The Blighted City (The Fractured Tapestry)

by Scott Kaelen

  Oriken snorted. “Can’t argue with that, but if we go wandering around outside, we miss our chance at snagging a decent contract.”

  She brought her cup to her lips and took a sip of water. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I love being with the two of you, but we’re freeblades – with the emphasis on blades.”

  “The problem is,” Oriken said, “we’re too good at what we do.”

  Dagra nodded in assent. “Between us and the rest of the branch, we’ve practically rid Caerheath of all bandits. Now the troubles in town are rarely more than petty disputes.”

  Jalis sighed. “That should be a good thing. We’re maintaining the peace, but we’re not doing ourselves any favours. Since when did the guild become the primary lawmakers in Himaera?”

  “Primary?” Dagra’s brow creased. “Try only. This isn’t Vorinsia. We don’t have a fancy Arkhus ruling the land, nor a military, not even a damned sheriff. Nothing since the Days of Kings. Freeblades are all this land’s got.”

  “I’ve lived here for long enough,” Jalis said, “but I still can’t get used to the lack of a military or a ruling figurehead. It’s a miracle how Himaera wasn’t consumed by the Arkh centuries ago.”

  Dagra shrugged. “They tried to invade us during the Uprising, but even a broken Himaera managed to bloody their noses and send them packing with a few lessons learned. The Arkh’s gone soft since them days. Nothing conquerable left.” He gave Jalis an apologetic look. “No offence, lass.”

  “None taken.”

  Oriken leaned back against the wall. “Anyway,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry. Something good’ll land on the job board soon enough. It always does.” He flashed Jalis a chirpy smile.

  “Ever the pissing optimist.” Dagra jutted his beard towards the guildboard alcove at the end the bar. “Have you seen the rewards for those job offers? The best is for eight coppers. It’s an insult.”

  “Maybe it’s time we took a vacation,” Oriken said.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Jalis said. “I haven’t visited my homeland for a while.”

  “Not really what I had in mind.”

  “I’m going for a piss,” Dagra announced, pushing himself to his feet.

  Oriken watched him wander away. “We do need to get out of town for a while. Maybe Middlemire needs some extra hands. Or Brancosi Bay. We should ask Maros to check for us.”

  A shadow cleaved through the sunlight on the floorboards. Jalis glanced across to see Maros’s bulky frame hobbling through the saloon doors. He noticed her gaze and limped across to join them.

  “The wanderer returns,” Oriken said. “Can’t keep you in your own tavern these days.”

  Maros barked a tired laugh and gathered his crutches into one hand. “Balen’s the farthest I’ve been since I took over this place. Remind me never to go back.”

  Jalis tilted her head to meet his gaze. “You’ve been in Balen? All afternoon?”

  “Hardly! Most of it was me struggling there and back.”

  “Why didn’t you ask Ravlin to drive you in his wagon? He wouldn’t have minded.”

  “I tried. The merchant’s in Brancosi, replenishing his stock.”

  “What’s so important in Balen you couldn’t send a novice?” Oriken asked.

  “On any other day, absolutely bugger all.” Maros glanced at Jalis. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of business to attend to. I’ll catch up with you shortly.”

  Jalis watched him limp to the guildboard. After a moment, he hobbled out of the recess and headed down the adjoining corridor to his private office. “He’s up to something,” she said to herself.

  At a table near the opposite wall of the common room, several freeblades were engaged in a game of knucklebones. Alari, a veteran blade with a few more years in the guild than Jalis, peered towards the guildboard and muttered to her nearest companion.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Jalis rose from her chair and crossed quickly to the alcove. She scanned the guildboard’s contents until she spotted a new slip of paper and unpinned it from the cork. Seeing the reward offer, her eyes widened.

  “Girl, you’re as quick as flint over firesteel,” Alari said from behind her.

  Palming the note, Jalis turned to her colleague. “You weren’t far behind me.”

  Alari’s smile tugged at the pale scar beside her mouth. “What’s the boss put up there this time? Another that ain’t worth the paper it’s written on?”

