“He supports my plan.” She put her hands on her hips. “And me. Because he’s a real man who…”
The bushes to their right and left suddenly fell away, revealing rows of attackers, all with arrows trained on them.
“Yeah,” one of the men said calmly, “wanna throw your hands up and give us your valuables there, ‘real man’?”
She blinked at the thieves for a moment, then turned back to face her brother. “I’m going on record right now that this does not in any way represent a failure of the plan.”
Chapter Eight
All in all, the hospitality of the residents of the Felony Forest really left a lot to be desired. A whole lot.
After some very tense moments, she’d finally been able to convince Dom not to just get all big and fiery and start crushing people like grapes, which was good because that would have made the next step of her plan impossible.
At the moment, they were being led down the path towards the thieves’ stronghold.
Her brother quickened his pace to catch up. “Care to explain to us what the plan is now, Tay?”
“Personally, I still do not understand why I am once again held captive by tiny inferior creatures.” Dom eyed one of the “creatures” in question. “This one is not even a man yet. I could easily vanquish such a human, had you not stayed my hand. He is so young his parents cannot possibly have even grown that attached to him yet.” He watched the man silently for a moment, meeting his gaze. “You will not be missed.”
The man in question swallowed nervously, then increased the distance between himself and Dom.
“Please stop telling the kidnappers how easily you could kill them, Dom.” She reminded him again. “We’ve talked about that.”
“I recall that conversation, yes.”
“Remember,” she whispered, “you are not a giant.”
“I’m not a giant.” He repeated.
“Good.” She nodded in approval. “That sounded good.”
“No, I mean I’m really not.” He shook his head. “Ogres are completely unrelated to the race of…”
“Focus, man!” Ryle chided, cutting him off. “No one cares how your people struggle with fucking negative labels right now! Okay!?!”
Taylor lowered her voice. “If these people find out that the Baselanders are looking for you, they will try to sell you to them. So, we’re not going to tell them that.” She looked up at him. “What are we going to tell them if they question why you look and act differently?”
Dom cleared his throat. “Hello. I am from the Grizzwood.” He recited, as he’d been instructed. “Ignore me.”
“Nice.” Ryle snorted in amusement. “Sounded totally natural. Good read, man.”
She glared at him. “He’s doing the best he can! Shut up!” She went back to ignoring Ryle. “The people from the Grizzwood are all crazy and violent, so you couldn’t possibly do something that one of them hasn’t already done, no matter how bizarre, profane, or murderous. It’s far from Cormoran and no one has ever been there…”
“’Cause it’s a shithole.” Ryle interjected, as if explaining.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, then picked up where she left off, “…which means that no one will even know what someone from that dreadful place looks like. It’s the perfect disguise for you!” She smiled up at her giant. “I think you’re doing splendidly, by the way.”
“Thank you.” He looked pleased. “I am unfamiliar with human lies. Well… being the one telling them anyway. I obviously have plenty of experience hearing them.”
“So what’s our plan as far as meeting the ‘Grand High Dirtbag’ or whatever they got here?” Ryle casually looked around the valley. “We just going to wing it or is there a vague, incomplete and unhelpful section of the miraculous-and-ever-shifting plan which can be stretched to cover this eventuality as well?”
“It’s simple: we’re going to get these people to smuggle us out of the valley and past the Baselanders, right into the capital.” She gestured to the thieves walking beside them, who were keeping a safe distance from Dom, but which also conveniently put them out of earshot. “They are smugglers, right? They don’t care whose laws they’re breaking and this is their base of operations, so they must have their own trails in and out of it.”
Ryle paused to consider that, then glanced at Dom. “Okay, am I the only one kind of freaked out that that’s a really good idea?”
“No. You’re not.” The giant agreed. “Of course, it still doesn’t deal with the fact that we have no currency with which to bribe these humans with.” He looked around. “And I see no sheep.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, I’m thinking precious metals are the way to go.”
“And how precisely are you planning on giving them gold?” Ryle asked.
