by P. G. Thomas
“A map of the Bright Coast, the same size? And history books?”
The clerk nodded, bent down, and pulled out another tube, “Give me a minute to find a selection of books.”
He turned to Steve and Eric. “Not as good as the Internet, but it’s better than waiting on sky elves.” The clerk brought over three books that John quickly scanned, but he was shaking his head. “I’ll take both maps and this one book,” concluding the transaction like the others.
As Eric and John headed to the door, Steve slowed down, quickly turning back to the clerk. There was an undersized but prominent display on the counter that seemed significant, which held small, crudely painted portraits about the size of a playing card, being similar to the ones at the elf healers shop and the dwarf eatery, all three having the same picture. He grabbed one, placing several coins on the counter, “Is that enough?” The clerk smiled, and Steve increased his pace to catch up with Eric and John.
After walking down the street for another ten minutes, noticing the longer shadows, they headed back towards the carriage. As they passed a tea house, Steve informed them that he needed to drain some of the dwarf beer, telling them to continue on, and he would catch up. When back outside, he began watching the people on the street and saw his objective: an easy target. Wearing a wool-like hat, an inexperienced pickpocket was standing beside a dark alley. Slowing his pace, Steve felt his coat shift, turned to push the thief into the black shadows, and pulled the hat over his eyes. With the butterfly knife in hand, the exposed blade pressed against the scruffy throat, Steve pulled out the small painted portrait, placing it in the thief’s hand. Pushing the head to the side, he advised, “Slowly raise what I gave you up to your face, lift your hat and look at it. Then tell me who it is, and pull your hat over your eyes. If you understand, nod.”
The thief did as instructed, “Father Zymse Darpac, Lord of Darkpaye House. He controls the Bright Coast now.”
Pulling out six coins, which Steve figured was more gold than the thief had stolen in the last year, he tossed them one by one into the alley. Then pushed the pickpocket in the direction of the coins, knowing he would be more interested in them than trying to get a look at the generous attacker. By the time the stunned thief made it back to the street corner, Steve was nowhere to be seen.
Logan, Ryan, Lauren, and Meeovad had walked in the other direction, but with Lauren in their group, shopping was the last thing on her mind. Even though both Ryan and Logan had tried to coax her into several different dress shops, she had no interest. When Lauren stopped, Ryan had just counted store thirty, and then she turned heading for the carriage. Seeing the baby goods displayed in the next window, they quickly caught up to her, as she tried to hold back the tears. The sudden change in direction caught Meeovad by surprise, and turning to follow the others, he was unaware that their guard had wandered across the street and disappeared into an alley.
Chapter 7
When Eric, John, and Steve arrived at the carriage, the others had not returned, so placing their purchases inside, they headed in the same direction that Lauren’s group had traveled. The farther up the street they walked, the quicker their pace became. Steve, in the lead, walked briskly along the curb, so merchant displays and shoppers were unable to obscure his line of sight. Scanning the street behind, they all heard him curse, and as they turned, realized that their guard was no longer following them.
Steve pointed towards the group of four, their guard also absent. “Get them back to the carriage now!” Then he crossed to the far side.
Focusing on their friends, they could see Lauren crying with Logan and Ryan trying to comfort her. When the two groups met, John was uncertain what had caused her distress and looked to Meeovad, who shrugged his shoulders. Knowing this was not the place for questions, John encouraged the group to move faster back to the carriage.
