The Abandoned Sorcerer

by Nefarious

  Once done, the man’s breath slowed but otherwise showed no signs of waking. Orion tapped him, shook him, shook him some more, then slapped him. This worked as the man stirred, gasping with widened eyes, the red and black moons rapidly scanning the room.

  Seconds later, the man’s face steeled and the emotion drained out.

  “Are you ok?” Orion asked.

  No reply.

  “Can you understand me?”

  No reply.

  Giving up, the Seeker stepped out of the jail and gestured for the man to follow.

  The dark-skinned man faintly smirked, then studied Orion’s figure, especially his hips. The Seeker figured the foreigner was checking if he was a Mage, which he was, but not that the man would know though. Satisfied, or at least happier than otherwise with what he saw, the man pushed off the wooden wall and fell face first into his own waste. Realising the man had no hope of getting up, Orion picked up the weightless body and carried him, checking the remaining slaves on the way out. Nine of them were dead so Orion could only save an additional young woman.

  Walking with the two bodies over his shoulder, he passed by the kitchen and pantry and saw both completely ransacked. Curiously, the Mage’s room was in a similar state. He carried on and eventually stepped up the stairs, coming to the lit-up deck. He saw Kora supporting Skitters, who had his arm around her shoulder. He saw the freed slaves herded into a group by Nanlong’s mercenaries. And he saw Ginger rapidly commanding the Sticky Fingers around.

  “There yer are,” he shouted as he noticed Orion. “A few of the Saltrocks escaped. Their bastard friends gonna be ‘ere soon,”

  Then, Orion saw a few Sticky Fingers, including Thimble, rolling barrels onto the ship.

  “Alright, everyone off the ship now,” Ginger roared. “Boys, take them barrels down and break them. Quick!”

  While the crowd went onto dry ground, the Sticky Fingers rolled more and more barrels up the ramp and down the deck. About ten minutes later, they joined the others, standing with a few molotovs in their sweaty palms. A few hurls passed before one hit the trail of oil leading down.

  “Everyone run, including yer slaves. Anyone who can’t dies ‘ere,” Ginger said.

  Orion was shocked when the slaves, as weak as they looked and as slow as they had been, suddenly found a spurt of speed, maybe from realising this chance at freedom was genuine, maybe their final spurt.

  It was amid his sprint he turned to glance at the roaring flames. It looked the same as when he had ran away from his House, the plumes of rancid smoke exploding from the inferno.

  24. Judgement Day

  * * *

  They ran for ten minutes but what felt like twenty. Some slaves dropped down along the way, and since Orion was already full-handed, they stayed down. Eventually, the stench of rotten food and human excrement replaced that of salt and fish.

  “Where are we going?” Orion asked. He was lost, as it was, in the day, let alone under the veil of darkness.

  “The den,” Ginger replied, his voice soft and strained from panting.

  “What? I thought the Saltrocks were returning with more people? Why are we going to the most obvious place?”

  Ginger smirked. “It’s my land, I ain’t gonna lose there,”

  “Are you mad? It’s stupid to do this,” Nanlong added, his looming figure sneaking in between the two.

  “No worries, twice the gold for yer,”

  “Pfft,”

  “Three times?”

  Nanlong grunted and backed off.

  “What’s the point of killing any more of them though,” Orion said.

  “Else, they’ll make trouble for us later. Ain’t having that; might as well end them now,”

  The pale Seeker opened his mouth, then closed it and turned away. Ginger was clearly adamant about another battle, and it was now too late for Orion to back out. Either way, even if the fight turned sour, he and Kora could escape, though it would make what they had just done a waste of time.

  Due to Nyrtia’s blessing, there were no ambushers awaiting them when they arrived at the base. Dawn wasn’t far off and Visgamar’s famous fogs rolled out across the city, enveloping the buildings and people in another veil. Straight away, the Sticky Fingers and Nanlong’s mercenaries lit bright lanterns around the fort and took their positions, a few of them even armed with crude crossbows.

