Rogue

by Robyn Wideman

The assassin grinned. “You don’t remember me? I suppose it’s been a few years—and you were always too busy with your bitch and the rest of your shadow whores. I worked for King Leach. We met once during the battle of Seven Creeks.”

  Rogue thought back. The battle of Seven Creeks had been one their first skirmishes in Deytar. King Leach had all of his foreign warriors in one large battle against Deytar’s soldiers. It had been a disaster. The Shadow Brigade worked best in small strategic strikes where they could use their skills to confuse and create chaos. The Deytar forces had taken the battle to the rag-tag army of foreign mercenaries. After that, Hubard had convinced the king that the Shadow Brigade was best used to create chaos behind enemy lines, not as front-line combatants. “I remember now. You were part of that group from Seron. The Blood Girls?”

  “Blood Boys, you cheeky git.”

  “If I recall correctly, your lot was the first to retreat.”

  The assassin laughed. “King Leach was a fool, using mercenaries against trained soldiers on an open field of battle. We knew right away we were only there for fodder. Besides, after that we worked both sides, raiding towns on both sides of the border. It was very profitable. A shame you damn Shadow Brigade were so effective. The war would’ve gone on for years longer if you hadn’t cowed Deytar into a treaty.”

  Rogue knew that was wrong. King Leach had betrayed them because he was dying. It had been Vaton that started the war in the first place, but he didn’t care to discuss old history or waste his time correcting this assassin’s version of the story. “Who’s paying for this little venture? Vernon Glaire? You Blood Girls never came cheap.”

  “I don’t think so, Mendris. You’ll go to the grave not knowing who paid for your death. I will tell you that you’re worth a pretty penny or two. Far more than the bounty King Vaton put on your head, and far more than Vernon was willing to pay.”

  Interesting, thought Rogue. That means Vernon was likely behind the attacks on Jasmin Grant, but not the ones on me. “What is my life worth, then?” Rogue wanted as many details out of the assassin as he could get before the fight was finished. Hopefully, he could eventually get a name, or enough details to figure out who was paying him.

  “My weight in gold. As soon as I’m done killing you I’m going to gorge myself for a week straight to make sure I get every coin I can. Enough talk—time for you to die, Mendris Fox.” The assassin came forward, feinting an attack with his club that he followed up with a leg sweep that forced Rogue off balance as he had to hop over the leg. Then the assassin swiped across his body with his axe, forcing Rogue to turn the blow aside with his dagger. As Rogue blocked the axe, the assassin struck him in the ribs with his club.

  Rogue gasped for air as the club crushed his ribs. He lifted his leg and kicked the assassin back before he could hit him again. Rogue knew he was in trouble now. Between his arm and his ribs, he was moving too slow. The assassin would just keep slashing and bashing until Rogue was done. He needed to change things up. It had been years since he’d last called on his shadow magic. However, he’d already used a strength potion and if he was going to survive, he had no choice. Rogue deftly flipped his dagger from his good hand into the hand of his injured arm and reached down, grabbing one of the small magical pouches on his belt. Rogue’s hand grew warm as the pouch burst into flames in his hand. He then threw the burning pouch at the assassin, who was coming forward for another attack.

  The pouch, filled with a wicked combination of combustible dried herbs and oils, struck the assassin in the chest. The flames were blue-green and spread from his navel to his collarbone. The assassin tried to bat the flames down but they only grew with his movement. He screamed and tried to pull off his shirt, but the cotton was now melting into his skin. Frantic, the assassin dropped to the ground, trying to smother the flame in the dirt.

  After flicking the dagger back into his good hand, Rogue stabbed the assassin in the back. He would’ve died from the magical flames, but it would’ve been a slow and anguish-filled death. Rogue didn’t blame the man for wanting to kill him. Someone had put an enormous price on Rogue’s head that any mercenary would risk his life for. The man was already paying the price for that.

  Rogue slumped over. He was having a hard time breathing. The last effort to magically ignite the pouch and throw it had taken more energy than he had. He was in bad shape now. He reached down to his belt to grab the magic salve, but remembered he’d used it all in Golrog. He’d have to bring more next time, or only use the salve on the most critical wounds.

