Vlad'War's Anvil

by Rex Hazelton

  Frequenting the taverns, gambling what money they had, watching it grow and shrink as chance would have it, the inseparable companions came to know many of the young people who lived in the rougher part of the city where they preferred to go, a place the inhabitants dour sense of humor led them to name, Crow’s Vale. Many of these young people were children of the laborers who worked for the merchants living in the better parts of the Vale as cooks, maids, handy-men, masons, stable hands, those who hawked their employer's wares on the city’s winding streets, and more.

  Other young people Travyn and Ilya'Gar got acquainted with were numbered among those that didn’t have any parents, or whose parents were so poor they lived in makeshift hovels that were erected in the dank alleyways running through Crow’s Vale. All of these had street smarts that Travyn found appealing. Tough, clever, and willing to take chances, they were his kind of people. Though some were cut purses and thieves, what did that matter to Travyn as long as they left his coin alone and didn't prey on the unfortunate ones. Those he chose to be friends with, being as poor as they were, swore they would never do such things. We just cut fat off of those who need to lose a little weight, is what they would say.

  That’s how Travyn met Anye

  Seeing that he came down from the Eyrie of the Eagle, Anye figured Travyn could afford to lose the coin she planned to take from him. What she didn’t figure on was that her mark had Powers of Intuition that could sense her approaching. Well, not her specifically. Travyn only sensed that someone's attention was overly focused on him. When he explained it to Anye sometime later, he said it was the kind of sensation a person gets when they feel someone is watching them, like a mouse staring at a piece of cheese or a cat at a mouse. And before she knew it, Anye found her knife arm held in the grip of a young man whose eyes had rings of amber light shinning in them, eyes that looked into her mind, searching it for a clue as to what motivated her attempted theft.

  “I didn’t know pick-pockets could be so pretty,” Travyn casually said while he used his free hand to take the young woman's knife away. Though it was a short-bladed one, the young woman planned on using to sever the strap of leather that affixed her mark's purse to his belt, the knife's length was sufficient enough to make him wary of it. And, indeed, Anye was pretty as Travyn had noted. Fair-complected, with hair the color of honey, who would have guessed the lovely, blue-eyed maiden was a professional thief?

  “Sir,” Anye stammered while being taken aback by the man’s dangerously good looks and the unexpected charm he exuded, “I’ll have you know that I’m a thief… not a pick-pocket.”

  Not yet willing to release the young woman's arm, Travyn smiled at her reply as he rubbed his clean shaven chin with the back of the hand that now held the thief's blade before he asked, “Why would someone as lovely as you need to steal?”

  “Not everyone lives in the Eyrie of the Eagle, you know?” Anye’s eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out what the young man was up to. Would he turn her over to the authorities, beat her where she stood, or did he have something else in mind? The man's inscrutable smile and the sight of a hunchman, coming around the corner of a nearby building to join them, only added to her worries.

  “Not everyone who lives in the shadow of the Eyrie resorts to thievery.” The young man with the strange eyes seemed to be enjoying himself as he spoke.

  “True.” Anye tried to hide her irritation as she replied. “But few on top of the Eyrie have to worry about where their next meal will come from even if they choose to sleep the day away. And none up there live in the streets, I’d wager.”

  “So, you’re homeless?" The young man looked at Ilya'Gar through the corner of a bemused eye as he spoke.

  The hunchman sniffed the air like an animal that was trying to determine if danger was near as he came to stand beside Travyn. The handle of Ilya'Gar's’s jagged-edged sword, strapped to his back as it was, rose above a well-muscled shoulder.

  “I have a brother.” The young woman sounded defensive. For some reason it was important that her captor knew she was no vagrant. In her mind, the fact she had a brother precluded this.

  “But no home to call your own?”

  “We find shelter as we can.”

  “Probably at one of the taverns, if you’d gotten away with my coin.”

  “Why should that concern you?”

  “Oh… I’m always concerned with those I’m thinking of spending money on.”

  “And what do you plan to buy?” Anye’s eyes narrowed further as the man’s cavalier demeanor lost its charm. “I guarantee it’ll not be what you’re thinking. I’m no coin bought whore.”