  Jalis shrugged. “Looks a little better than the usual. Why don’t you take some of the smaller offers? They’ll do for the novice you’re looking after. We all had to start somewhere.”

  Alari’s brow furrowed in thought. “You’re not wrong. Kirran could most likely do ‘em on his own. I’ll tell him to pick one.” She gave Jalis an amiable wink. “You and the lads go earn yourselves some crust, love.”

  As Alari headed back to her table, another freeblade strode past her for the guildboard. Jalis eyed the man coldly as he closed the distance.

  “What’s that you got?” Fenn said as he stepped into the alcove, positioning himself before Jalis to block her from leaving.

  “Back off, Fenn.”

  “Let’s have a look.” He snatched for the paper, but Jalis whipped her hand behind her back.

  “First come, first served,” she said. “You know the rules. You want a job, there are plenty on the board that’ll suit you.”

  Fenn’s beady eyes glared at her. “At least I can do my work alone. We all know that you and your two bodyguards get preferential treatment around here.” He grabbed Jalis’s shoulder.

  She rammed her hand between his legs and squeezed. “Those are my companions and my friends. I’ll tell you what, how about you take your hand from me, and I’ll do the same. Then you go back to your seat like a good boy.”

  Fenn’s lip curled in a silent snarl. Jalis increased the pressure and, reluctantly, he took his hand away. “You’ve got a problem.”

  “If I have any problems, you’re not among them.” She clutched harder. “Just so we’re clear. Are we clear, Fenn?”

  “Get your fucking hand off me!”

  “Oh, I will. But first I want to give you fair warning that next time you touch me, it won’t be my hand but my dagger at your groin. By all means test me, and I’ll do the world a favour.” With a final twist, she released her hold.

  As Fenn staggered backwards, he threw a punch at Jalis’s face. She ducked and jabbed a fist into his ribs, then launched an uppercut that smashed into his nose and sent him careening from the alcove and sprawling to the floor. A scattered applause trickled from the tavern’s patrons, cut short as Maros hobbled out of the corridor.

  “What in the Pit is going on in my tavern?” he boomed.

  Fenn rose to his feet, blood trickling from his nose. “You wanna keep a leash on that bitch. Everyone knows she’s your favourite.” He flicked a glance at Jalis’s gossamer chemise. “Not hard to see why.”

  “Is that so?” Maros limped across to loom over him. “You ought’a show a bladesmistress a little respect – no, a lot of respect – especially after she’s put you on your arse. Step out of line one more time, Fenn, and the Grenmoor branch can have you back. Get yourself to the guildhouse. Now. You’ve had your fill for the day.”

  Fenn’s face glowed with anger, but he said nothing. After a moment, he turned and strode for the doors.

  “Oh, and Fenn,” Maros called after him, “if you ever speak to me like that again, you won’t be walking out of here, you’ll be flying out.”

  “What did I miss?” Dagra asked from beside Jalis.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Maros limped around to look at her. “I take it you were first to the new job I posted?”

  “I was. Your time in Balen wasn’t wasted.”

  “I’m not sure I want you taking this one, Jalis.”

  “Why? I’d be a fool not to.”

  Maros grunted. “Just promise me you won’t do it alone.” He nodded
to Dagra. “If the lads don’t agree, the job’s going back on the board. I’d sooner let Fenn have this one, and good riddance to him.”

  Jalis frowned. “What’s getting you concerned, old friend? If there’s another bandit group taking hold somewhere—”

  “Not bandits.” Maros glanced briefly around the room and said in a low voice, “Speak with Dagra and Oriken. See what they say. If you all agree, then it’s yours. But I won’t be happy about it. You and I spent too many years together, lass. Don’t underestimate what this job entails.”

  She studied his face. “I’ve never heard you talking like this.”

  “We’ve never had a contract like this.”

  As Jalis returned to her seat with Dagra in tow, Oriken raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was the most entertainment I’ve had all week. You missed it, Dag. Jalis ripped the local arsehole a new one.”

