The Men of Anderas III: Talon, the Assassin

by C. J. Johnson

  Talon grinned and it felt stiff, like those muscles hadn’t been used in a long time. “You’re gonna be just fine, Maggie. Keep the coin,” he pushed the silver piece across the bar in her direction. “Call it a wedding gift.”

  “Yur a good man, Talon, I don’t care what nobody else sez. Now get on outta here so I can get back to selling this place out.”

  Talon headed to the next stop on his nightly trek. One small bar closing wouldn’t make any difference to the thousands of patrons in the area. By his last count there were more than a hundred businesses offering the same goods and services. This new owner could be a problem. You push enough people hard enough they tend to push back. It wasn’t his problem. He needed to get drunk and he still had to find his woman. Your woman? Don’t get stupid. You gave up any right to a woman twenty years ago. Find her. Fuck her till she flashes every color in the rainbow. Forget her.

  Two hours and fifteen bars later, he walked into one of the few wooden buildings in all of Cypriana. His blue woman sat at a table with her back in what he knew was a corner. Ignoring her for the moment, he leaned against the bar and ordered a bottle and two glasses. In the early days of his blindness he broke a lot of glassware until he learned to watch the hands that put the glasses in front of him. He could see where they were and now spent practically nothing on breakage.

  With the bottle in one hand and glasses in the other, Talon made his way through the crowded room. Since furniture didn’t give off a heat signal, he deliberately chose a path between the gaming tables. Players filled every chair at every table. It was just another lesson learned the hard way. Without asking permission, he sat and poured two drinks, pushing one across the table.

  “A blind bartender. Neat trick.” She pushed the glass back across the table. “I buy my own drinks.”

  “Anyone ever call you a bitch?” Talon pushed the drink back at her.

  “Usually the poorly educated call me a fuckin’ bitch.” Again the glass returned.

  “And the smart ones?” Glass returned to her.

  “Know enough to leave me the hell alone or risk losing their precious cocks or balls or both.” Glass returned.

  “You’ve got a serious potty mouth, darlin’.” Glass sent to her.

  “So I’ve been told—in several languages.” Glass back.

  “Who the hell are you?” Talon demanded, losing patience for this verbal battle of wills. “It’s not normal for your heat image to never change color. You’re not normal. Are you some kind of cyborg?”

  “I’m the fuckin’ normal cunt,” she stated calmly, “who squats when I piss; my shit can gag a maggot; and my brain functions in my head not my pussy. My perfectly normal heat image doesn’t change because you aren’t worth the energy it would take to raise a pimple on my ass much less my body temperature.” She grabbed the glass and slugged the drink down her throat before dropping a coin on the table to pay for it. Without another word she walked through the door and disappeared into the darkness.

  Talon sat in stunned silence for several heartbeats before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Blissfully unaware of the astonished glances from the other patrons, he allowed himself the unbridled release of true hilarity. Gods! How long had it been since he had any reason to laugh? Now, in the space of two days he’d roared with laughter! What the hell kind of magic did that woman use on him?

  That foul-mouthed, trash-talking woman just delivered a public humiliation without raising her voice and I find it funny! The one and only time I got drunk enough to call some whore a ‘cunt’ she damn near killed me. To hear her call herself that—priceless.

  He learned a long time ago that it was wasted energy wishing for events in his life to be different. Yet, tonight—at this table—he wished he still had his sight. What he wouldn’t give just to see her face. Shit, she probably has a face like a horse. Grabbing his bottle, he headed for the cool air blowing through the open door. At least she should be easy to spot. His own personal beacon.

  * * * *

  Shadow smiled remembering the look on Talon’s face when she left. Yep. He was falling right into line. She slowed her pace to make sure he could follow. Like a big fish, she had to reel him in just a little before allowing him to run. The hook wasn’t set yet. She had to make him absolutely crazy with frustration. After his little power game tonight that might not take as long as she first thought. She’d give it another couple of days. That would give her time to make the final arrangements for the next step in saving Talon, the Assassin.

