by Clayton Wood
He sighed, remembering how he’d spoken with Sukri about Trixie earlier. She’d been incredibly understanding. Despite her glib exterior, she was awfully sweet. Maybe he would talk to her about it tonight.
Chapter 27
“Bring them in,” Dominus ordered, gesturing at the guard standing by the door. He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingertips on the desk before him. After taking his carriage to Hightown, he’d decided to use one of the lesser lords’ offices for his meeting. A spacious room with relatively modest furniture, it paled in comparison to Dominus’s suite in the Acropolis. But he couldn’t very well meet his contact there; only the nobility was allowed in the Acropolis.
The guard left, leaving the door open. Moments later, a woman entered the room. She did not bow, or even salute, merely stopping a few feet from his desk. Dominus hid his disapproval, knowing full well she would not abide by the rules and customs of the kingdom…or offer any due respect for his office. That was, quite irritatingly, her way. If it had been anyone else, he would have had them hanged.
He regarded her silently for a moment, studying her. She had obviously engaged in some questionable activities, straying from the traits of her bloodline. Her eyes were a little too large, and almost iridescent, the texture of her skin unnaturally rough. She was more muscular than a woman had any right to be, and moved with an almost catlike grace. All of these could be explained by exposure to legal, if questionable, artifacts.
But he knew better.
“Hey,” she greeted, reaching into her shirt and pulled out a small white object. She placed it on the desk, then crossed her arms over her chest.
“Vi,” Dominus replied. He glanced down at the object in front of him…a curved bone, appearing entirely unremarkable. No one would believe how much he’d paid for it…and if anyone of consequence found it in his possession, even he – second only in power to the king himself – would be put to death.
“I don’t do this for free,” she stated, staring down at him. He reached into his desk, tossing a bag filled with coins at her. She caught it, of course, shoving it down her shirt. He’d only met her once before, many years ago, but he’d remarked even then how strange her movements were. Too fast, too smooth. Effortless.
She was incredibly dangerous, this one. All of the guards in this office wouldn’t stand a chance if she decided that they should die.
“You took too long,” Dominus accused, finding himself putting a hand on his cane, which he’d rested against the chair beside him. She usually did. It was of course so she could leech traits out of the artifacts she procured. He had no doubt that she did this…and any other Seeker would be brutally punished for it. But again, she got away with it. Being two weeks late was excessive, however. Even for her.
“Something unexpected came up,” Vi shot back. “You wouldn’t believe this, but some idiot sent a few fresh initiates to the Fringe. Got one of them killed, too.”
Dominus took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. She had a way of getting under his skin, much the way his son did. They were perhaps the only two people that could do it. He decided not to try to hide his annoyance…she would see past the ruse anyway, and enjoy his failure.
“You saved the Original I hear,” he replied.
“Sure did,” she agreed. “Nice kid. I like him.” She smiled. “I think I’ll keep him.”
“How charitable of you.”
“Saving him cost me,” she added. “Few dozen Ironclad came to get some revenge. Destroyed my place.”
“That should more than cover it,” he countered, gesturing at where she’d stuffed the bag of coins.
“Suppose so,” she agreed. “Got an apprentice out of it anyway.”
His eyebrows rose involuntarily.
“You’re teaching him?”
“Maybe,” she replied, gazing down at him with those unnerving eyes. “Sure hate to invest all that effort just to have someone try to kill him,” she added. “That would make me…extremely upset.”
Dominus stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, then inclined his head slightly.
“Noted.”
She smiled, uncrossing her arms.
“Anything else?” she inquired.
“I have another job for you,” Dominus answered. “One that I hope you can complete in a more timely fashion.”
“Go on.”
“You are of course aware of the most recent attack at our gate,” Dominus stated. “This makes three attacks this month. The other dukes and I have officially declared war on the Ironclad, as of today.”
“And?”