  “I did no such thing.” Jalis waved away Dagra’s questioning look. She folded her arms upon the table and beckoned her friends to lean closer. “I’ve snagged us a contract, and you won’t believe the bounty.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear,” Dagra said, “not after Maros’s reaction. But go on.”

  The chatter of the common room had resumed, but still she glanced around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “Five hundred silver dari.”

  Oriken blew a low whistle. “Stars above. You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  Dagra’s eyes were shadowed with scepticism. “What are the details?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly have time to check.”

  “You didn’t have time? Jalis, you don’t go blindly accepting jobs. You know that better than me and Orik.”

  “I know! But five hundred silvers. What job wouldn’t you take for that?”

  “I can think of a few I wouldn’t do,” Oriken said with a smirk. “Dagra, though, probably not so many.”

  Dagra ignored the jibe. “Come on, then,” he said to Jalis. “Let’s have a look.”

  She uncrumpled the note and spread it upon the table, frowning in confusion as she scanned the details. “Er, where’s Lachyla? What’s the Blighted City?”

  “Oh, suffering gods.” Dagra wiped a hand over his face.

  “What?”

  Oriken laughed. “Maros put that on the board? He’s playing with us. He has to be.”

  Jalis shook her head. “He wouldn’t. Wait, isn’t that a Himaeran folk tale? The Blighted City was one of the Taleweaver’s stories a few years back, no?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Dagra said. “Look, whether this is just a dragon chase or for real, forget it. We’re not going there. It’s marked with a death’s head for good reason.”

  Oriken scoffed. “Come on. Just because you were brought up believing every story under the sun. There’s no reason to think this’ll be anything but a long stroll in the countryside.”

  “You can’t believe that,” Dagra said. “Since when did you ever enter the Deadlands? Never, that’s when. Stroll in the countryside? More like a walk to the gallows.”

  “I don’t know much about your legends,” Jalis said, “but the ten percent alone for non-retrieval would keep us good for a few months. If we fulfil the objective, it will be a more lucrative catch than Maros and I ever managed in our golden days. This is a big one. If we let it pass, Alari or Fenn or Henwyn or any of the others will snatch it up.”

  “No need to convince me,” Oriken said. “I’m in.”

  “You’re in for everything.” Dagra glowered at him. “Always running into every dark hole you find. Even when we were boys. Won’t you ever learn?”

  Oriken shrugged. “You’re the superstitious one. Show me proof that Lachyla is anything but a scary story told by the Taleweavers. Give me some evidence that we shouldn’t take the job.”

  “You know I can’t. But we shouldn’t go angering the Dyad by wandering into a dead goddess’s domain. The whole region is unhallowed ground.”

  “The Dyad are your gods,” Oriken said. “Not mine. And not Jalis’s. For the stars’ sake, Dag, we’re freeblades.”

  “Even if we found the place, the chances of locating… What was it?” Dagra glanced over the note. “A crypt? Oh, no. No way. I am not going into a crypt.” He looked to Jalis. “Do you know they used to bury their dead without burning them? It’s barbaric, I tell you. Sacrilege.”

  Oriken gave him a bemused grin. “Sacrilege? You’re talking about a time before the Dyad came to Himaera. How can you accuse the ancestors of sacrilege when they existed before your gods?”

  Dagra blanched. “You’re going too far, Oriken.”

  “It happened everywhere,” Jalis said, “not just here on Himaera. It was the same in the Arkh.”

  Dagra drained the last of his ale. “Jecaiah!” He signalled to the barman for another drink, then looked pointedly at Jalis. “At best, we’ll be wasting a month or more wandering the wilderness before heading home empty-handed.”

  With an inward sigh, she decided to try another tactic. “You do realise that if we complete this contract, Maros will probably put the two of you forward for your bladesmaster tests.”

  “Imagine that, Dag. Third-tier freeblades after only five years.” Oriken raised an eyebrow. “We’ll be the talk of the guild.”

  “Hmph.” Dagra pushed his chair back and stomped across to the bar.

  “He’ll come around,” Oriken said.

