Too Young to Die

by Michael Anderle

  Instead, his boss said simply, “Price is a dead end. And I told you to get Williams on board, not PIVOT.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dru fought the urge to yell down the phone line. “He’s close to cracking.”

  “You’ve said that for four months and the bill is coming to the floor in two weeks,” White said crisply. He was spelling it out, which was an extremely bad sign. The man hated spelling things out. “I expect to have the votes by Friday. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly. Sir.”

  The phone went dead and he put it down slowly and took a deep breath.

  He dressed mechanically. Better than anyone, he knew what happened to people who disappointed Raymond White, and it wasn’t pretty. What might happen to Jacob Zachary’s career was nothing compared to what might happen to him. The CEO didn’t like to be concerned with details unless someone close to him screwed him over. Then, he went all out.

  Dru wouldn’t merely be out of a job, he would be completely discredited. By the time White was done, his own family would believe he was a pathological liar with a drug problem. His ex-girlfriends would believe he had cheated on them, his other clients would believe he had spilled their secrets, his landlord would have evicted him, and his bank accounts would be empty.

  It wasn’t something he had worried about before now because he had never anticipated failure. He didn’t fail—it was his entire hook as a lobbyist. Never once, before now, had he not delivered the promised results.

  Which meant it was very clear what he needed to do now.

  Bribery hadn’t worked for Tad Williams. In retrospect, Dru thought he should have let the senator bask in his relief for a few days before he made the ask. That chance was gone now, however. Blackmail also hadn’t worked. The man’s wife must be a saint if the thought of doctored affair photos didn’t even faze the man.

  The current strategy had brought him a little closer, though. It hurt Williams deeply for people to accuse him of being a bad father who was endangering his only child. Still, he wasn’t cracking.

  Would it be too much to ask for to have at least one skeleton in Tad Williams’s closet? Dru put his tie on with a grimace. Only one. That was all he asked for.

  Since he wouldn’t find one, however, he had to get creative.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Kural drained his mug of beer and laughed heartily. “Okay, I should go now while I can still remember the way to my tower.”

  “Jus’ keep goin’ uphill,” Lyle advised. He wiped foam off his beard after a long drink. “Ye can get a few more in before ye forget that.”

  The wizard laughed again. “I’m sure I can, master dwarf. Nevertheless, I have a great deal to do and so I shall leave the three of you to your drinks. Any of you are welcome at any time—especially my two apprentices, of course. Zaara, if I could speak to you for a moment?”

  Justin watched as she followed him outside.

  “Eh.” Lyle clapped him on the arm. “Anyone likes a little o’ the exotic, an’ a sorcerer is always exotic. She’ll come back, though.”

  He stared at his companion.

  The dwarf, thinking he hadn’t understood the point, elaborated. “See, sorcerers can summon all kinds o’ strange things. Ye’re telling me if a lovely female sorcerer appeared, ye wouldn’t be even a little interested? Powers ye couldn’t even dream of, eh?”

  “I, uh…” He decided to take a sip rather than respond to the challenge. It was too much to try to explain to Lyle that he felt stupid being jealous of a collection of pixels over a different pile of pixels.

  Thankfully, he was saved from more well-meaning advice when Zaara returned. She was unusually subdued and gazed into space for a while. The conversation ebbed and flowed around her until finally, she looked at her companions and saw the question in their eyes.

  She shrugged. “He asked if I’d like to come back and be his apprentice—really be his apprentice.”

  Justin shut his mouth on several uncharitable comments about Kural’s motives. He had no reason to expect that this was all an attempt to flirt, and Zaara did have a talent for magic. She could be as powerful as the wizard one day if she trained at it, he had no doubt about that.

  “What did you say?” he asked as neutrally as he could.

  “I told him I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve missed my magic studies. I want to learn to be able to do the things he can do—or your mother.” She smiled.