“We hired the Guild of Seekers to send their best scouts past the Fringe to map out the Ironclad locations. In doing so, they believe they’d found their main base.” He grimaced. “Apparently it’s true that they live underground. A new kind of Ironclad was seen entering that base recently. One larger than the rest, with a blue, glowing mane.”
“Interesting,” Vi murmured, leaning forward. That clearly got her attention.
“This new Ironclad has been spotted before,” Dominus revealed. “One of our Seekers – a man named Jarl – witnessed it attacking a fellow Seeker in the Fringe.” He frowned. “Jarl swore that the thing was capable of speaking.” Among other things. If it was truly capable of what Jarl claimed…
“And you want me to kill it,” Vi guessed.
“Correct,” Dominus replied. “The Ironclad clearly defer to it. We strongly suspect that it is their leader.
“A coup d'état,” Vi murmured. Dominus nodded.
“Your mission is to find it and kill it,” he stated. “And most importantly, you must bring me its head. I’ll be back in Wexford by then.”
“Simple enough.”
“Perhaps not,” Dominus countered. “We only have intelligence regarding the outer portions of the base. We know nothing of the interior.” He sighed. “An all-out war with the Ironclad would result in heavy losses,” he added. “The best strategy is to kill their leader, then take advantage of their inevitable confusion.”
“Fine then,” Vi agreed. “I’ll do it.”
“There is one condition,” Dominus countered. Vi arched an eyebrow. “To receive payment for this job,” he stated, “…you must bring your…new protégé along on the mission.”
Vi stared at him silently for a long moment, then leaned back in her chair.
“You want him dead,” she deduced. Dominus gave a small smile.
“If he should suffer such an unfortunate fate,” he replied, “…I’d of course compensate you generously.”
“That would be obscenely expensive,” she warned. Dominus smirked back.
“How convenient,” he replied, grabbing the rib on his desk and putting it in his pocket. “I happen to be obscenely rich.”
* * *
“Here it is,” Sukri declared, stopping her wheelchair before one of the bars in Lowtown. Gammon opened the door, gesturing for Sukri and Hunter to go in. Hunter hesitated, glancing at the sign. It looked distressingly familiar.
“Uh guys,” he said, stepping back from the door. “I don’t think we should go here.”
“Why not?” Sukri retorted, giving him a look. “This is my favorite bar.”
“I might have um,” he replied, wringing his hands. “I might have run my mouth off a little the last time I was here.”
“So?” Sukri pressed.
“…and got my ass kicked,” he admitted. Sukri smirked at him.
“No one’s gonna mess with us. We’re initiates.”
“No one will mess with you,” Hunter countered.
“I’ll protect you,” Gammon offered. Hunter smiled, remembering how Gammon had stood up to the Ironclad. Some wasted dude in a bar wouldn’t stand much of a chance.
“Not worried about that,” Hunter explained. “I’d just rather not make a scene.”
“Aw hell,” Sukri replied with a shit-eating grin. “That’s half the fun! Come on,” she added, wheeling herself through the d
oorway. Hunter sighed, following her into the bar. It was moderately full, it still being late afternoon. Hunter looked around, relieved to see a different bartender this time. That, and the guys who’d beaten the crap out of him weren’t there.
“Three starfuckers,” Sukri ordered, wheeling herself up to the bar. Gammon helped her out of her wheelchair and onto one of the barstools. Hunter and Gammon sat on either side of her. The bartender nodded, and started mixing their drinks.
“Starfucker?” Hunter asked. Sukri grinned.
“My favorite drink,” she explained. “Tastes like a girl, pounds like a guy.”
“Umm…”
“Just try it,” she urged. The bartender turned to set their glasses down, then froze, his eyes meeting Hunter’s.
“What?” Hunter asked.
“You can’t come in here,” the bartender said. “You’ll drive away my customers.”
“Sorry,” Hunter mumbled. He went to stand up, but Sukri put a hand on his arm, glaring at the bartender.
“We are your customers,” she retorted. “Our money’s as good as theirs,” she added, gesturing at the few other men at the bar. The bartender sighed.