  “I assure you, I have no desire to spend time with someone I have to pay for.” The strange young man let go of Anye's arm, swept his wide-brimmed hat of his head, and bowed. “But I would like to dine with you, if you don’t mind my friend accompanying us.”

  Eying the fierce looking beast-man, she decided the two strangers weren’t the worst company she had eaten with. And food sounded good right now. So she let her guard down enough to consider the proposal.

  “Can my brother join us?” Anye asked the question to test the two who stood before her; a test that might uncover their plans, though her fear of them was quickly waning. After all, the man was friendly with a hunchman. Why not a thief too? Agreeing to let her brother join them would go a long way to allay her concerns.

  “I’d love to meet your brother.” The young man witth the strange eyes put his hat back on in a way that said things were settled, covering his dark hair as he did. "Then after we eat, if you find our company to your liking, maybe you and your brother can show me and my friend around Crow's Vale.”

  “If we do, you’ll not like the parts we’ll show you.” This time Anye donned an inscrutible smile.

  “I wouldn’t be so certain of that if I was you.” Then the young man touched the brim of his hat and said, “My name is Travyn. My friend’s name is Ilya'Gar”

  “I’m Anye.” The young woman, confused about what was happening, thought she’d keep playing the strangers’ game as long as they let her brother come along.

  But Travyn wasn’t playing a game. His Powers of Intuition told him the young woman stole out of necessity. He surmised that being a thief, no matter how good she was at plying the trade, was an occupation that didn't really fit her. This made him want to find out more about the pretty young woman.

  The vagaries of human behavior had always interested Travyn and the things that affected it, like the notion of free will that many people adamantly held to and the opposing concept of fate others found more to their liking. He was continually fascinated by the fact that some men could set aside the conventions of civilization while others died to make sure they remained intact. And why this fascination? Maybe because he had such a hard time understanding himself. Though he wanted to be like his father- who found it easy to choose to do the right thing, to walk in the light, and not in shadow so to speak- Travyn was drawn to things his parents didn’t approve of, to people they found distasteful, and to activities they would never take part in themselves.

  As it turned out a friendship was kindled that day while Anye and her brother, Quinn, ushered Travyn and Ilya'Gar deeper into Eagle’s Vale’s unsavory underbelly. In time, the two made friends with others that Quinn and his sister introduced them to: those who were forced to live by their wits; outcasts all; the ill-reputed that a combination of fate and free will had given birth to. He also met some who became bitter enemies, like the man who was down in The Cut, a man that Travyn was set on punishing for what he had done to Anye.

  As time passed, Travyn took it upon himself to help Anye and Quinn find ways of making a living other than by thievery, an occupation that was rife with danger. This included organizing games of chance that people could wager on: knife throwing contests, wrestling matches, pugilistic endeavors, tests of strength, and the like. Employing other young people living in Crow’s Vale as both contestants and workers who he
lped set up the games, Travyn, Ilya'Gar, Anye and Quinn were able to develop an enterprise that drew a loyal following that seemed to enjoy their modest entrepreneurial efforts. And though large bets were forbidden, to keep tempers under control and to avoid threatening the local taverns that depended on gambling as much as drink to keep their patrons coming back, Anye and Quinn were able to make enough money to keep their stomachs filled and a roof over their heads until the next Market Day arrived. Restricting the games to one day a week was part of the strategy that was devised to get rid of the local businesses' concerns. Nevertheless, Market Day's usual crowd proved to be a lucrative enough source of income.

  By giving the owner of a local tavern, called the Noisy Cricket, a cut of their profits, the siblings were allowed to use a corral that butted up against the tavern's back wall for their games.

  Because the contests were held in the daytime, and the low level wagering that took place there didn’t appeal to those who loved the high stakes games that took place at night, the proprietor of the Noisy Cricket was only too happy to rent out the yard. Besides, many of those who got hot and thirsty as they stood outdoors enjoying the games would invariably make their way into the tavern where they would buy a pint to wet their whistles. Taking everything into account, things were working out well for all parties concerned.

