Shattered

by Stef M Ensing

  Or so she thought.

  When they finished they were ordered to do the same thing again. And then again… Those times went quicker, crates off-loaded faster, merchant arrived sooner, payment was made up front. But still, Payton felt as if her brain was going to explode out her ears by the end of the day from sheer monotony.

  “You’re going the wrong direction,” Isiah called as Payton turned left instead of right.

  “No. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.” She waved her hands wildly at him as if that would help hush him. “I hate you right now. I hate you and your stupid face. And that stupid armor that you’re wearing with that stupid patch that has that stupid wyvern. I hate that you thought joining this damned mercenary group was a good idea. I hate it all. And right now I cannot even think about going back to that cramped little house to watch dad and Simmons drink and pretend that everything is fine when it isn’t. So I’m going to the Pegasus.” She abruptly turned on her heel to march off.

  “Think I should point out to her, she was the one that said the mercenary group had to be better than the docks?” Samuel asked.

  “I heard that. And I’ll kill you!” Payton called as she walked away.

  The Pissed Pegasus was… as loud as ever. Seriously did this place never have a quiet time? She pushed past a few of the more rambunctious customers and maneuvered her way to the bar only to stop. Someone was in her spot. Her mind was too tired to register that there was still a perfectly good spot three seats down, all she could see was that her spot, the one she sat in every time she came in, was occupied.

  Scowling she approached the person who dared to occupy it. “You’re in my seat.”

  A blond head turned around. “That’s a new sort of greeting,” Atherly said cheerfully.

  “I could have started with “move”.”

  “I could have said “rude”.”

  She waited a heartbeat and then frowned. “You’re still in my seat.”

  Atherly snickered. Taking his drink in hand, he stood. With a flourish, he gave a jaunty bow and stepped aside so she could sit down. “You’re in a mood this evening, lovely lady. What has you in a tizzy?”

  “Men using words like tizzy.”

  “Is kerfuffle better?”

  Payton dropped her head on her arms and groaned.

  “Nyla, I think our precious Payton is in need of a good stiff drink,” Atherly called as he leaned against the bar. Whether he did it intentionally or not, he was about two inches too close for Payton’s liking but she didn’t have the energy to call him on it. Maybe she could stab him. Just a little stab. Like a papercut. Only bigger. And pokier.

  “Just a minute, I’m a little busy at the moment!” Nyla barked from… somewhere in the tavern.

  “What has you so down?”

  Atherly was nudging something into her hand. It took her a moment to realize it was his drink. She blinked, lifted her head long enough to make certain he was sure and then quickly gulped the heavenly liquid down. Say whatever else about the Pegasus, Nyla had the most amazing homebrew ale Payton had ever tasted.

  “Thanks,” she said setting the tankard down. She almost felt bad about considering stabbing him. He smiled at her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. The smile fell and she narrowed her eyes at him. Almost felt bad. Shrugging his touch off, she sighed. “Just… new job exhaustion I guess.”

  “Not liking the Wyverns? Brisen usually doesn’t run the new people to the ground unless she likes ‘em. Or wants to break them.” Atherly gave her an assessing look.

  “Why am I not surprised that you know the leader of the Wyverns?”

  “Because I’m special that way?”

  A snort came from Nyla as she approached. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day it’ll be true.”

  Atherly clasped his hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

  “Uh-hmm.” Nyla rolled her eyes. “You’ll find that Atherly knows just about everyone in this Creators forsaken city. He does enjoy getting around.”

  “You make it sound so dirty,” he teased.

  “No, you do that. I just state facts.” Nyla disappeared only to reappear with three fresh drinks. Two she plopped in front of them and the third she quickly gulped down. “You’d think someone had issued a challenge: drink until you’re too stupid to know better, then punch the first person who looks at you funny. I’ve had to call the guard six times tonight to keep these bastards from tearing apart my bar.”

