Kyra smiled. It was true, she had a gift. Anything she saw she remembered and was able to replicate. A signature, a painting, she could even duplicate a statue if necessary, but she didn’t like working with clay, too time consuming and messy. Besides, the real money was in forged documents. She hardly ever got requests to do artwork. “Thank you, Hoggard. Have you anything else you need? I’m a little light on the cash this month. Grundal and his goons are looking for me.” Normally this wouldn’t be an issue but her last few bets had been fairly large, and Grundal sent the more dangerous goons out when the money got big.
Hoggard shook his head. “You’d be a rich woman if you’d simply quit gambling. Haven’t I told you Grundal’s races are fixed?”
Kyra shrugged. “I had a can’t miss tip. I thought I’d beat Grundal at his own game.”
Hoggard scoffed. “Grundal likes to do that. He has one of his low level grunts make the rounds, hinting that the fix is in but for the right price he’ll cough up the secret. Sound familiar?”
“Too familiar. Okay, Hoggie, I vow to never gamble with Grundal again. Now can you help me or what?” Hoggard wasn’t just Kyra’s preferred middle man, he was a fatherly figure that treated her with respect, and over the years their comfort level with each other had grown to the point where teasing and nicknames were common. The age difference was enough to remove any sexual issues. She was just into her twenties while Hoggard was at least double that. Kyra didn’t have any daddy issues and Hoggard had never acted inappropriate towards her. Not that she entirely trusted him, he was after all, a man. And men by nature were not trust worthy.
“Perhaps. But I’m not sure this job is a fit for you. I don’t think it requires any forging. It’s more a mystery job.”
Kyra was intrigued. A mystery was right up her alley. “Hoggie my dear, don’t tease me. You know I love a riddle. What kind of mystery can’t I solve?”
“I’m not saying you’re not smart enough, I’m saying you probably want to avoid this job. It could be dangerous in a way you’ve never dealt with before.”
“What could be more dangerous than stealing orders from a military camp? You had no problem sending me on that job.”
“I have faith that you can sneak into any place, and I know once you look at something, you can replicate it perfectly. This isn’t about your skills as a thief or your smarts. Come to the back and I’ll explain.”
Kyra was really curious now. Rarely did Hoggard feel the need to leave the bar to discuss a job. Normally, if he was comfortable with the crowd, he simply talked in low tones. There must be something special about this job for him to be so secretive, thought Kyra.
Hoggard sat at his desk and waved at the open chair across from him.
Kyra sat down and waited for an explanation.
Hoggard said nothing.
“Are you going to tell me or are we just going to sit here and meditate?” asked Kyra.
“Shush, child, I’m deciding whether or not to tell you.” Hoggard paused, “Damn it! I never should’ve mentioned it. I know you’ll just pester me until I tell you.”
Kyra gave a sly grin. It was true. She could be very persistent, or annoying, depending on who’s point of view one was getting.
“Here is the job. A client has an enemy who has been sabotaging his business interests and killing his allies. He has had no luck finding out who is behind the attacks with the normal methods. It is likely that some on the city guard are on the payroll of whoever is behind these attacks. He needs to find out who it is.”
Kyra frowned, her brow furrowed as she pondered the problem. “This doesn’t sound like a job for a thief or a forgery artist. Nor does it sound incredibly dangerous. I mean sure it is dangerous, killers and all that, but I’ve dealt with dangerous men before. What makes this job any more dangerous than those ones? What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s more dangerous because of what I haven’t told you. The client is Prince Valentine Astor.”
Suddenly, she understood. Prince Valentine, son of Tristan Astor, ruler of Draisha, was the future king of Draisha. If he had an enemy powerful enough to take on the prince, whoever was sent to find out the secret would be dealing with a highly motivated killer who would not want someone snooping around. It also explained why it was strange that the normal methods hadn’t worked. Prince Astor had access to the city guards, the royal palace guards, and unlimited funds to hire investigators, mercenaries or sellswords to find the information he was seeking. That Prince Astor would come to Hoggard with the job meant everyone else had failed. “How many people has the prince hired so far?”
“Three that I know of,” admitted Hoggard. “He has put enormous pressure on the city guards as well, but they seem incapable of making any progress.”
The city guard was corrupt. Everyone in Draisha knew that. However, if the prince couldn’t get info out of them, then no one could. His pockets were deep in coin and influence. Everything a corrupt city official desired. “How many of the men he hired are still alive?”
Hoggard scratched his chin nervously. “One. Well… possibly one. Two were found in alleys with their throats cut, the third is missing. All were ex-soldiers, very capable warriors with experience in such matters.”
“If the sellswords who specialize in such work are getting killed, why did the prince come to you? You aren’t the one people come to for thugs or mercenaries. You are the one they come to to obtain things.”