Their backs were turned as Steve crossed the street, intercepting the six that were following too closely, timing his appearance down to the precise moment. Just as the well-dressed thieves stepped in front of an alley, they saw him, the look in his eyes, and jackrabbited into the shadows. Steve, needing to teach them a lesson, knew in a place like this you had to mark your territory, and that they would only understand one color: red. Darkness hid any reflections of his brass knuckles, which greeted the first two that rushed forward. Jaws broken, teeth missing, he stepped over them. Two more attacked, which the unseen armor under his coat easily stopped. When the long knife found flesh, he silenced the next. The second kept attacking, clashing with his hidden armor, but Steve could sense the other two circling. In any other town, the noise of the mugging would invite bystanders, who would scare away the attackers, but here, he knew nobody heard the painful screams when his long knife found its next victim. He turned, blocking the next blow, but it knocked the long knife out of his hand. Stumbling, he pulled out the sheathed blade from his forearm, holding it like a martial artist; backwards and parallel to his forearm, so if anyone tried to grab his arm, it would slice his attacker’s hand open. A lesson learned the hard way by the next thief, whose painful scream provided an audible target for his left jab, the brass knuckles connecting with hard chin, pushing it aside, breaking it. He turned, kicked the last man in the groin, who fell to his knees bent over in pain. Driving the base of the knife into the thief’s skull, Steve heard him hit the ground. After replacing the bloodied blade into its forearm sheath, he saw a glint from his long knife, picked it up, and placed it back inside his coat. Returning to the street, he waited for a crowd to walk by the now silent alley. Stepping into the middle of them, his speed increased, and when he arrived at the carriage, the other two guards were missing. However, with the seven waiting for him, they quickly boarded it.
Meeovad leaned out the window, instructing the driver to head back to Thaxsons.
“What the hell happened?” asked Steve
“I have no idea. Somebody must have upped the ante.” Meeovad saw the sword cuts on Steve’s jacket, the fresh spatter of blood. “It is usually pickpockets and cutpurses. Maybe you purchased too much, and somebody bought permission to rob your group, no questions asked.”
Steve, who was extremely upset, began taking off his coat, “What happens now?”
Meeovad was quiet.
He reached over, grabbed their guide by the shoulders, “What now?”
The pickpocket returned Steve’s cold gaze, and his words were dry. “Questions are going to be asked. As a general rule, when they sanction crime, the guilds dislike it when the marks fight back—it sets a bad example.”
When the carriage pulled in front of the healer’s, Ryan went inside with John, and even though they took longer than expected, both returned with two large cloth bags. As the carriage began its journey back to the gates, Steve hoped their travels would be faster than the questions that now followed them. When it slowed down, he saw the gates approaching, but with no guards posted on the inside, they opened without anybody making any inquiries, and all breathed a sigh of relief once they were free from the ‘safe’ part of town.
They had traveled about thirty minutes when Steve leaned out the window, telling the driver to stop, and turned to Meeovad, “Get out.”
He moved to the door, “I did what you asked!”
“You should’ve done more!”
Meeovad stayed in the carriage, testing Steve’s hard gaze with his own. Desperate men do desperate things, and he needed his payment. “If it were not for me, you would have colored water and sugar for your sick friend.”
Lauren, both frustrated and confused, spoke. “All of you, shut up. Logan, get him his food.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For your help today.”
Grabbing them first, he stuffed them into a pocket, seized the food, and jumped out, disappearing into a dark alley. Steve, stepping out of the carriage, told the driver and helper to climb down. He looked at Eric, “Open the box and pass out the swords because we’re being followed.” Danex
and Lauren remained inside when the others exited, sheathed swords in hand. Once outside, they fastened the belts around their waists, pulling the dwarf-forged steel into the light. Steve looked at the driver and his sidekick, “Logan, John, keep those two company. I don’t want to see this carriage drive off.” Walking behind it, he stood in the middle of the street with Eric and Ryan joining him.
Even though Steve looked to be unarmed, his gaze made a bold statement to the three carriages that were following. He looked to Eric, “You two stay here. I’m going to introduce myself,” and he started walking down the street. Having only made a dozen steps, the first carriage bolted up a side street. After ten more, the other two also changed their minds, heading off in opposite directions. He waited, feeling the spying eyes watching. After a half hour, he walked up to the front of the carriage, telling the rest to get back in, and the helper as well. Mounting the bench, he pointed to the driver, and then to the seat beside him. Slowly the driver climbed up, as Steve looked straight ahead. “Make sure nobody follows us back and don’t lead us into any traps.” The driver took a large gulp of air, nodded, and gave the reins a shake.