  He shook his head with a rueful smile. His mother had persuaded the scientists to let her into the world of the game, and she had proved to be a very able player. Aided in part by the invulnerability buffs they had given her, she had unleashed a truly amazing amount of power at one point.

  The joke, of course, was that she had been startled into it by a spider.

  Hopefully, there were videos of that somewhere. While he’d lived it, he really wanted to see it again. His mother had never been outright disdainful of his video games, but she also hadn’t really understood them. He would never have guessed that she would be quite so good at playing them. Even if she weren’t invulnerable, he would bet she could actually get good, given enough time.

  Justin refocused on Zaara. “You know, if you want to do this—”

  “And leave you two alone?” she asked tartly. “You’d be dead within a day. Lyle would run his mouth off—or if he didn’t, he’d charge blindly into the fight you found. You have a remarkable talent for finding trouble, Justin Williams.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with great dignity. “In fact, I think you’re confusing me with you. Who’s the one who came to threaten me away from Sephith?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “We were…” He looked over his shoulder and pointed. “Right over there, weren’t we?”

  “Yes.” Zaara raised an eyebrow and sipped her beer. “Except, to set the scene, we really should have you ogling a bar maid.”

  He flushed a deep red and choked on his mouthful of beer.

  “You know, she’s still here,” she said in a whisper. “And I hear you’re the hero who defeated Sephith and a demon army. If that’s not a strong opener, I don’t know what is.”

  “I’d be willing to bet you don’t know what a strong opener is,” he retorted, but a smile tugged at his lips. “And there’s no reason to be superior simply because your suitor is a sorcerer and mine are bar wenches.”

  Zaara laughed. “Wrong. My suitors are nobles who might as well wear their pants on their head for all the sense they have.”

  “Not Kural, then?” Lyle rumbled. He didn’t seem to notice Justin kicking him under the table, but he was on his eighteenth mug of beer.

  “Kural,” she said, “is three hundred and ninety-seven years old.”

  Her companions both stared at her open-mouthed.

  “And I’m given to understand he prefers the fae,” she added. “He says if you live long enough, you tend to not want humans anymore.”

  “Uh…huh.” Justin wasn’t quite sure where to go with that.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “We should talk about our next adventure. Hildon gave us quite a few leads.”

  He retrieved the scroll with a nod. After their confrontation with the demon, the bandit leader and his army had withdrawn to their new headquarters to restore it and recover. Although they had spent their time together on the roads, they seemed to have had enough adventure after fighting off a force of undead demon-creatures and losing two of their fighters in the process.

  When he left, the man had gifted them a list of places they had considered looting. Justin had immediately crossed the monasteries off but that still left numerous targets.

  “Where do you think would have an ancient dwarven key?” he asked rhetorically. “The first two were around here, so logically—”

  “Logically, the third one should be close,” Zaara said with a smile.

  “I intended to say, logically, my luck would be that the third one is at the bottom of th
e ocean,” he responded.

  “Nah,” Lyle said. He drained his beer. “Someone’ll have it.” He wandered off to get more beer, returned, and drank half the mug before he looked at them. “What?”

  “Were you simply being optimistic?” Justin asked. “Because that’s not like you. And if you know, how do you know?”

  “It’s a dwarven artifact,” the dwarf said as if that explained everything.

  He motioned for him to keep talking.

  “Do ye really not know about dwarven artifacts?”

  “Let’s skip ahead and assume Zaara and I know nothing.” He fought the urge to scream.

  “Oh. Well, when ye live in mines ʼn other dark places, ye learn real quick that ye can lose jus’ about anything,” Lyle explained. “So anythin’ of value is made to find its way back into someone’s hands. ʼCourse, the trouble is, like as not, it’ll find its way to someone who hates ye, but at least someone will know where it is.”

  “Huh.” He considered this. “So…we should be able to find it?”

  “Should,” the dwarf agreed. He shrugged. “That’s the legend, anyway.”

  “Aaaaaand there goes my hope,” Justin told Zaara, who laughed.

