River of Thieves

by Clayton Snyder

  “We’re broke,” he announced.

  “Surprise,” Rek rumbled.

  “How?” Lux asked.

  Cord shrugged. “Takes a lot of money to bring down a city.”

  “So now what?” I asked. “Back to the same old?”

  He looked toward the hills again and shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ve got something better in mind. This whole area was used as a resting place for some ancient bigwigs.”

  I turned down my mouth in distaste. “Grave robbing? Really?”

  “Hey, they don’t need it,” he said.

  “They are dead,” Rek said, Lux nodding in agreement.

  “Aren’t you worried about curses, or… or… something?” I finished lamely.

  Cord snorted a laugh and patted me on the shoulder as he passed. Rek made his way back to the wheel. I was left alone with Lux. I looked around at the still-calm day, the blue sky. The snow hadn’t reached this far yet.

  “Nice day, huh?”

  She gave me a sideways glance and left me alone on the deck. I huffed out a sigh of annoyance and went to watch the river pass by. Nothing was ever easy. If it was, and you had a head on your shoulders, you knew damn well not to trust it.

  ***

  "Yeah, this is the dead guy," Cord said.

  "How can you tell?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.

  The body in question was wizened and gray, wisps of hair trailing from a mostly bald and peeling scalp, nails the length of small knives, and flesh like leathered parchment. His lips had long ago pulled back from yellowing teeth, eyes milky and staring at the ceiling of the barrow. He had been entombed naked, and Cord pointed at the enormous member hanging between his legs.

  "Akkalon the Gifted, they called him."

  I grimaced. "Akkalon the Destroyer seems more fitting."

  Cord snorted. "It's not the size of the boat, Nenn. It's how many people are rowing it." He frowned. "Or something like that."

  He reached down and shifted the body to the side, kicking up a small puff of dust and what I imagined was dried flesh. I pulled back and covered my mouth while he rummaged around. Finally, he came up with a cry of triumph, a glittering blade in his hand.

  "A sword?" I didn't try to keep the incredulity from my voice. "We trekked through nearly a half-mile of stinking earth and bones for a fucking sword?"

  Cord looked hurt. "It's a magic sword."

  I narrowed my eyes and set my jaw. "Cord, I swear to Gret's balls if you're jerking me around..."

  He waved it around, muttering. Movement over his shoulder caught my eye, and I stepped to the side to see better. These old tombs were full of drafty corridors that could stir up dust and make cobwebs wave like flags. I felt no breeze however, and stared, trying to figure out where the movement came from. I lifted the torch, lighting the alcoves in the walls.

  "Cord..."

  "Hold on just a godsdamned minute... alakaham! Fuck,no. Hmm... riesling! No..."

  "Cord!" I nearly shouted, backing away.

  He finally turned to look, the sword drooping in his hand. The dead trudged from the alcoves, eyes blazing with yellow light. A sound nearby caught our attention, and we looked in time to see Akkalon rising from his tomb, clawed hands gripping the lip of the stone.

  "Run!" Cord said.

  I didn’t' really need an invitation, as I was already several paces ahead of him. We slipped past the chamber entrance, feet pounding as the moans of the dead followed us. Once in the straightaway that was the antechamber hall, I risked a glance back.

  Akkalon took the lead, his massive dick flopping side-to-side, beating dust from ancient thighs. I screamed and put on more speed, leaving Cord behind. I should have felt bad about it. I did not. I reached the door to the hall, where Rek posted up as a guard. The big man looked at me, then down the hall, and started to close the door.

  "Hold the door!" Cord called, barely ahead of the dead. "Hold the fucking door!"

  Rek stopped pushing the massive slab, waiting impatiently. It seemed like hours before Cord burst through the gap, the dead close and loud.

  "Close the door! Close the fucking door!" He shouted.

  Rek put his shoulder into it, and the door slammed shut just as a trio of clutching hands reached through. The heavy stone crushed the bones and tore the skin free, dropping the limbs to the ground where they lay, unmoving. Cord stood panting, hands on his knees. We could hear the frustrated dead on the other side, clawing, scratching, and moaning.

