by Lucas Thorn
Took a long drag on what was a sweet red wine. Bit too sweet, she thought with a wince. Drank anyway.
He watched her eat, young face getting more and more cheerful with each bite. Then seemed to notice the ork again. Waved dismissively. “We’ll be fine now. Give us some time. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“I should stay. You know that.” The ork sighed. “You take too many chances, Hideg. She could be the one too many.”
Hideg’s expression was calm, but there was something predatory in the back of his eyes. “I’ll roll dice with the Old Skeleton himself if it’ll get me what I want. I won’t get it without risk. Great risk. But the rewards, Dreadaxe. Oh, the rewards.”
“You need to live to claim them.”
“Yes,” he smiled. “Yes, I do. But I like to think I’m safe this time. She won’t kill me. Not without listening first. I’m sure of it. Right, Nysta?”
She swallowed, wiping grease from her lips with the back of her wrist. Nodded as she reached for the goblet again to rinse out the taste. “Sure, feller. You’ve got until I’ve finished eating. Then I might be hungry for dessert, if you get my meaning?”
The ork growled. “You hear that, Hideg? She’s not right in the head. I can do whatever it is you want from her.”
“No, Dreadaxe. Not this time. She’s more than she looks.”
“It’s your head,” the ork said slowly before backing out. “But your coin means a lot to me. I’ll be out front, long-ear. And he better be alive when you leave. Ain’t no way out except through me.”
When he was gone, the elf aimed a deliberate smirk at the young man.
The kind of smirk which showed glinting teeth wet with the juices of cold roasted meat. Hungry. Mean.
She pointed at the plate in front of her.
“Best you talk fast, feller,” she said. “There ain’t much left. Might still be hungry enough to take my chances with the ork.”
He stared at her, trying to figure out how much of what she said could be backed up with her knives. A slight narrowing of his eyes showed he was trying to puzzle it out in all seriousness. The scholar in him unable to accept the idea of an unproven theory.
Flashes of the fight she’d had the night before were weighed against practical knowledge of everything Dreadaxe had probably done for him.
His tongue traced the edge of his mouth and his answering smile was less than a ghost.
“I think that would be an interesting fight,” he said at last. “Very interesting. He’s the toughest fighter I’ve ever seen. Strong. And fast, too. Maybe faster than you.”
Her smirk broadened into a wicked grin. She could feel the shadows inside her body move. Dark black worms nudging through muscle and meat. Crawling along the back of her shoulders. Making her skin itch.
Itch for a fight.
Her words, though, emerged in a lazy string. “I’ll allow he was quick for a delivery boy.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Nysta. He got you here, didn’t he?”
“We’re still figuring out who’s getting sliced. Promise you one thing, though.” The humour drained from her words. Replaced with ice. “I’ve got a real thin crust.”
CHAPTER SIX
“I want you to kill some people for me.”
“Simple as that?”
“Simple as that.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Have you heard of an alchemist called Damis?”
“Nope.”
“Then you don’t know him.” Hideg smiled. An aristocrat’s smile. Polite, but hiding rows of cannibal teeth. “But you will. He arrived in Dragonclaw a few months ago. Washed up out of the Sea of Blood on a raider ship with only his clothes and small cargo of three barrels. Contents unknown. He paid the right bribes and entered the city, so no one thought anything of it. Before making it to Dragonclaw, he apprenticed to an alchemist in Lovespurn. By his own account, he wasn’t in Lovespurn when the Wall was attacked. He told a captivated inn on the east side that he was in the mountains nearby. That he had a view of the battle and hid from fleeing Caspiellans for days. Said when he made it back to the Wall, he found Lovespurn in ruin and his master dead. He hinted at the contents of his barrels. Hinted there was something in them which would change the world. True or not, it was enough for Noster to smell profit. Rumour has it he made an offer Damis couldn’t refuse.”
“Gangsters,” the elf said with a sigh. “They never change.”