  Payton glanced over her shoulder, giving a once over to the crowd. It didn’t take long for her to figure it out. “They’re Vaelornians.” At the blank look she was getting from both of them she elaborated: “Today is a holiday for… them.” Us? She wasn’t so certain she felt Vaelornian anymore. She wasn’t sure she felt anything anymore.

  “It is?” Nyla was shocked.

  “Last Frost. It’s our spring celebration.”

  She took a long sip. She wondered why she hadn’t thought about the holiday until now. Her family had always celebrated it together. Their house would be decorated, her father would often have nobles’ commission jewelry for the day, her family would join the center square in the planting of seeds and watch the children play around the maypole. It was tradition that went as far back as she could remember. But without her mother, it had disappeared without notice. Faded into nothing. What else might join that? Payton suddenly had a strong urge to sketch, the hobby that was hers and her mother’s alone. She needed to keep her mother alive in some way. Even if it was only pieces of her.

  “It was easier with the Equinox. Those are celebrated everywhere but the smaller holidays… they’re different. I’m betting a lot of the people you’ve been throwing out are just missing home.”

  “Now I feel like an ass.”

  Payton shook her head, swallow the mouthful of ale she had. “Being homesick doesn’t give you the right to act like a buffoon. They have to learn to adapt otherwise they’ll never survive.” She was no longer certain she was talking about the morons in the bar or herself.

  “Still, a lot of my clientele come in from the refugee settled areas. I should know more about them than I do. Maybe I should—” whatever Nyla had been considering was cut off by a loud crash in the far end of the bar.

  Twisting around in her seat, Payton saw that a table in the back had broken out into a disagreement and fists were flying. And so were pieces of what had likely been a chair. Oh look, there goes another one. Another loud crash sounded and a second chair was broken across somebody’s back, causing them to collapse to the ground, joining his friend.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” Nyla thundered, slamming her hand down on the bar in an attempt to get their attention.

  It didn’t work.

  Nyla was circling the bar and running at them. Payton stared at the sight. Her friend – the short curvy redhead who looked like the odds were more in favor for her to cuddle you and give you a giant mug of ale than be able to hold her own in any sort of fight – was charging into the middle of a bar brawl.

  Without thinking, Payton jerked to her feet. Springing after Nyla, she slid into the middle of the dispute in seconds. To her surprise, Nyla was fairly spry and was easily dodging the blows aimed her way. All while yelling at the people fighting. Payton knew quite quickly there would be no defusing the situation with words. These men were simply far too drunk.

  Blocking a punch that was aimed at her temple she twisted out of his path and gave him a shove, letting him topple to the ground. A swift kick to his gut caused him to stay down, more focused now on puking than punching. One of his friends, eager to defend him, ran at her. His attacks were wildly uncoordinated and it was more like fighting a flailing five-year-old than an actual brawler. Fed up with blocking she maneuvered them around and then gave him a swift uppercut in the throat. He gagged and gasped, taking a step back only to slip in his friend’s puddle of sick and then, as he stumbled in an attempt to keep his balance, tripped over his fr
iend. The two ended up knocking each other out on the floor.

  Two arms circled her from behind and touched her breasts, a giddy laugh rumbling around her. Two can play at that game. She reached down and grabbed the man by the balls which turned the laugh into a high pitched squeak. Giving a tight squeeze, she was released. Letting go, she pivoted and swung her fist into his jaw. His drunken fall sprawled him onto the floor, moaning. She was only too happy to add to that by driving her boot into his groin. Let him laugh at that for a while.

  This move, of course, meant she gained the ire of two of his friends and they were coming at her swinging. So she did the only logical thing… and ducked. Wow. She watched them drop like rocks in water, having punched each other out.

  Shaking her head, hoping stupidity was not contagious, she turned and grabbed the chair-smashing man who was raising his newest acquisition high, ready to hit it against Nyla’s unexpecting backside. She wrapped her arm around his throat and squeezed. He staggered about, the chair clattering to the floor when his hands when up to claw at her forearm. She threw her weight against him and he fell and then subsequently passed out.

