by Rob J. Hayes
Again the Black Thorn spat. “Well this ain't there an' she weren't nobody’s wife.”
“What about the finger?” Jez asked.
“Got ta my gear a little too late. Managed ta block Bol's next swing but he was a strong fucker. The swing knocked away my axe an' took my finger by the by.” He held up his hand and rubbed at his middle stump.
Amazing how many situations come down to fucking and fighting.
“After that I grabbed up my dagger an' shoved it into his groin twice. As he fell away he let go of his sword so I snatched it up an' started hackin'.”
“I remember the mess ya made of the lad,” Bones said with a haunted look about his eyes.
“I remember the whore,” Swift replied, his grin returning even as his eyes closed again. “Really was a pretty one. I wanted her but you got there first, Thorn.”
“Aye, shame really,” Thorn sighed again. “I got the blame fer her an' all.”
The Black Thorn
Bittersprings was a lonely town but a prosperous one all the same. It didn't survive on trade as many did. It didn't hold much of a strategic placement. The great herd never passed close by. Bittersprings had two things; sulphur and the bitter springs.
The little town sat at the foot of the first and greatest peak of the yellow mountains. Its walls were made from the same yellow rock that littered the mountainside and the buildings were made from the rock too. There the town had existed for near four hundred years sitting at the edge of H'ost's province and catering to some of the richest and most powerful folk in all the wilds.
The people came for the springs, or at least for the healing, soothing, calming powers that they claimed to boast. The masters of the springs knew the exact ingredients in each pool of bubbling, scalding water and knew which pool would cure which ailments, which pool would soothe which ache, which pool would leech which toxins. They tended and guarded the springs and, of course, allowed others to experience the waters for a modest fee. Nothing in the wilds came free, not even fancy water.
Betrim himself had never been to Bittersprings before, one of the very few towns of the wilds he'd always managed to stay clear of. It was out of the way and apart from the springs, which to the likes of him would always be closed, there wasn't much worth coming here for. In fact he had to wonder why the Boss had brought them this way at all. Seemed to be a fair distance out of the way and unless the Boss was feeling in the need of a deep soak in some foul smelling water the town had nothing they needed.
The smell got everywhere, was everywhere. As soon as they set eyes on the yellow walls Betrim could smell it, like egg left in the sun too long. Betrim himself may not have seen an egg in a good number of years but he remembered them well enough. Back on the ranch before his first killing, they'd had plenty of chickens and plenty of eggs.
As they got closer he could see the guards. Someone had once joked that there were more guards in the wilds than there were beasts in the great herd. These ones were near as yellow as the walls they guarded. Dusty yellow doublets with mail over the top and a lemon yellow cloak behind all topped off with a high peaked half helm on their heads and each one of them carrying an iron tipped spear. Truth was from this distance they looked like toy soldiers guarding toy walls. Up close was a different matter, they looked a touch more fierce then.
The toy guards watched them through wary eyes as they approached and the more fierce types watched them with a touch of hostility as they entered through the large wooden gates. It was possible they went days or even weeks without seeing strangers and Betrim knew the Boss' crew made for a strange set at the best of times. Now with an Arbiter and a Jezzet in tow they must look a real mystery but they were allowed through all the same.
Inside, the town was small with squat, dirty yellow buildings and a fair amount of dust that seemed to coat everything. It was busy enough despite that with folk moving every which way. Fewer merchants than Betrim was used to seeing for a certainty but then he'd spent a great deal of time in the free cities of late. Bittersprings was one of H’ost’s' towns and that meant they had to pay H’ost’s' taxes.
Not far from the gate they came across a small square whose main feature was the big well in the centre. Folk crowded around the well in droves with buckets or pails and even the occasional barrel. The water from the springs may be special but it was poisonous to drink and while the Jorl was close, it was a good few miles away, too far for the common folk to walk, they had to rely on the wells.
The Boss turned and gathered his strange crew around him. “We'll be spending a couple o' days here. Relax like we shoulda been doin' in Chade but fer these two.” He pointed at Betrim and the Arbiter. “First things first; Bones, you an' Henry go find us a place ta stay, try not rustle any feathers. We're keepin' a low profile.”
