by Troy Reaves
***
Vas turned the cards slowly as he dealt their hands, asking Boremac what news he could share since the man had been marked. He seemed sad to Boremac, penitent in a way few who carried rumors of him now would have believed. Boremac’s host even went so far as to take efforts to explain his actions and how he wished there was a way he could set things right. His anger had often been his undoing but the rage that had taken him, fueled by drink and foolish pride, made him the monster he had become at the gambling house he had favored. He would have preferred to be cheated and left with the loss of coin than the loss of his homeland he now faced. Vas did not fear death and, even though he did not wish for it, he was more concerned that he would never see his favorite inns and taverns again. Boremac pitied him, thinking of Travelflor, and the loss of his own home.
Boremac lost the first hand and something changed in the way his host sat. He settled more deeply into his hard wooden chair, as if relaxing with an old friend. Vas spoke almost gently before dealing the second hand out. “My friend, should you lose this next round it could prove to be a very short turn of the cards. No matter who the deck favors, I think I would like your company a bit longer. Let me refresh our drinks.”
Boremac just handed the big man his mug by way of answer, puzzling over what he could share with his host to extend his visit until he had a solid plan. Vas solved part of Boremac’s problem when he returned. “Tell me how you managed to acquire the blades of the Mercenary. I bet those would get you a fair price with the people you serve. They are well tended and, as indicated by the dead orcs, you do not fear using them. Speaking of the dead, we should take them out. They will smell worse than usual before the night ends, I think.”
Boremac and Vas set to the work of removing the corpses before Boremac took the time to answer the question about the blades. When the two finished the chore, dragging the orcs out of smelling distance of the cabin and leaving them for the scavengers, Boremac related the tale of his first acquisition of weapons. These two blades, he explained, had brought him trouble and aid in equal measure since his youth. “Despite being hounded by others who would have had the fame of taking the blades from me, the gifts given for bearing these daggers has outweighed the danger.” He said. “They introduced me to the most interesting pair of twins, after a fashion, and were the key to my training in Alchendia’s Path. I would probably not be half the success I am without the connections the guild allowed me to make. I know I would not have met my current benefactor without those resources. He is a very private man.”
“What made you want to leave the guild? It sounds like they were treating you well. Let me make an offer. We will play for the exchange of tales and delay our inevitable parting. I would like to hear more about your exploits and I have stories to share myself. I would feel better if you heard them so that you could share them if you survive the night.” The half orc’s grin did little to dispel the fear that welled up in Boremac once more.”
He replied quickly, almost too quickly, seeking any way to extend his time to make a plan. “It is your house now. I will play by your rules. I must say it would please me to see how the cards fall before the real game is up.”
His host replied by gathering up the cards and shuffling the deck so it would be fresh. He dealt out the two cards for each of them with practiced hands, comfortable with the game. Boremac was pleased to note that as the two of them examined their single open cards, his opponent revealed no emotion or reaction. Boremac knew what had to be done now. He would have to keep the man enthralled until he could no longer bluff so effectively, whittling his defenses away with ale. The plan was not perfect but it was a start.
The night played out slowly with an equal exchange in history shared by both the players. Boremac was somewhat surprised to note how fascinating his host’s stories were and how far back he was willing to go into his own past. Boremac, for his part, revealed most of his tales with honesty, altering names and places on occasion but little else. The pair drank and played, sharing laughter and solemn looks, as each related their tales. Boremac was almost disappointed when his adversary began to tip his head and his hands. The tells were subtle but easily recognized by one who was trained to read others’ intentions. Boremac had survived many things by relying on that particular skill, despite being misled by Jun and Rinoba at times. His brow creased at the thought of those two, but he forgave his naiveté. Those two had been born with skills well beyond most, and each had honed those skills all of their lives. It would be interesting to see who became more wrapped in intrigue over time, or more dangerous.
“The sun will be creeping up soon and I am certain we will be wanting to begin our journeys as soon as we are able, assuming you can win three games.” Vas did not bother to hide his disappointment.
Boremac had to wonder if he was lamenting the thought of killing his new acquaintance or of leaving his homeland. He knew that dwelling on his own potential death would not improve his odds at the table and shunted the thought aside as best he could. He only said, “I feel lucky. I have much to share about you that will buy more than a few drinks, once you are gone of course. Your axe will bring me much closer to retiring. I have to admit that talking with you has made me consider that purchasing a farm sooner rather than later would be the best for me.”
His host laughed at this before replying. “I doubt that very much, my friend. You live for the thrill of the unknown. Common farm tools would not suit you. I think at the very least that your hands would rebel and cast them away. No, if I am not parting your head from your shoulders as the morning breaks, and we part amicably, I see a long life of’acquiring’ for you.” He paused briefly before continuing, as if weighing something about Boremac and coming to a decision. “I hope you win. I hope we can meet again someday in some faraway place and drink and play again. I would like to hear how right I am about your future, a future that will hopefully be as exciting and interesting as your past.”
“Boremac replied, “I would like that as well. Let us finish the game before the sun rises too high. We both have far to go before we rest.”