“I’m not.” She gestured to her pack, which was at the moment being carried by one of the thieves. “I’m going to pay them with silver.”
They stared at her blankly.
“The magic wand.” She mouthed.
“Are we really still calling it that?” Dom asked them seriously. “Because it’s the most sacred object of my people.”
“Well, now it’s going to be some asshole’s most sacred doorstop.” Ryle sounded almost amused over the idea. “You got a problem with that?”
“Not if it gets Tay-Lore out of this, no.” Dom shook his head. “I will melt it down myself.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t actually give it to them.” She explained. “We’ll just say we’re giving it to them, then when we get to where we’re going, we’ll turn them in and keep it. We use the thieves to escape the Baselanders and the king to escape the thieves.”
“That sounds rather dishonest.” Dom’s eyes squinted as if trying to understand that idea.
“To be fair, man, they wouldn’t get swindled if they hadn’t kidnapped us first.” Ryle argued. “They started it.”
Dom considered that, then nodded. “I find lies much less repugnant now that I get to enjoy them from the other side.” He nodded. “I approve of this plan, if it is the course of action Tay-Lore endorses.”
“The important thing,” she looked right and left to make sure no one could overhear her, “no one mention that it has the power to control him, okay?” She pointed at Dom. “So, whatever happens do not talk about the wand or what it can do. I need your word on that.”
“Fine. You have it.” Dom shook his head. “But, I still don’t understand why you think…”
Ryle winced, ignoring Dom and talking right over him. “Don’t ever do that!” He cried, then lowered his voice to a whisper again. “Don’t ever say ‘whatever you do, don’t say blank’ and then actually say blank! ‘Cause you know someone’s going to overhear you saying it!”
“I didn’t say it!” She argued, shaking her head. “I said not to say it!” She looked to her giant for a ruling. “Dom, did I say it?”
He opened his mouth to reply to that, then closed it.
“Well?” Ryle urged. “Come on, man. Out with it!”
“Yes, you did, Tay-Lore.” Dom admitted reluctantly. “But it was…”
Her gasp of horror cut off his backpedaling. “Betrayal!”
They were ushered into a ramshackle building, still arguing over the incident. The interior appeared to be decorated as a tavern, with booths and tables set up around a central bar area. The entire place had a temporary and rather shoddy look to it, as if drunken carpenters had stolen random bits of wood from their various jobs and had haphazardly assembled the pieces into something which sort of resembled a complete building. Almost. If you squinted.
She turned to glare at her brother as she was shoved into one of the makeshift booths. “This is your influence. He never would have gone against me this morning, but you’re turning him against me.”
“So, grab your magic wand and re-hypnotize him or whatever.” Ryle was thrown onto the seat beside her. “Fix him right back up and put him back under your thrall.”
�
��Stop mentioning that!” She cried. “And it’s not a ‘thrall!’”
Dom sat down on the floor next to the table, too large for the bench or for the robbers to manhandle him into the seat. As it was, his height allowed him to be eye level with them anyway. “You’re not supposed to mention The Mace of the Kings, The Brother. I am forbidden from speaking of it, as are you.” Dom reminded him seriously. “Tay-Lore has told you on several occasions now.”
“My point is that if the big man’s starting to act a little more clearheaded, that’s only a good thing, because it means that he’s finally escaping whatever evil mind-controlling magic that wand puts out.” Ryle sulked in the corner. “That’s all.”
“Why are we speaking of the most holy thing as if…” Dom began.
“Hush! Don’t talk about it! You promised!” She held up a finger to stop Dom, still focused on her brother. “You mentioned it again, Ryle.” Her eyes narrowed in fury. “If you don’t stop mentioning it, I’m going to have Dom crush you.”
“Not without the magic wand, you’re not!” Ryle cried. “Because he don’t have to listen to you no more if you don’t have that!”
“Stop mentioning it!” She yelled at him again. “And he would listen to me whether I held that magic wand or not.”
