Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2)

by Travis M. Riddle

  But his aim was still poor due to the blood dripping from his brows and obscuring his vision. Wood splintered above their heads and rained down on them.

  For a moment, Puk felt proud of his ingenuity and improvisation skills, but then the pain set in.

  He screamed loudly.

  He then clutched his hand to his chest and screamed loudly again.

  Kali ignored his cries and pushed the door open, accidentally stepping on his foot when he did not move out of the way. She apologized amid the chaos, but then grabbed him by his shirt and jerked him out of the building. Ilyi appeared beside his boss, aiming his gun at the pair with what was surely much greater accuracy.

  Things were no less hectic outside.

  They burst onto the scene to find Hoskings and his crew of Tusks still brawling with Banwe and his men, of which there were six, including Niska. The woman always acted nice enough, so it was unfortunate she had been pulled into their mess, though Puk had to remind himself that anyone who willingly worked with Haratti couldn’t be all that great of a person.

  “Don’t draw attention to us,” Kali whispered. “Wait. But move.”

  She stood on the other side of the door, the side it would open from, and Puk stared blankly at her. His dizzied mind could not comprehend what her contradictory instruction meant or what she was waiting for.

  “Move,” she urged him again, but stood still herself, and so Puk remained still as well.

  After a few seconds, the door swung open. The unforgiving wood connected with Puk and sent him careening toward the ensuing scuffle, effectively drawing attention to their presence. As he flew through the air, Puk remembered that was the opposite of what they wanted to happen.

  Kali stuck to her plan, though, and got the jump on Ilyi, who emerged from the building with his pistol drawn. She hit the man in his already-swollen face and latched onto his arm. He impulsively pulled the trigger, sending a bullet digging into the cavern floor. She wrestled the gun from him and smacked its grip into his nose. The appendage crumpled and leaked profusely.

  A shot rang out from Haratti’s gun, but it pierced Ilyi’s backside. The faif screamed in agony. It was a bad day to be an accountant. Kali then pushed him backward into the hall, sending him tripping over himself, and slammed the door shut again.

  “Fuck?” Puk sputtered on the ground, gazing up at the drab cavernous ceiling above with its dangling stalactites, unsure why he formed the word as a question.

  Every single part of his body ached, but if he had to make a top three list, third place would go to his foot, then his face, and the top prize would be his hand. It was a bad day to be a failed musician.

  And then Niska appeared seemingly out of thin air and kicked him in the side, sending him rolling over from his back onto his stomach. His torso might soon overtake his foot on the list.

  I wish I had a gun, he thought, so that I could shoot people with it.

  He shakily rose and was instantly kicked in the back by Niska. His thought as he flew through the air for the umpteenth time that night was that her dirty boot surely left a print on his shirt.

  Puk skidded along the ground, scraping his eyes on bits of rock. He then finally relented, giving in to the inviting dark.

  - -

  There was nothing with which she could barricade the door.

  Kali floundered for several moments, trying to find anything at all that might work, but had to give up. Ilyi and Haratti would inevitably be joining the fray, and she would not be able to pull off a second surprise attack.

  She turned in time to witness Niska landing an impressive kick in Puk’s back, sending the qarm springing forward and thumping face-first onto the hard ground.

  Kali raced forward, tackling the green-haired woman to the ground. She pinned Niska’s arms with her knees, rifling through her knapsack while the woman struggled underneath.

  She had just grabbed the dagger and pulled it from its sheath when Niska spit on her. The action flustered her and she almost instinctively backed off the woman, but she caught herself and flashed the blade of her antique dagger. Niska’s eyes widened in terror.

  No part of Kali intended to murder anyone. She had participated in many dicey activities as of late, but that was a line she was unwilling to cross.

  She was not above stabbing someone if needed, though. Jeth could gladly attest to that.

  A swift slice downward, impaling one of Niska’s upper arms, followed by the other. Removing the blade from the flesh took more effort than Kali anticipated. The blade desperately needed to be sharpened.

  Niska screamed, and Kali hoped the two wounds would be enough to impede her mobility and efficiency in the fight.

  Kali left Niska to flail on the ground and ran over to where Puk lay prostrate. She flipped him over to find he was unconscious. His left hand was completely caked in blood.

  She heard footsteps fast approaching and swiveled her head to see Niska racing toward her. The woman could barely lift her arms, but Kali had seen the damage she could do with a swift kick.

  And that was precisely what Niska intended to do. She stopped short and raised her leg in a wide swing, but Kali was ready and held up the sharp side of her blade. Niska’s leg plowed right into it, cutting through the fabric of her pants and tearing into her skin.

  She yelped and crashed to the ground, drawing her leg up to her chest, rocking back and forth. “You bitch!” she shouted, hoarse.

  Kali shrugged.

  A ways away on her left, the door to Haratti’s headquarters opened and the old man tottered out, waving his gun frantically in search of a target. Ilyi’s body was slouched by the doorway, unmoving.

  “Kill them, you incompetent fucks!” Haratti screamed as he observed the alleyway clash taking place. This had to be the most chaotic his business had ever been on his home turf.

  Kali took a moment to check in on the fight as well.

