Riposte (Purgatory Wars Book 2)

by Cobolt, Dragon

  “It's magic. I'll explain later,” Liam said. “You.”

  The assassin didn't speak – but behind the mask, Liam could see his eyes focusing. A sword almost as tall as a goblin had a way of drawing people's attentions.

  “Why did you attack us?” Liam asked, frowning ever so slightly. “You better start talking quick or else I get cranky. And if you don't talk after I get cranky, then I get crotchety. Then, after that, we move right on into downright grumpy.” He grinned. “You won't like me when I am grumpy.”

  There were some advantages to having your butt dropped into a world where no one had seen a single film or TV show. Cliches, for instance, weren't quite as well known. And sometimes, you could seem to be a lot more erudite than you actually were. Liam wasn't ever going to admit to Sobek that, in fact, he hadn't been the one who had invented the phrase 'all the world's a stage.'

  The assassin quivered slightly underneath that sword tip, the tiny jerks of his head bumping the wood against the steel of the sword.

  “I'll talk!” he gasped, his Coptic sounding very familiar. Liam used the tip of his sword to bump the mask up and off the man's face. He didn't look familiar – but the accent of his voice marked him as a native of the city.

  “Who hired you?” Liam asked. “Tell me. Now.”

  The man opened his mouth.

  Then his eyes bugged outwards. His hands clenched into claws and he jerked at his restraints, trying to reach upwards, but he couldn't move. His throat bulged and rippled and Liam jerked backwards as Tethis grabbed his wrist and pulled on him hard, speaking words that were drowned out by the hideous sounds of the man's throat collapsing inwards and black bile spurting from his mouth. It foamed upwards – some flecks managing to reach the stone walls of the alleyway – and then sloshed down. When it had finished hissing and frothing and bubbling, there was little left of the man's skin and muscle, leaving nothing but a leering white skull. The walls were discolored from where the goop had struck.

  “Jesus,” Liam whispered, his voice more fervent than it had ever been on Earth. He had killed people – and had to become comfortable with the fact that he would need to kill more in this dangerous, brutal world. But he had never seen anything like that.

  “What was that?” the viking asked, sounding just as shocked as Liam.

  “I don't know,” Tethis whimpered, stepping around Liam. She knelt down and looked closely at the skull, her nose wrinkling as she frowned. “I recognize some of these smells. That's basilisk bile.”

  “Basilisks?” Liam asked.

  “What, you don't have any on Earth?” Tethis asked, sounding shocked. “They're a menace – breed like rabbits and nothing in Purgatory can kill them but living folk. They essentially created the Desert of Sobek in the southern climbs by eating out everything in the region.”

  Liam rubbed his face with his hands. The peoples of Purgatory – with the exception of the goblins and elves and lizardfolk and others who had already dwelt within – had been entirely transplanted from Earth in the Third Century AD. They had been cast off Earth by a separatist sect of the Church using the same ancient, mysterious device that had sent him here. They had been followers of the old gods of Europe and beyond – and the gods themselves. But until now, he had never thought that other things might have been cast out as well.

  “Who would get basilisk venom in Fayum?” The viking asked. “That stuff is barred by nearly every god.”

  Tethis nodded, slowly.

  “Well, if it's that good at killing people, I wouldn't be shocked if every god has some in their own pockets. Just in case.” Liam shook his head. “That was how my world worked.”

  “Your world sounds like a deeply unpleasant place sometimes,” Tethis said, quietly.

  “Hey, it had showers, the Simpsons, McDonalds, and free internet pornography. It had its upsides,” Liam said.

  “Well, ah, my name is Vulkis.” The viking cut into the conversation with the grace and aplomb of a bull smashing into a china shop, adjusting his collar with one finger. “Vulkis Shieldbreaker. Captain, trader, merchant, former huscral, generally good man to have at your side. Doubly so when you are accompanied by such a beautiful woman and attacked by villainous assassins.”

  And with that, he leaned down, took Tethis' hand, and kissed her knuckles.

  Liam blinked a few times. “I never thought I would meet a French viking.”

  “Huh?” Vulkis looked at him.