  The slaves were forced into a central building and put under the Seeker’s watch. As much as Ginger wanted the Seekers to man the walls, considering the aftermath he had seen on the deck, he knew it was best not to sneak any additional clauses into the deal.

  Orion leaned against the doorframe as he watched Kora reapply Skitters’s bandages. She then moved onto two of Nanlong’s mercenaries who were severely injured, and then the slaves. As for why there were no Sticky Fingers with them, Skitters had told them in the building by the docks that the gang couldn’t afford to take care of anyone too far gone. Instead, they helped you complete the distance.

  After being rebandaged, the thief lay on the ground with his eyes shut. He hadn’t mentioned Orion trying to knock him out to anyone, nor had he brought it up with the Seekers. You couldn’t survive the streets without common sense and Skitters had far more than others, enough to keep quiet about the incident. All he knew was that the two were like storms once fighting and that the mage had croaked Zakari to Jax.

  Orion had blanked out for a few moments, or minutes, when he saw Kora dressing the unconscious foreigner’s wounds. While it would have been impossible in the dark, now with a clear view of his skin, Kora seemed as intrigued by the man and the mage’s torture as Orion was.

  “How strong were they?” she asked. She ran her finger across the angular cuts drawn into his skin – the runes.

  “Novice work, but probably the strongest the pig had,”

  “Mmm,” She nodded, checked the man’s eyes, then moved on.

  The hours went by, and it was past dawn by the time a Sticky Fingers came in.

  “The boss wants y’all to come,” he said to Kora. She woke her dozing partner and everyone but the foreigner.

  They made it down the rubble-strewn paths and into the open aired hall, fit with wild vines growing the cracked walls and a circle of dry dirt amidst the trampled, sickly grass. There was a large fire on the dirt over which a stew was bubbling. Ginger and Nanlong sat around a smaller fire, the spaces between them filled with the higher-ups of each group, including Thimble. The slaves were made to wait by the larger fire as the Seekers and Skittles were motioned to the smaller one.

  “Ahh, time yer got ‘ere,” Ginger said.

  “Shouldn’t you be watching the walls? Or is it over?” Kora said.

  “It’s alright, Miss Kora. We got watchers out there,” Thimble answered.

  “Besides, they’d be fools to attack in this light,” Ginger finished.

  Nanlong put down the bread he was chewing on and strode to the Seekers. “We heard about the Mage,”

  The mood fell, mostly from the Sticky Fingers around the fire. Ginger had his face downcast, the shadows from fire creasing his face.

  “But you killed that bitch before anything else. This isn’t much but take it as thanks. Since I don’t know, and don’t want to know, what would have happened otherwise,” he continued, drawing three gold coins from his pockets and handing them to the Seekers.

  “Anyway, yer both earned yor place beside me at the party. Yer’ll get to see Rats,” Ginger said while facing up. “But, right now, I’ll also give yer another reward for murdering that whore,”

  Kora yawned with no intention to answer, and seeing this, Orion looked around and then behind him.

  “Could you take care of the slaves?”

  “As slaves? Sure can,” Ginger said, urging a round of laughter from the surrounding men. “As free men an’ women, I dunno,”

  “What can I do then?” Orion asked.

  “Yer? Nothing. Them, it depends on them,”

  Ginger stood, p
icked up his sword and walked over to the larger fire, everyone else following. He stepped in front of a slave.

  “Yer, will yer join the Sticky Fingers?”

  The emaciated man looked from the brown-haired gang leader, to the glint of the blade, to his own pathetic reflection in Ginger’s eyes.

  “The Sticky Fingers?” the man replied, stumbling back in fear, only to bump into one of Ginger’s thugs.

  “Forward, mate. Boss asked yer a question,”

  “Us, we’re the Sticky Fingers,” Ginger explained.

  “Ugh…” The man gulped and looked at the blade again, at how sharp it looked. “…Yeah, Yeah I will, I’d love to, please don’t kill me,” he said as he broke into tears, collapsing onto his knees.