“I said the same thing to the prince. He said he wanted someone with a different approach to tackle his problem. He wants someone who thinks outside the box, someone with unorthodox methods who can hopefully find out the information he needs without dying first. I told the prince, I only know one person smart enough and crazy enough to take the job.”
“And what did Lanister say when you offered him the job?” asked Kyra jokingly.
“Ha! Lanister is certainly crazy enough to do it. Just show him enough coin, and he’d do just about anything. No, Kyra, you are the only one smart enough to actually figure this little mystery out. But how to do it without getting your throat cut is what concerns me.”
“Trust me, Hoggie, I’m too fond of my neck to let it be slit. But I will take the job, under certain conditions.” Kyra couldn’t resist the challenge, and the opportunity to establish a working relationship with a prince was a very special opportunity, but she was no fool either. If she did this job, it would have to be done right. And that meant bringing in protection. Protection she could actually trust.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m going to have to hire some muscle for this job, and it won’t come cheap. I get coin for that upfront. I will also require triple my normal fee.” The prince was rich, Kyra figured he wouldn’t balk at such a price.
“Done, and done. Actually, I already negotiated a price for you far above what you are asking. Figure this out for the prince and you can easily wipe out your gambling debts and then some. Do you want me to arrange the muscle? I know a few sellswords who might be up to the task.”
Kyra shook her head. “No, the type of men you could hire are not what I need. I need someone that isn’t from Draisha. I need someone who scares the type of men you know.”
“Kyra, no! You can’t be serious. This isn’t protecting a caravan, or rescuing a hostage from bandits. You can’t bring that savage into Draisha,” said Hoggard in protest.
“He may be a savage, but I trust him. Maybe a savage is just what we need to get this job done. Besides, he can be civilized when necessary.”
Hoggard groaned. “Bazur has destroyed the bar in Pera more times than I can count. I am tempted to sell that damn place just so I don’t have to deal with him.”
Kyra laughed. “You old liar. You like having a bar in the badlands. It gives you access to all sorts of shifty characters you can’t find in Draisha. Besides, if you didn’t want your bar destroyed, why did you put a bounty up in your bar for the first man to beat Bazur up?”
“B
ecause that bounty has made me triple the coin from fools going out there to try their hands at beating up the half-orc. Most of the time, the fools just sit around drinking, waiting for the opportunity to fight him, but most never get the opportunity as he visits so rarely. But I spend half my winnings fixing the place after Bazur is done destroying it.”
“My math says you are still making a healthy profit off of him.”
“That is true,” conceded Hoggard. “I would make a lot more, but he barely ever visits Pera, and when he does, he only stays long enough to trade, have a few drinks, and take on whichever challenger is waiting for him. If he’d be more reasonable, I would make a fortune off him.”
Kyra shook her head. Bazur was rough and tough, and enjoyed fighting, but he had a particular code of honor. He wouldn’t become Hoggard’s prize fighter, or for anyone else. He was too independent for that. “You’ll never get him to agree to being your fighter. Just be happy he likes your bar.”
“It’s the honey mead. Orcs drink mead. Orcs and elves love the stuff. Thank goodness the bartender keeps bees. Getting the really good stuff in from Irri is challenging.” Hoggard pulled a purse out of his desk and threw it to Kyra. “The prince wants you to start right away. There is more than enough coin to hire Bazur.”
“Have you taken your cut yet?” asked Kyra as she jiggled the purse. It was heavy with coin.
“No. I’m not taking a cut on this job.”
Kyra raised an eyebrow. That was very unlike Hoggard.
“Don’t give me that look. The prince is going to be king one day, and he will owe me a favor. That is worth far more than ten percent of your earnings.”
Kyra smiled, she could only imagine what kind of crooked deal Hoggard was cooking up that required a favor from a king. “True enough. Arrange a meeting with the prince. I’m going to need more details if I am going to sort this out.”
“Good luck, Kyra. Don’t get yourself killed. And for love of the gods, don’t let Bazur destroy the city.”
4
BADLANDS
BAZUR squinted as he scanned the horizon. The blazing hot sun often played tricks with the eye. The golden desert sands and gray rock outcroppings would blend in with the heat waves, making seeing shapes in the distance challenging. Bazur saw nothing on the horizon, but he could feel something amiss. Something or someone was out there watching the caravan.
Bazur turned and looked at the caravan. He saw a small but well-protected outfit comprising of the men riding for the independent businessmen from Draisha and a contingent of royal guards. It had surprised Bazur when Angora, a Draisha diamond miner, had hired him. Normally, merchants sending their goods in a caravan with a royal escort didn’t bother to hire extra muscle for the dangerous trip across the badlands. The royal flags of Draisha scared off most bandits and thieves. The royal guards had a reputation for being skilled warriors who fired first and asked questions later. But Angora had insisted on hiring Bazur. He claimed that a royal escort no longer carried the same threatening reputation it once had, and that in the last few months several caravans with royal escorts had been successfully attacked.