  In the meantime, it was time to tug on that line. Shadow picked the next bar and pushed through the canvas flap. A cloud of blue-grey smoke filled the unventilated space. The smoke burned her nose and after a glance at the dozens of sweat-stained armpits she was grateful and breathed the smoky air even deeper. She pushed her way to a game table with a couple of empty chairs and ordered a cold ale, which amused the server. Guess cold is out of the question in here.

  She picked up her first round of cards, her room-temperature ale arrived, and Talon walked through the door all within seconds of each other. Right on time.

  “Mind if I join the game?” Talon asked, taking the empty chair without waiting for an answer.

  “You gonna start tellin’ folks what we’re gonna do afore we do it?” Asked the man to his right.

  “That is how I make my living, but not this time. Just deal me into your game.”

  “Are you crazy? A blind man can’t see to play cards, but if you got money to throw away, me an’ Jack can use it.” The man on his left guffawed.

  “The lady may want my money more than you two fine gentlemen.” Talon smiled in the woman’s direction. “The decision seems to be yours, Miss…?”

  “I don’t give a shit who plays as long as we get on with the game. This ain’t a tea party so put away the fancy talk and ante up or get up.”

  Talon’s lips twitched but he fought a grin and tossed a coin into the center of the table. When you lose your sight the other senses try to take up the slack. They become more. His sense of touch was uncanny. His fingers could detect the miniscule rise of the ink on the paper. His reason for not gambling at cards wasn’t because he couldn’t see the cards. In any game you had to watch the other players more than the cards. He could see a hand reach toward the center of the table but he couldn’t tell if that hand deposited a coin or stole one. This was the first time there was someone at the table who he felt would make sure the pot stayed honest. It was a strange thing to feel about a stranger but he learned a long time ago to trust his instincts.

  His hand wasn’t good but he could work with it. He had to be careful not to win so often that the others demanded he be blindfolded. If there was the slightest chance that Blue flickered he had to see it.

  The game progressed slowly. Both men tended to over think their wagers. As a result, they lost almost every hand. He’d thrown away winning hands hoping their luck would change. He was finally feeling his buzz but by the looks of the muddy red flashes shooting like fireworks around their heads, someone was about to start a fight. If he’d won any more coins the fight would have already happened. They wouldn’t accuse Blue of cheating even though she owned practically every coin on the table. Hell, he could smell gun oil and knew she was armed.

  “Sombitch has gotta be able to see. These cards are right outta the box an’ slick as snot on a doorknob.” The guy on the right threw his cards on the table.

  “I think yur right, Jack. These two must be passin’ some kinda code back an’ forth.” He pointed his finger at Talon and a small caliber pistol popped into his hand.

  “You’ll be dead before the bullet hits his head.”

  Talon cursed his lack of sight. He could see a hand pointed at him and Blue pointing at the man pointing at him. Bullet? There was a series of scraping chairs and curses all around them. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Lower the pistol and my blade won’t remove your head.” Her voice was soft but every bit as
deadly as the situation.

  “Jack! Do something! The bitch is trying to kill me! Shoot her!”

  “Can’t. She’s got my own gun pointed at my jones. Do what she sez.”

  “You need to leave—now. If I see you anywhere near me, we’ll finish this.”

  “Where you gonna be?” Jack asked when she lowered the pistol against his crotch.

  “Wherever I feel like being?”

  “There ain’t nothin’ in this shit hole of a town worth dyin’ over. Let’s go, Jack. I’m ‘bout ready to head for home.”

  When the two men walked away Talon released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Shit! You burned through the buzz again! At least he didn’t have another headache. Why the hell was he worrying about a headache when he came too close to being shot? He looked across the table and heard the blade slide into a sheath.

  “I owe you my life, Blue. Thank you. I thought he was only going to punch me in the nose.”

  “Shadow.”

  “What? I don’t see shadows.”

  “Shadow is my name, ass wipe.”