  Orion tried to move but Kora caught his shoulder and stopped him.

  “Good,” Ginger said, moving onto the next person. “What about yer?”

  “Sir, please, I’ve got a family; I’ve got to get back to them,” the man pleaded. It was the last words he spoke as the blade struck, ripping flesh off his neck. He fell face-first, a mixture of blood and mud pasted over his eyes.

  Orion tried to force his way out of Kora’s grasp but she held strong, fingers digging into his flesh. “You wanted him to look after them, well, he can only look after the ones who’ll survive these ends,”

  Orion wanted to ask, no, shout why Ginger couldn’t let them go then? Why did he have to kill the ones with a past to get back to? But the answer came as quickly as his anger, because if he let one go, the rest would also want to go. Ginger was a cutthroat leader of the streets; he was cruel because that was how he survived each day, and the morals Orion had were simply luxuries for the brown-haired gang leader, decadent luxuries.

  Nonetheless, this didn’t quell Orion’s anger. What did was the question he asked himself: how else was he supposed to save the slaves? By taking them under his care, restricting his options, and risking his entire vengeance? Choosing a few strangers over the House of Zakari? No, he couldn’t, and as much as it pained him to admit, it was better for them to be under a man who would toughen them up than for them to be free in such a vicious city.

  Ginger moved on. “What about yer then?” he said as he swung about the bloodstained sword.

  “Yes,”

  …

  “Yeah,”

  …

  “Please, I need to find my daughter, I’m begging you,” a woman said. “I’ll let you do anything to me, just let me find my daughter afterwards,”

  While a few of Ginger’s thugs cheered at this, their leader was having none of it. He slashed as he had done before, and another corpse hit the ground as before.

  …

  “Yeah,”

  …

  “Of course,”

  It carried on until Ginger had asked every slave. Only two of the 30 had said no, and only two now lay on the ground.

  “Messy business done with, how about we eat now?” Ginger said. His men and Nanlong’s mercenaries cheered for him, while the slaves sombrely thought on their fates.

  “Wait, Ginger, come here,” Kora said, while the rest of the people queued for their stew.

  “What’s it, Kora?”

  She put her hand out to shake, and he did so, although confusedly. One of her nails sliced his skin and drew blood, which she rubbed between her fingers and licked. Orion glared at Ginger throughout.

  “There’s another one, the dark one, the foreigner. Take good care of him,” she said.

  Ginger wore an incredulous expression.

  “If you don’t, I don’t know, maybe you’ll start to feel ill or such,”

  Orion knew Ginger would say yes the second he felt the air thicken. The gang leader’s eyes widened and he looked at Kora in shock, before placing his hand on his forehead. He wasn’t new to this game; he knew how things worked.

  “You did something, you wh—”

  “And I can do much worse if you tempt me,” she said, revealing her perfect teeth.

  “Fine, I’ll make sure Thimble, that piece of shit, looks after that burnt corpse yer picked up,”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” she finished with a cheerful tone.

  He smirked, then paced away. He would have hidden his fear too, had it not been for his visibly quivering hands and rushed steps.

  25. Deception

  * * *

  Orion stirred to the sound of distant shouting. He drowsily dug into his pillow and stayed there until the muffled words rang in his ears, grating at his mind. The dim light bloomed as he pulled the curtains, revealing the room. There was a bed by the centre, a wardrobe by the exit, and an oak table by another door. While the decorations were as bare as in The Little Sip, there was the addition of walking space between the furniture.

  He dragged himself to the door and entered the bathroom where he used the bucket of water to wash the dirt and sweat off, before drying off and coming to his wardrobe. Opening it, he met his newly bought clothes – dyed Blacktip-leather jacket and trousers, and a cloth shirt. He had gone up the dark-stone laden path by the market to buy these clothes, and it had taken a few days for the dyes to stick, but it was worth it.

  The clothes were comfortable and sturdy, that was as long as he didn’t fight vampires to the death every other weekend. Further, anyone nosy like Smith would have a hard time telling its material unless they molested him. Of course, the downside was that he was ten gold coins poorer, over half his wealth.