“Jezzet and I will find a room in an inn,” the Arbiter announced.
“We sometimes have ta be leavin' in a fair hurry, Arbiter. Easier when the crew's all together.”
“We're not part of your crew and I'm certain no matter what hurry you're in you'll find some time to send one of yours to find us.”
Betrim had never seen the Boss back down and he had to admit he was looking forward to seeing him and the Arbiter go at it.
“I'll be staying at the Bloody Petal, Boss,” Swift put in with a wink.
“That so?” the Boss growled back.
Swift stopped grinning and lowered his eyes. “Aye. Got family there ta see.”
That seemed to make the Boss stop and think. After a while he nodded. “Bones, take Henry and an' our two guests an' find us an inn.”
Henry narrowed her eyes but Bones grinned. “How many rooms, Boss?” he boomed.
“One fer me an' Henry an' one fer the rest o' ya. The Arbiter can pay his own way. Green, Thorn, Swift, you're with me. Lead the way to this Bloody Petal.”
Henry looked fit to burst and, for a moment, Betrim thought she might stab the Boss there and then but as Bones walked away chatting with Jezzet, Henry spat and stalked off with them. Betrim followed after Swift, seemed to him the number of folk on the crew the Boss was pissing off of late was growing rapidly. For him to shun Henry in favour of some whore... even Betrim paled to think of the consequences and a face like his didn't pale easy.
Nothing quite said welcome to Betrim like a big pair of tits in his face and the Bloody Petal was pretty damned welcoming. The woman was plump, her breasts were huge and white and heavy and she wore too much powder but Betrim found himself stiffening all the same. He grabbed hold of the plump woman by the waist and drew her closer; she didn't even seem to mind his scars too much. Then the Boss was there, tapping Betrim on the shoulder.
“Not yet, Thorn.”
“I'm back!” Swift announced to the whore house with arms stretched out wide as if he could hug all the women at once.
A middle-aged woman squinted at him for a moment then walked over. She put a hand either side of Swift's face and kissed him on the lips.
“Ma,” Swift said after she'd done kissing him.
“It's been too long, boy. It's on the house for my boy, Swift,” she shouted to all the whores in the brothel. “Are these friends of yours?”
“Aye, near enough anyways.” Swift grinned at all of them. “Find yourself a woman, lads.”
Swift's mother approached Betrim. She was pretty enough, still slim despite the years and the use, though the corners of her eyes were starting to wrinkle. She wore a dark blue dress that seemed to cover very little of her but at least she wasn't over powdered or over perfumed. Ageing or no she was still attractive enough to warrant a smile, not that Betrim would expose her to that.
“I'm Tanda,” said Swift's mother. “You're the Black Thorn.”
Betrim nodded. He may have never been to Bittersprings before but everywhere he went his reputation seemed to precede him.
“Rose,” Tanda called over her shoulder. The woman who stepped up was slim as a reed with long hair as black as midnight, small but pe
rky breasts and a beautiful face without so much as a mark on it. When she grinned Betrim could see her teeth, two perfect sets of pearly whites. It took everything he had not to smile back at her. She didn't want to see that, nobody did.
“This is Rose,” Tanda was saying but Betrim was finding it hard to pay her any attention. “She's my daughter. You'll pay double and if you try to mess her up at all she'll kill you.”
That caught his attention. He looked from Rose to Tanda to the madly grinning Swift. “Ya daughter?”
“That's right. She's just as good with a knife as her brother too.”
“Only as good?” Swift laughed. “She used ta be better.”
Rose came closer, so close Betrim was poking her in the leg with his cock. She trailed a hand up his chest and spoke in a husky voice that seemed to slip out of her full red lips. “I'm sure it won't come to that but if it does,” a knife appeared in her and she held it to his neck so close she could have shaved him with it. “If it does I'll geld you first then kill you. Fitting end for such a man as the Black Thorn.”
