes? See how you like it?
Narnok’s final words to his sword brother, blood brother, friend, had been screamed in hate across the army mess as men sought to restrain them both, and a runner was dispatched for Dalgoran; “I’m going to fucking kill you!” bellowed Narnok, “and when you do fucking die, I’m going to ride into Hell and the Furnace looking for your bones and your fucking soul, and I’m going to tear you apart again!” before he was dragged out by warriors and threatened with military prison by General Dalgoran.
