Book 2 Dead Man's Hand: The Knights of the Golden Dragon

by Troy Reaves

  Mama moved into the present quickly, the sadness in her eyes replaced by a measured fury, as she looked over Boremac’s shoulder and cursed. “Rat bastard is back in here with that soft lass again. Follows him like a lost, whipped puppy. No surprise, as that is how he treats her. Someone needs to give him what for but the’men’ in here duck into their drink. That boy is not that big. May have to give him a beating myself.” She started to rise from her chair so quickly that Boremac was sure whoever she was after was in serious trouble. He turned to look over at the couple she had noted and all but yanked his mama back into her chair. The’boy’ she was speaking of would have given a black bear, even a mama one, a moment’s pause. He was huge, and just plain mean looking, readily the biggest person Boremac had ever seen. The lovely girl at his side was petite, all soft features and gentle curves with flowing dark hair and eyes the color of a bright winter sky. He could not take his eyes off her. Boremac thanked Alchendia as the pair, he could not begin to think of them as a couple, turned toward the bar. The giant threw curses to clear their path as his companion lowered her head, staring at his boots while she followed him.

  Boremac had to fight to keep his thoughts on his target. This would not be an old man, even a highly skilled one, with a staff sparring with him. That beast would probably kill him. He was about to give up on the foolish idea of facing the lout when a single, unmistakable sound made its way across the now quiet tavern. It was the choking sound of barely restrained tears. He was resolved that he was probably going to be killed for his effort at something like chivalry. He had read enough tales of knights to understand something of honor, but he had not understood why that would matter to him. Now here were these strange, heroic images of himself bubbling up that, as far as he was concerned, had no place in his head. The one that took the front of his mind now was the fallen knight, barely surviving the rescue of some beautiful princess, receiving her restoring kiss of gratitude. “Stupid knights,” he thought as he took a moment to measure the beast. “Stupid Boremac. No shield, no sword, no armor. Just blades and balls. I am going to get myself killed.” Boremac figured his best bet would be to keep close to the animal. The two short swords at the larger boy’s hips worried the rogue just a bit, but his major concern were the hands at the end of his trunk like arms. A smithy would have been proud to be able to swing a hammer with an iron head as large as those hands. Boremac knew if he took a direct hit from one of those he was done, especially if the beast had a chance to rear back first. “Well,” Boremac thought, “sooner started, sooner done. Any last thoughts before we get our butt handed to us?” He was sorry to note the idiot knight with gleaming armor in his head raised his sword in defiance as he stared at the giant towering over him. He was dismayed to note the knight looked just like him.

  Boremac felt it was only fair to announce his challenge. He did not, however, see any reason to do it openly. His dagger leapt into his hand as if with a mind of its own as he punched the giant’s kidney with the pommel. Boremac was not happy with the result. His intended victim finished downing his ale and slammed the clay mug he had been holding against the bar, shattering it. When he spoke, it sounded like boulders were being broken by his teeth around the words. “That tickled. My turn.” He barely even turned his body toward Boremac as his arm swept out and caught the rogue low in the chest. Boremac was lifted from his feet and tossed over several tables to the rough center of the tavern, luckily landing flat on his back.

  Boremac had just enough time to realize how big a mistake he had just made and rise to his feet, noting with some small reassurance that he was able to steady himself. He entered a ready position and brought his second dagger into his other hand. Play time was over and he decided to face the blades out, trying to maintain a loose grip on the pommels even as mild panic surged through him. His opponent wasted no time making his way toward his new prey, turning over tables in a practiced manner to form a rough circle around the two of them as he came. The tavern patrons vacated any tables near the makeshift arena, choosing to watch from a safe distance. The tavern keeper decided serving time was over for the immediate future and took a drink for himself as he mounted one of the barstools, as much to take a rest as to watch over the bar. The serving ladies all gathered nearby in a tight huddle and watched fearfully as Mama joined them. Boremac could not help noting she was whispering a quiet prayer to Alchendia. He hoped it would help.