  Any reply she might have made, however, was cut off when the tavern door was thrust open and voices shouted in the doorway. He looked up with interest. Brawls in this town were rare after so many years under Sephith, and he was interested to see what could inspire one.

  Wheat? Mud? Cows?

  When the people came through the hallway and into the tavern, however, Zaara whispered, “Oh, no.”

  His heart sank. He recognized the man amongst the armed guards. It was Mayor Hausen, her father.

  “Oh, hell,” Lyle said and dived under the table.

  “That man!” Hausen shouted and pointed at Justin. “He kidnapped my daughter!”

  “What?” Justin and Zaara said at the same time.

  “Sir.” The man who had argued with the mayor was short with dark hair, the former cartwright of East Newbrook and newly made mayor. “There must be some mistake. You told me your daughter was abducted by Sephith, sir, and I regret to inform you that—”

  “She’s right there!” the other man yelled. Several of his guards moved toward her and stopped when she unsheathed her daggers and fixed them with a death glare.

  “Oh.” Mayor Killian, who had made a big deal of announcing that “the Saviors of East Newbrook” would sleep and eat for free from there on out, looked both relieved and confused. On the one hand, he didn’t have to tell Mayor Hausen that his daughter was a mindless husk left by Sephith.

  On the other hand, he didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on.

  “Sir,” he attempted after a pause, “that woman is one of the saviors of our valley. She participated in slaying the vile wizard Sephith.”

  “Because she was abducted by this man,” her father said dramatically.

  “I was not,” Zaara protested.

  “She arrived some time before the gentleman,” Mayor Killian interjected.

  “You sent me to rescue her,” Justin added.

  “And did she return?” Mayor Hausen asked. “No. My only daughter, my darling child, was taken from her betrothal to Lord Howard and forced into a life of banditry.”

  “Lord Howard?” she demanded, outraged. “I told you I would never marry him. I told you I would rather eat cow dung than marry him. I told you I would rather—”

  “Now, out of a fear of her captor, she lies,” the man said dramatically.

  “This is ridiculous,” Justin stated to no one in particular.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said dangerously.

  “Shh, my darling, that man can’t hurt you anymore. Come over here.” He beckoned.

  “No,” she said flatly. “I wasn’t abducted and you sent several adventurers to their deaths under false pretenses. I came to free East Newbrook from Sephith—which you should have done yourself, except you—”

  Something hard struck Justin on the back of the head and he fell as stars burst through his vision. By the time he came to, his wrists were bound with rope and Zaara was yelling something. The two mayors were engaged in a hissed argument while Mayor Hausen’s lackeys held Justin up, his head lolling.

  “Fine,” Killian said eventually. He turned and cleared his throat. “Justin Williams, you stand accused of abducting Zaara Hausen and forcing her into a life of banditry. As mayor of East Newbrook, I will allow both you and Mayor Hausen to make your arguments to a jury, who will then decide the truth of the matter.”

  “What about my arguments?” Zaara asked dangerously.

  “Both sides will be permitted to call you as a witness,” he answered wearily. “Master Williams, I must ask you to accompany me to the town jail.”

  “My father will have his thugs kidnap me the second Justin is in there,” she said. She held one of her daggers up. “Although I would warn them strongly against trying.”

  “You will come with us and stay in my house,” Mayor Killian said. When her father began to protest, he held a hand up. “Sir, you have invoked the law of this town. That law states that I may take any and all measures to ensure a fair trial. Mistress Hausen, Master Williams, come with me if you please. Mayor Hausen, the innkeeper will see to your needs.”

  The two friends walked out of the inn, both struck mute. Justin didn’t know when to start speaking.

  Zaara did, however. As Killian handed him over to the guards, she darted between them to give him a hug.

  “I’ll get you out of this,” she told him fiercely. “I promise.”

  “I…” He nodded. “Thank you.” This seemed like a bad dream and he knew he didn’t want to spend several years of recovery time in prison, even if it wasn’t real.