Because the route was different from the one they had taken to the west mall, it took longer to get back to Gayne’s house. After everybody had disembarked from the carriage and unloaded their purchases, Steve pulled out several coins, dropping half into the driver’s hand. The anger felt from the day’s events added an edge to his warning, “You were never here. Now repeat it to me.”
The driver’s face went white, “I was never here.”
He dropped the remaining coins, “If anybody ever comes looking around here, do you have any idea of what I’ll do to you?” The driver shook his head. Steve’s voice was still angered, “Then make sure that nobody knows about this house, otherwise, I’ll find you and do those things you cannot imagine.” Stepping down to the street, he headed to the house, hoping the two magical guard dogs would remember his scent.
Inside, Danex was apologizing, but Lauren told her it was not her fault. When Steve entered, all eyes were on him as he began examining the damaged coat. “The crime element here is extremely well organized. Those malls serve two purposes: the first is to lure unsuspecting targets inside, and then they charge thieves to enter from the back. They aren’t shopping zones; they’re hunting grounds. Because this town is so screwed up, a thief could try to rob a hundred houses and never find anything of value, so they arrange the gold to come to them. As well, they probably charge the merchants exorbitant rents and protection money. It’s a win-win situation—unless you’re a law-abiding citizen.”
Eric looked at him, “The ones following Lauren’s group, what happened?”
“They retired.”
“I think he’s following in your footsteps,” Ryan said as he smirked.
“Witnesses?” asked Eric.
“In this town? Not unless you pay for them.”
Walking out of the kitchen, Mirtza was pushing a small cart that had a pot of hot bean juice with numerous cups, “How was your day?”
“Different but the same. How are you feeling?” replied Lauren.
“Now that I do not have to spend so much time in the basement, I am better.”
John brought over the bags of medicine, calling both Mirtza and Danex to the side table. He started pulling them out, stacking them up, and explaining the dosage, frequency, and quantity of each.
Mirtza stepped back, “All of this for me? You should not have.”
“Is this not where we started, old friend, so long ago?” began Lauren, “Now the tables have turned, and you no longer administer medicine to us, but we now supply the cures.”
“I remember. As much as I would not want to return to those days, I do now long for them.”
Lauren slowly walked Mirtza back to the table and helped him sit down.
“Lady Danex, did you enjoy your trip into town?”
“No, it is not the town that welcomed the young farmer’s daughter so long ago. It is foul, corrupt, and dangerous. I am now more grateful for my garden and animals that I raise, and I have no intentions of ever returning to it again.”
“Are things really that bad?”
“Worse than you can imagine, old friend.”
“You will never be able to comprehend the worse that I am able to recall, and I hope you will never see the visions that haunt my dreams. Soon it will be better as John Ironhouse is here.” Then Mirtza smiled, placing his hand on Eric’s shoulder, “John, you really have grown.”
With none being sure how to react to Mirtza’s drifting mind, the room went quiet.
When Danex stood to leave, John took the book and maps up to his room, having no appetite for food, as he had a thirst for knowledge. Walking Lauren to the stairs, Ryan pulled a small bag out of his pocket and gave it to her. They could see him trying to explain, but in the end, she stormed up the stairs with it. He headed into the kitchen, returned pushing a cart with both mugs and a beer keg. As he headed towards the patio without saying anything, all but Steve recognized Zack’s silent method of inviting those who wanted to join him.
Logan poked Steve on the shoulder, “Even warm, it still tastes good, old man,” and then he headed out to the patio.
“What did Ryan mean when he said I was following in your footsteps?” asked Steve.
“I retired a few as well. A few hundred here, a few thousand there, and one day, a few hundred thousand. Are you coming?” asked Eric.
Logan began to fill the mugs, “You’re handling this pretty well for an old guy.”
