by Ben Hale
His empty room continued to snore.
Chapter 7: Kulldye Dreg
They sailed southwest for four days before Kulldye Dreg appeared on the horizon. Borne’s son spotted it first and called down from the helm. Jack ascended to the prow and leaned on the rail, peering into the distance. The island was the largest in a series of islands, its hills containing a motley assortment of structures. Streets wound their way in a maze of muddy avenues, culminating in dead ends and dilapidated buildings.
They pulled up to one of the docks and Borne lassoed a post. Drawing them in, he lashed them on but Jack didn’t wait. Leaping onto the docks, he strode to the shore and ascended into the city. Inna kept pace with him, fingering the hilt of a blade.
Shops, taverns, and inns lay scattered about, most built from salvaged ships. They passed a tavern named The Deep Sea with a full brawl waging within. A sailor was launched through a window and crashed into the mud. He groaned and did not rise, even when a bottle flew after him and shattered on a post nearby.
A shop across the street contained a live manticore in a cage, the beast prowling the tiny space, eyeing the potential shoppers. A pair of mangled bodies lay outside the cage, deterring others from drawing too close. The surprisingly human features on the lion’s body turned furious as gold exchanged hands, and it snarled at its new owner.
The shop adjacent to it contained an assortment of potions in the window. Jack caught a glimpse of an aged woman brewing concoctions inside a trio of cauldrons. A prominent sign hung from the door.
Fresh Corpse Poisons Available
Fresh Corpses Wanted
The island lacked government or guards, and weapons were in abundance. A band of pirates ambled by drinking from dark bottles. They leered at Inna and called out foul invitations, but her cold look kept most from approaching.
“Don’t be like that,” one pirate said, sidling up to her. “I’ll warm you up.”
Inna drew her dagger and put the tip on his outstretched hand. “I’ve heard a hook looks good on a pirate,” she said. “Care to find out?”
The man withdrew his hand with a sullen grunt. “You should know your place, woman. You’re just a—.”
The crossbow bolt pierced his foot and dug into the street. The man’s eyes bulged and he collapsed, grasping his foot as he shrieked. The other pirates rushed forward but Jack turned his crossbow on them.
“You mistake a shark for a fish,” he said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
The leader of the group, a towering bald man with a sprawling tattoo of a sea dragon on his neck, scowled at Jack. He reached down and yanked the bolt from his companion’s foot, eliciting a renewed shout.
“You’ll pay for this,” the bald man growled.
“I know,” Jack said, unable to keep the glee from his voice.
The men dragged their companion away and Inna turned to Jack.
“He would have departed without a vendetta,” she said, her tone one of disapproval. “Now he’ll come for you.”
“He needs to learn respect,” Jack said. “And the prospect of providing another lesson is appealing.”
“I’ve never met a man who actively courts danger,” she said, shaking her head.
“What would life be without it?” Jack asked. He motioned to a youth working in a stable beside a tavern, cleaning out the stall. “If you liked the mundane, why did you choose your occupation?”
She looked away and did not answer. Jack grinned at her silence and stepped around a man slumped in the street. He wondered if he were dead or just drunk. Then the man released a wild snore and rolled over.
“Where’s your contact?” Jack asked.
Clearly ready for a change in topic, she turned up a hill toward a tavern on the summit. Built of mismatched beams from dozens of ships, the structure sprawled across the slope. As they climbed toward one of the entrances, Inna lowered her tone.
“We’re here for Wart,” she said, “a low-level bandit with a penchant for survival and information.”
“You think he knows about Skorn?”
“The Cult of Skorn used him to spread the word that they were recruiting. I doubt he knows where Skorn is, but Wart will know what he’s doing.”
They reached one of the entrances and stepped inside. Jack wasn’t surprised to see the interior as disorganized as the exterior. The look resembled four taverns that had fallen together into one.
A long bar curved around one side of the room, and a score of sailors sat along it. Instead of wood, the tables and chairs were built of sea stone, likely to prevent damage in a fight. Then he noticed that the table surfaces were not marred by scratches, chips or gouges, suggesting the tavern saw less conflict than he would have expected.
Light orbs hung from ropes stretched taught between beams, flickering as they swayed. Women made their way beneath them and brought steaming food to the packed tables. The scent of grilled fish and lemon wafted across the tavern, making Jack’s mouth water.
“The food is delicious,” Inna said, gesturing to a plate of sea rice and blackened fish. “The cook used to be head of the kitchens in Griffin, until she tried to poison the king.”
The atmosphere of the tavern was quiet and relaxed, with the patrons surprisingly calm for such a place. Jack saw two men arguing in furious tones, their hands twitching toward their sabers. Instead they fell silent and chewed on their meal.
“What binds their natures?” Jack asked.
“The cook,” she said with a smile.
“She’s a fighter?”
Inna shook her head and tilted her head toward the massive woman standing behind the bar. “Brawlers are banned from her food,” she said. “And it’s enough to keep even this crowd in check.”
“Who knew? All it takes to tame wild men is dinner.”
Hearing the comment, a woman nearby frowned. “Don’t mock Hillon,” she said. “You’ll regret it. She’ll sentence you to a month without her food.”