  None of the Tusks were dead, though Hoskings was sporting a nasty bullet hole in his right shoulder. That did not stop him from swinging his mace into a bulky jeorn’s gut, however. One of the male Tusks also appeared to be missing a finger, but Kali could not be sure if he’d entered the fray like that or if it was a result of the battle.

  Beatrix looked a bit roughened up, but was otherwise uninjured. Her face and clothes were speckled with dirt and blood that Kali ventured to guess was not her own.

  The woman noticed Kali staring and ran toward her, gun drawn. It looked a lot better in her hand than in Jeth’s. As she reached Kali, she raised the pistol and cocked it, aiming at Niska’s head.

  “No!” Kali shouted without any thought. “Don’t kill anyone! Please! Just—”

  She did not need to say any more. Beatrix kneeled down and whacked Niska on the head, knocking her out cold.

  “Yes,” Kali said. “That.”

  “What about him?” Beatrix asked, bobbing her head in Haratti’s direction. “Can I kill him? Would do the world a lot of good, I’d wager.”

  Kali shook her head. This whole mess was her fault, and she did not want any more blood on her hands. Even Warren Haratti’s.

  Beatrix shrugged, not caring either way. She was simply happy to revel in the violence. She barreled toward Haratti, who was still mesmerized by the bedlam between his men and the Tusks. At the last second, he faced Beatrix—who was charging with the ferocity of a wild lamatka—and got off one round before the massive woman sent him crashing back into the building.

  Kali winced watching the old man’s frail body twist and crumple as he rolled backwards over his henchman and through the hall.

  Beatrix stood upright, closing the door once again before examining the wound in her leg. Haratti truly was a terrible shot.

  She ran past her fighting brethren and crouched beside Kali, who was amazed by the woman’s resolve in spite of the gushing wound in her leg. “You two should get out of here,” said Beatrix.

  “Where’s the book?” Kali asked. One problem at a time; she could figure
out how to get Puk to the docks after.

  Beatrix didn’t know. Kali crawled toward Niska’s unconscious body and rummaged through her belongings, but the woman didn’t have a pocket or anything else sufficiently big enough to carry the tome. She had to have already handed it off to Banwe or one of the others.

  She peered at the raging battle and saw that two men lay unmoving on the ground. It was impossible to tell whether they were passed out or dead. Either way, neither of them was her ally.

  “Puk’s knocked out,” she told Beatrix. “I think he’s too heavy for me to carry. I’m sure you could, but your leg…”

  “I’ll be fine,” the woman said, waving away the thought. “Let’s get to the docks.”

  I need the book.

  “You get going,” Kali told her. With the injury and Puk’s added weight, it would take her a considerable amount of time to reach Myrisih’s port, and every second counted. Preparations might already be underway to close them off for the next few days. There was also no time to wait for the fight to cease and for Hoskings to bring the book to her.

  With that, she sprinted forward. Beatrix called to her from Puk’s side, but the woman obeyed her and did not follow, lifting the qarm’s limp body in her arms and taking off down the opposite end of the alley, back toward the Rabid Dog.

  This is a bad idea, Kali told herself, adding it to the ever-growing list of bad ideas she and Puk shared.

  She did not have a real plan. She sped past Hoskings, who was wrestling a bald faif woman to the ground, and leapt onto the back of a grizzled, bearded oaf who was reloading his gun. The man fumbled around, trying to shake Kali off his back, but failed. She stabbed her dagger into the man’s shoulder, again and again, cringing with each roar of pain he unleashed.

  The bear of a man seemed the most authoritative to Kali, due largely in part to how obscenely massive his body was, so she assumed that maybe he was Banwe. Banwe the Bear had a nice folktale sort of ring to it.

  “What in the—?” the man bellowed, finally flinging Kali from his back. Her dagger remained upright in his shoulder. He reached for the weapon and turned to face his attacker, a demented glare in his eye.

  He bore down on her, dagger in one hand and gun in the other. Kali hoped against hope that he had not gotten the chance to finish reloading.

  The bear raised the dagger and flung it through the air like a throwing knife. It swiped past Kali’s head, bouncing harmlessly off the cavern floor. Before she could reach for it, the man pounced on top of her, squeezing all the air from her lungs.

  She could not move an inch under the man’s colossal weight. He leaned down only an inch or two from her face, and she inhaled the rancid, rotten stench of his breath as he panted over her.

  “You’re wily,” the man said with a grin. He was missing two of his upper teeth, and the others were a color somewhere between yellow and brown.

  “And you’re Banwe?” Kali coughed. She tried recovering from the man’s horrid breath, but it was not easy.

  In response, she received a harsh slap in the face. Her cheek flushed and her vision doubled for a second before coming back into focus. “Don’t matter who I am,” the man growled.

  “Yeah, I guess you don’t matter,” Kali taunted.

  Predictably, he raised his arm to slap her again. The shift in his weight gave her just enough room to wriggle underneath his hulking body and bring a knee to his groin.

  The man groaned and keeled over, freeing her. She scrambled for her dagger and jabbed it into the bear’s hand before he could fire off a round. He dropped the gun with a clatter, which she picked up and aimed at his clenched face.

