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

by Troy Reaves

  His welcome at the Shadowy Pint was less pleasant than he had hoped. Mama Bear felt it necessary to lift him bodily from the floor, favoring him with a ferocious look that would have made actual bears flee in terror. “Where have you been?” She roared holding his face inches from her own. The patrons within earshot cleared the tables, some even deciding to retreat into the early evening.

  Before Boremac could reply, one of the bolder serving mistresses made her way to Mama Bear’s shoulder. “Look at him, Mama Bear. He got the shine, he does. Took him a lady friend, he has. Better keep him up there a bit. Safer he be away from us innocent women folk.” This statement brought a barrage of laughter that colored both Boremac’s and Mama Bear’s cheeks, though for different reasons. “You should hang him up by his leathers from one of the lights in the center. We can save the oil the way he beaming with the shine. We can let him down once it wears off him a bit. Safer that way by my thinking.”

  “Any harm on you, boy?” Mama Bear spun him around in every direction to check while he remained dutifully silent. “Looks like everything in order. You jingling like a full purse. We have time to talk about that later. Who is the lass? One of the twins no doubt. No matter, I will kill them both. Pop their pretty little heads with my bare hands. Do not doubt it.”

  Boremac stared hard at her. “Now there is a first beyond the first one.” Mama Bear answered his stare with a softening of her face. “My poor boy. No man around you worth spit and me not wanting to address such a delicate matter. Damn me for that. I am sorry, my Bore. Do not hate me for neglecting to learn you in these things. Now you been used at the hands of a careless wench.” The hug Mama Bear drew him into nearly suffocated him in her bosom. “My poor boy. Yes, they fool enough to show up around here again and I will pop their heads, maybe knock some sense into the pair, or maybe just knock them right through the door. Still deciding. Go on upstairs to your room. I will be along shortly.”

  Boremac settled into his room at his table, surprised to find a cold meal and a mug waiting for him at the sole table and chair now in the room. It appeared there had been some changes in his absence, notably that there was barely room now for him to turn around in the center of the floor, let alone receive guests. There were a few leather-bound books stacked neatly on the table with parchment and ink nearby. Boremac noted, with some dismay, they were trade apprentice materials, instructions for basic mathematics and the use of the tools of merchants everywhere. Mama Bear had been busy while he was gone and Boremac could see no way her ideas, and his own, about his future could be resolved to both their satisfaction. He was joining Alchendia’s Path soon and she would not be happy about it, which was a certainty. Still Boremac could find no harm in perusing the books as he ate. If there was one thing George had taught him better than any other, one could never know too much. One book, little more than the size of a thick booklet, caught his attention.’How I Went from Rogue to Riches in Ten Easy Steps’ was the simple title and, when Boremac scanned the introduction and skipped to the back pages, he noted the person who had inked the booklet had only listed six steps. Boremac smiled, nodding his approval of the work, as he read the directions on how to contact the author in Verson for further instruction. He also found it telling that there was no mention of the cost of the offered training.

  Boremac read the booklet from the beginning, really more a story of the escapades of the author in his early years at first, while he ate and waited for Mama Bear. She had obviously gone to some trouble gathering the books and it would be unkind, not to mention unwise, to ignore her efforts. He at least found the small book entertaining.

  The situation became much more serious when Boremac heard the all too familiar knock at his door that marked Mama Bear’s arrival. As she spoke through the door to him, his dismay at facing her evaporated into curiosity. “Boremac, make yourself decent if you are not. You have a guest. There will be two of us joining you, it appears so scoot things around a bit. The waif is small enough.” Boremac did as instructed, turning his chair out to accommodate Mama Bear as best it could, and replied he was ready to receive them, whoever they were. He could not disguise his shock as Flora, dressed delicately and more modestly than he could ever remember seeing her, entered the room ahead of Mama Bear, moving to sit the end of the bed farthest from Boremac. Boremac shifted to the opposite corner of the room to allow Mama Bear ready access to the chair. He also thought being behind the door could not be a bad thing. Boremac was desperately looking for a window to jump out of, or at least a soft place in the wood he could dig his way through and escape. This was bad.