Jack laughed but did not argue, and together they wove their way to the bar. The seats were packed except for two which already had plates in front of them. Jack spotted a pair of burly men striding to them and intercepted their path, taking the seat in front of one.
“You’re in our chairs,” the man growled.
Jack looked at him and raised his chin in invitation. “Care to take them?”
The man growled and raised his fist but his companion caught his arm. “It’s not worth it. Next week she’s serving salmon with mango.”
The first growled at Jack. “When you step outside, you’re dead.”
Jack ignored him and took a bite from his plate—and his eyes widened. Taking another, he savored the flavor before shoveling the fish into his mouth. Spotting his reaction, Hillon waddled her way over and wiped her hands on her apron.
“I can always tell a first timer,” she said with a jowly grin.
“It’s amazing,” he said, his voice muffled through the mountain of food.
She leaned over the bar. “You can pay with a kiss, handsome.”
Without hesitation Jack leaned over the bar and planted one on her lips, eliciting a gasp from Inna. Hillon leaned back, her expression surprised and pleased. She turned and grasped a plate from the counter behind her.
“That deserves dessert.”
Jack laughed. “I thought the kiss was dessert.”
Hillon burst into a hearty laugh and her eyes shifted to Inna, who had begun eating her own meal. “Where did you find him, Inna?”
“You know each other?” Jack asked.
“Hillon has a perfect memory,” Inna said, and took a swig from her mug. “She remembers everyone.”
“Jack,” he said, introducing himself.
Hillon leaned in, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh I already know you. Jack Myst, guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, cheater of death, wooer of women.”
“I think the last one is a bit much,” Inna said.
“You forget I’ve kissed him,” Hillon said
. “And honey, you’re in for a treat.” Then she lowered her voice. “If he wasn’t so handsome, I’d slip poison into his drink.”
Jack grinned, realizing that she knew of the bounty, but was choosing not to attempt a collection. He raised his glass in gratitude and inclined his head. She returned the gesture. Then a shout drew her gaze and she ambled away.
“Enjoy the meal Jack. Stop by if you want more dessert.”
When she was gone Inna released a snort of disgust. “Does every woman love you?”
“Usually,” he said, polishing the plate with the savory sweet bread.
She ate her own meal while scanning the crowd. As she finished she leaned back. “Wart’s here.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Just entered,” she said, “North side.”
Jack swiveled in his seat and glanced about the room. Then he noticed a new patron slipping into a table beside a shabbily dressed woman. His face resembled a rat and his chin sported a wart almost as large as his nose.
“How do you want to approach him?” he asked.
“If he sees me he’ll bolt,” she replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said he was your contact.”
“I may have overstated our relationship,” she said. “The last time I saw him, I broke his arm.”
He chuckled in appreciation. “I didn’t think you capable of such brutality.”
“I am when someone stands between me and my target.”
Jack realized he’d underestimated the redhead. She may have been young and inexperienced, but she was committed. She wanted to kill Gallow and would not let anything stop her, even a thief guildmaster.
“I’ll bring him out the side door,” he said, “Meet me in the alley.”
“He might look harmless,” she said, “but he’s devious. He’s killed more than one that thought he was weak.”
Jack shrugged and stepped away from the bar. “I’m not a fool,” he said.
Weaving his way through the crowded tables, Jack took an indirect approach toward Wart. The man saw him coming and his eyes narrowed. Unconcerned, Jack reached his table and grabbed an empty chair.
“Wart,” he said.
“Jack Myst,” he said with a sneer. “You’re a long way from your guild.”
Jack wasn’t surprised that Wart recognized him. “I need information.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” the woman asked, and flashed a black-toothed smile.
“I want to know about Skorn.”
Wart twitched, his hand shifting to a conspicuous knife-shape beneath his sleeve. “Word is he ascended from hell to lead his cult personally.”
“What’s he planning?” Jack asked.
Wart’s gaze turned calculating. “How would this crowd react to learning about your bounty?”
Jack grinned. “If someone kills me, you don’t get paid.”
“What if I kill you?” the woman asked, a knife appearing in her hand.
Jack burst into a laugh and leaned in to her. “Is your life so empty that you would throw it away?”
She scowled when she noticed Jack’s knife against her knee. “What do you know?” Jack asked, shifting back to Wart.
Wart’s expression had hardened, his eyes returning to Jack. “If you’re a friend of Inna, you’re no friend of mine.”
He rose to his feet and stepped toward the door. Jack made to follow him but the door smashed open. The bald man from earlier in the day appeared, with his crew filing in behind him, swords in hand. The anticipation on his features caused the patrons around him to retreat. He pointed his blade at Jack.
“Now is when you pay, thief.”
“Pyron,” Hillon barked. “You’re not welcome here. You still have two years on your sentence.”
“With what I’m about to earn,” he said. “I’ll be able to buy this place and the entire Dreg.”
Hillon folded her arms. “And your men are as willing to earn a ban?”
Pyron’s crew shifted their feet and refused to meet her gaze. Realizing they would not be dissuaded, Jack turned to Hillon.