  “So, someone wants to play, huh?” Again stones shattered as the giant spoke. “Interesting blades. Seems I should know them. No matter. You will be soon be buried with them in those fine leathers by weeping wenches.” He cracked his knuckles in preparation, each with a resounding pop not unlike the breaking of tree branches. Boremac shook the tight spring in his gut loose, trying to think of some way to take him without getting killed. There did not seem to be one. Boremac figured if he could stay out of his way long enough, he might wear him down. It made sense that as big as the man was, he could not be that fast. Boremac just had to wait for a strike that could cripple him. No need for either of them to die. Right?

  It turned out to be a workable plan right up until he saw how fast his opponent really was. The big man did not even bother to rear back as he glided rapidly in front of Boremac, launching his fist from his hip to take Boremac under the chin. If he had been a hair faster, or Boremac had been a hair slower, the rogue would have at least had a shattered jaw from the blow. More likely the power behind the strike would have neatly snapped his head back and broken his neck. Boremac survived this opening blow by dipping back and under it, kicking out to one side as he launched a boot into his adversary’s crotch. Even though the boot met its intended target, the result was less than fruitful. The heel of the boot met a small metal shield that sent a shudder through Boremac from the force of the deflection and threw him off balance. The brute’s abrupt laughter was the only reason for the break Boremac got, giving him enough time to regain his feet, this time alongside the beast. “Good shot! Worked once for a man now called’Stumpy’. Harder to do that when someone rips your legs off. What else you got?” Before Boremac could reply, he found himself once more airborne as a great arm swept him at chest level. This time he slammed into one of the overturned tables forming the battlefield’s wall, his breath rushing out of him in a bellowing gasp. “Take your time, Scrawny. I can do this all day.” He waited patiently while Boremac regained his feet. “Okay, one more chance to impress me then I get bored. If I get bored then I bash your pretty face in.” Boremac got the ugliest grin he had ever seen after the man spoke, full of broken yellow and brown teeth the color of mold. He had to think fast.

  Desperation sometimes gave warriors the edge they needed on the battlefield facing insurmountable odds. All the strategy in the worlds did no good when facing the impossible. This is what separated heroes from dead men, beside the fact people rarely remembered dead men. Boremac took a moment to weigh a hundred possible attacks that might at least slow the beast and threw them all out just as fast. In the end his gut took over as he took two quick steps toward the man, tightening his legs to spring with each movement. How he ended up looking down at his opponent’s head with his legs tightly wrapped around a neck the size of a large tree trunk was a mystery to him, but Boremac figured if he lived, he could figure that one out later. Right now he needed to disable this bastard, and now he had his opening. He drove both of his daggers deep into his target’s shoulders and twisted them. It would not kill him but the damage should give him something to think about. One thing was for sure, they would be talking about this fight for quite some time.

  The crowd thought Boremac might have a shot for about a minute. “Go, Bore!” Blade trumps Hammer!” “Hammer falls!” “Looks like this one got some speed, Hammer!” “Kill him, Hammer!” The last words were painful. Boremac recognized their source immediately, though the lass that had followed this Hammer around was behind him. It was a ruse. He was a rat caught by a better trap than he had encountered before. He wondered wheth
er his fury or despair would win out first as he tried to wrench his daggers out of Hammer’s shoulders. No luck there. The blades were buried too deep.

  Despite being in obvious pain, Hammer wasted no time reaching up and extracting Boremac from his current position. He tossed the rogue like he was a small stone, skipping him across several tables before Boremac slammed into the bar and fell forward. The force of the impact left several broken boards and Boremac now lay flat on his face, sprawling from the rebound.

