by Wil Ogden
FALL OF THE HEDGEHOG
Everyone called him Bouncer. He didn't look like a doorman. A doorman would dress finer than a black leather vest that didn't even have buttons. If it had, they wouldn't be enough to hold the vest closed when Bouncer inhaled. His well toned muscles helped him intimidate people and intimidated people didn't start trouble in The Inn of the Haughty Hedgehog. The other doorman, a lame Matderi named James, stood across the doorway using a scarred warhammer as a crutch. They both watched the throngs of people in the streets with wary eyes.
Dale, the cook, stepped up beside bouncer. He poked his head out the door then said, “It seems to get worse every day. Just a month ago we’d be starting to gather a crowd for lunch about now.”
“No one wants to leave their houses for fear of running into one of the mobs. Wear red and the Goldenwind supporters will beat you down, Wear yellow and the Redsail supporters will string you up. Wear neither and both will harass you. I haven’t seen any of the Green Tabards in a few days.”
Bouncer hadn’t either. He’d been doing his best to stay current on the rumors, though. He filled Dale in. “The docks are Goldenwind territory now that they tore down The Bear Pit for flying a Redsail Banner. House Seadust still controls the warehouse district. That whole area is green. The Reds own the markets, but I think their days are numbered.”
“We gonna join the Goldenwinds?” James asked. “Or are we still waiting for Tara’s response.”
“It’s not my Inn,” Dale said. “I don’t really want to take sides anyway. We’ll support whoever wins, but I can’t declare for the Inn, that has to be Tara’s call.”
“I don’t like Goldenwind,” James said. “They are nothing but a bunch of thugs. Lots of muscle but no brains. Not that Seadust or Redsail are better. I’m not really supporting the pansy yellow-bellied tactic of not taking sides, but given the sides to take, I can only declare for the Inn.
“House Hedgehog?” Bouncer asked. “I don’t think we’d get the support we need to compete at this point. I think the war is already over and the city won’t figure it out until a few thousand more people are killed.”
“Really?” Dale asked. “Who do you think is winning.”
“Looking out on the street here, all I see are yellow tabards and yellow banners.” Bouncer nodded towards a large mob of men all wearing the colors of Goldenwind. “This area, the docks district, is the heart of a port city. Goldenwind can cut off the goods to the warehouses and then its just a matter of time before the people start coming to the docks and buying their goods seaside. It’s not the most efficient way to handle trade, but it will starve out Redsail and Seadust.”
“So we should side with Goldenwind?” Dale asked.
“I don’t like them, either.” Bouncer folded his arms across his chest. “I think the city as we know it is headed into a bad time. No matter who wins, the known supporters of the other factions will be punished. I think you’re right, Dale. We need to wait it out.”
James thumped the floor with the haft of his hammer. “I’m all with you on that, Bouncer, I ain’t wearing no yellow or any other tabard. No Matderi serves a human.”
“Don’t you work for Tara?” Bouncer asked. “She’s human.”
“I don’t work for no one.” The Matderi held the head of his hammer under Bouncer’s nose. “I come here for the free whiskey and because the company is good.”
“Thanks,” Bouncer said.
“But you only fill that flagon of yours with water,” Dale said. “I’ve been out of whiskey for a month.”
James glared at Dale. “You said you’d never give out my secrets.”
“Bouncer didn’t know?” Dale said. He glanced at Bouncer.
Bouncer shrugged. Of course he knew. The flagon had never smelled of alcohol and neither had James. But, James had never said anything and had always called it whiskey or rum.
“Did you hear something in the Kitchen?” Dale said with panic in his voice. “Maybe I need to go check on that.”
As they watched Dale retreat into the back of the Inn, James said. “No one ever knows. Got it?”
Bouncer said, “I haven’t told anyone yet.” He looked out on the street to see that the mob with the yellow tabards were heading towards the Inn. He nudged James and nodded toward the Goldenwinds.
One of them that Bouncer recognized as Gerrik, a boatswain from one of Goldenwind's escort galleys, stepped forward.
“I don't see your Goldenwind banner,” Gerrik said, standing just outside the always open doorway. “Did the wind take yours? Do you need a new one?”
Bouncer responded as politely as he could, “As much as I personally support Goldenwind and Dale, the manager, supports Goldenwind, we need word from the proprietor before we can officially hang a banner.”
“How long will that take?”
“We sent word by ship four weeks ago,” Bouncer explained, “if all goes well and the seas are in our favor both ways, we should hear back this time next season.”
“The war's gonna be over by then.”
Bouncer suspected that was Dale's plan all along. “It may be. I do hope we win.”