“Within a week of Damis being set up in the Red Claw volcano, Noster’s gang was spreading its latest potion through the western quarter. Dozens of vials ship from Red Claw turf every night. And that number is growing.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” He shrugged. “There’s always some concoction or other available if you’ve got coin. Truth be told, there’s more potion dens in this city than brothels. What’s another to me? Anyone stupid enough to walk into one can rot for all I care. What I do care about is that the Red Claws added four levels to their tower in as many weeks. And don’t show any sign of slowing. Last week, they took territory belonging to the Anglers. Took two towers by Redhead Bridge.”
“A matching pair.”
“They’re moving too quick. When a gang rises too fast, it causes friction. We’ve reached out to them, of course. But the Red Claws have been around long enough to feel impatient. They want to grow. They feel they’ve been kept down by other gangs, like the Shivs. They feel they deserve better. They want more turf. More power. Noster has dreams, Nysta. Big dreams.”
“Too big?”
“Much too big.” He watched as she chewed his words as much as her meal, voice a passionless fillet. “I suppose you want to know who I represent. Who’s hiring you. Well. We call ourselves the Order of the Iron Day. We are-”
“Dragonclaw’s third option,” she finished for him. Showed glinting teeth. “I’ve heard of you. I ain’t as green as you think.”
“Rumour. That’s all you’ve heard. We spread most of it ourselves. The reality is somewhat more complex.” His eyes slid across her battered clothes. “I’m sure you understand, Nysta. That uniform you wear isn’t unknown to me. The Jukkala’Jadean have a terrifying reputation. When you sat at my table last night, I thought you’d been sent to kill me. Thought maybe one of my brothers had decided it was time I disappeared.”
“How do you know they didn’t?”
“I figured if they had, one of us would be dead by now.”
“That’d be you.”
“Perhaps. I wasn’t alone last night, and I’m sure you didn’t notice my guard. If you’d tried anything, I think you would have found it . . . challenging.”
The elf shrugged. “No point looking to the past.”
“A philosophy I share, I assure you.” He picked up the goblet and rolled it between his hands. Obviously not sure how much to share. “I want to tell you more. I do. But you need to prove yourself first. And I suppose we need to prove something to you, too. Kill these people for us, Nysta. Kill them, and you can join our guild. The rewards are worth it, I promise you. I’ve got plans in motion of my own. And, unlike Noster, I’ve the ability to carry through.”
The elf paused, wine goblet in hand.
Swallowed chewed meat and sucked a breath before speaking. Stabbed fork through one of the last scraps. “Sounds like you think I’m a good listener, feller. But you still haven’t said anything worth hearing.”
“You’re new to Dragonclaw, Nysta. New to the Fnordic Lands. You don’t know where to begin. What to do. You’re a child in this place. Sure, a dangerous one. But still a child. Don’t scowl. It’s not meant as an insult. More an observation. I’m good at those. Observations. I have to be.” He sat back, still rolling the goblet in his hands. “You saw me reading last night. Reports, mostly. Information is power. I believe this. It’s how I know everything there is to know about Damis. And why I know almost as much about you. I know that you were at the Wall. You were seen with a young apprentice mage, Chuksh
ene. He’s not considered very talented, but I have a report which links him to an event in Lifeblight. And then to some murders in Moontide City. Some rather exotic murders. This would help explain some of the more unreliable reports of what happened at the Wall. My reports say you fought at the Doomgate, but not outside it. That you entered Lovespurn while it was under the control of a group of traitors. That you removed the head of their General before bringing it to the feet of Imperial Princess Asa. You then led a charge which saw you take out a Ruleist cleric. A cleric!”
The elf felt uncomfortable for the first time since entering the warehouse.
Hideg’s eyes were wide and glistening as he studied her. The goblet frozen in his grip, which tightened as he finished speaking. Voice trailing off in awe.
“I had help,” she muttered. “Chukshene melted him in half.”
“You also spent half a year in Southlight. Working as a bodyguard. I don’t think you enjoyed that.”