  "They can't get through, right?" I asked.

  Rek shrugged. "They'd have to be stronger than me." He turned to Cord. "What'd you get?"

  "A sword," I said.

  "A magic sword," Cord said.

  We started the long walk back to the surface.

  "What's it do?" Rek asked.

  "I have no fuckin' idea," Cord said.

  The tunnel slanted upward, and soon we exited the barrow into bright sunlight and a summer breeze. The hills around us—some other burial sites, some natural hills—glowed a verdant green with the growth of a good season. The sky above was a sharp blue, the clouds white and fluffy in the sky. Lux leaned beside the barrow entrance, staring off across the landscape and contemplating whatever inner life the resurrected held in their breast.

  Cord tossed the sword to Lux as he passed, the wizard catching the blade deftly.

  "What's this?" she asked.

  "Sword," I said.

  "Magic sword," Cord said.

  "No idea what it fuckin' does," Rek rumbled as he passed.

  "That's... useful," Lux said.

  We made our way to the campsite. The river was about two miles south, where our boat, the Codfather, sat at anchor. Cord renamed it. None of us got the joke. I'd complained a little about not having mounts to move us and our gear back and forth, but the truth of the matter was that we didn't have room on the ship, and most horses would have little to nothing to do with our little group.

  We'd camped at the edge of a small copse, the trees providing welcome shade. It was nice, but it was hot, and I'd begun to sweat in places I'd rather not chafe. I collapsed onto my bedroll and rummaged around, finally digging out a piece of jerky and a waterskin. I drank deeply and chewed the meat while the others settled in.

  I wasn’t in love with this idea, grave robbing. Easy money, he'd said. After all, who was gonna fight back? Turns out the dead. The old bastards—part of the former Tevint Imperium—had been spiteful and pretty damn possessive in death. Booby-traps, curses, undead guards, and a litany of other nastiness. Even the ones too poor to afford the standard 'fuck everybody' package were fortunate enough to have some nasty beasties crawl into their tombs and breed.

  They settled in, Cord finding his own jerky to chew while Rek polished the big axe he'd started carrying. He'd lugged a greatsword for a while, but decided against it in the long run. Said it took too much finesse for a guy his size. The axe was easier, he said. You could clear whole hallways with it. Lux sat further out, poring over the new sword.

  So here we were, our little band of outlaws, on a summer day, in the land of the dead. That's when the sword started screaming. Lux jumped and flipped the sword into the air. It arced over and over, spinning, then plunged straight down, into Cord's foot.

  "Sonofamotherfuck!" he shouted.

  The sword was saying something, one word repeatedly, and I leaned in, waving at Cord to shush. He shot me an outraged look, but clamped his lips shut.

  "OrosOrosOrosOrosOrosOros," the sword babbled.

  "Satisfied?" Cord snapped.

  I nodded.

  "Then pull it the fuck out," he said.

  I gripped the hilt and smirked at him. "That's what she said," I replied, and yanked the blade from his foot.

  He sighed and grabbed the wounded limb, squeezing it to stop the blood flow. In a few moments, it stopped entirely, and he lowered it to the ground. One bonus to the curse—when he doesn't die, he heals fast.

  The sword grew quiet again, and I looked around.


  "Oros?" I asked.

  Rek shrugged. I looked to Lux, her face paler than normal, eyes wide.

  "No," she said.

  I walked over, sat beside her. "Who is it, Lux?"

  "It's not... it's not possible."

  "That's not vague at all," Cord groused. I shot him a look and he snapped his mouth shut.

  "Lux?" I prompted.

  "When we were in the Academy, we had a lot of classes," she said, then blushed, as if embarrassed about stating the obvious. "Anyway, history was my favorite. I loved the deep knowledge—where we came from, how things happened. I especially loved the stories about the Tevint Imperium—mage-kings who used their magic to better the land and the people."

  "So what caused their collapse?" Rek asked, leaning in.

  "Unlike a lot of lost history, there was another kingdom nearby, a fledgling thing, but its historians were already interested in how the Imperium got where they had. They recorded it all. The kings of Tevint decided that they could do better—be better—they joined their power, and tried to bring heaven to earth. As punishment, the gods sent one of their own, Oros, to end their folly."