  Then, one day, a nefarious street tough named Darwyn Sledge came to the games and made a bet that should never have been taken. On Travyn’s advice, Anye and Quinn put limits on the amount that could be wagered on a single event. Similar restrictions applied to a luckless individual's overall investment made during the course of the afternoon’s activities. This was done for two reasons: one, to minimize the losers’ reaction to their loses and to prevent tempers from getting out of hand, and two, to keep men like Darwyn Sledge from trying to muscle in on the action whose negligible profits weren't worth the bother. But this day turned out to be different. Rules were bent, and tragedy followed.

  Darwyn Sledge had won so many times that day his coin purse was literally on the verge of bursting apart. In all the weeks that Anye and Quinn’s enterprise had been going, no one had won that much money. Buoyed by his unprecedented success, Darwyn's elation led him to do something that changed Anye and Quinn’s lives forever.

  Travyn and Ilya'Gar weren’t there that day. If they had been, things would have turned out differently. Sledge wouldn’t have gotten away with his bullying. Quinn would have had someone, other than his sister, to talk sense into him, to remind him of the games’ rules, to get him to stick to the script they had used to make their little venture work so well.

  If Travyn and Ilya'Gar had been there, they would have kept Quinn and Sledge apart. Most certainly, they would have made the street tough think twice before he pressed the issue that ended up causing so much heartache and sorrow. And if he had continued to press like he did, the big, round-faced man would have gotten nowhere. His bet would never have been accepted.

  “I’m on fire today!” Darwyn Sledge’s ample belly shook freely as he laughed. “I can’t lose, I tell you,” he boasted as he lifted up his bulging purse for his buddies to see. A moment later, he grew silent when an idea struck him, one that made him raise his hand to rub his stubble-covered chin.

  “Quinn,” Sledge shouted at the games’ proprietor as he acted on the thought that burst into his mind as quickly as wood pops in the midst of a lively fireplace, “I want to make another wager.”

  “Fine, Sir.” Quinn’s hair was as honey-colored as his sister’s. Though physically awkward in the way young men often are, he was as handsome as Anye was lovely. But what Quinn lacked in physical maturity, he made up for in cockiness; the kind of cockiness that helped him survive in the streets; a place where hubris served those who had no other resources to draw on. “Will it be the same amount as before?”

  “Ashes, no!” Sledge rubbed his large, round nose with the back of his thick hand like he was trying to keep from sneezing, when in reality he was taking time to settle things in his mind before he spoke again. Then, dropping his hand from his nose, Sledge lifted his head and said, “I want to wager it all, all I have against all you have.”

  “What?” Quinn’s eyes widened. His voice cracked.

  “You heard me.” If Sledge had any misgivings about the size of his wager, Quinn’s uneven response washed them away. The boy was clearly intimidated by his bet. And the large, round-faced man loved to intimidate people. “I’m betting it all… unless you’re too much of a coward to take my wager.”

  Sledge was poking Quinn in a sore spot so to speak; he was goading the young man on, as bullies are wont to do, by bringing his courage into question. If those living on the streets were known cowards, they would be marked as easy prey for the predators that lurked about. To have someone call you craven and do nothing about it, in and of itself, was proof of the accusation.

  “I’m no coward,” Quinn looked at Anye as he replied.

  “Quit looking at your sister, boy.” Sledge chastened the young man for doing what he himself had done all that afternoon.

  Sledge thought the girl was pretty. Though he had seen her on the streets many times before, he had never taken such a close look at her womanly shape that was becoming more pronounced as each moon passed, at the way she lowered herself gracefully to the ground as she picked up the coin that had been tossed there, at the way she smiled to the crowd as she explained what the next game would entail. And whenever Anye looked at him as she did her explaining, thoughts slipped into Sledge’s mind that bode the young woman no good.

  “She can’t help you,” the large man added after he took one more longing look at the lovely young woman. But she could certainly help me, he thought before he turned his attention back to Quinn.