“You’ve mentioned it again.” Dom informed them. “In fact, you two seem incapable of discussing anything else.” He frowned slightly. “Just what exactly is it about the Mace of the Kings which we are deliberately not speaking of? No one has told me.”
She ignored that, continuing to yell at her brother. “I just think you can’t stand to see me happy.”
“Hell, anyone could be happy if they had a magic wand that made someone do whatever they wanted!” Ryle argued. “But that’s not real happiness and will just end up getting them hurt!”
“This is becoming ridiculous now.” Dom sighed. “It seems you are…”
“I know what I’m doing!” She shouted at her brother.
“I don’t know what this argument is even about anymore,” Dom pinched the bridge of his nose, “except in so forth as we’re not allowed to discuss it and that it involves the Mace of the Kings in some way. It really would be easier to not talk about something if I understood what it was I wasn’t supposed to talk about, rather than just trying to remain quiet on all topics for fear of breaking Tay-Lore’s mandate on not talking about whatever it is.” He glanced around the table. “Would it help if I explained the history of the Mace and its purpose?”
“No!” She shook her head. “Don’t talk about it at all.”
“Very well.” He sat straighter on the floor. “Perhaps if we all just took a moment to calm down and not talk about the things we’re not supposed to talk about, no one would talk about them.”
Ryle considered that for a moment. “Your giant is kinda making sense right now.”
“And I didn’t even use the wand to get him to say that.” She smirked. “Which proves my point!”
Dom put his head in his hands, the heavy chains still attached to his wrists rattling from the movement. Unlike Taylor and Ryle, he had not been otherwise bound by their captors. Evidently, the thieves had thought that a man who could unconcernedly stroll around with heavy manacles on, was unlikely to be at all hindered by a few vines wrapped around his wrists.
It was obvious to everyone that he was only going with their captors as a courtesy.
Across the room, the door opened again and what could only be the thieves’ leader strolled in, accompanied by a woman. The man approached their booth, guiding his companion to a table nearby. He wore a tall copotain-style hat, a long blue admiral’s coat which he wore open, tan pants and a white shirt. Only one button of his shirt was fastened, the rest hung open to reveal a glimpse of an intricate design tattooed on his chest in metallic ink. On his shoulder was perched a brightly colored feathered creature, which looked somewhere between a cat and a bird. He carried two swords; one a cutlass and the other a Khopesh sword, which featured a nasty looking sickle-like hook to it. Both of his weapons dangled from a very expensive looking belt. He removed his hat to reveal that his head was completely shaved, with the exception of a long braided ponytail which hung to his waist. He wore rings on most of his fingers, several of which were connected by chains to a wide golden cuff on his forearm, and he had three earrings in his left ear. All told, he looked like a mixture of a pirate and some variety of handsome, evil adventurer.
“Ah, good morning everyone.” His voice was deep, but filled with overt friendliness and casual self-assurance.
Taylor tried to remember the name the thief outside had mentioned while she was pleading with him to let her speak to his superior. “Are you… Captain Uriah?” She tried, hoping she got the name correct.
His smile grew even wider. “My reputation precedes me.” He regally held a hand up to his chest as he sat down across from them in the booth. “Yes, I am the Uriah.” He grinned at them pleasantly. “I’d like to congratulate you on meeting me. No doubt this is a big day for you all. Not many are so blessed to meet the legend.” He gestured to their surroundings. “Welcome to my favorite tavern.”
His companion sank into a chair at a different table, partially hidden in the shadows. She was dressed in a tattered grey hooded poncho, which covered almost her entire body. The gloom and the hood did little to disguise the fact that the woman was a foreigner and also probably the most beautiful person Taylor had ever seen. Her stunning exotic features were undercut by a crisscross of scars which spider-webbed across the delicate angles of her youthful face and otherwise flawless skin. Several of the raised dark lines ran under a grey blindfold she was wearing, shielding her eyes from view. The girl was obviously blinded by whatever it was that had caused the wounds to her face. Given the reputation of the pirates and thieves in the area, Taylor was already betting that Uriah had done it to her.