“Look,” he replied, “…I’m just doing my job. My boss doesn’t want anyone here that’ll make customers…nervous.” He pointed at Hunter. “He sits at the bar, I gotta throw out the damn stool. I gotta cleanse the bar.”
“Tough shit,” Sukri shot back. “This ain’t Hightown. You deal with people from the Outskirts all the time.”
“Not like him,” the bartender countered.
“It’s fine guys,” Hunter interjected, standing up and stepping away from the bar. “I’ll just go.”
“You can have the shot,” the bartender offered. Hunter nodded, grabbing it and chugging it. It was sweet…definitely a girly drink. But it was also pretty damn strong. It burned in his belly, and moments later, he felt an unmistakable stirring in his pants.
Well that’s weird, he thought.
“This is bullshit,” Sukri muttered, downing her own shot. Gammon didn’t touch his – the guy didn’t drink – so Sukri took his and drank it too.
“Well well,” a voice from behind Hunter said. “Look who decided to come back.”
Hunter turned, seeing a familiar group of guys entering the bar. The same guys who’d been there the first time he’d come…including the big dude that’d beat the shit out of him. Kurt, if he remembered correctly.
“I was just leaving,” Hunter said. Kurt sneered at him.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “You’re leaving all right. Same way you left the last time.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” Hunter insisted, trying to move past the guy. But Kurt blocked Hunter’s way. Sukri turned around in her barstool, glaring at the men.
“Beat it assholes,” she growled, grabbing her Seeker medallion and showing it to them. “Unless you want trouble.”
“We got no problem with you,” Kurt countered. “Just this guy.”
“You mess with him,” Sukri retorted, “…you mess with me.” Kurt smirked at her…that is, until Gammon stood from his stool, rising to his full height. He loomed over the group of men, crossing his huge arms over his chest.
“And me,” he pitched in.
The men stared up at Gammon, their faces paling. Gammon helped Sukri back into her wheelchair, then strode forward, putting an arm around Hunter’s shoulders and escorting him out, Sukri following from behind.
“I’m not done with him,” Kurt insisted, following them out of the bar. He put a hand to his waist, and Hunter glanced down, realizing the man had a sword at his hip. His cronies spilled out of the bar behind him.
“Come on,” Gammon said, putting a hand on Sukri’s shoulder. “We’ll go to another bar.” She glared at him, but visibly deflated.
“Fine,” she muttered, wheeling herself away from the bar. Hunter turned to follow her, then heard the shhhtck of a sword being pulled from its scabbard behind him. He spun around, facing Kurt…and realized that his own sword was already in his hand. Kurt glared at him, his sword less than a foot from Hunter’s.
“Better know how to use that boy,” he growled. “Because I do.”
Hunter gripped his sword tightly, feeling supremely annoyed. He suppressed the feeling, realizing it was almost certainly coming from being too close to Kurt.
Emotion is temporary, action is forever.
“Go have some drinks,” Hunter replied calmly. “Have some fun.” Kurt paused, then lowered his blade, glancing back at his buddies.
“Come on Kurt,” one of them said. “He’s not worth it.”
“Damn right,” Kurt grumbled. He turned back toward the bar, and Hunter lowered his own sword, sliding it back into its scabbard…just as Kurt spun around, slashing at him with his sword!
Before Hunter knew it, his blade was in his hand again. He blocked Kurt’s attack, feeling himself lunging forward reflexively for the counterattack. He pulled back sharply – just as the tip of his sword pressed into Kurt’s upper belly.
He took a step back, lowering his sword, a chill running through him.
I almost killed him.
Kurt stepped, looking down at his belly. A small red spot stained his shirt. He looked up at Hunter, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hunter warned.