  Assured he would do no more damage, she released him and straightened. She scanned the room for the next target only to find they were running from the bar, tripping over themselves in their haste. Exhaling and trying to relax now that the fight was done, Payton felt the tension creep back in when she realized every eye in the place was on her.

  “That was amazing,” Nyla exclaimed.

  “You just took out six men! Without even breaking a sweat!” Atherly exclaimed running toward them.

  “Get off it. I’m plenty sweaty,” she waved them off.

  “How did you learn to do that?!” Nyla demanded.

  “Um… with practice? I really don’t know how to answer that question,” she deflected. “Do you want help cleaning that up?” She made a general motion to the unconscious men and the shattered remains of chairs.

  “Nah. I’ll let them stew there for a bit and when they wake up I’ll give ‘em the choice to either clean it up and pay me or I’ll call the guard,” Nyla dismissed before immediately hounding Payton again.

  Payton moved back to her seat. She glanced back at the tavern’s main floor, at everyone staring. She thought about shouting ‘boo’ or grumping at them to leave her alone but instead, she jerked forward like she was going to attack them. Multiple people squeaked like they were swallowing a scream, two fell off their seats, the rest quickly looked away. Snickering, she spun back around and returned to her drink.

  “I want you to come work for me,” Nyla declared out of the blue.

  Payton choked. “What?”

  “Work for me. Here. In my tavern. As a… I don’t know what they are called. Someone to bust morons heads when they get stupid. Throw them out, punch them out. Do the fighty stuff so I’m not running all over the place and not sending for the guard every ten minutes,” she explained happily. “Just at nights. Or whenever you have time.”

  “I don’t know,” Payton said dubiously.

  “I ain’t asking for handouts, blue eyes. Unless you’re trading your skills for kisses and rolls in the sheets. Then I’m game.” Nyla wagged her brows only to laugh at the look on Payton’s face.

  “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  “She’ll watch. Or join us.”

  “Nyla!”

  “Don’t get your panties twisted. I was actually I was offering coin.”

  “That’s worse!”

  “What? No! Not for…” Nyla had a good chortle for a moment. “No, for the job. The fighty. You know, punch, punch. Toss ‘em out, thing?”

  “You’re so eloquent with words,” Atherly mused earning himself a flung towel that landed on his head.

  She stared at Nyla for a good long while before blowing a strand of black hair from her eyes. “How much?” she finally asked.

  “Nine silver a night and an extra five copper for every head you have to knock out. Sound fair?”

  Payton made a pointed look over her shoulder to the unconscious men. “You’ll go bankrupt with that deal.”

  “With you around, I’ll be rolling in the dough of boys on their best behavior who want to stick around someone so pretty. Or the coverage fee to get tossed out by you. Either way, it’s a win,” Nyla said easily.

  “Coverage fee?” Payton said warily.

  Nyla flashed her a bright grin. “Of course. A silver and the pretty one will toss you out.”

  “Somehow I feel like I just got swindled and complimented all at the same time.”

  Atherly chuckled. “You get used to it with Nyla.” The dreadlocked redhead smacked him on the arm. “But she’s a sweetheart, I swear.”

  “So… is it a deal?” Nyla’s amber eyes were practically glowing with anticipation.

  Slowly Payton nodded. “Alright. I’ll be your hired muscle.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At least getting assignments for the Onyx Wyverns was not quite like working at the dock. There was no set time where Payton and her brothers were required to be there every morning. Those details changed from day to day. Sometimes they would not even know when or even if they would have an assignment the next day. This morning, however, was an exception as they were awoken by one of the runner boys who handed off a slip of paper with the word: “NOW” scribbled on it.

  Dressing in the armor provided to them by the Wyverns – black dyed leathers for Samuel and Payton with subtle stitching of a wyvern in dark thread on the side of their pauldrons, dark tinted plate for Isiah with the same roaring beast on his breastplate – the three of them hurried through their morning meal and headed out. Payton had it timed down to the second for how long it would take them to get to the warehouse and if they went through a few less than reputable back alleys it could be cut in half.