Some men, most men, would have wilted under those conditions. Betrim was not one of those men, he found himself poking Rose in the leg even harder.
Rose smiled at him, she did have perfect teeth. “I think he gets the point, mother.” She glanced down. “So will I by the looks of things. I do hope you know how to use that thing.”
Betrim let out a ragged breath. It was rare any whore house gave him one of the pretty ones and he was so eager the only thing stopping him was the knife still held to his throat.
“I need ta borrow my lads an' one o' ya tables fer a few minutes, Tanda,” the Boss said in his deep growl. A bottle of somethin' strong an' three glasses wouldn't go amiss. Not you, Green. You go an' find yaself some fun. Jus' need Swift an' Thorn.”
Green grumbled something Betrim didn't hear and Tanda said something about a bottle but Betrim paid them no mind, his attention was fixed on Rose. Then a big hand grabbed hold of his arm, and started dragging him away.
The dagger disappeared from Rose's hand and she pouted at him as she ran a single hand down from her breasts, down her stomach, all the way down to her cunt. “Don't be too long. I get so very lonely.”
Damn but the Boss was strong. If it wasn't for his iron grip Betrim would have pulled free and then... He bumped into something and looked down. A table with some chairs. “Sit,” the Boss ordered.
Betrim did as he was told but the last thing he was, was happy about it. “This best not take long, Boss.”
“It'll take as long as it fuckin' needs ta. You'll get ta put ya cock in Swift's sister, don't you worry.”
The big southerner waited until Tanda had brought the bottle and the glasses. He poured a shot into each glass, knocked his back and then poured another before looking around the room, making sure no other folk were listening in.
Betrim emptied his own glass and waited for the Boss to decide no one was listening in. “Wasn't meanin' back on the plains ta tell everyone 'bout the job. Can't lie ta an' Arbiter though an' now I know what that means. Never felt so...” He stopped and snapped his metal teeth together. “Fact is now we all know what we're in fer an' I need ta know if ya got any sort o' problem with that, Swift?”
Swift eyed the Boss, and then he eyed Betrim. Betrim just stared back at him, a blank look on his face. Good thing about having a ruined face, Betrim had long ago decided, that it made it easy to show no expression, no emotion. People never knew what he might do next because his face never betrayed him.
Swift downed his own drink, the Boss refilled his glass and Swift downed it again. “Only thing H'ost ever gave ma' was a silver an' a squirt in her cunt. As fer me I got some of his blood but that's as far as his fatherin' ever went. He never wanted me an' I never wanted him so the way I see it. You just gimme the word an' it'll be my knife between his eyes.”
The Boss stared at Swift for a while and for a while Swift just stared right back. Then the Boss nodded and downed his second glass. “Good...”
“I got a question, Boss,” Betrim said before the talking ended. “When are we ditching the Arbiter? Here seems as good a spot as any.”
This time the Boss took a swig straight from the bottle, he'd gone back to scowling. “We ain't. He's comin' with us all the way.”
“Boss...”
“Seems he's after the same man we are an' if that bitch of his is as good as you say I'd rather have them with us than against. Might not be ideal, Thorn, but as long as the target gets dead we get paid no matter if it's us or some witch hunter who deals the blow so fer now you jus' shut up an' deal with it. After, you two can kill each other as much as ya like. Good?”
“Aye, good.” Betrim didn't much like it but didn't seem like he had much of a choice.
“Go have some fun then. I best get back ta Henry 'fore she starts thinkin' I'm out whorin'. Last thing we need is her murderin' folk fer no reason.”
Betrim looked around the room for Rose. He saw her leaning against the bar watching Betrim. That was the best thing about a good whore, Betrim decided; they always made it seem they wanted you, even when you were as ugly as he was.
Swift gave Betrim a quick tap on the arm. “Treat her good, Thorn.”
“Aye.”
“She likes it when you bite her nipples.”
“Aye... what?” Betrim said but Swift was already gone, half way across the room and speaking with his mother.