  “Give me the book,” she ordered him.

  “Ain’t got the fuckin’ book,” he grumbled.

  Kali cocked the gun. The man laughed at the faint click.

  He said, “Don’t matter if you shoot me or not. Not gonna change the fact I ain’t got the fuckin’ book.”

  She groaned and went to smack him in the head with the hilt, but he rushed forward and brought her back to the ground. In the struggle, her finger pulled the trigger, and the gunshot blared in the man’s ear as it fired into the ceiling. He yelled angrily, clasping his injured, bloody hand to his ear, and fumbled backward.

  Kali took the opportunity to jump up and run away. She saw Hoskings had finished dealing with his faif assailant, and Kali breathlessly asked him, “Do you have the book?”

  He flashed a smug grin and pulled Malum out from a pouch slung across his chest. Kali quickly snatched it from his possession. She was about to take off without another word, but Hoskings stopped her to ask, “Have you seen Beatrix?”

  “She’s bringing Puk to the docks. I’ve gotta go. Thanks for—”

  “She’s hurt,” Hoskings interrupted. “I saw Haratti shoot her. Give her this.” He reached into his pouch again and handed her a small glass vial filled with a bright blue liquid.

  Kali wordlessly took the potion and stuffed it along with the book into her own knapsack, then raced toward the Rabid Dog. Over her shoulder, she saw Hoskings rearing up to square off with the bear.

  Sounds of the battle echoed through the otherwise unoccupied alleyway. Kali soon reached the back door of the bar, and took a second to check that no one was on her tail.

  The coast was clear.

  All of Haratti’s goons were too worried about the vicious Ziolo’s Tusks to bother chasing after some harmless, unassuming faif girl.

  She dashed through the crowded bar, shoving past agitated patrons and cantankerous drunks on her way out the door. She thought someone might have called after her, but she ignored them and pressed on.

  It was then she realized her understanding of Myrisih’s geography was spotty at best. If she was currently in the Mass, then the docks would be…

  This way, she hoped, mentally charting her course. Her sense of direction couldn’t fail her now.

  She turned down the next outer ring and spotted Beatrix limping not too far ahead, with Puk bouncing on her back.

  “Beatrix!” she yelled. The woman stopped and turned, beaming. She waited for Kali to catch up.

  “Did you get the book?” Beatrix asked once Kali reached her. She still held Puk aloft.

  Kali nodded. “This too,” she said, extracting the potion vial from her bag. “Special delivery from Hoskings.”

  “Thank you,” said Beatrix, popping off the cork and chugging the luminescent liquid. “Certainly helps with the pain. What do I owe ya?” she joked.

  “That one’s on the house,” Kali grinned.

  Together, they ran the rest of the way to the docks. The potion vastly improved Beatrix’s pace, though it was not strong enough to fully close the wound and stanch the bleeding. Kali let the mercenary lead the way, and soon they were clambering down the makeshift pier toward a panicky Zenib.

  “Took you long enough!” the centript shouted. “The fuck’s going on here?” he then asked, spying Puk on Beatrix’s back.

  “No time,” said Kali, rushing past him.

  “You’re tellin’ me!” Zenib grunted, scampering to keep up with the two women. “They’re closing the place down any minute now. I already signed all the paperwork to get us out, but they still said—”

  Whether or not Zenib finished his rambling sentence, Kali didn’t hear it. Her heart was pounding in her ears, drowning out all else. She was almost to Zenib’s boat, and that was all that mattered.

  The Fiery Lass had never looked so beautiful, bobbing in the water.

  She came to a skidding halt before the boat. While Beatrix eased Puk into the vessel, Kali unclasped her knapsack and double-checked that Malum was inside. A downright deafening groan of relief escaped her lips at the sight of the black leather book.

  She could positively not wait to get rid of the damned thing.

  Beatrix stepped back out of the boat once Puk was safely positioned, and Zenib lumbered in next. He looked up at Kali expectantly.

  “Tick tock,” he chittered.


  “I have to go,” Kali said to Beatrix.

  “Get going, then,” the mercenary smiled.

  “Thank you for all your help. Really. And please tell the others, too.” She then added, “Even Voya, though I doubt he wants to hear anything about us again for as long as he lives.”

  “No, he does not seem especially fond of you two,” Beatrix laughed. Her expression then turned grave and she said, “He needs to get to a doctor, like, an hour ago.” She nodded toward Puk.

  “Another reason to tick tock!” said Zenib.

  Kali ignored his nonsensical urging, though he was right. She leaned forward and wrapped Beatrix in a tight hug.

  “Thanks,” she said again.

  “No problem.” They separated and Beatrix told her, “If you’re ever in Myrisih again, come find the Tusks and hang out a while.”

  Kali couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the prospect of ever returning to Myrisih. It still wasn’t even a guarantee she would make it out alive this time around. She wouldn’t take her chances coming back.

  “Maybe we can meet at an outpost somewhere instead,” she suggested.

  Zenib was chittering anxiously to himself when Kali finally ducked into the boat. With her help, he pushed off and the Fiery Lass was on its way out of Myrisih at long last.