“It was shit,” she allowed, feeling a prickle of irritation. He seemed to know a lot more about her than she did about him. “But it paid. You’ve been busy since last night, feller.”
“I’m always busy. My reports are a little vague after that. I have a reference to the Crossbones. But it’s a little embellished, I think. It says you killed a god.”
“Cut him a few times,” she said. “I doubt he died.”
“Incredible.”
“Are you getting to the point, feller?”
“Do you like the Duke?”
“Ain’t ever met him.”
“But, from what you’ve heard. Is he a good ruler, do you think?”
“People seem to like him.”
“Yes.” Thoughtful. “He has a kind reputation.”
“Sounds like you don’t feel the same?”
“My opinion isn’t important.” A bitter tweak of his lips. “Duke Boreguard is getting old, Nysta. And it’s said old men are usually in a hurry. Well, he’s hurrying. You see, before the God Wars, the Fnordic Lands was divided into kingdoms. Did you know that? No? Well, the Dark Lord decided he no longer wanted to deal with squabbling kings, so he took their crowns. Melted them down to make a single Imperial Crown, which he gave to a man he trusted more than anyone else. You know who that was?”
“I ain’t big on history.”
“His stableboy. And he didn’t just give him an empire. The Dark Lord gave him immortality. Him and his daughter, who you’ve met. What did you think of her?”
“Smart,” the elf said. “Determined.”
“Yes, she’s both of those things. There’s a lot of talk in the taverns. You may have heard some of it. That the Emperor is weak. That he hides in Doom’s Reach while Rule gathers his forces and prepares to destroy us all. There’s even talk of Caspiellan spies. More traitors like those who tried to open the Doomgate.” He paused, watching her chew. “It’s enough to make powerful men get nervous.”
She made a show of picking a few grapes from a bowl. Plucked them free and rolled one between thumb and forefinger before popping it between her teeth.
Tavern talk.
A little history.
A show of strength as he revealed all he knew about her.
“You dance real good, feller,” she said at last. “Going round and round like that. But I ain’t the kind who’s impressed by courtly graces. Tell you one more time. Spit it out, or I’ll waltz on out of here if it’s alright with you.”
The challenge hovered in the air between them. His eyes glazed a little and thin lips hesitated to pull a breath. She could see he almost delivered. Almost peeled a layer back to reveal something of his true intentions.
Then, quicker than a fly, he whipped the cover back across his gaze and squeezed grip tight around goblet. “Trust is a difficult thing,” he said. “For both of us, I think. I want to trust you. But you worked for her once. How can I trust you aren’t working for her still?”
She popped another grape.
Shrugged.
“Fucked if I know. Ain’t really my problem, though. You promised what Asa did. Gold. Far as I’m concerned, you can keep your secrets. I ain’t much interested in joining your group anyway. I work better alone. Happy to take your coin, if you’re still paying. But if you ain’t, then you’re wasting our time.”
“Duke Boreguard wants to be a king,” the young man blurted, putting the goblet down with a heavy grunt. Leaned closer. Intent. Drilling into her eyes in search of a soul she wasn’t sure she possessed. “He wants his throne to mean something. Really mean something. If the Emperor won’t stand against Rule for the people, then the Duke will. He has plans, Nysta. Plans to build the biggest navy which ever sailed. Before he dies, he’ll lead it himself to the heart of Rule’s Four Kingdoms. And bury an axe in the bastard’s chest!”
“That doesn’t sound easy,” she said.
“I know. Which is why the Order of the Iron Day will be beside him all the way.”
“You want to kill him yourself?”
“Imagine! You nearly did it, Nysta. In the Sea of Blood, you said it yourself. You nearly killed a god. Imagine killing the Lord of Light! We could finally be free.”
“And rich,” she said.
He smiled, a pleased smile as his message was absorbed. “And rich.”
“Can he even be killed? He’s a god.”
“He bleeds,” Hideg said. “There must be a way.”
She smiled as her own belief was laid down before her. Nodded. “That’s a big dream, feller. What’s that got to do with Damis? With Noster?”