  Tethis – whose cheeks had turned bright green – jerked her hand from Vulkis' grip, stammering: “D-Don't listen to anything he says; most of the time, it is gibberish.”

  “Ah, the joys of another world,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Come on, Vulkis. Let's discuss this somewhere...” He looked around the alleyway, then kicked at the assassin's corpse. “...safer.”

  ***

  The door to the rather nice house that Sobek had given Liam opened and Tethis – with the ease of long practice – tugged Vulkis to the side before Liam bowled him over. Liam hit the ground with a grunt as roughly a hundred and sixty pounds of muscular, curvaceous valkyrie landed on him. Megara the Messenger – Meg to her friends – had managed to wrap her legs and hook her ankles in the small of Liam's back before he hit the ground. Her hands were on his shoulders, and when they hit the ground, her most prominent aspect – her long, flowing, bright white wings – were wrapped around them both, creating a cocoon of privacy that did nothing to conceal the sound of enthusiastic kissing.

  “They always like this?” Vulkis asked, glancing down at the short gobliness who had saved him from being brained.

  Tethis nodded. She studiously didn't look jealous, which only drew more attention to the fact.

  Looking beyond the pair, Vulkis saw that the owner of the rooms was the kind of man he could respect. The only table visible was covered with sprawling maps, most of them of the highest quality that money could buy, that had been annotated with dozens of additional markings. There were a trio of large backpacks that looked half filled with belongings, several bedrolls stacked beside them, three cases of javelins that looked freshly polished. And, of course, a fine elven slave who stood in the corner of the room – her collar tight enough to show ownership, but not so tight that it looked cruel.

  Locking eyes with the elf, though, made Vulkis rather wish he hadn't.

  She looked at him in the same way that some of his crew did – a look that meant she was not evaluating how handsome he was, nor how rich he was, nor what kind of man he was, but rather judging how quickly and easily she could murder him if need be.

  Meg drew back from her lover and stood with a single smooth motion, helping Liam to his feet as he coughed.

  “You will, one day, be ready for that,” she said, her voice dry.

  “In my defense,” Liam said, brushing his hands along the back of his kilt, rolling his shoulders and wincing slightly, “Why would I ever want too?”

  The four of them stepped into the chamber properly and the door shut behind them. The elf was immediately beside them, holding a jug of earthen clay, painted and decorated with images of Sobek in his guise as a full crocodile. She smiled sweetly at Liam, pressing up against him as she purred: “Do you want something to drink, master?”

  Liam looked deeply uncomfortable and stammered something incoherent – but the girl was already rubbing herself against his chest.

  Vulkis watched the display. “You, ah, found quite a slave there.”

  “Y-Yes, quite a slave,” Liam said, his hands held in the air, as if he was terrified of touching her. “This is, Liv, um, Liv, handle w-whatever he needs. Drink, whatever.”

  Liv turned away from her master and looked at Vulkis. Gone was the silky seductive sex-kitten that she had been projecting mere moments before. Instead, she eyed him with that disquieting look he had seen at the door again. “So,” she said. “Water?”

  Vulkis nodded.

  Liv got him a cup of water, then walked into an adjoining room and was gone.


  “I still say, you should just call the bluff, end this run around and fuck her,” Meg said, shaking her head as she set her rump down on the edge of the table, disturbing several maps, her wings folding tightly behind her back. “She’s just trying to throw you off balance - why not throw her off balance? And into bed?” She waggled her eyebrows up and down. “It’d be fun.”

  “No,” Liam said, his voice set. “Also, I thought you didn’t like her.”

  Meg snorted. “It’s not that complicated. She tried to murder us-”

  Liam nodded. “Hence the not liking her.”

  “Yeah, but - and here is the part that you seem to miss - she’s enslaved. She’s wearing a slave collar. She literally can’t hurt us. If she tries, that collar stops her.” She shook her head. “So, I can focus on what can affect us. That. Ass.” She sketched a slender figure in the air with her hands. “And what’s the fun in having a slave if you can’t, you know?”

  Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and with the air of a man who had been over this before and would most likely go over it again, said: “Because it’s rape, Meg.”

