Those Brave, Foolish Souls from the City of Swords: A standalone Yarnsworld novel

by Benedict Patrick

  The sound of bells came from behind him, to the west. The lord’s constables, probably making their way reluctantly through the city. Arturo imagined them moving as slowly as possible, hoping the Bravadori would settle their disputes and dissipate before the constables had to intervene.

  A voice by his side made Arturo start. “Don’t want to be caught by the law, I imagine.” It was the Bride, standing next to him, her hair now tidied back under her wimple. “Better get going if we’re to catch the fighting.”

  He stared back at her, surprised. “I… I didn’t think the Queen’s Brides would encourage this sort of behaviour. Aren’t you going to ask me to pray for my soul instead?”

  The young Bride cocked an eyebrow at him. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in months. Came out from under there to stop you from getting gutted for running down the wrong side alley, but if you want a fucking prayer, I’ll go back to hiding, thank you very much. The cathedral’s right over there - sure some of the more dried-up Sisters can sort you out.”

  “You’re not like any Bride I’ve ever met,” he said, trying out his cheeky grin again.

  “Well, you need to get out more then, don’t you,” the girl replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on, the badges are almost here.”

  Hoping to outpace the lawmen, Arturo and the Bride ran out of the plaza and into the streets.

  To an untrained outsider, the winding pathways of Espadapan were maze-like. The streets were narrow, and the buildings that lined them were tall, not allowing Arturo to pick out any possible landmarks such as the cathedral or the palace. However, the architecture of the buildings, the finely carved stonework and the bright frescos painted across the walls, screamed to Arturo that he was indeed in Barrio Palacio, the most affluent part of Espadapan.

  Mice territory, he thought. They must be retreating. The Paws have them on the run.

  As he dashed through the cobbled streets, easing himself around corners to avoid being spotted by anyone who might be lying in wait behind them, he thought back to the lone Mouse who had been holding off the attackers in the plaza, hoping she had survived.

  Rounding another corner, the sights turned from sandstone yellow to lush green. Despite never having been here before, Arturo instantly recognised Alfrond’s Park, the only stretch of parkland within the city walls. Indeed, the greenery of the park, well cultivated from the dry soils of Espadapan by the nearby palace gardeners, was an unusual sight to any who lived in the dry Wildlands.

  Arturo stopped for a moment to catch his bearings, and caught the sound of battle, now further in the distance.

  “They often end up here,” the Bride added, catching her breath. “Less chance of bystanders interfering.”

  His heart pounding, blood racing with an equal mix of excitement and fear, Arturo peeled through the park undergrowth, the Bride close behind, until he could view the fighting.

  More Mice had clearly run to their companion’s aid, but other Paws had joined the throng as well. They had all gathered in a clearing in the greenery, a part of the park that had been paved at one point, but was now overgrown and forgotten. The half dozen Mice had chosen to stop here and hold their ground, yelling curses at the Paws that now badgered them. Arturo raised an eyebrow when he saw the Lion’s Paws were now outnumbered, by one only. He smiled - he liked to see the tables turned, and he was particularly pleased to see the Paw who had been laughing in the plaza now had a streak of red down the side of his face.

  Great Mouse be praised, for balancing the books.

  It was evident to Arturo as he watched the fighters gathered in front of him that all were potent Knacks. He even fancied that as they circled each other and tested each other’s defences, there were sparks of amber every so often which suggested some of those Knacks were flaring up, a surge of magic that allowed the fighters to perform feats of such skill that they were almost guaranteed victory.

  Arturo realised he was grinning, getting to watch fighters like this in action. He tried to relax, tried to focus his own Knack, tried to read the patterns in the chaotic movement before him. This was how he had gained his own Knack in the first place, without any formal training. By watching others, by finding and remembering the patterns of their movements.

  “What are they doing? Why aren’t they swinging at each other?” the Bride whispered beside him, too loud for Arturo’s comfort.