  Mama Bear entered and closed the door, narrowing her eyes at Boremac once he was exposed, before making her way to her chair. She did not waste her time making introductions, speaking directly to Flora while keeping her eyes on Boremac. He could only assume his inner panic was translating to his features. “Tell him.” It was not so much a statement as a growled order.

  Flora answered the order immediately. “Boremac, I care for you…” Mama Bear grunted disgustedly but allowed Flora to continue. “However I have treated you unfairly, used you without conscience, to achieve the short goals of Fauna and me. You should be dead. That was the plan from the start once Lord Bartem’s prize was taken. Fauna would still like very much to fulfill her part of that plan. I have dissuaded her. She agrees we profit more from you alive.”

  Boremac looked at Flora in a way that would have killed her if he were even an apprentice sorcerer, unable to contain his malice. His hand reflexively drew out one of his daggers which he pointed at her as he replied. “I believe everything you have said but the first. You two see nothing outside of yourselves to care for and you destroy anyone who would get in your way.” Surprisingly, at least to Boremac, Mama Bear let out a sigh that sounded full of sadness. “I should run you through and hunt down your sister. No good can come from either of you.”

  Flora slowly removed her own short sword, placing the hilt out next to Boremac’s empty hand. “Be kind enough to strike me deep with my blade. There is no guarantee your dagger would penetrate deeply enough to kill me outright. If that is how you truly feel, stab me through the heart. It is yours to take. It always has been, despite my sister’s misgivings. We vary greatly on our taste in men.” Despite the seriousness of her words, Flora smiled before continuing. “Fauna has always been a sampler. Given only that option, I prefer to starve. You are singular in my experience, Boremac. You are a gentle rogue.” Flora opened her arms to leave her hands resting on the bed at her sides as Boremac accepted her blade.

  He thought for the briefest moment before he decided what he must do. Boremac reached out with the sword and dropped it unceremoniously at her side on the bed. “That would be easy, would it not? No, I think it would be better if we think of ways less convenient for you to pay your debt to me. You can work the tables here at the Shadowy Pint.” Not surprisingly Mama Bear growled at this but did not object, at least not yet. “Better we should have an eye on you at all times in case you decide you do not care so much after all. The time you do not spend clearing tables and serving drinks will be spent here, in this room so you can study. Your tips will go to the other ladies of the tavern so they do not tear out your hair. One word of displeasure with your service from anyone and you are out. If I put you out, make damn sure I do not see you or your sister again.

  Flora replied immediately. “By your will, Boremac.”

  Mama Bear’s response was less approving, however it conveyed her feelings on the matter. She cracked her knuckles individually, each sounding like a brittle thick branch breaking in the quiet, close quarters, and nodded.

  The group broke up after that with Mama Bear leading out the door and Flora following her new boss closely. Flora stole a look over her shoulder back at Boremac, as he watched the ladies go down the hall to the stairs, winking at him. He knew all too well he had been played again but it was a sweet song. He could not help but answer her wink with one of his own.

  Day
s passed remarkably fast after that meeting. Flora had become a model serving mistress at the Shadowy Pint and Mama Bear seemed be turning a blind eye to the frequency that Boremac and Flora’studied’ alone in his room. Boremac was actually reading, more often than not, and had taken up the habit of making trips to the Trader’s quarter to observe the merchants at work there, as much to soothe Mama Bear as to understand their trade. George had taught him that one could never fill one’s head. All knowledge would have a use at some time. Boremac had found no reason to disagree then and, especially after he almost got pinched by some guards that he had unfortunate pleasure of meeting some time ago, he was even more inclined to agree with his new mentor. Boremac was not ready to settle into an apprenticeship just yet, but the thought of becoming a shop owner dealing in questionably acquired merchandise did tickle his fancy for a future endeavor. Boremac kept Mama Bear at bay by studying the books she had gotten him and making noises about a trip to Verson to find the man who had penned the booklet he had first found so interesting.