  Meg frowned, her wings closing behind her back. But, to Vulkis’ surprise, she didn’t argue. Vulkis himself had never owned a slave; the Aesir frowned on the whole practice, unlike the Hellenes and the Coptics, though, there were the Thrallkind factions within the Thanemoot, who wanted to bring the old practice back. Vulkis, focusing on Meg, had to reevaluate his opinion of her. By his first reckoning, he had thought that the valkyrie would have been all brawn and sex.

  Instead, she was looking thoughtful.

  Tethis looked at Vulkis and saw his expression. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. “Livana was captured by Liam during a battle – she is the daughter of Ares. Basically, an alliance of the Dodekatheon were fighting Sobek, but Apollo and Athena wanted peace. Ares, being Ares, wanted war. Megara was sent to bring the message of peace - and Liv was sent to kill her. You can see why Liam might have disagreed with that, huh?”

  Vulkis nodded. Years of dealing with merchants, pirates, slavers, raiders and worse kept his face close to neutral. Inside, part of him wailed: What have I gotten myself into?

  Another part was noticing the size of the apartment, the quality of the clothes, the clear wealth on display, and was rubbing their palms together in glee.

  “After the battle, Liv was made a slave – but, well, Liam didn't want her to simply be sold. She was unhappy. At first. Then she found out his odd hangups about slavery and started... well...” She shrugged. “This is her twisting the knife.”

  Vulkis laughed, quietly. “Why not let her free, then?”

  “I tried!” Liam said, angrily. Meg snorted quietly and he turned to her. “I know you think this is silly – but in my world, my country fought a war over this issue, and we're still trying to break up illegal trading of people. I told myself a long time ago, that if I ever fell backwards in time to the Civil War, I would fight for the North – the faction that was opposed to slavery – and I'll be damned if I'll ever take advantage of a woman, just because she tried to kill me and prolong a pointless war between two city-states and that's final!”

  He panted, softly, having gotten most of that out in a single breath.

  Meg shook her head and stood up from the table. “Liam, love,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders, her tone gentle. “I don't know what it is like in your world, but here? Slavery can happen to anyone – and anyone can get out of it if they work hard and aren't given to a completely hideous master. So, that means it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

  Liam scowled. “That sounds like the same kind of horse-shit people fed to workers who were barely making ends meet in a nine to five job.” He stopped as he saw Meg look completely baffled. He smiled at her. “Imagine jobs that are hard, degrading, and don’t even make enough money to survive on. Just because some people manage to turn it into a living doesn’t mean everyone can - and it doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve some help sometimes and now I’m ranting about social issues a few centuries too advanced.” He laughed, brushing his hands through his hair. “Sorry, Meg, this kind of stuff brings out the social justice warrior in me.”

  Meg smiled. “I like that. Social justice warrior! Hah!” She flexed one arm, clearly imagining herself as one.

  Liam made a face. “I won’t kill your rosy view of the term.” He smiled. “But you see what I mean? Just because some people can work their way out of slavery doesn’t mean everyone can and it doesn’t mean that it makes it okay. Some people can survive getting stabbed, we still try and stop it.”

  Meg frowned, her arm slowly dropping. She quietly nodded. “Fine, fine, I’m convinced.” She sighed. “But if Liv wants to fuck you, I’ll push for it.”

  “But she-”

  “Yes, yes, she tried to kill us. But, again, she’s hot and she’s safe,” Meg said, shaking her head. “I’ve lain people who have tried to kill me before.”

  “Not sure if I never want to hear anymore, or to hear every single detail right now,” Liam muttered. Tethis coughed, her cheeks tinged a pale green with a fading blush.

  “And when we come to the Tuatha?” she asked, quietly. “What you feel about slavery does not matter if we're supposed to ask for their help and they cannot respect a nobleman who has no servants and no slaves.”

  Liam rubbed his face. “We'll deal with that when we get there.”

  Liv came back into the room, her lips pursed. “Master, do you need anything?” She put as much sauce as she could into that single, simple sentence she could – purring the word 'master' like a pleased cat, while cocking her hips to the side. Despite being a slender elf – unlike the far more curvaceous Meg – she managed to make the gesture an invitation to a wild night. Liam put his hands over his face again.