  Finding a tree to lean against, Rogue closed his eyes. He was drained and needed to get his strength back. He’d either have to search to see if the assassins had horses nearby or start walking back to the cabin. Either way, he’d need a breather first.

  A nudging woke Rogue. He opened his eyes to see the roan rubbing its head on his chest. “I thought I told you to go home,” Rogue said as he scratched the animal between the ears.

  The roan shook its head and bared its teeth.

  Despite the pain in his chest, Rogue laughed. The roan was as stubborn as they come. “Alright, boy. Let’s head home.”

  21

  Yosef

  Yosef entered the Wretched Wench and strode to the bar; the place was packed, and it gave him little hope of finding a room for the night. They could’ve just pressed on to the Grant estate, but it was late and after the last time, he didn’t want any mistakes.

  “What can I get you?” asked Sam when Yosef finally made his way through the crowd.

  “I need a room for the night.”

  “Sorry, friend. It’s the weekend and all our rooms are spoken for.”

  Yosef was tired and in no mood to argue. He put a gold coin on the bar counter. “My travel companion is old and needs a proper bed. Surely one of your guests wouldn’t mind giving up his room for a gold piece.”

  Sam looked at the coin and then stepped back and rang a bell that was hanging behind the bar. The boisterous crowd quieted down. “Lads, we have travelers in town for the evening and they’re in need of a room. Anyone offering up their room gets a gold coin.”

  Yosef watched as the men hemmed and hawed. Finally, a big miner stood up.

  “I’ll give up my room, on one condition.”

  By the way the crowd started to cheer and laugh, Yosef had an idea of what the miner had in mind. “What’s your condition?”

  The miner grinned. “My friend Karl here says you put on quite the show last time you were in town. I was pretty disappointed when Karl claimed you looked like you could beat any miner and any two lumberjacks.” A chorus of cheers and loud boos rang out among the crowd. “I’ll give up my room if you agree to a bit of sport for the boys and me to watch. Bare knuckle, first one who can’t get up by a five count loses.”

  Yosef looked at the man with mild amusement. “And I’d be fighting you?”

  The miner shook his head. “Nah, I am an instigator, not a finisher. I’m going to let the sissy boy lumberjacks pick their man, and us proud and powerful miners will pick our man, and then we’ll play drakka for the rights to whip your arse.”

  The crowd roared and booed again as the miner insulted the lumberjacks and praised his own miners. The overall mood was jovial, though. Everyone in the building seemed to like the idea. Yosef wasn’t one to fight for sport, but getting a room for Magistrate Benton and building a bit of rapport with the locals were good enough reasons to accept the offer. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what Riverside has to offer for fighting men these days.” Again, the crowd cheered.

  The miner grinned. “OK. Who is going to represent our runty lumberjack friends?”

  The lumberjacks booed and yelled obscenities at the miner until a large, blond-haired man stood up. “I’ll do it just to shut you up, Connor.”

  Connor grinned. “There ya be lads, the lumberjacks have a champion, old soft-hands Hector himself. Now which of you miners wants a gold coin, and to show these lumber-loving, splinter-sitting tree mong
ers how a real man fights?”

  A burly miner stood up. “I haven’t had a good fight in months.”

  Connor raised his mug in salute to his comrade from the mines. “There we go. Ben Vaughn, as tough as nails and as ugly as a three-eyed sundurian snake.”

  Ben Vaughn glared at Connor as both the miners and lumberjacks had a laugh at the less-than-flattering description.

  “Step right up boys, let’s play a round of drakka so we can get to the main event,” Connor said as both men came up to the table.

  Yosef watched in amusement as the men stood nose to nose and stared each other down. Drakka was a simple game: each man would roll three dice. Each time the dice were rolled, the player could choose to keep a die or roll again. The winner was the one with either a higher total roll or the one who got the best matching hand. A pair increased the count by five while triples increased it by fifteen.

  Hector the lumberjack rolled first, a six, a four, and a two.