“The gangs control the streets,” he said. “Sure, we could take everything back from them. Flood the place with soldiers and cut them down if they won’t drop their clubs and knives. We’d coat the streets with blood. And most people would probably cheer us on.”
“But then who’d fight on your ships?”
“Exactly. Right now, they’re learning the basic skills of warfare, though they don’t realise it. They’re learning how to organize. How to structure. How to follow orders. And how to fight. When the time comes, we’ll use that. All the biggest gangs know the score even if they don’t know what’s coming. They know the limits of their power. But the Red Claws are growing too fast. They don’t recognize their place. They think they can worm their way into the Duke’s court and buy the power Noster’s been dreaming of.” His shoulders relaxed and he reached for a jug. Poured more wine for himself. “Change is coming, Nysta. And with change, comes opportunity. I think this is what you were looking for when you came to see me today. A chance to be more than just a street thug scrounging for a few scraps of coin.”
“Why choose me, though? Why tell me all this, when you’ve got a team like those out there? I reckon your tame ork could walk right into the Red Claw volcano on his own. He looks the type who’d enjoy it. Clean them all out in an afternoon.”
“Damis is your test,” he said. “You pass that, and you’ll see why I can’t use Dreadaxe. You’ll see why I need someone unknown.”
“Expendable.”
“Let’s use the word unaffiliated.”
“Sounds like you’re playing a dangerous game, feller.”
“Maybe too dangerous for you?”
Lightly spoken, the words were still clear and sharp.
She knew this was the question she’d been brought to answer. Knew one wrong word and she’d be fighting her way out. The warehouse’s maze had been built to provide no easy way out except the front door. Where the ork and his men were no doubt aiming more blades than she could reasonably defend from.
Of course, they didn’t know her as well as Hideg thought.
Couldn’t know how hard she’d fight.
She’d get past them, she thought. But at what cost? Her hands still ached. Her body was still healing. And Chukshene’s words continued to haunt her. He’d warned there’d be limits to how much she could heal from. How many swords would it take to kill her?
Three?
Five?
And if the ork cut her head from her neck?
The elf weighed her options in one blink of her eyes. “I’ve heard it said that the greater risk brings greater rewards.”
“Kill Damis, Nysta. When you’re done, Dreadaxe will find you again. And I’ll give you a small payment. A taste of the gold you’re seeking. Then you’ll be given your true tasks. And the reward which comes from those will be vast. More than you can imagine. I need you to be my knife in the dark. This city will be great one day. Its King will be forever remembered for ending the tyranny of the Light. In the end, your name will be legend. I swear it.”
The elf finished chewing and looked down at the last few scraps of meat on the plate. He was lying through his teeth, she knew. But his gold? His gold would be good.
If she lived to keep it.
She grinned. Impish. Cruelty plain on her face and hoping there was enough greed trickling through. Because, no matter what he suspected of her motives, his kind understood greed.
They trusted it.
“Reckon it sounds like we’ve got a bright future to look forward to,” she said. Lifted herself to her feet, keeping violet eyes trained on him. “But let’s see if killing Noster’s Damis makes me any kind of prophet.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The big ork didn’t move as she strode from the warehouse’s gloom. Just watched as she passed, red eyes giving nothing away. Body rigid as though his skeleton was built from granite.
She didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
Could feel his suspicion. Frustration. And a need to strike out at her. A need he held in check by the thinnest of threads.
A thread she shared.
Heat prickled down her spine. Dark worms beneath her skin flickered like flies. Blood rushed through her body, energised on adrenaline. She looked over her shoulder.
Flashed a quick grin and dropped a hand to A Flaw in the Glass.
Light fingers brushed the hilt with suggestive ease.
Responding, big green hands crawled into fists. But he refused to take the bait.
Instead hooded red eyes beneath heavy brow. Spoke through clenched teeth. “It ain’t time for that, long-ear. But that time’ll come, no matter what Hideg says.”