“You ain't one of us unless you are wearing our colors. If you cannot put up a banner, would you at least wear tabards?”
James hopped out of the doorway and said, “No Matderi has ever served a human and I ain't gonna be the first. We are just running our business here. Take your war to someone who is looking for a fight.” For a Matderi, James was on the taller side, nearly as tall as the boson but well over a foot shorter than Bouncer.
“Sounds to me like you're the one looking for a fight, Matderi.” Gerrik dropped a hand to the hilt of his sheathed cutlass.
The Matderi scoffed. “I'm four centuries old and I've fought in nine campaigns during the Abvi wars. A rabble of scurvy humans ain't a fight to me.” James had shifted his weight and the shod of the warhammer he usually used as a crutch dangled half an inch above the ground. Bouncer moved so that he no longer leaned against the doorframe.
Gerrik drew his cutlass then turned back and shouted at the half dozen men with him, “Boys, show this Ma...”
Bouncer ducked as Gerrik's lower jaw nearly missed his head. Two of Goldenwind's thugs charged, swords in hand, at Bouncer. He waited until they pulled their arms back to swing, then stepped between their swings and backhanded each into the doorframe. Both fell, unconscious, to the street.
James fought like a spent top. His one good leg supported all of his weight as he swung the spike of his warhammer into each of his four remaining opponents. Each swing seemed to be followed by a brief loss of balance which James corrected with a peculiar way of twisting his weapon free. In a heartbeat he had completed a bouncy spin but left none of his attackers standing.
“What’re you staring at?” James asked as he stuck his bloodied weapon back under his arm and hobbled back into the inn. “Never seen a lame Matderi fight?”
“No,” Bouncer admitted. Fighting had always been his job. James had usually just looked angry and intimidating.
“Well,” James said, “You'd better go get Dale, Laura and the rest of the workers. You're going to have to get out of town.”
“Are you coming?”
“Them yellow shirts are already gathering across the street. I'll stand at the door and make sure you get a couple minutes to get out the back door safely.”
Noticing the crowd of Goldenwind supporters moving across the street, Bouncer turned toward the kitchen. “Meet us at the Backflow Docks.”
“I've got one good leg, it's gonna take me a bit. If I'm not there by night fall...”
Bouncer didn't wait for James to finish, he understood. He ran into the kitchen and, grabbing Laura the bartender, crashed through the kitchen doors.
“Goldenwind's against us,” Bouncer announced.
Dale dropped a tray of unbaked bread and grabbed his son who sat reading at the prep table. He ran over to the ovens and pulled out a leather sack and tossed it to Bouncer. The w
eight surprised him, but he managed to keep hold of the bag. By the jingle, he guessed the sack was full of coins. Dale opened the back door and stuck his head out. “I had hoped the fighting I heard a moment ago wasn't us. Where's James.”
“Giving us some time,” Bouncer replied. “Let’s not waste it.” As the sounds of battle came from out front, Bouncer glanced towards the door back to the taproom. He wanted to go help James. Surely the Matderi could only handle so many and there were an awful lot of yellow tabards in the street. When he noticed everyone else staring towards the front of the inn, he managed to focus on what he needed to do. He pushed Dale and Laura towards the back door and kept pushing until the three of them were running down the alley. Dale carried his son and Bouncer carried the money.
Four hours later, Bouncer sat on the docks by the Backflow River. No one had spoken a word in hours but everyone, even Dale’s son, kept looking at the road back to Ignea. Maybe James survived.
“We're really gonna walk to Fork?” Dale asked.
“Tara and her brother made it,” Bouncer said. “We get letters from them all the time. It won't be easy but we can't get back to the docks to hire a ship.”
“Didn't Tara mention trolls and didn't she bump into those knights to help her along the way?”
“You've got me and probably James. Neither of us is shabby in a fight,” Bouncer said. He looked back down the road. “If James made it. There were almost two dozen Goldenwinds last I saw. Tonight we'll stay across the river in Stonewall Village. Tomorrow we'll head west.”
“What are you watching the road for?”
Bouncer looked down the bank of the river and saw the Matderi hobbling a couple yards away.
“There were only nineteen,” The Matderi said, plopping down on the docks by Dale's son. He hugged the boy. “One or two more and I might have broken a sweat. They've got hundreds out looking for you and for me now; so, I didn't take the main roads. I'm lame, I ain't stupid.”
About this story:
This covers a gap between “The Nightstone” and “Piper…” and explains why some of the characters from Ignea ended up in Fork. I like the characters but don’t have any more stories set in Ignea planned.