  “No, uh, fine,” he said.

  Vulkis shook his head. “Kid,” he said, setting his cup down as Liv left the room, “She's doing this on purpose. You need to make it seem as if it doesn't bother you at all.”

  Meg chuckled. “Okay, honey? I saw that glance she gave you-”

  “What glance? I didn’t see a glance,” Liam muttered, voice mulish.

  “She gave you a total glance.” Meg rubbed her hands together, her eyes glittering. Vulkis had never seen a woman so eager to get her lover in bed with another woman. He wasn’t sure if Liam was the luckiest man in Purgatory or most doomed. Taking pity on him, he stepped forward and coughed quietly.

  “So,” He said. “The ship. Payments?”

  Liam nodded, stepping away from his lover. He rummaged around in the supplies that had been stockpiled in the room, bringing out a purse that bulged with gold coins.

  “I cannot hope to have a ship and crew willing to get through this part of the Dreaming Sea for anything less than two hundred gold coins,” Vulkis said.

  “Just to check, that’s just a different name for the Platonic Sea, right?” Liam asked. At Vulkis’ nod, he smiled. “Sounds reasonable.”

  Vulkis blinked a few times and looked so shocked that he ruined his good fortune as Liam narrowed his eyes.

  “You just charged double what you needed, didn't you?” Liam asked, his smile fading.

  “Are you still-”

  “No!” Liam snapped. “Fuck, I hate haggling. Just set the price you want and I'll pay it – no one gets screwed.”

  “B-But,” Vulkis stammered. He loved haggling. The cut and thrust, the fighting, the trickery, the careful half-truths. A good haggle could pass the time better than a good book, and once he was done, he could have the glowing satisfaction of having met someone who was his match while also enjoying the delights of being paid.

  Liam shook his head. “A hundred and twenty?”

  “Fine, I suppose,” Vulkis said. Even to himself, he sounded sulky.

  * * *

  The crowd of day laborers that waited before the cranes and the loading docks beside the river were a motley mixture. Most were Coptics, yes, but more
than a few had hints of other bloods in them – with different skin tones and hair colors. That wasn't even getting into the elves and the goblins and the other, stranger creatures that sometimes found work there.

  Tethis – all three feet nothing of her – stood on one of the crates near the edge of the docks, a clay tablet tucked under one armpit, a stylus in her other hand. She opened her mouth and called out: “Uh, hello?”

  Megara – who was sitting on the ground beside her with her hand clapped over a small cup of dice – looked up at the gobliness. She arched an eyebrow.

  Tethis, seeing the look, coughed and then said, slightly louder: “Hello!”

  Meg tossed the dice on the ground. Nothing good. She sighed, then stood up – her head almost the same height as Tethis' at the moment – and cupped her hands around her mouth. With a voice used to shouting across battlefields, accentuated by lungs strong enough to keep her aloft at the highest reaches of the sky, she bellowed: “Oi!”

  Silence descended on the crowd as day labourers looked at Tethis – who had turned as red as it was possible for a green skinned girl to be. She rallied, quickly. “W-We're looking to hire a crew willing to handle cargo for a ship bound to leave tomorrow. We'll pay a half coin for a day's hard work.”

  Several people started stepping forward. More looked uncertain. Meg glared at them. More people stepped forward. Tethis smiled, nodding slightly.

  “That'll do! Now, give me your names,” she said, holding up her stylus. “And be ready to sign.”

  A long, lanky figure who looked like his ancestors had shared a bedroll with a lizardman raised his hand, the scales on his palm glinting in the sunlight. Tethis pointed at him with a stylus, nodding.

  “Can we use an X?” the man asked.

  Watching the men work, Liam shook his head. “You know, on Earth-”

  “What?” Meg asked, leaning against the side of Vulkis' ship. “On Earth, everything was loaded by machines that were built by other machines, piloted by machines that themselves were smarter than even the most smartest man in your halls of learning?” She snorted. “Let me guess, you spat lightning into hunks of glass and brought statues to life like that asshole Pygmalion?”