“You fucking brown piece of shit!” Kurt shouted, rushing at Hunter and thrusting his sword at Hunter’s chest. Compared to Vi’s attacks, the lunge seemed slow and clumsy; Hunter parried the blow easily, slapping Kurt’s blade away with his own. He kicked Kurt in the knee, forcing it to lock…and Kurt’s upper body to jerk forward and downward. Hunter rapped the pommel of his sword on the back of the man’s head. Not so hard as to kill him, but hard enough to be memorable.
Kurt dropped onto his hands and knees on the street.
“Don’t even think about it,” Gammon warned as Kurt’s friends moved toward Hunter. The big man stood in front of them, his arms out wide.
They backed away hurriedly.
Kurt got to his feet, stumbling away from Hunter toward the bar, rejoining his friends. The barkeeper – who’d followed everyone out of the bar, no doubt to enjoy the show – raised both of his hands.
“We don’t want any more trouble here,” he said. Hunter sheathed his sword, sighing at the man.
“All we wanted was a drink,” he replied. He turned back to Sukri and Gammon, walking away from the bar. The two joined him, Gammon walking at his left side, and Sukri wheeling herself on his right.
“Damn Crispy,” Sukri declared, gazing at him in wonderment. “I’ve never seen anyone move like that!”
“Thanks,” Hunter mumbled.
“How did you learn to do that?” Sukri pressed. She looked up at Gammon. “Wasn’t that awesome?”
“It was awesome,” Gammon confirmed.
“I have a good teacher,” Hunter explained, feeling rather awkward. He wasn’t that good, after all…hell, every time he fought Vi, he felt like a klutzy toddler. But he was taken aback at just how bad Kurt had been.
“God damn,” Sukri declared, “…but do I want to meet this chick. What’s her name again?”
“Vi,” Hunter answered.
“Can I meet her?” Sukri pressed. Hunter smiled.
“She’s gonna meet up with me in a day or two, I think,” he replied. “I’ll ask if it’s okay.”
“Nice!” Sukri exclaimed, slapping Hunter on the back. They continued down the street then, until Gammon stopped suddenly. Everyone stopped with him.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Oh,” Sukri replied, looking around. “I don’t know. Maybe the Foaming Beard?”
“Okay,” Gammon agreed. Hunter hesitated.
“I don’t know guys,” he muttered. “I think I’m gonna just go home.” Sukri frowned at him.
“Aww, why?” she pressed.
“I don’t want any more trouble,” he explained. She p
outed.
“But we were supposed to get some drinks.”
“We did,” Hunter countered. “And you had two.”
“I understand,” Gammon stated. “We’ll walk you home.”
Sukri sighed, but didn’t protest any more. They walked back toward the Outskirts, then made their way back to Hunter’s apartment, stopping before his building. Sukri and Gammon turned to face him, and he smiled.
“Sorry guys,” he said. “But thanks for inviting me.”
“Anytime Crispy,” Sukri replied, pulling him down to give him a hug. “Next time we’ll buy ahead of time, then party at our place.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hunter agreed.
“What are you going to do for the rest of the night?” Gammon asked. Hunter shrugged, then felt a sinking sensation. He’d almost forgot; it was nearly sundown. The time when Trixie usually arrived. That shot he’d taken with Sukri and Gammon had been stronger than he thought. It did taste like a girl and pound like a guy…and it meant that he was almost certainly not going to be able to resist Trixie’s charms. He always got a bit frisky when he drank, for better or worse.
“Aww,” Sukri said, “Huntie looks sad.”
“Nah,” Hunter muttered. “I just…” he paused, glancing at Sukri. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked. “In private?”
“Sure,” Sukri agreed. She glanced at Gammon, who glanced at Hunter, then at her, hesitating for some reason.
“I’ll head home,” he said at last. “See you later?”
“Of course,” Sukri agreed.
Gammon stood there a moment longer, then left, walking down the docks away from Hunter’s apartment. Sukri and Hunter watched him go, then turned to face each other.
“What’s up?” Sukri asked. Hunter glanced around, feeling profoundly uncomfortable.
“It’s, uh…private,” he confessed. “Can we talk about it upstairs?”