  Of course, he did not mention when he planned to leave, or where he would be stopping first. Some quality time learning more skills inside the protection of Alchendia’s Path would definitely aid preparations for his traveling.

  14

  Kid Napped

  Boremac’s many diversions after his first caper with the twins kept him busy. His studies with the nearly constant flow of books with which Mama Bear kept inundating him had very nearly, but not quite, put his specialized training with Flora and Fauna on hold. His extra-curricular activities with Flora made him appreciate the dexterity he had gained through sparring with Fauna. The bruises were well tended and Boremac found the labors well worth the reward. Mama Bear had found it necessary recently to allow him some time and credit. ‘Young man, I give you your right to that claim by virtue of your age. You may drink and play within the inn but be aware I will give you no more leave than the other drunks.’ Mama Bear had been true to her word and Boremac had learned quickly the payment for being a cheat in cards. Practice improved his skills in all things but one thing. He enjoyed all the varieties of alcohol a bit too much and ended up in some interesting places as proof.

  The slap to Boremac’s face brought him around rudely enough to almost rouse him completely. His brain automatically sifted through all the possible reasons he found himself bound at the wrists and covered with what felt like a... blanket? It appeared Flora wanted to play rough, but something wasn’t right. The first thing that hit him was the smell. Not perfume, not a bit of scented candle remnants, just an undercurrent of what appeared to be horse sweat and hay. He decided to ride out the first blow and see what came next.

  “Maybe I should kick him. Looked like drink was guiding him when he hit that tree with his head.”

  Boremac surmised that his captors were either vocally impaired, disguising their voices in some manner, or children. The final thought made him want to shiver so much it took all his self-control to suppress the reaction. He could only hope the local thieves’ guild had finally gotten ahold of him and weren’t quite ready to bleed him out. Death was definitely preferred to capture at the hands of a bunch of urchins, no matter how many there were or how drunk he currently was. Thankfully, he had recovered from the alcohol enough to be able to keep his head, but not enough for the inevitable hangover to have kicked in. Boremac was not a cheap drunk, and his tolerance had already saved him on more than one occasion in his young life.

  “What do you want with him anyway R...” The strike that brought a yowl of pain from the speaker came so quickly even Boremac was impressed, if not a little disappointed. He knew they were urchins the minute he heard open sobbing from the boy that had been hit. Damn, he thought, I hope these little bastards kill me because I am never going to live this one down.

  “No names. Why do we have nicks, you twit? Quit your whining or move away out my hearing. Should have never had you along anyway. Go get the bucket. If the water don’t wake him, then we’ll whack him with it.”

  Boremac decided enough was enough. The unskilled binding loosened easily enough, and he was sick of the smell of the blanket besides. Time to show these children exactly who they were dealing with before someone else got hurt, or wet. Boremac listened, motionless, waiting for the sloshing bucket to come within his reach. He had little trouble approximating his targets’ distance from all their chatter.

  When his strike came the group huddled around him were caught completely off guard. As the rogue swept away the blanket and looked over the five drenched pups in front of him, he burst out laughing. Varying amounts of water and mud dripped from the crowns of their hair and all through their torn bits of clothing. Once he calmed himself, Boremac addressed the shivering group. All mirth left him when he narrowed his eyes and took on a deadly demeanor, looking at each one in turn. “First, drop any weapons you have or prepare to die in the effort to draw them. Second, when planning to kidnap someone, there are a few things you should keep in mind. Study their movements, habits, and pretty much everyone they know without being seen. Most importantly, know that given the chance, the target will kill you. Be prepared to kill them. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Boremac didn’t have much trouble knowing what was coming next. To their credit, the band of miscreants had had sense enough to disarm him when they tied him up, even though they had dropped their knives when ordered to do so. The trembling was intensified by fear in all but one of the group. The leader, Boremac presumed, burned with the fury of being made a fool of in front of his ‘gang’, and when Boremac neatly slapped the small blade from the young boy’s hand into his own, nothing could have shocked the boy more except what happened next. Boremac proceeded to draw a slight line across the boy’s throat, barely breaking his skin. He continued to move the blade to the boy’s shoulder where it dug a good bit deeper, forming a crude X with a vertical line through the center.