Betrim poured himself another shot and necked it before standing and walking towards the whore. Rose met him half way and pressed herself up close. Her breasts against his leathers, his cock poking her in her hip. Her skin was white, her hair was black, her eyes were blacker and she smelled of sex.
She slipped a deft hand down his into his trousers and gave him two long, slow strokes. Betrim shuddered and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her closer. He would've been more than happy to bend her over a table and take her right there in the middle of the room.
“I see you can pay double,” she whispered close to his ear. Betrim realised she was holding his cock in one hand and his purse in the other. “I'll hold onto both of these for now. Don't worry; I’ll only take what I'm worth.”
“You best be worth it,” he growled at her as she started leading him towards the stairs.
Rose glanced back at him, a wicked grin on her face that looked nothing like Swift's. “Oh I am.”
The Arbiter
Thanquil was trying to think of a situation where he'd felt more awkward, a situation that had been more tense. He was coming up blank. Sitting between two women who seemed to hate each other was somehow worse than being questioned by the council of Inquisitors, worse than having a dozen swords pointed at him for a crime he was innocent of, worse than standing by and watching as the Arbiter passed judgement on his parents.
For her part, Jezzet wasn't making a show of it. She stared into her mug but Thanquil could feel the anger radiating off of her like a dark haze that spurned all attempts at conversation. Henry was far less subtle, she sat staring poisonous daggers at Jezzet and sneering with even more contempt than normal.
To make matters worse the rest of the common room of the inn was loud, jovial and drunk. Their table was like an island of moody silence among a sea of revelry and that grated on Thanquil's nerves.
The giant sighed and Henry sent him a look that could have frozen the sea. “Don't give me that Henry. I'm bored,” Bones whined. “All the others are off havin' fun an' here I am stuck here with three people all look like they want ta kill the others.”
“I have no wish to kill any of you,” Thanquil said.
“Not even Thorn?”
“Especially not Thorn. Trying to kill that one is dangerous work. Six Arbiters he's killed!”
Henry spat onto the reed covered floor. It landed close to a man's feet but he took one look at the table and thought better of whatever insult had been on his lips. “He's fond of tellin' us too,” Henry growled.
“Do you really burn folk?” Bones asked.
Not the sunniest of topics for a conversation but Thanquil was willing to take just about anything at this point. “I've been known to... do a few burnings.”
“Why? I mean, why burnin'? Don't stabbin' work jus' as well? Or beheadin'? Or poisonin'? Or crushin'? Or drownin'? Or...”
Thanquil decided to interrupt the big man before he ran out of ways to think of killing people. “There's cleansing power in fire. But I try not to burn people if possible. There are more humane ways of killing those deemed heretics.”
“Huh.” The giant was fumbling idly at one of the bone necklaces he kept around his neck.
“That's a grisly trophy you carry with you,” Thanquil said. He had long ago discovered the best way to stop people asking questions about him was to make them talk about themselves.
Bones smiled and pulled out all three of the necklaces he wore. Crude things made of string looped through bone. Two were complete; the third only had bones half way around its length. “Took one from every man or woman I ever killed.”
“Why?” Jezzet asked.
“Ta remind me. Count every night so I know jus' how many people I killed. Easy ta forget in the game we play that everyone we kill is a person, jus' like us. Each one got bones and skin, jus' like us. Each one got friends or family, jus' like us. Some folk like Thorn an' Henry here they like ta forget that but not me.”
“So what is your count at?”
“Forty-nine so far.”
Henry snorted, Jezzet nodded and Thanquil tried to remember how many people he'd killed. It was hard to say but it was over fifty.
“Don't seem like that many,” Jezzet said.
“Weren't always a sell-sword. Used ta be a farmer or at least I used ta work on a farm. The man who owned it didn't have enough bits ta buy an ox so he used me an' another lad, Jehry, from the nearby village. Used ta spend all day pullin' a plough, now that was hard work. Mostly grew corn but he had a small fruit orchard at the back of his house. We used ta sneak back there an' steal some sometimes, me an' Jehry. This one's Jehry, here.” Bones pointed at one of his bones.