  By the time they arrived, the city had begun to awaken and people were spilling into the street. Merchants heading to their business, craftsmen their shop, Payton even spotted a dock worker racing toward the other end of town, clearly late. The warehouse was fairly deserted when they entered, a handful of members they knew worked a few of the night shifts readying to head out, and of course Hitchens. That man never seemed to be anywhere else.

  “Boss wants to see you,” he said in place of a greeting. The siblings exchanged a look and started toward the stairs to the upper level only to be stopped. Hitchens was shaking his head and holding his hand up. “Naw-uh. Just her.”

  Payton’s eyes widened and she stupidly looked around for some other woman for him to be indicating. “What? Why?”

  “What did you do?” Isiah hissed.

  “Nothing!” she exclaimed then paused to think about it. “Yeah. Nothing. I swear. You’ve been with me at every job. I haven’t done anything. I didn’t even punch the merchant who asked me if my assets were part of the Wyvern’s package deal.”

  “Best not keep her waiting,” Hitchens interjected.

  Incredulous, Payton hurried up the stairs, pausing only once to glance back at her brothers. She didn’t know whether she should knock on the door and ended up doing something in between barging in and knocking which was more of a light rapping on the wood and then a fumble with the knob. Brisen was sitting at a desk, her feet propped up on it. And she was sharpening her stiletto dagger. That wasn’t meant to be intimidating. Nope, not at all.

  Then a feature in the room registered with Payton. “You have a desk?” she said absurdly. For some reason that seemed strange. She had never pictured a mercenary leader having a desk like a normal head of a business. Especially not Brisen. Brisen was too… hands-on to be stuck behind such a thing.

  “Every leader should have a desk. Makes them look important,” Brisen replied. “Also a great place to fuck on.”

  Suddenly Payton was eyeing the piece of carved wood in front of her more dubiously. “Right.” With a shake of her head – failing to get that mental picture out of it – she looked back to the brunette. “You, er
, wanted to see me?”

  Shrrrink! The whetstone glided across the metal. “I did.” Shrrrink. “I heard that you had quite the night.”

  “Not really?” Payton was completely bewildered. They had reported in like they were supposed to. Handed off the secondary payment and then were dismissed. It had been… completely normal. “Lots of standing around watching crates to make sure they don’t grow legs and walk.”

  “Not your assignment. I was speaking of your activities…” Shrrrink. “…after hours.”

  “I went to a tavern?”

  “So I heard.” Shrrrink.

  Payton twitched. That noise was beginning to sound threatening. “Are you having me followed or something?”

  Shrrrink. “Hardly.” Shrrrink. “But a member of the Onyx Wyverns taking part in a bar brawl does have the habit of reaching my ears.”

  Understanding dawned on Payton. “Oh. It wasn’t like—” Shrrrink. “It wasn’t like that. Nyla, the tavern owner, was just having trouble and—” Shrrrink. “…and I stepped in to keep things from getting out of control.”

  “While wearing the uniform of my mercenary guild.” Brisen’s cold brown eyes had not left her.

  “Yeah, I—” Shrrrink. “…guess so.”

  “What else?”

  Payton stared at her. “Um… I drank? Because that’s what you do… at a tavern. You know… drink?”

  “And you’re going to conveniently leave out the new job you’ve accepted?” Shrrrink.

  “How do you know about that?” Payton hadn’t even told her family yet. She hadn’t even gone back to Nyla to confirm that the woman was serious about the offer and not just overwhelmed last night due to the unusual rowdiness.

  “I have my ways.” Shrrrink.

  “You’re stalking your employees?”

  Apparently, her snarky wit did not amuse Brisen today. “Who told you it was acceptable to sideline in a bar?”

  Her brow furrowed at the woman. “I did. It’s my—” Shrrrink. “…life. I can accept whatever job I want.”