  Boremac drew the knife away from the wounded boy, flipped the flat of the blade into his hand and extended it hilt first to its rightful owner. Even Boremac felt the flourish was unnecessary, but he justified it by thinking of all the hours he spent perfecting it. His palms still bore the scars in places. “Be a shame to lose that blade. Speaking of which, someone best fetch mine.” The ruffian leader nodded sharply at the only female in the group, who promptly stuck her tongue out at him and scampered into the darkness of the barn. Boremac marveled at their innocence, that they recovered in a moment from what could have been death for them all. He was not that much older than they were now but his appreciation for his own immortality, the blessing of youth he supposed, had been squeezed out of him. His personal focused awareness that arrived with Flora and Fauna really bothered him a lot. Alchendia, please let me be their age again and too stupid to know how easy it is to die.” Boremac reflected a moment on what a trial being on the edge of recognizable adulthood really was.

  “Good choice. Now I want to share your future with you if you continue to press your luck in these endeavors.” Boremac pulled his loose shirt from over his head and turned in a slow circle for the remaining boys. His torso was marred with various scars, including one matching the mark he had just given their leader in the exact same spot. He pulled his shirt back on, tucking it in while crouching to bring himself to eye level with the gang leader. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I will be very unhappy if I see you again. Consider yourself blooded with the scar I gave you. It should be a reminder to you to choose the chances you take more carefully. The one who marked me forgot and died for it.” The young female returned about the time Boremac finished speaking, carrying his daggers as if they were her own. Boremac noted the taunt muscles standing out on the arms of one so petite in form. He also noticed her ever changing expressions, ranging from anger to concern, as he spoke. Interesting, Boremac thought, and wondered if the group’s young leader knew how she felt about him. Probably not, boys of all ages were so dumb.

  He stood abruptly and motioned her ove
r to him. Boremac decided to see if the feelings she had shown for the leader were returned in kind. You never know too much about people was one of the rogue’s mottos. “Slowly, please. If I even think you are thinking of doing something stupid, I will cut your head off with those two daggers.” The leader showed no reaction whatsoever, though the lass’s reaction was quite different. She clenched her teeth and her features flushed, turning redder with every step, as she approached. Her eyes darted between Boremac and the leader, giving each an equal measure. Boremac decided it was time to go. “Close enough. Turn the hilts out to me. I take them and leave first. I suggest you stay here until morning and think things over... you know, reflect. Don’t forget what I said.”

  She did as instructed, and Boremac turned his back to them to go. He smiled to himself, wondering how long it would be before their leader came around to see him. Boremac suspected the young boy would be showing up very soon. He was wrong on two counts in this instance. It would be a full year before he encountered any of the urchins. The one he did encounter was the biggest surprise of all.

  15

  Boy Troubles

  An unexpected, but not really surprising, interloper had come to call. Boremac had not expected this particular surprise on his eighteenth birthday.

  The night’s entertainment had been the best Boremac could remember in some time. Drinks had been mostly free, he had had a good winning streak at dice, and no one had tried to stab him. The best part of course had been finding a companion, or rather she finding him, to share the night. Flora had left with her sister to join Alchendia’s Path some time ago. Boremac had wished her, and Fauna as an afterthought, well but had felt it best that he not see either of them again. It was rare that his companion chose to stay so long, rarer still that he did. Being a master of stealth had its advantages. His new mistress had wrapped herself around him after the passions had ended and, though he questioned his judgment at the time, he was enjoying her warmth. More than that, the rogue went to sleep feeling safer than he had in a very long time. Now if he could just remember her name...