  “Nice to meet you, Shadow. Let me buy you a drink to celebrate my escape from death.” Talon grinned and it felt easier this time. He could get used to this.

  “No thanks. I told you, I buy my own drinks. See you around, Talon, the Assassin.”

  Talon couldn’t believe she just walked away—again! Between one heartbeat and the next, his brain registered that Shadow knew about his past. He jumped up to follow her but his brush with death created a minor panic in those around their table and the furniture wasn’t where it should have been. He tripped over a chair and took out several tables before ending up on the floor among the scattered cards, coins, and broken glassware. Looks like he was back to paying for breakage. By the time he soothed the players, bought a round for the house, and settled with the owner for the damage, he was down to one silver coin again.

  With a long string of muttered curses, he headed out to earn money the only way he could. He knew there would be no trace of Shadow and didn’t bother looking for one. At least he had a name. Shadow. Hellava thing to stick a girl with.

  Chapter Three

  For two days Shadow played the same game with Talon. He would ‘find’ her in a different bar and at various times of the night. She, in turn, would ignore him and his attempts to talk to her. His reaction went from confusion to suspicion to frustrated anger. Time to spring her trap.

  Choosing a sleazy bar, barely more than a hovel, she carefully laid her trap. Talon would be as drunk as the other patrons here by the time he reached this location. No one would remember him now or miss him tomorrow. The small tent had a line of wooden crates for a bar and three tables. One lantern hanging from the center support provided the only light. The glass globe was covered with untold years of smoke build-up and blocked more light than it released. This dreary tent was for hard drinkers only. No sober person would dare enter and it was always Talon’s last stop of the night. It was where he bought the bottle he took home with him.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Talon stumbled in and shoved his way to the bar, bellowing for a full bottle. He spotted her as soon as he turned to leave. With a sloppy salute in her general direction, he stumbled out.

  Shadow allowed him a few minutes head start before she followed him. She’d never seen him as drunk as he was tonight. If he continued with this lifestyle, he’d be dead in a few years. It was astounding that he’d survived as long as he had. His grunts and mumbles gradually slowed along with his progress. He was determined to make it to his hovel and Shadow had to give him credit for trying. When he stopped to relieve himself against the side of the building, he was within sight of his door. He slid to the ground unconscious still pissing all over himself.

  In less than an hour, she retrieved her horses and supplies, rummaged through his meager belongings for any clothes or personal items he might have and was ready to execute the next phase of her plan. She had just one problem—how to get his dead weight onto a horse. He was several inches taller than she was but didn’t outweigh her by much. Tying a rope around his chest, she managed to haul him to a semi-standing position beside her extra horse. Too bad he was on the opposite side from where she stood. Risking serious injury to herself she crawled beneath the horse, keeping the rope taut. Shadow grabbed Talon around one leg and lifted him across the saddle.

  “Fuck! You stink!” She yelled while tying him to the saddle. “I’m not touchin’ that useless dick you left hangin’ out! Rubbin’ against that saddle is gonna hurt like a bitch, but I don’t give a shit. Damn useless pile of farktel dung.”

  After securing Talon’s horse to the packhorse, Shadow led them out of town and into the farm country on the north road. It would take most of what remained of the night to reach the heavy forest. An abandoned cabin several miles off the main road was waiting for their arrival. She needed a quiet place for Talon to sober up. It was going to be a long and difficult few days.

  Shadow enjoyed the peace of the farm country. Stars filled the night sky with millions of twinkling points. Occasionally, the scurry of a night forager would let her know she wasn’t alone. Creaking leather, plodding horses, and Talon’s ungodly snores were the only disruptions to a perfect night.

  Tonight was the easiest part of her big plan. The next step would test the limits of her patience and Talon’s temper. She couldn’t make him stop drinking. He had to do that on his own. Did she have a strong enough reason for him to try? Dak and Kierin thought so and they knew him better than anyone. Running through each step of what was to come and mentally ticking off every item kept her from dwelling on all the things that could go wrong.