The first hand went to Vas, which seemed to displease each of the men equally. Their mood was lightened as Boremac took the second hand, pulling his blind draw and winning over his opponent’s strong play. He blessed Alchendia and asked that she do the same for him as the cards for the third play were dealt. The Cannibal slowly dealt the first card, as if wanting to make what was potentially the last challenge between them last as long as possible. Boremac smiled, even going so far as to wink at Vas as if he held Death itself and could not be beaten. As his opponent dealt out the blind draw face down before each of them, he grumbled under his breath but said nothing clearly. He simply stated,’Blind draw.’ indicating he would flip his unseen card rather than play his known one. Rules of the game meant he would turn his card first unless Boremac chose a blind draw as well.
Boremac waggled a finger at him to show his intention to play the card he held, grinning just a bit to lessen the bite of the presumed loss for his host. The Cannible’s eyes narrowed at Boremac as he flipped a card with ten bright white marks on a black background. Boremac flipped a knight clothed in silver armor with a foot placed on an undiscernible slain humanoid. The body was turned away further making it unidentifiable, showing only roughhewn metal armor from head to foot that had been cleaved through at the helm on the side. The white knight was always pictured in some fashion along this line in Boremac’s experience, which had troubled the rogue whenever he saw it. The Black knight was worse, of course. He held his victim’s head aloft with his bloody sword raised high over his shoulder.
The Cannibal cursed loudly before addressing Boremac directly. “I hate losing but I hate being bluffed and so openly deceived even more. Well played, my friend. The game would have been up with that play if I were a wiser man.” He turned the card that he had originally held and forsaken to try for a better blind draw. It was the white queen.
Boremac’
s breath whistled through his teeth and clenched lips upon seeing the card. The pair were now tied at two games each and each knew this would be the one that decided whether or not Boremac lived. He had to make his move now. He stated, “Let us drink to luck and new friends. A well-played night at cards and lives shared, remembering old friends and adventures. Would this please you?”
“Certainly,” replied Vas with a nod.
“This may be my last drink,” said Boremac. “I would like to share a special drink with you if you would allow me. I am sure you have not had it before and would find it… interesting. I carry two small glasses, they hold no more than four thimbles of the stuff, but I think you will find that is quite enough.” Boremac held his breath imperceptibly until his host replied. He did not have to wait long.
“It would be my pleasure. I would like to say that I honestly hope it is not your last drink, though I will not be taken in by the same trap twice.” He looked solemn for a moment and continued. “What is gambling without risk, after all?”
Boremac retrieved the glasses and the wineskin from his pack. He poured them each a glass that was just a bit more than a taste. “Potent stuff?” Vas asked, noting the small amount in each glass.
He replied, “The Fire Giants in the mountains call it’Fire Water’. You be the judge. I find it less than soothing but unique in my experience. It is an acquired taste, one that I acquired readily and now would not be without. I keep a cask of the stuff at home.” Boremac put a period on the sentence by tipping back his shot. His eyes opened wide and he slammed the glass upside down to the table, trying to prevent breaking it while challenging Vas.
Boremac’s host looked at him with mild suspicion for only a moment before tipping his own glass back. He opened his eyes wide as well but that was where the similarity between the two men’s reactions ended. Vas gripped the glass tightly before setting it carefully on the table. He appeared to fear that he might crush it in his large hands. He also appeared to be concerned with his ability to breathe. Three sharp inhalations followed one long exhale even as the Cannibal was wiping his hand across his forehead, clearing the drops of sweat from it that had already formed there. His measure of the drink was summed up neatly in his next few words. “How do you drink that stuff?!?”
“It is an acquired taste, as I mentioned. I acquired it rather readily. Strong drink has always been my favored poison.”
“So I see. I suppose if it has not killed you, I should survive it. I might even come to like it… over time.”
Boremac laughed. “I have little doubt that you will appreciate it as I do sooner than you think.” He paused a moment before continuing, deadly serious when he did. “We should turn the last hand.”
“Agreed.” Vas dealt out the last cards. Neither of the pair looked at the first card, choosing to let the blind card fall. Boremac’s hands itched nervously. Everything had gone as he planned. He hoped the cards would favor him but he was not willing to bet his life on them. Vas raised his hand to Boremac before either man could touch their cards, speaking low. “May Alchendia choose wisely who to favor, gambler or rogue…”
Boremac finished his thought as a reply, “and then may she be as fickle with her blessings as she always has.” He nodded to the bigger man and they turned their top cards as one to move the game forward. Boremac’s challenger tightened his features as he looked as his card. He almost looked like he was going to frown but the crease that furrowed his brow never had time to reach his lips. His head rebounded off the table even before his eyes had completely closed. Boremac looked up at the ceiling, peering through a hole where the light of morning was just peering inside the cabin. He spoke his mind, at peace but still rather annoyed. “It took you long enough, Alchendia.”
He shifted the big man gently off of his cards, impelled to see if he would have taken the last hand. He turned Vas’s up card and had all the answer he needed. Boremac closed his eyes against the image on the card but the one revealed only increased in detail and size behind his lids. Death stared at him from the darkness, into his mind and into his soul.