  It was true that the Bravadori were not taking random swipes with their weapons. They each picked out an opponent, locked eyes on their opposite and drew their long blades. The rapiers were held out in front of them, pointing straight at their enemies, some holding a fighting dagger or small buckler in their off-hand. There were a few cautious thrusts made, but most of the pairs were moving slowly with each other, as if dancing, eyes locked on their opponent.

  “This isn’t a street play, this is proper sword fighting. You only need one good thrust to win. They’re trying to find that one good thrust.”

  Arturo, guided by his Knack, could see the patterns in the movements of the fighters, could tell the intent behind each small shift in their stances. The Bravadori were sizing each other up, trying to read their opponents, looking for the weakness that would allow them to take their enemy down. He could see how a slight bend in the knee might indicate the fighter was readying themselves to thrust forward, or a turn of the head that suggested a lack of confidence. Every so often, one of the fighters would slap the other’s blade or hurl insults at their foe, but Arturo knew these were all motions encouraging the enemy to act, to goad them into creating an opening for the kill.

  The Whispering Mice and the Lion’s Paws. To join either of them would be so much more than I’d dreamed. What could I do now, to impress them? How can I choose which stable to root for?

  The tense circling below erupted as one of the Bravadori made a reckless lunge and got caught by her enemy’s blades. The fallen woman was a Mouse, and the Paws roared and pushed forward at the first blood, forcing themselves into more active combat, doing their best to take advantage of the loss of enemy morale.

  Arturo clutched his own sword, hand trembling. Now was the time, it was now he would make himself known to the stables of the city. He would impress them.

  Just get up, Alfrond damn you. Pick a side, get out there and show them your worth. Arturo blinked, willing away an unbidden thought of his older brother smiling mockingly at him.

  Cries erupted from the clearing as men and woman began to fall, taking blades to the shoulders or legs. One of the Paws had her sword knocked clean out of her hands - Arturo winced at this, knowing the disgrace it would cause the combatant if she survived - and the victor of the combat kicked her fallen opponent across the face with the sole of her leather boot.

  “Nice one,” the Bride beside him hissed, clutching at her small knife with white fingers. “That’s the Bravadori way. Kick ‘em when they’re down.”

  Arturo said nothing, but frowned at the spectacle before him. This small selection of people was indeed the most impressive collection of fighting Knacks Arturo had ever had the joy of watching in action, but he could not help but agree with his companion. The other Bravadori were swearing and spitting at each other, poking fun at their opponents and taking joy in their failures. Certainly not the behaviour Arturo expected from the shining protectors of civilisation he had been obsessing about since he was old enough to sneak out to hear the ranchers’ campfire stories.

  “Who’s winning?” the Sister asked.

  “Not sure, too chaotic. I reckon the Mice, if nobody turns up soon to help the others out.” It could be me who helps them turn the tide.

  As if they heard his words, cries erupted from the dark park lane behind Arturo and the Bride. She swore, grabbed Arturo’s shoulder, and roughly pulled him into the undergrowth.

  Arturo was about to curse the Bride, but the words died on his lips as a dozen new fighters - all Whispering Mice - thundered into the clearing to join the melee. Both Arturo and the Bride lay rigid as the
newcomers ran past, relaxing at the same time when they realised they had avoided discovery. Arturo did his best to ignore the Bride’s closeness now, and pulled himself upright to get a good look at what was happening, a coldness in his gut telling him he was watching opportunity slip away.

  The Paws, now hopelessly outnumbered, were backing away from the Mice, gathering their wounded, shuffling slowly, swords raised, doing what they could to discourage any further advances. The look on their faces was pure panic. Arturo was pleased to see the one he had disliked from the plaza was wide-eyed with fear. The Whispering Mice started to heckle the Paws, calling them cowards, jeering at them as they skulked back towards the safety of the undergrowth.

  Then, the Paws stopped. A noise from behind the Paws’ line quieted the entire clearing, including the jeering Mice. The Paws continued to hold their blades upright, but kept glancing behind themselves as well. One or two of them began to smile, and the one Arturo disliked gave a whoop of success.

  Beside him, Arturo felt the Bride stiffen.

  “Shit. He’s here.”