Sick bastard.
As if on cue, he gestured offhandedly to the woman. “And that’s Ransom.”
“Is that her given name?” Taylor asked in curiosity, already growing angry over the idea that this maniac could rob the girl of her very identity. “Or some kind of… pet name?” She tried not to be sick.
“I have no idea.” Uriah answered seriously, pursing his lips in thought. “It would be rather hilarious if it did turn out to be her real name though, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled in amusement, looking amazed that anyone would ask such a question or care about a woman he probably only thought of as meat. “I just started calling her that because I had hoped to hold her for ransom, but no one has ever come forward to claim her. So now I keep her around because of her sparkling conversational skills,” he turned to look at his companion, “isn’t that right, Dove? You’ve become quite the social butterfly under my tutelage, haven’t you?”
The broken woman continued to sit in total silence, either because she was too afraid of the man to speak or because she was deaf, since she gave no indication that she had even heard him.
“Precisely.” He nodded as if she had just answered his question. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He looked back at Taylor. “My business partner’s oratory skills are legendary among our social set, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.” He rested his arms along the back of his booth and looked around the interior of the tavern. “I’ve personally always enjoyed the atmosphere in here, don’t you?” He said conversationally. “The wooden tables and delightfully rustic décor remind me of the mountains in late fall.” He took on a wistful tone. “So many cherished mornings with the family around the fire. Frost on the window panes and blood on the floors.” He nodded, obviously moved by his own undoubtedly fake remembrances of home. “There’s a realness to it, so often lacking in today’s modern hectic world.” He glanced over his shoulder at his companion again. “Have I ever told you about the cabin I grew up in, Dove? Oh, it was lovely. Perched on the bank of a small stream and every morning my brother Varner and I would run down to its murky waters to catch cat
fish for breakfast, while my brother Derriks set fire to things, and my brother Shaymus tried to suture his latest wounds using bits of discarded twine.” He sighed dreamily, as if that were a treasured memory. “Ah, youth.”
The man had an air of grandeur and poise about him, lounging back in his chair like he was in total control of the world. His voice and appearance were filled with drama, but there was a cold cleverness in his eyes which revealed him as anything but the frivolous fool he seemed.
Taylor had total faith in the idea that he could sit in his chair and laugh at them for hours, then casually have them all killed. And he wouldn’t think twice about it.
But he thought he was smarter than Taylor.
Which meant that she had the advantage.
She cleared her throat. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked to speak with you.”
“I should think it has something to do with not wanting to be robbed and murdered.” He guessed dryly. “That’s usually near the top of most people’s lists.” He paused. “Except that one fellow who just wanted to talk with me about recipes for venison.” He turned in his chair. “Remember that one, Dove?” He called to his captive, his tone one of bafflement. “What an odd fellow he was. It was almost a shame to kill him, as he had the most exciting plans for boysenberries and cobbler.”
The scarred woman- and Taylor- both ignored that.
“I wanted to talk to you, because I have an offer to make.” Taylor leaned forward in her seat. “You see, we need to get to the capital. The fate of the kingdom is at stake and we want to hire you. There are forces at play which seek to overthrow our government and install someone…”
“Ah, treason.” He interrupted, sighing admiringly over the idea, as if it brought up a million treasured memories. “What a remarkably profitable enterprise.” He turned to look at his companion. “Have I ever told you about the first time I was arrested for treason, Dove? Oh, it was a splendid affair. Much talked of. I think we all tend to glamorize our first time, but in my case, it was most magical.” He glanced back at Taylor, not waiting for his prisoner’s reply. “But go on, go on.” He sounded genuinely interested now. “Are these shadowy forces hiring at all or do they already have the necessary headcount of conspirators? Are you their representative? Because I have an impeccable resume of cruelty and slaughter.” He informed her persuasively. “I have references.”
Travels With a Fairytale Monster Page 11