  Dagra glanced over his shoulder. “I heard that. I’m still waiting to be convinced.”

  “You don’t sound as unconvinced as you were,” Jalis said as he returned to his seat. “Look, if you don’t want to come along, it’ll only mean more for Oriken and I. It would be a shame to not have you with us, but if that’s your choice…”

  “Don’t try that with me, lass. You heard Maros. He said it’s all of us or none.”

  “He did. But ultimately it’s not up to him. I’ve seen the details. If he tried to stop me, he’d be doing it as a friend, not as the Official.”

  “Think of all the good it’d bring,” Oriken pressed. “You and me getting our bladesmasters. The recognition it’d bring us and the branch, not to mention the whole guild. It’s not just about the money. Stars, I don’t even know what I’d do with my cut. Imagine it, Dag. Once word circulates that we’ve braved the blight, conquered a legend and returned victorious…”

  “I don’t intend to risk angering the gods, not for any amount of dari.”

  “Stars!” Oriken sighed in exasperation. “All we have to do is walk into a crypt and find some rusty trinket. Can’t you lighten up just this once? You could even wait outside while me and Jalis do all the brave stuff.”

  Dagra glared at the contract offer in stony silence.

  “Okay,” Jalis said. “I doubt the Dyad would be happy if you let Oriken and I walk to our fates without you, but if that’s your choice, then I will respect it.”

  Dagra glared at her. “That was a low blow.”

  She shrugged and rose to her feet. “I’m accepting the contract, and Maros will allow it. In or out, it’s up to you.”

  He sighed. “I’m not happy about this. Not happy at all.”

  Jalis smiled. “You’re in, then?”

  Dagra hunched his shoulders in defeat. “I’d hate myself if something happened to the two of you. What choice do I have?” His lips pressed together and he cast Oriken a hooded look. “Aye, you’ll have my blade at your side. As always.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  INTO THE DEADLANDS

  Jalis lay on her front, propped on her elbows by the riverbank as Dagra and Oriken refilled the waterskins. A map of the region was opened out before her. As she studied it, she shook her head. “None of the settlements we’ve seen in the last three days are marked on here, just the old ringfort we passed a while back.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Oriken called from beside the stream. “Wouldn’t even call them settlements, just clusters of run-down old cabins. The looks we got as we walked by, you’
d think we were bandits or worse.”

  “They’re a simple folk down here,” Dagra said as he left the waterside and sat close to Jalis. “Living within the fringes of the Deadlands, they’ve a right to be suspicious of strangers when they probably never see any. And the weapons we’re carrying aren’t likely to incite friendliness.” He patted the old gladius at his hip. “To them who don’t know the difference between a freeblade – or even a regular sellsword – and a bandit, one looks much the same as the other.”

  Oriken wandered over to join them and tossed Jalis her waterskin. “We don’t need to know where we are yet,” he told her. “As far as the stories of this area are concerned, we’ll reach the city as long as we follow the road.” He removed his hat and lay upon the grass, folding his hands behind his head.

  “There’s hardly anything left of the road,” Dagra muttered with a glance to the overgrown remnants of the Kingdom Road a short distance away. “Imagine what state we’ll find it in tomorrow, or the next day.”

  “Road or not,” Oriken said, gazing into the afternoon sky, “according to the Taleweavers, we can’t go wrong if we head south and west. We’ll get there. And then we’ll likely turn around and come all the way back empty-handed. It’s almost tempting to camp for a few weeks then return for the ten percent.”

  Jalis glanced from the map. “And risk losing the other ninety percent? Do you have so little faith in us finding the jewel?”

  Oriken shrugged. “I have faith in nothing. I’ll honour the contract, you know that. But from what Maros said about Cela, it sounds to me like the crows have drank what’s left of her brain. Using a family title! Who even does that now?” Catching Jalis’s glance, he said, “Okay, maybe you do, and a few others who came here from the mainland, but our client’s Himaeran.” He gave a derisive snort. “Claiming she’s descended from Lachyla. Ha!”