  Ben Vaughn then rolled. The dice bounced around the table before landing on a three, a four, and a one.

  Hector grinned. His first roll was much better than Vaughn’s. Hector decided to leave the six and the four on the table and rolled one die. He rolled a five.

  Ben took all three dice and blew on them for luck. He rolled again. This time he rolled a pair of threes and a two.

  Yosef saw Hector hesitate. The pair of threes was a much better roll for Vaughn, but right now Hector was still winning with a count of fifteen. He could roll again and hope to get a pair, but if he stayed at fifteen Ben Vaughn would have to roll a three or a five or higher to beat him. A four would cause a tie and they would roll one of the dice, highest roll wins, but a two or less and Hector would win. Yosef knew the smart move was too roll again and hope for a pair, but Yosef wasn’t sure that the lumberjack knew this. Hector tapped the table, indicating he would keep his roll. Yosef smiled. The lumberjack had just given his competitor a high chance of winning. Of the six possible outcomes of the next dice roll, two would give victory to Hector, one would result in a tie, and three would give the win to the miner.

  Next, Ben Vaugh took his last die and rolled it. As the die toppled around the table, the crowd cheered, until the dice finally stopped on a one. Ben groaned as Hector raised his hands in triumph. Yosef was amused by the display. Hector had won despite his skills, not because of them.

  Connor, the mastermind of the situation, spoke. “There we have it, folks, tonight the gods have chosen a stinking lumberjack to represent the fair town of Riverside against the barbaric and vicious brute from the capital.” Connor winked at Yosef before continuing. “Now remember folks, this is a fun contest, so no biting, eye gouging, or excessive damage to the groin, and spectators keep your hands to yourself. I’m looking at you, Wren Williams.”

  “Aww, it happened one time, damn it. And he stepped on my toe, he deserved what he got,” Wren Williams said in protest.

  “And it was mere coincidence you’d bet a week’s wages against him,” Connor said. “You’ve been warned. Now, the rest of you lot, clear some tables and chairs away and give these gentlemen some room to dance.”

  As the men pulled chairs and tables away, Yosef started to really study his opponent. Hector was tall and lean but had the thick shoulders and arms of a lumberjack, and he moved fluidly.

  “Gentlemen, step into the circle,” said Connor.

  Yosef walked into the circle of cheering men and women. A few of the miners seemed to be cheering against Hector the lumberjack, but for the most part the crowd was decidedly for the hometown man.

  Hector wasted little time, aggressively coming forward with a surprisingly good left jab.

  Yosef slipped the jab with practiced ease. However, he was caught flat-footed when Hector followed up with a short left jab followed up by a right hook to the midsection. The jab had been expected, but it was the hook that Yosef hadn’t anticipated. It seemed these Riverside men had more skills than he’d believed.

  Hector grinned. “Weren’t expecting that, were you?”

  Yosef nodded and then lunged forward, feinting an overhand right before landing a left to Hector’s midsection.

  Hector stepped back and eyed Yosef warily.

  And you weren’t expecting that, Yosef thought to himself as Hector circled around. Yosef came forward again, this time throwing the overhand right. The big lumberjack blocked the blow, but Yosef kept coming with a flurry of punches, putting the lumberjack back on his heels as he tried to block the onslaught of hits. Yosef landed several glancing blows, but nothing that hurt the man.

  As Yosef threw another overhand right, he watched Hector step forward and slip the punch. Yosef knew he was in trouble as Hector came up with a wicked uppercut. The blow smashed into Yosef’s mouth with force, sending him flying backward until his butt landed solidly on the floor.

  The crowd roared. Their man had drawn first blood, and knock down.

  Yosef smiled as he got up. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The cut was minor, but it was to his lips and the blood trickled in. Yosef stretched his head to the right and it made a popping sound. He was starting to get warmed up, and there was nothing like the taste of one’s own blood to bring up a warrior’s intensity.