“If I don’t break anything, do I still get to eat?”
A smile spread on her face. “Of course.”
Jack grinned and flicked his wrist, sending his crossbow into his hand. Then he gestured to Pyron.
“Ladies first.”
Chapter 8: Pyron’s Folly
Pyron charged through the tables but Jack was faster. He drew his dagger and whipped it up, blocking the pirate’s slash. Reaching past the blade with his free hand, he caught Pyron’s wrist and heaved. Thrown off balance, the man hurtled into the pirates behind him, knocking them to the floor.
A sword streaked for Jack’s skull but he leaned to the side. The blow smashed into the table, narrowly missing a glass. Jack reached up and caught his neck, slamming him into the table and leaving him to slump to the floor.
Jack weaved through the swarming pirates, deflecting the swords in a ring of steel. One man lunged, his sword sliding past Jack’s stomach as he spun up the blade. Then he wrapped his hand around the man’s throat and placed a leg behind him. With a deft twist he shoved him between a pair of tables and smashed him to the floor. Rolling with the motion, he came up on the other side of a table and sliced his blade across a man’s knee. The pirate cried out as he fell, and gave Jack the space to leap onto a table.
Conscious of the plates and mugs, Jack danced among them, parrying the swords reaching for his legs. He fired his crossbow and slashed his dagger in a whirlwind of destruction that managed to avoid the tavern’s glassware. The pirates were not so careful and blundered about, struggling to get a hand on Jack.
Another pirate leapt onto a table in his path. His curved sword twirled and slashed, forcing Jack to come to a halt. The other pirates converged upon him, shouting in triumph. Jack aimed his crossbow at the ceiling and sent a darkbolt into the wood. The bolt pulsed once, dimming every light orb in the tavern. In the ensuing shouts Jack cast his shadowhook and leapt into the darkness above.
“You can’t hide from me!” Pyron shouted, branding his sword as he searched.
“Who said I’m hiding?”
Jack’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, echoing and re-echoing about the tavern. The pirates spread out and the other patrons gave way, retreating to the walls. The clink of gold exchanged hands as they began to wager. Abruptly a pirate cried out as he was yanked from view, his scream shattering the stillness.
The other pirates shouted and converged on the spot but the man dropped into their midst hanging from a rope tied to his feet. His unconscious form dangled like a dead fish and the rest of the crew retreated in fear. Before they could react, another pirate was lifted into the shadows, and another scream came before he too dropped, this time hanging by his arm.
“Swords up,” Pyron barked. “Don’t let him escape.”
The nervous pirates swung their weapons above their heads, and one failed to notice the rope that caught his ankle. He shrieked as he was dragged away, his sword tumbling from his grip as he too was strung up.
“Thirty pirates go out to dinner,” Jack’s voice echoed again, “But none can say why their ranks get thinner.”
In the same instant two pirates disappeared from view—on opposite sides of the room. Their screams were cut off, leaving a tense silence. The pirates banded together in knots, hacking at shadows and shouting. Then another voice overpowered them.
“Two gold on the thief!” Hillon called.
Shouts erupted as other bets were placed, the amounts escalating quickly. Another pirate disappeared, and then another. Their bodies joined those already hanging from the ceiling. Terror seeped into the pirates as Jack picked them off one by one.
When he’d whittled them down to ten, Jack took a break. He leaned against the ceiling beam and munched on a piece of bread he’d swiped in the confusion. Pirates screamed and raced about, their panic rising as they pushed through the hanging bodies.
“Fifty
gold to the one who guts the thief,” Pyron cried.
The betting came to an abrupt halt. Fifty gold was a fortune, especially on Kulldye Dreg, and sailors glanced about, measuring each other. Then one stood up, and another. Within seconds a dozen men and women had joined his crew.
“Where is he?” one hissed.
“Someone activate the orbs!”
“He’s a devil.”
Jack dribbled crumbs on the head of a man, relishing the renewed panic as the man blindly swung his sword, nearly beheading his companion. Then Jack spotted Wart attempting to slip out a door. Jack casually aimed his crossbow at the sneak and sent a bolt at his back. It struck and exploded into ropes. Wart squeaked in surprise and crashed into the floor, grunting from the impact.
“I still need answers,” Jack called, the enchantment of his gauntlet casting his voice off the walls.
Some of the pirates began lighting torches, the firelight dancing between the hanging bodies to cast a sinister air upon the tavern. A burly figure threw the torch upward, briefly illuminating Jack’s form. A pair of pirates swung about and fired crossbows, the bolts swallowed by the darkness.
“Did we get him?”
“Is he dead?”
Jack’s laugh echoed again. Long and mocking, it caused the men to race about, struggling to gather light orbs and throw them into the ceiling. Several succeeded and launched the glowing spheres into the rafters, but the spots of light were drawn into the darkbolt and the empty glass shattered on the floor.
“Fight like a man!” Pyron roared. “Or are you a coward?”
Jack hooked another pirate with his shadowhook and yanked him up. He punched the struggling form in the jaw and then wrapped a rope around his ankle. Then he dropped him in the midst of a trio of pirates. They shrieked and scattered as the body slammed into them.