  “Now I am mad and bored. Still you have made an impression; two actually. I will keep my word. There are too many witnesses not to and I have to sleep sometimes. Tell you what. If you can get up before I get to you, I will not kill you. I will even take my time so long as I have a full mug on the way.” It was amazing how fast the servers could move when inspired. A mug brigade formed almost instantly with the beginning at a lady who had leapt over the bar to start the filling at a fresh tap, passing a continuous flow outward as she filled each mug. As Boremac started to right himself, ale from the alcohol brigade sloshing onto his back and butt, he mused that they might poison him if they kept it up. The ale did not seem to be affecting Hammer’s aim as he closed the distance slowly. There was a patron lying unconscious and bruised from flying empty mugs that were launched expertly as he emptied them. Boremac’s strength was all but gone and he kept losing his grip as he tried to climb a nearby stool. He felt a force draw him up while gripping him by his shoulder and before he could say, “What in the Abyss?” he had his answer. Mama whispered those words from so long ago, “‘Live fully. Do what you must to survive, my son, but live fully.’ Just stay up, my boy. He will not kill you here. I swear it.” Boremac felt hope well up in him. She had never let him down before and no harm had ever come to him here. He thought that should count for something and if he was going to die at least he should not be bitter about it. Boremac summoned his last vestiges of strength and held himself propped against the bar, a wolfish smile tilting his lips. “Yes,” he thought, “no harm can come to me here, and if I am wrong then at least I can die taunting death.”

  Hammer drew steadily closer, quickening his pace as he noted Boremac’s misplaced grin. “By all that is holy, Hammer, knock that stupid look off his face. Now I am bored.” Gone was any grace or beauty that Hammer’s female minion had possessed in Boremac’s eyes such a short time ago. Her true nature was revealed and she shone like a grotesque harpy singing men to their doom… and she was irritating besides. “Kill him, or do not, but I am ready to go.” The high pitch of her voice must have grated him as well because he all but growled his reply. Impressive for a man who seemed to speak in little but growling tones.

  “Yes, Cani, almost finished with him.” Boremac almost pitied him as he noted the set of his jaw when he answered her. He was pretty sure he knew where Hammer’s broken teeth had come from now. “You deserve a reward for your skills, Bore. I have nothing fitting as no one has put up such a strong fight against me before, and I doubt you would have much use for my trophies from past combats.” Boremac let a shudder run through him at the thought of what such ‘trophies’ might be. “I know what I can do. I bestow upon you a badge of courage and a reminder that will be with you forever. Do not play with Hammer, thief.” Hammer gritted his teeth and pulled first one and then the other of Boremac’s daggers from his shoulders. He smiled almost casually as he rammed one into the floor near Boremac’s head. The pommel of the second in his grip disappeared with only the blade poking out. The stabbing motion that followed was so quick that Boremac lost track of the cuts. The first thrust into his shoulder broke it and the pain was so bad, he barely felt the other three. “There you go, thief. Enjoy your time drawing air. It will not be long. Next time will not be in this place and you will die.”

  “Get out now! You and your useless wench!” A table flew from somewhere near, deflected by one of Hammer’s giant arms but still making its point. “If my boy dies, I will hunt you down and gut you with MY bare hands!” Mama was approaching with another table held above her head just in case it was needed, fueled by all the rage she felt seeing her wounded adopted son. “Any of you other bastards in here who want to return better make sure that this bastard makes it out the door, or I will be spending the next bit of my time kicking you all out, and I mean kicking!” The men still conscious within the place formed instantly into a well-organized column of blades, and in a few cases, swords and shields, as well as pitchforks and scythes. Any military leader would have been proud at the tight formation that led Hammer and his companion to the waiting door, neatly closing in behind the man as he went.

  Once Hammer had breached the door, slammed behind him defiantly by one of the brigands who frequented the tavern, Mama made her feelings known once more. “Did I say you could stay here now? Get out, you damned cowards, and maybe hope tomorrow finds me in a better mood. Everyone out now!” Tense moments passed, with some amount of comedy, as the visitors stumbled over each other to get out. No one wanted to be last out the door. Even the tavern keeper left on the premise of dragging out those wounded by flying mugs earlier, until only the servers and Mama remained with Boremac.