  "So why would the sword be concerned with this Oros now?" Cord asked.

  "Because. They couldn't win. They were obliterated to the last, but as revenge, they managed to cast one final enchantment. They crafted a prison for Oros, trapping them, and with the last of their strength, set guards about the prison."

  "And that prison?"

  "I think we just cracked it," I said.

  "Fffff...," Cord said.

  "Yes, fuck," I agreed.

  Pirates are Just Thieves With More Syphilis

  Naturally, we did what any self-respecting group of thieves would do. We ran. I won't bog you down with particulars, but we packed camp, moved two miles, and got on the boat so fast we would have left scorch marks across the plain if possible. Once underway, we watched the far banks of the former Tevint Imperium dwindle. Cord spat in the water as they disappeared from sight.

  "So what now?" I asked.

  We leaned against the rail, watching the banks of the Lethe pass as the boat traveled westward. Rek stood at the helm, a rock against the wind, Lux below, stowing the sword and our gear.

  "I've been this way a long time back," Cord said.

  "When was this?"

  "Another life. I was a young man."

  "You mean you didn't spring from your mother like this?"

  "I've always been devastatingly handsome, if that's what you mean."

  "Sure. Anyway, you were saying?"

  "There's a little city in a valley just on the other side of the Godsteeth. It should take about a day, maybe two to get there. We can stop, regroup, maybe think about sailing all the way to Orlecht."

  "That's in the Western Kingdoms."

  "Yeah."

  "You looking for a new start, or just trying to outrun a god?"

  Cord sighed, a heavy thing. "I wish I knew, Nenn."

  He grew quiet then, and I left him alone with his thoughts, climbing the stairs to the wheel, and taking a seat at the bench behind Rek. His cats wandered this part of the deck, mewing and pawing at one another, or lazing in the late sun.

  "How is he?" Rek asked.

  "Different. The same. I think something in Midian changed him. Marked him a little. He's been taking bigger risks, sometimes for little to no reward. I'm not sure what he's trying to work out, but I wish he'd do it soon."

  Rek stared off toward the setting sun, quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he spoke. "You ever hear the phrase Bancroft's Bones, Nenn?"

  I shook my head. "Not that I recall."

  He nodded. "It comes from out west. There's a story that goes with it."

  I watched a fat orange tabby swat at a playful black who'd decided the tabby's tail was a spritely bit of prey. "I've got some time."

  "Jeseh Bancroft was a king... four? Five? Centuries ago. By all accounts, he was a good king, or if not good, at least competent. He'd kept his kingdom at peace for his reign, even managing to unite some of the disparate tribes around him and bring them into the fold. His people were well-fed, happy, and for the most part, unbothered by most of the things that bother any kingdom.

  "As for Bancroft, he had a wife—Maryska—who he doted on. By all accounts, the things he did for the kingdom, he did for her. For fifteen years, they loved one another as no one loves another thing. Then one morning, Jeseh woke, and Maryska was gone. At first, he assumed she left for the gardens, or the hunt. She had a great falcon she would take on rides, and in the early morning, have it snatch up hare and fox.

  "But morning moved to afternoon, and afternoon to night, and she still had not returned. Jeseh sent his guard out to find her, and they too, did not return. He spent his armies and then mercenaries, and each time, they vanished without a trace.

  "A year passed. The kingdom crumbled, outside forces seeing it ripe for predation. In time, Bancroft abandoned the throne, taking up his once-shining sword and donning his mail. He walked out in the morning, and by afternoon was... gone.

  "In time, those who remembered his kingdom said that Bancroft still stalked the plains, looking for Maryska. They speak of his fleshless form, clattering across the grasses. Bancroft's Bones. A reminder that if you focus only on one thing your entire life, when it's gone, you'll likely have nothing left.

  "That's what eats at Cord. What if he's only found this one thing? What will be left of him if he loses it?"

  "But Cord's always been Cord. He'll always be Cord."

  "Not all of us are content with that. He's touched greatness, and now he's chasing that high."