  “I promise,” she repeated. She looked over her shoulder at him as she left with Mayor Killian.

  “Sir,” one of the guards said awkwardly. He clearly didn’t want to clap the Savior of East Newbrook in irons but he had his orders. “This way, please.”

  With a sigh, he set off for the jail.

  The prison hadn’t been structurally well-maintained, enough so that he was fairly sure he could bludgeon his way out if he needed to. That was comforting, he thought as the guards put irons on him.

  “Hey,” Justin said.

  They stopped and looked nervous.

  “You know Zaara would have slit my throat if I tried to abduct her, right?” he asked. “I wouldn’t take my chances with that one.”

  The men guffawed at that. It was better than the plea for mercy they’d expected, and they left with a nod to him.

  He leaned back and tried to remain positive. No matter what strings Mayor Hausen could pull, he was relatively sure he could get out of there one way or another. He had begun to try to decide where to sleep when one of the piles of straw moved.

  Reflexively, he yelled. The pile of straw did too. Footsteps sounded as the guards pounded back.

  “Is everything all right?” one of them asked.

  “Yes. I, uh…” He wanted to sink through the floor with embarrassment. “I didn’t realize there was anyone else in here. I, uh—oh shit. Never mind. Nothing.” While apologizing to the man in the pile of straw, he had noticed that he had only one arm.

  The guards backed away, clearly trying not to laugh, and he turned to see the man looking equally amused.

  “If there’s a bright spot to having lost an arm,” he told Justin, “it’s people making that face when they notice.”

  He shook his head and sat quickly. He couldn’t tell if he should apologize or not, all things considered. “How did you get here?” he asked finally.

  “Old misdeeds,” the man said poetically. “I used to be a bandit, once upon a time. I worked for a man named Hildon.”

  “Oh, Hildon.” He smiled. “A brave man.”

  “Diff’rent Hildon,” the man said. “Must be. No good bandit is brave and Hildon’s a good bandit. He’s as craven as
they come.”

  Justin resolved to share this assessment with the leader in question at some point. “And what’s your name?”

  “Ah. Batholemew.” The man nodded. “Anyway, I ran off to Insea for the tournament, lost my arm…came back here, and had the bad luck to be recognized while trying to get back to Hildon.”

  “Ah,” he said. His mind caught up with him a moment later. “Insea?”

  “That’s the nearest city,” his cellmate told him. “The king’s city. Where are you from that you don’t know that?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “Well.” Batholemew looked around the cell. “I think we have the time.”

  The AI laughed in the background.

  Justin waved airily. “I’m not in the mood to tell my stories tonight. Tell me about the tournament—and the city. Let’s say I’m from quite far away. Assume I know nothing.”

  “Anyone can assume that,” the AI told him.

  He rolled his eyes and decided he wouldn’t miss this AI. Or maybe he would, but only a little. Still, it would be nice to not have it interrupt otherwise normal conversations.

  “Insea has everything,” Batholemew said, his face aglow. “It’s on the River Gelatia, so there’s an abundance of trade. If you want silks, you can buy ʼem. Do you want spices, animals, glass, paper? Anything, you can get it in Insea. That’s if you have coin, of course, but coin is like water there. It comes and goes. A man can be a noble one day, a pauper the next, and a famous poet the day after that. I never met a people more used to the way the wheel turns.”

  “Huh.” He leaned back and considered this. “What does it look like? Paint me a picture.”

  “I was right-handed,” Batholemew quipped. He gave a bark of laughter at Justin’s look. “You’re going to hear all the jokes—I don’t get an audience for ʼem often.”

  “Right.” He grinned. “Well, work them all in, I guess. I should warn you, though, I’ve traveled with a dwarf. I might have to retaliate with bad jokes of my own.”

  “Ha. Well, you asked about Insea. It’s a strange city built long ago by the fae. It’ll never fall to ruin, no, but it’s not…made for humans if you catch my meaning. Everything’s a little too tall. It’s carved from a block of stone.”