  The sun broke through the treetops before Shadow pulled up beside the old cabin. The horses would have to wait until she got Talon inside and contained. If he woke up everything would be over before it even started. By the time she hauled him into the room, stripped the clothes from his body, and snapped a manacle around his ankle, she was ready to drop. Anything else would have to wait until she tended the animals and took a short nap.

  * * * *

  “Damn,” Talon mumbled, “some sombitch stole my pants.” He was bare-assed naked, covered with something short and scratchy. The bed didn’t feel right and the fire burning across the room was just wrong. He didn’t have a fire pit. Where the hell was he? His pounding head was screaming for a drink but his bottle wasn’t under the pillow. There wasn’t a pillow. He’d never gotten so drunk that he couldn’t make it home.

  “S’all Blue’s fault.” Wrapping the pitifully small scrap of blanket around his naked body, he headed for what he hoped was an open door.

  Something grabbed his foot, sending him sprawling. It happened so fast he didn’t have time to break his fall. Knees, chest, and chin all hit the hard-packed dirt floor. Rolling to his back, he struggled to draw air into his lungs. When he was relatively sure he wasn’t dead, he sat up.

  “What the fuck?” He mumbled, spitting blood from his busted lip into the dirt. He should be used to falling. Blind men fell all the time—especially when they refused to use a cane or ask for assistance. But this wasn’t a normal trip-stumble-and-fall. He was deliberately tripped! Sweeping his hands across the floor, he searched for the culprit. It didn’t take long for him to locate the chain and trace its length to his ankle.

  “What the…? Is this some sick joke?” He bellowed into the empty room. “Show yourself, you piece of shit coward!”

  Talon yanked on the chain and when it didn’t budge, he followed it to the corner where it was firmly bolted into a rock in the floor. “Hey!” He yelled. “Anyone out there?”

  There were a whole lot of people he’d pissed off over the years but he couldn’t think of a single one who hated him enough to do this. Was he left to die?

  “Somebody! Anybody!”

  “Damn, you are one loud bastard. Give it a rest and I’ll think about feeding you.” Talon jerked in the direction of the woman’s voice. She
wouldn’t! She did! Blue!

  “Release me!” He demanded.

  “Nope. We’ve got some things to discuss and I need you sober to do it. You hungry?”

  Talon watched the familiar blue form move about the room. He couldn’t remember ever being this angry. Where did she get off kidnapping him? She had nothing to say that he wanted to hear!

  “Blow it out your ass, Blue! Or better yet, come a little closer and I’ll show you what happens when you mess with an assassin.” He’d break her neck if he could get his hands on her.

  “The bed is about three feet to your left. Get off the floor and I’ll bring your breakfast or I guess it would be lunch as late as it is.”

  Her laughter had him gritting his teeth. He had no choice but to follow her orders—for now. Sooner or later he’d get free and then there would be hell to pay.

  “I don’t want food. I want a drink. I need a drink.” He managed to get up, find the cot, and sit down all without flashing his man parts. Not that it much mattered. She obviously saw everything he had to offer when she stripped him.

  “No alcohol. No ale. Nothing remotely hinting of fermentation. You’re going cold sober…the hard, fast way.” She handed him a plate. “I figure the next few days are going to get hairy and I’ll do what I can to make it easier on you.”

  His mouth watered at the smell of the roasted meat but he tossed the plate in her direction. “I. DON’T. WANT. FOOD!” He yelled and enunciated each word slowly in case she misunderstood. “GET ME A BOTTLE!”

  “Your choice. When your stomach starts chewing on your backbone you can think about how good this smells and how succulent the meat is when it falls from the bone.” Her voice dripped pure seduction.

  “Bitch.” He snorted.

  “Bastard.”

  “Cunt.”

  “Cock-sucker.”

  “You’ve got a filthy mouth.”

  “You’re a dirty, vermin-infested drunk with a mouth just as filthy as mine.”