  I grimaced. "Grim."

  "We live in a land of undead, Harrowers, and machines driven by flesh. Grim is a good day."

  "But we also have sweetrolls."

  "Ahh, sweetrolls. You know, I'll be happy when we get a break from fish."

  "What's wrong with fish? The cats love it."

  "So do seals, Nenn. I am not a seal. Or a cat for that matter."

  "Fair enough."

  We sank back into silence, and as the stars lit themselves like lanternflies, I listened to the waters roll beneath us, and hoped I'd not hear Bancroft clattering his way across the plain.

  ***

  Dawn broke. Rather, Cord broke it with a cry of sail! He slid down the rigging and came to a halt on the forecastle. We'd been fortunate in that the river had been empty since our flight from Midian. Anyone who might have pursued us was currently stuck in a hopeless jumble between the plains and the mountains. Traffic was sparse between Midian and Orlecht at the moment, most of the weekly trading vessels having already passed through or berthed at a halfway point further west. Though the river was wide for two ships abreast in most places, it narrowed between the ranges, and at times deck would narrowly miss scraping deck.

  Cord pointed toward where the river spilled from the mountains. A ship, comparable in size to the Codfather swept up the waters, its prow splitting the waves. Black sails hung from its masts, and a skull and crossbones flew just above the crow's nest.

  "Ah, fuck," Rek said.

  "What?" I asked. I hadn't seen those particular colors flying before, but I had sense enough to know they were bad.

  "Pirates," Lux said.

  "Like thieves, with less style," Cord said.

  "What do we do?"

  "We can try to look poor," Rek said.

  Cord snorted. "Has that ever stopped us?"

  Rek shook his head.

  "Get your knives," Cord said to me. "Lux--"

  "On it," she said.

  She stepped to the prow and widened her stance, moving with the waves.

  "Outrun them?" I asked.

  Cord shook his head. "Normally, I'd say yeah. But I don't want to use the Harrower engine here if I can help it."

  "That's a first."

  He nodded and took the wheel, leaving Rek free to step to the deck, axe in hand. We waited another minute.

  "Why does
n't he want to use the engine?" I asked Rek.

  The big man shrugged. "Maybe he's got a score to settle."

  Something tugged at my guts and I shouted at Cord over my shoulder.

  "Do you know these assholes? Because I am not dying for a grudge."

  "No, of course not."

  "Cord."

  "How well can you ever really know anyone anyway?"

  "Fuck," I muttered.

  The other boat's prow came even with ours and then slid past, until the decks were side by side. Without warning, ropes were slung over the rails, hooks at the end. The other captain made a motion with his wheel, and the hulls crashed together. The squeal of oiled planks and the splintering of wood filled the air. On the deck opposite us, men waited, blades in hand, eyes alight. A big man, nearly matching Rek for size, shirtless and rippling with muscle called out.

  "Avast, ye dogs!"

  "Dogs?" Cord called out. "That's hurtful! Nenn can't help the way she looks."

  "Remind me to stab him if we survive this," I said to Rek.

  The big man grunted and started hacking at the ropes that bound the ships together. They separated with a snap and a twang, but even with my help, there were too many, and sailors scrambled across. I gave up on the ties and started in on the intruders.

  The first man, a thin thing wielding a rapier flung himself at me. His blade scored a mark on my arm, drawing a line of blood. He stepped back, hoping to finish me with a lunge, and I stepped back as he moved forward. He overbalanced in his eagerness. His feet tangled and he tripped, bringing the nape of his neck in range, and I rammed a blade into his spine. His body collapsed, spilling blood onto the deck.

  I heard Rek grunt and saw two men accosting him, one with matched daggers, another with a cutlass. They came at him in tandem, but only for a moment. He swept the axe out, and felled them both like trees. Intestines joined the mess on the deck, and we struggled to keep our footing.

  I snapped my attention back to the next boarder, a man with a hook hand and an eyepatch. He swung the hook at my head and missed by a mile. I planted my other blade in his good eye and drew two new ones as he fell to the deck like a net full of fish.

  The rails had fully met, and more men swarmed over, the big man who'd shouted at Cord following.