  Hector came in throwing hard, mimicking the flurry of attacks Yosef had used against him earlier. Yosef blocked and moved, circling so that Hector was forced to adjust. Yosef had found the lumberjack had a weakness. Despite having a quick and powerful left jab, most of the lumberjack’s attacks were based around his right hand. Like many fighters, Hector favored his strong hand and wasn’t as skilled throwing with his left. Yosef kept his feet moving so that he was on the lumberjack’s left.

  Hector tried to throw a left hook, and when he did Yosef slipped under it while throwing a hard overhand right. The blow struck Hector flush on the temple. Like one of the great western oaks, Hector crashed to the ground, out cold.

  Most of the crowd groaned while the few who’d obviously made bets on Yosef cheered.

  “Well, shit,” said Connor. “How about another fight?”

  Yosef shook his head. He reached out and helped up Hector, who’d woken. “No, that is enough for me. You Riverside men hit hard.”

  When he was standing, Hector grinned. “Damn, I thought I had you.”

  “You almost did. Where you learn to box like that?”

  Connor laughed. “From Rogue kicking his ass three weekends in a row.”

  Hector shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “I wanted to prove I was the toughest man in Riverside, and I wasn’t going to stop until I beat him. But after the first three beatings, I had no choice but to learn. You should fight him. That is a fight I’d pay to see.”

  Yosef shook his head. “Not likely to happen. I have no interest in getting my ass kicked.”

  Hector grinned. “You know him?”

  “Our paths have crossed. I can tell you there is no shame in losing a fight to that man. He’s a devil. It amazes me you chose to fight him more than once.”

  Connor laughed and slapped Hector on the back. “These lumberjacks are tough, but not too smart.”

  Hector grunted. “Like you miners have fared any better against him.”

  “That is true. Now let’s have a drink. What will you have, king’s man?”

  “Ale would be fine,” Yosef said.

  The three of them walked to the bar. Men moved aside but nodded at Yosef with respect. They appreciated that he’d proven himself and hadn’t disrespected their companion. “Three ales,” Connor said.

  As Sam poured the drinks, Yosef turned to his new friends. “What can you tell me about the Grants?”

  Both men developed dark looks. “We heard about you confronting her last time you were here. If you try anything, you’ll end up with a dagger in your back. The Grants are good people.”

  Yosef raised his hands. “I wish the Grants no harm. In fact, I’m here to make sure no harm comes to them. The fact that you all approve of th
em speaks volumes. That isn’t always the case between locals and the landowners.”

  Connor and Hector relaxed.

  “Lady Grant has always treated us fairly and with respect. There would be no Riverside if it weren’t for her. Before she arrived, there was corruption and a lot of sneaky devil barons trying to take our jobs. Lady Grant always uses locals and pays fair. She’s a sharp businesswoman, but her word is good.”

  Yosef nodded. “And the daughter?”

  “Smart as a whip, and as beautiful as a siren,” Hector said.

  Connor laughed. “Hector is like every other young man in Riverside. He’s infatuated with her, but she’s got no time for the local lads.”

  Yosef was glad to hear the way the men spoke of the Grant family. The kingdom needed a leader who could hold the respect of the people. That Lady Grant held such respect in Riverside spoke to her qualities. Jasmin Grant might not have the experience of her mother, but the girl had a solid upbringing. The capital was far different from Riverside, but that wasn’t a bad thing. The kingdom of Deytar was more than just the capital of Evermeir—it was the dozens and dozens of mid-sized cities and large villages like Riverside that were the heartbeat of the kingdom. A ruler had to understand the people who lived in those communities, and the Grants seemed to do that very well. “Who would I talk to about sending a rider out the Grant estate? I want someone they know and trust.”

  Connor looked at Hector. “I’d say just send Hector, but you hit him pretty hard. Who knows if he could make the ride out to the estate. You know who would go on a moment’s notice? The sheriff. He caught the ire of Lady Grant after the attack on her daughter, and I bet he’d love the opportunity to get back in her good graces. I’ll go fetch him myself. Any message in particular?”

  “Just have him inform Lady Grant that the representative of the king has arrived and would like to visit the estate.”

  Connor nodded. “That is smart. I’ve seen her new men and they are a serious bunch. If they got the wrong idea, there would be bloodshed.”