  After dressing, he wore his shortsword over his back, a fashion that had recently picked up, and placed his daggers in their holds by his hip. They were sharp and unassuming, giving him the edge of surprise if he ever needed it. The newly bought weapons had cost four gold coins in total, leaving him three golds and five silvers in hand.

  Fully equipped, Orion checked the mirror in the wardrobe. His skin had tanned to a light hay-like colour. The bags under his eyes had grown, as had his black hair, now midway between finger-length and hand-length; he’d have to get it cut soon, maybe after this mission. The dull red crack-like scars from his left cheek to his jaw still stood out, though not as much.

  The biggest difference, however, came through his posture; no longer were his shoulders slumped and his head down, they had straightened, and he could even see the inkling of hope in his eyes – he could, and would, avenge his family. Smiling, he picked up his possessions from the room and put them in his maroon bag, before stepping out. Today was the day.

  He hopped down the stairs and came to the main room, the air thick with roasted meat. Kora was easily found with her head down and her face stuffed in food, her plate filled with meat, bread, and a gravy dip unique to The Fat Munch. Picking up a plate, he filled it from the buffet and took a seat next to Kora with a large mug of eastern ale. While he had found, and to an extent still found, it bitter, the taste had grown on him after staying at the inn for a week.

  Picking up a handful of veg, he placed it on her plate. “My mum always said veg was good for you,”

  “Your momma wasn’t a vampire,” she said, glaring at the green goodness. “Besides, I didn’t eat them any of the other days, why do you think I would start now?”

  He downed half his drink and glanced at her. She stilled looked the same, her skin tanned, her eyes large and black, her hair long and caramel-brown, her lips covered with bits of food. She wasn’t a pretty sight when she transformed, but she was now with her maroon cloak and her new yellow jacket under. Ok, she would look better if she knew how to eat with some common decency but no one could have it all. “Well, now’s as good a time as any to start,”

  Since he had said this for the sake of it, he was surprised when she actually picked up a green and crunched off its head. He wasn’t very surprised when she spat it out, looking at him with a face of disgust while he chortled.

  She wouldn’t talk to him for the next few minutes and only started once they reached Ginger’s den after leaving The Fat Munch.

  “Today,” she mutter
ed, “Don’t fuck it up. We can beat weaklings, but we’ll die if anyone there suspects us,”

  He nodded. This wasn’t a chase and kill mission where they used their full strengths. Rather, the opposite: they would have to hide who they were to the fullest, and if the monsters there figured out their identities, then… Then, the last of the Zakari line would fall to street rats born and raised in shit-filled alleyways.

  The two Seekers were confused when they saw Skitters leaning on a walking stick by the entrance to the fort. He had left for his home a week ago, insisting he needed no help and that he would rest. In his occupation, you could only work with two speedy legs and not with a limping one.

  “Hey, Skitters, I thought I told you it’d take a few weeks for that to heal?” Kora said.

  “Heh heh, don’t worry girly - I’ve been through worse. I’m here to tell you about summin,”

  “Hmm?”

  The thief began plodding away from the fort, gesturing them to follow. “I’ve been quiet about it, y’know, you knocking me out and killing that Mage. I’m thankful, I really am, and I’ve been silent since you’re both too strong for me to say anything,” He laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “But, y’know, it’s ‘cause I’m thankful I wanna say this, since you two are clearly new blood.”

  “Sure, what you got to say?” Kora said.

  Orion walked on the other side of Skitters. He hoped the thief would know his limits, know what he could and couldn’t say. Because if he didn’t, Orion knew Kora would kill him without a second thought.

  “Stay low in the meeting. It’s Rats’s place, and everyone’s got the feeling something big’s gonna happen. I would say the second you notice something’s up, leave. It’s Rats, the Underking of Killers, anything he’s hiding will lead to death somehow,”

  The Seekers nodded. “You got an idea of what it is?”