  Boremac lay still, wrapped in Mama’s great arms and smothering in her bosom, glad to be alive. Glad to be safe even more. He did not mind that she had propped him up just enough to coddle him after he had slid back to the floor. He did not mind at all. Her words were soothing as she patted his head, so much like she had done years before. “Rest, my baby. Rest for a while. Mama will keep you safe. You will be fine now. Just rest.” There was a huff of derision from Mama that caused her bosom to heave but she kept her arms protectively around Boremac, even drawing him a little closer. Her eyes were tilted slightly to look closely at the stairs that lead from the rooms in the upper floor of the tavern. “Those two, hanging around in here like they belong here. I guess next time I see them, I will have to make my feelings more clear. Damn wenches. No good follows those two.” Boremac shifted slightly with his remaining strength to see of whom she spoke, nearly giving himself over to the gathering gray mists forming around his vision. The lamp light in the tavern only revealed two bobbing heads shrouded in flowing, burning sun rays that tapered out halfway to the floor, as the ones she had noticed moved toward the door. Boremac felt a pang of recognition as he watched them, confirmed by his keeper’s words. “Watch yourself, Boremac. Those twins are nothing but trouble. Do not much care for them being here to notice you.” Boremac nuzzled his head reflexively into Mama’s bosom, as much to hide the grin that broke his lips as embrace the warmth there, and allowed himself to be swallowed by his exhaustion.

  ***

  A ruckus brought Boremac rudely awake. He found himself lying in a warm bed surrounded by candles and, for some reason, hollering women. “Get out! You have no right or reason to be here and I will not allow it!” That was Mama to be sure.

  The first new voice he heard was fiery. Almost too deep for one so young but sultry even for that. “Why do you remain here with thirsty patrons in need?!? Go on and serve drinks, woman! We have tended to him before and he had no complaints!” The second was ice, smooth and cold. Boremac found the shivers that coursed up and down his spine as she spoke were not entirely unpleasant, quite the opposite. “Let him decide! All your growling has awakened him anyway! He has become a man, recognize this even if you do not recognize anything else. A man should be allowed to choose his company.” The last words tapered off into an almost imperceptible whisper. “Come on then. No one here wishes to harm him. We only all have his best interests at heart, I assure you. Excuse my sister. Seeing him again, only to almost see him killed, has distressed us all.” Yes, we thank you for saving him, Mama. I meant no disrespect.” The twins facing Mama bowed in unison, their faces matching pictures of piety and subservience. Boremac noted the looks and knew if he learned nothing else from the pair, he had to learn how to shift his features on command. That skill could be extremely useful.

  He cleared his throat, easie
r said than done as dry as it was, and said the first thing he could croak out. “Water.” The twins demonstrated their dexterity and commitment to their cause, moving instantly. Even Mama with all her speed and nearness to his bedside could not have anticipated the pair’s remarkable coordination. They each struck as one to achieve their goal, sharing out the actions to be performed without a word. One slid a chair behind Mama before gently unbalancing her and dropping her into the seat while the other grabbed up a mug of cool water on the night stand near the bed. “As you wish, Master Boremac.” The sister now at his side steadied the back of his head with her free hand, bringing the mug to his lips. Boremac closed his eyes and took a tentative sip, protecting himself from the furious gaze that he was sure had ignited in Mama’s eyes. He forced himself not to grin, no small task, as he once more marveled at the twins. “Yes,” he thought for the second time in his life, “I could definitely get used to this.” Her warm hand at his neck kneaded the aches there and his face burned with color. “Yes, there will be the Abyss to pay for this. Mama forgive me. Alchendia protect me. There will be the Abyss to pay for certain.”

  His thoughts took some of the fever from his face but it was not enough. Boremac was almost happy to hear Mama rise and spurn him. “Fine then, so be it. I will not neglect my duties any longer. I swear to you both if he comes to harm and I even want to think you two are at fault, know this for a certainty; I will hunt you down and break you both in half without so much as a second thought. As for you, Boremac, watch your back. Stupid boy.” She left, slamming the door and shaking her head.