  “What?” Arturo asked. A glance at the clearing showed him the Whispering Mice, moments ago sure of their success, beginning to inch away from the enemy that they outnumbered almost two to one. “Who’s coming?”

  The Queen’s Bride pulled on his jacket, moving away from the clearing, urging Arturo to follow her. “Alfrond’s emptied ball sack, they’re fucked now. We’d better get out of here before we get fucked too.”

  Bewildered, Arturo hesitated for just a moment, giving one final glance back towards the confrontation.

  But, this is my moment, the start of my legend. That must be why I’m here, to make a difference in this fight.

  He saw the wall of Paws part, and three new swordsmen entered the clearing. He could tell from the body language of all involved that it was the middle man who had inspired this change of atmosphere. He was a big man, larger in gut and height than most Bravadori Arturo had seen so far, but what caught Arturo’s attention straight away was the man’s mask, a bandana covering his entire head, repeating hypnotic black and white rings resonating from his eyes. The man’s eyes themselves were wide, wild, and manic.

  The newcomer put his hands on his hips and laughed a mad laugh, giving Arturo the sensation of helplessness in the face of a cattle stampede. At least one of the Mice dropped their weapons at the sound of it.

  Arturo’s eyes widened as he recognised the masked man.

  “But… he’s real?” He turned to question the Bride, but realised she had already gone. Arturo took one last look at the laughing man, a legend come to life, then chose to follow the Bride’s advice and ran.

  The Lion’s Paw shat himself as he died on the end of Yizel’s blade.

  She stared dumbly at the dead man. Her face gave nothing away, but inside she was growing cold. She was realising how much this mistake was going to cost her.

  “Plough your mother!” The cry came from Creeping Scorpion, one of the Mice who had hired her. “What in Alfrond’s name did you do that for?”

  He was stupid, she should have told the Mouse. She should explain that the dead man had left a clear opening for her, but then dived right into her thrust. It would have only been a glancing wound if he had had any sense in him.

  Instead, Yizel turned to the Mouse and shrugged.

  “Plough your mother, for all it would make my cock bleed,” Creeping Scorpion said. He turned, and called to the others nearby. “Look at this. The Shaven’s just gone and killed one of them.”

  The other fighters, two Paws and one Mouse, backed away from their own duels and stared at the corpse.

  Yizel eyeballed them back, showing no emotion. She withdrew her blade from the man’s chest and allowed him to fall to the dirt.

  Take my side, for once. Back me up. These things happen in a fight.

  Even though they were from the enemy stable, Creeping Scorpion walked towards the Lion’s Paws, face anxious. “You saw it was her, right? Not one of us?”

  A grim-faced Paw nodded, not taking her eyes from the dead man on the ground. “Yep. But she’s under your pay, right? Good as a Mouse’s blade to me, then.”

  With that, the Paws withdrew from the street, and the Mice did not pursue. Yizel paid them little attention, instead focussing on her employers, trying to judge how the remaining Mice were going to play things.

  I should have known things would get messy. Shouldn’t be taking part in a Bravadori fight, not even for coin.

  Creeping Scorpion walked up to Yizel and spat in her face.

  Deep, deep within her, a snarl tried to force its way up Yizel’s throat. With practised focus, she held it locked tight, instead keeping her features blank as she wiped the saliva from her eye.

  “The Paw’s right, we should have known,” the other Mouse said. “You can’t run into a watering hole, throw a fistful of coins at a Shaven, and expect things to go well.”

  No, Yizel thought. Things don’t go well for the Shaven.

  A patter of feet heralded the arrival of two more Mice, running frantically down the otherwise empty street.

  “They’re heading for the marketplace. Sinister Crow wants us all to meet there, take them by surprise.” Their eyes fell on the dead Paw at the ground, and they turned white.

  “Wasn’t us. It was the Shaven.”

  The messengers looked at Yizel, and their eyes grew even wider upon recognising her.

  “You hired her? Do you even know who she is?”

  For a brief second, Yizel’s face betrayed her emotions - her mouth opened in dismay as a background face from her past picked her out, even after all these years.