Steve thought about the group for a minute. A few days ago, they were in shock, but now they’re getting their confidence back. John seems to be formulating a plan. I can see the gears turning as he thinks. Lauren, I understand. Considering everything, she’s holding up better than I would in these circumstances. Ryan, he’s between a rock and a hard place. You can see how much he loves Lauren and the pain in his eyes. If John is right, damn, I don’t want to think about that. Eric, I was expecting more from him, but he seems to be second string now. Logan, what an annoying little—
“Hey, old man, do you want a drink?”
“If I showed up by myself, I guess, it might be different,” Steve said as he accepted the mug. “With you five accepting it so readily, I would look stupid if I was freaking out.”
“Last time, we were worried about our families, but this time, we’re searching for them instead,” added Ryan. “If John can’t fix his machine, isn’t there somebody back home who’ll miss you?”
Steve drained his mug but never answered.
Eric reached out for the empty mug, filled it, “Dwarves have a tradition of new guests telling their story. I’m dwarf, so tell me your story.”
“How much have you had to drink?” asked Steve.
“It’s tradition, and here, that means something.”
“There’s not much to say,” began Steve. “Growing up in a large city, my mother was an alcoholic and drug user. I was one of three children from three different fathers. You could say I grew up on the wrong side of both sets of tracks. In my neighborhood there was a saying: you don’t bring guns to a knife fight. We were poor, and I couldn’t afford guns, so I always brought the biggest knives. One year, my older brother died in a drive-by shooting, and my younger brother overdosed. It made me shift my focus, concentrated on school. Won a scholarship to a local college, graduated, and joined the Navy. They found a talent in me, promoted it, and trained me. Spent some time overseas, visited foreign lands, killed nasty people. Then I became tired of the travel, among other things, returned home, and joined the police force.”
“You need to hang around my sister more,” advised Logan. “That would’ve taken her three hours to tell.”
Ryan looked up at the darkening skies, “There has to be more?”
“Met a girl second year on the force, married her, and we had a son. My priorities were screwed up; spent more time with the blue than with my wife and
kid. She divorced me, taking half of everything, and moved to the other side of the country.”
“Don’t you ever see him?” asked Logan.
“Some break up and remain friends. Some burn the bridges behind them. Me, I blew up the bridge and the surrounding countryside even before I stepped off it. There would be too much to apologize for, so it’s just easier to let him believe whatever lies my ex told him about me. A few years later, met somebody else, married her, and we had a daughter. Then I wrapped my cruiser around a telephone pole in a high-speed chase. Implants, hooked on painkillers, depression, and basically, I became an asshole. Repeat the last three parts of the previous story: divorce, lose half, and ex moves. Now, I just concentrate on the job. Thinking it was a big case, I made a bad mistake when I followed John and Lauren. Arrested my suspect, lightning strike, blackout, and I wake up in Cali-gone or whatever this place is. So now I’m in a wonderland, looking for the Cheshire cat, and wondering if I’ll bump into the Queen of Hearts.”
“Zack 2.0. Maybe this place will work out for you,” began Logan. “When we left, Zack stayed behind, as he met the love of his life, and they raised a family.”
“I’m not interested in that anymore. For me, it is good versus bad. If I put enough bad guys away, I’m just hoping that when they punch my ticket, they tell me to get on the uptown train. However, I still have a lot of bad guys to put away…Karma’s a bitch.”
“Are you still sleeping on the floor?” asked Ryan.
“Yeah, it helps with the alignment of my back and hips.”
“Is it okay if I take the couch?”
Steve nodded.
“Let me guess, a fight with Lauren?” asked Eric.
Logan looked to the ground, “New or old one?”
“Bite me,” replied Ryan.
“So what’s next?” asked Steve.
“We’ve been here four days,” Ryan started, “so we better start looking for my daughters soon. When Lauren saw that baby store today—I think John’s right, and we need dwarves or somebody to help us. Last time, we had so many, but in this place, I don’t know who can or how many we need…or who we can trust. I was thinking of going back to the dwarf eatery, showing them our Ironhouse rings, and seeing if they can get us some help. I’m not sure what John has planned, but I can’t just sit around anymore.”