  “Quinn, don’t you dare do it!” Anye spoke through clenched teeth as things started to spin out of control. She knew the look on her brother’s face. The way his jaw was set and how his eyes narrowed, Quinn wasn’t going to back down from the burly street tough, no matter how many friends he had with him.

  “Don’t hide behind your sister’s skirts.” Sledge smirked as he looked at his companions for approval. “Step up and show everyone you're a man.”

  “I’d like a piece of the action.” A man wearing a red conically-shaped hat, with a black feather stuck in a band of tawny-colored leather, chimed in.

  Looking at the interloper, Sledge snorted angrily at the intrusion before dismissing the man by saying, “I ain’t wagering with the likes of you, you fire-blasted red-bird. Nor am I going to bet with anyone else but this boy here.”

  Sledge’s friends took this as a cue to push the crowd aside. Sensing the growing tension, half of those who were rudely shoved back decided it was time to pack up and leave, including the man with the red hat. The other half wanted to stay and see what would happen even though there was a measure of risk in doing so.

  Satisfied that his friends had separated Quinn and Anye from the rest of the waning herd, Sledge chuckled before adding, “It’s just you and me, son. The question is… do you have the rocks to take my wager.”

  “Quinn!” Anye was worried about the thinning crowd. There were too few people for her liking. The safety numbers provided was quickly disappearing. Looking at those she had hired to help her run the games, Anye knew they were physically outmatched by the older, larger men that accompanied Darwyn Sledge.

  The boy who was slated to chase the greased pigs that were positioned to be released from the cage they were in, started to put his shirt on as he walked away. “Don’t you dare go,” Sledge snarled as he nodded to one of his men to keep the boy from leaving. “And take that shirt off. I’m betting on the pigs. I want smooth skin on greased hide. Now get back there and get ready to chase the little swine.”

  One skinny boy, named Benjamin, and three greased pigs, no more than five moons old, were scheduled for the next and, it now seemed likely, last game of the afternoon. The rules were simple for the contest that was al
ways a crowd favorite. The boy had to catch the pigs and deliver them to a basket, all trussed up, before the sand emptied out of an old, rusty timing glass Anye had procured for the games. Sledge was betting everything he had against the anxious lad who was worried that if he won, he might have to contend with the ruffians. On the other hand, if he lost, not only would he not get paid for his efforts, but his friends, Anye and Quinn, would be left empty-handed, friends who had looked out for his well-being for as long as he could remember, the only friends, other than Glynn, he could truly trust.

  “Go on, Benji,” Quinn spoke through clenched teeth. “It’ll be alright. No one'll get hurt. It’s only a bet.”

  “Get hurt?” Sledge rubbed the back of his thick hand against his rounded nose as he hid a smile. “Who said anything about hurting anyone, right boys?” The heavy-set man hitched up his belt while he tried to look as harmless as possible, a look that the large, well-worn cudgel hanging from the wide leather belt he wore belied.

  “Quinn!” Anye's fear mirrored the quickly cooling air that swept into the corral like it was poured out of a bucket. Looking down the alley that ran behind the stable and the two rows of buildings whose backs faced each other like giants who stubbornly chose not to witness what was about to happen, Anye wished Travyn and Ilya'Gar would show up; a wish she knew would never come to pass since the two said they couldn't come to the games today. Glancing at the Noisy Cricket’s back door, she hoped Lloyd, the massive man the tavern owner hired to keep order in his establishment, would show up, though most likely he was still sleeping, since he had stayed up all the previous night watching over a game of cards that didn’t end until the sun rose above the distant horizon. Finally she turned to look at Darwyn Sledge and was startled to see he was looking at her with eyes that were as lifeless as doll's eyes.

  I won’t let Sledge push me around, Quinn rationalized away the risk he was about to take. If I do, he won’t be the last one I’ll have to deal with. I’ll just accept his wager and be done with him. After all, what can happen? I can live with losing, and if I win, all the better. Anyway, Sledge won’t do anything to me or Anye if he loses, not with people still here. If he does, he won’t be able to show his face in Crow’s Vale again. He’ll be a marked man. So what’s Anye worried about? Our pockets have been empty before and we still survived. Besides, another Market Day will be here before she knows it.