  Should never have accepted coin from a Mouse. Sleeping rough would have been the smarter choice.

  Creeping Scorpion shrugged. “What’s to know? She’s a sword for hire, isn’t she?”

  The messenger shook her head. “Sinister Crow’s not going to be happy. Don’t have time for this, now. Leave the body, we’re heading for the plaza.”

  All four of the Whispering Mice turned and began to run. Creeping Scorpion spun on his heel, glared at Yizel, and motioned with his hand for her to follow.

  Despite her discomfort at being recognised after all this time, Yizel obeyed, following the lure of coin.

  The winding streets of Barrio Mercado were perfect for ambushes, as Yizel and her employers had proved only moments ago when hunting the Paws. However, now the tight confines of the trading district were a threat to them, offering the possibility of attackers around every corner, from every darkened snickleway that made up the network of smaller alleys that criss-crossed the buildings of the barrio.

  Thankfully, they met no opposition, and the mouth of the road flooded into the Queen’s Plaza, which was empty of people. The Mice in front of Yizel cursed and spread out, searching the marketplace for a hint of where the fight had moved to.

  “Find someone hiding, ask them what they saw,” Creeping Scorpion barked at Yizel.

  She looked for the nearest stall that had the possibility of providing shelter, tossed it over, and found two small children hiding underneath.

  Yizel looked at the terror in their faces, and hesitated, instead looking to where Creeping Scorpion was turning over tables only a few feet away. He saw the children in front of Yizel and give her a look of exasperation.

  “Well? Question them.”

  The pair appeared to be siblings, an older brother, and a younger girl. They possibly had a bit of Wild in their blood, judging by their black hair, although their pale skin marked them as more Muridae than anything else.

  “Where did the Bravadori go?” Yizel asked, face emotionless.

  Neither child answered, the sister instead sheltering in her brother’s arms. The boy stared at Yizel, his eyes darting to her bald head.

  She picked him up by the scruff of his shirt and slapped him twice around the face.

  “Where did they go?”

  The boy started to cry, but said nothing
else, so she dropped him, and turned again to look at Creeping Scorpion.

  He was staring back at her, aghast. “Shepherdess take you, haven’t you ever spoken to a child before?”

  How she would have loved to draw her knife from her boot and gut him like the trout he was imitating. Instead, she just looked at him. She didn’t dare risk offending if she wanted fed tonight.

  The Bravador threw his hands up in disgust. “Just, just find someone else, okay? Don’t hit any more children.” Instead of going back to overthrowing stalls, he began shouting at some of the other Mice, berating them for losing sight of the main fight.

  Movement a few stalls down caught Yizel’s eye. A barrel inside a fishmonger’s tent was shuddering. Despite the promise of coin, she was beginning to lose patience with this job, and her honour could hardly fall lower than its current value - she would survive the effect that abandoning her employers would have on her credibility.

  If this is another child, I’m done. I’m not getting shouted at for bullying another infant.

  Yizel kicked the barrel over, and saw someone hiding underneath. The cowering man was from the Wild, his darker skin and simple cotton tunic clear giveaways. He wore sandals, and had a machete at his belt. Straight away the Wildman’s eyes were drawn to Yizel’s bald head.

  Eyes fixed on her scalp, he spoke. “I-I’ve come to seek help. My home town is being attacked by bandits.” The Wildman’s eyes moved to the rapier in Yizel’s hand. “Are you… are you a Bravador?”

  Despite herself, Yizel froze. It had been a very long time since anyone had mistaken her for someone with honour.

  Her eyes narrowed. Was the Wildman mocking her? “First time in the city?”

  The Wildman nodded. By his clothing, he was clearly one of the more traditional Wildfolk, but they were not uncommon to find in Espadapan. Still, the more traditional natives stuck to Wild Town, although Yizel did not understand why in the Queen’s name anyone in their right minds would do so. She was considered the lowest form of scum Espadapan had to offer, and even she would do what she could to avoid having to spend any longer than necessary in that forsaken part of the city.