26
Second Thoughts
The trip back to Verson went without incident. Boremac found a farmer that was more than happy to part with a horse and cart, for more than twice their worth, without asking any questions. The farm was not too far from the woods and Boremac had only had to drag his quarry a few hours before levering him onto the cart like so much tribute. The’Cannibal’ slept, only tossing around and snoring occasionally as Boremac made the three day journey back to Verson with his prize. Boremac was alone with his thoughts and found it was easier to think of his capture as a bounty than the person he had come to know as Vas. His conscience twitched every time he ruminated about the time they had spent and the stories they had shared. Vas had made one terrible mistake and condemned himself with it. Boremac wondered how long he would be able to avoid making the same mistake.
Word spread through Verson even before he had made the city borders. Farmhands in the outlying area of Verson had risen early to their chores and welcomed the excuse to shirk them, stopping him on the road to ask what he carried. Boremac welcomed the distraction and even revealed his covered treasure to a few of them. Verson was known for waking late, but the noise raised by a horseman from one of the farms made certain that everyone knew Boremac was returning. Almost everyone was out in the streets to inspect his first capture. Men and women of all stations crowded the cart, peeking under the rough blanket that covered the’Cannibal’, leaving only enough room for Boremac to make his way to the jail within the city limits. He was stopped by several constables that were on duty halfway through the street that led to his destination.
The one who led the small group of wardens raised a hand at the front of Boremac’s horse cart and moved to greet him once the he had stopped. His men fanned out around the cart, urging the crowds away from the sides. “I understand you have brought us something to put into safe keeping, sir.” The voice was deep and resonant, well-aged like the speaker. Boremac 2doubted many people gave this one trouble. The white and gray that sprinkled the man’s hair did not detract from the respect his words commanded. Boremac straightened up in his seat, responding to his tone as any militiaman would, even a retired one. “You can gather whatever you need from the cart, and we will take care of your charge from here. Is there anyone that you wish to aid you?”
Before Boremac could reply, an unmistakable high pitched voice rang out from behind the constable on duty. “Thank you and your men, Roson. I will aid my friend in whatever way that he may need.” Boremac gathered his equipment and bags, pausing only a moment before grabbing the large axe that he had laid beside his bounty back at the ranger’s cabin. He was not surprised to find the constable step to one side as Jun advanced to the side of the cart seat, reaching up toward Boremac with two outstretched arms. Boremac was certain Jun was not hoping to help him to the ground. He jumped down and handed over the axe and the bag of treasure. Jun nodded and giggled in his eerie fashion. “You are remarkably perceptive, my favored hunter. Follow me. The Master would like to see you.” Jun turned away from Boremac, not waiting for a reply. Boremac was not even a little surprised to see the crowd part before the small man as he proceeded to the guild house with Boremac in tow.
Jun and Boremac stood before the Guild Master once again in short order. One of his waiting ladies had taken the bag of treasures that Boremac had used as bait, while another had placed the battle axe into a wall mount that had obviously been prepared for the purpose. A gold plate that had ‘The Cannibal’ neatly carved into it had been secured beneath the mounts, awaiting that final touch. Boremac did not know what suddenly troubled him more, that Vas would be immortalized as ‘The Cannibal’ or that he was the one who delivered the trophy that now hung before him. He cursed his conscience and the trouble it caused him, thinking he should put some effort into correcting that particular hindrance.
27
Settling Up
&
nbsp; Boremac found his payment for the contract was more than fair, even after Jun had taken his percentage. He set to attempting to shape his troubled mind into a more accepting thing that would suit him in his chosen profession. The tavern ladies were happy to help. Each seemed more than willing to try to outdo the last, and they were warm at night but the heat never quite reached his spirit. Even strong drink applied copiously by fellow hunters and mercenaries did little to dull his mind. He damned George on numerous occasions in a drunken fury for wedging self-respect and respect for the lives of others so deeply in him.
Nothing seemed to ease his mind. He did not know if he could continue as a hunter of men, thinking he should focus on finding a new thieves’ guild better suited to his talents. He did not share these thoughts with anyone for a while, though several people noted he remained in Verson for a good while after he had been paid. There was some talk about it, but most just shook it off as him enjoying a respite after his first capture. Boremac realized the truth soon enough. Despite the ministrations of the ladies who visited with him, he was waiting for one in particular. When she finally appeared he found a measure of his pain lifted from him.
He was leaning forward at a card table with his usual bunch of players, holding a solid hand. Boremac thought this was a sign things were finally going in his favor when he saw his first card, the white King, and that maybe Alchendia had decided to stop teasing her favorite toy. He was wrong, of course, and he knew immediately who lightly grasped his shoulder when she came to find him. “Sorry, gentlemen. It appears I have donated all the coin I can tonight. I would wish you luck but I have no desire to be insincere.” He rose from his seat, forcing himself not to bang his knees in his haste, and gathered up his few remaining coins. “I think my talents, lacking as they may be tonight, are needed elsewhere.” Boremac’s statement drew a surge of laughter, as well as winks and nudges, around the table. Those that could see Jasmine at his shoulder grinned at him while those that could not turned to follow the others’ eyes. No one felt the need to question his departure.