When approached about the job, Bazur had assumed that Angora overly worried, he’d thought the diamond trader was exaggerating, but when Bazur arrived at the edge of Draisha, he was surprised to see double the normal size contingent of royal guards. Bazur couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the number of royal guards increased for a shipment. Apparently, Angora hadn’t been overstating the matter. Someone had the royal guards worried, not something that happened often.
Now that the caravan was in the middle of the badlands, Bazur was even more curious as to who would dare attack a royal caravan, and why. The goods the caravan carried were certainly valuable. Angora’s diamonds alone would bring a fair price on the black market or with any diamond trader south of Draisha that didn’t care where the diamonds originated, but the rest of caravan wasn’t that rich. Certainly not rich enough for a normal thief or bandit to consider attacking a large highly trained group of royal guards. Not that it truly mattered. Bazur was only responsible for making sure Angora’s goods were safe. What happened to the rest of the caravan was a royal problem, not his. Of course, anyone attacking the caravan was also likely to be attacking Angora’s mules, so in a way the problem was now his as well. Bazur pondered his dilemma as he watched the caravan from a distance. Bazur preferred to shadow the caravan from afar. It was easier to watch for tracks and enemy sign by scouting ahead.
A shadow caught Bazur’s eye. It was a rock ahead of the caravan. Bazur frowned and focused his attention on the path. Why had the shadow caught his attention? Then it happened again. The slightest shift in the shadow. The rock wasn’t a rock at all. Bazur lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a loud piercing whistle. The caravan guards turned and Bazur pointed at the rock.
One of the royal guards galloped ahead to inspect the rock. As he grew closer to the questionable rock, all hell broke loose. A barrage of arrows was unleashed on the royal guards and all around the caravan men popped up. They had been covered in sand and burlap. Other bandits had been camouflaged and hidden behind several of the large rock outcroppings that filled the badlands. The sudden attack was effective. Even with Bazur’s warning, the royal guards were caught off-guard. Almost half the guards were not carrying their shields properly, either leaving them on their backs or strapped to their saddles. They had believed no one would dare hit such a well-protected caravan when the goods it carried weren’t particularly rich. As the first attack hit, several guards went down and others sustained minor injuries.
The remaining royal guards quickly regrouped. Weapons and shields up, they attacked. The mounted royal guards rode down bandits along the path before attacking the archers among the rocks, while those on foot circled and protected the caravan of cargo mules. Bazur realized the flaw in the royal guards’ actions and started to run towards the caravan. While Bazur ran, he watched the royal guards riding towards the rock outcroppings. As he had feared, there were traps set for the horsemen. When the horses neared the rocks, the ground gave out below them and the horses and their royal guard riders fell into pits filled with spikes. The royal guards, who hadn’t yet reached the rocks, quickly turned their mounts and rode around the traps. But their numbers were falling fast. From two dozen, the number of able bodied warriors able to fight was already less than half that and the fighting had barely started.
As the sandpits claimed their victims, a second wave of attackers jumped up from holes in the sand and rushed the remaining guards and riders with the caravan. Bazur was still far enough away from the caravan that he was behind several of the second wave of attackers. As they rushed in to attack, Bazur sped up and started his own attack.
Bazur swiftly came up behind one bandit and stabbed him in the back. Bazur then threw his war scythe into a bandit that was closing in on the caravan.
Two of the bandits turned and charged back at Bazur.
Without slowing down, Bazur drew his sword, his orc heart clamoring for blood as he ran towards the two bandits. As they grew close, Bazur leapt into the air and landed a flying kick on one of the bandits while swinging his sword at the other bandit. His kick caught the surprised bandit in the chest, sending him sprawling while the other bandit was able to block his sword, which almost made him grunt in approval. These two were proving to be admirable warriors worthy to fight an orc. As he landed on his feet, Bazur delivered a quick, hard, vicious kick to the fallen bandit’s groin. The bandit doubled over in excruciating pain. Bazur pivoted and ducked under the attack of the second bandit. As the bandit’s sword sliced air, Bazur struck him in the chest. Bazur then brought his sword down on the neck of the first bandit, finishing him off.
While Bazur fought with the bandits on his side of the caravan, the bandits on the other side reached the remaining royal guards. However, with Bazur stopping the one group before they could attack, the remaining royal guards were all able to turn to the other si
de and defend their flank. No longer surrounded, the royal guards were able to fight off the bandits.
As quickly as the attack came it was over. The remaining bandits in the rock outcroppings had disappeared, fleeing into the badlands before the mounted royal guards could get to them, and the bandits closest to the caravan were all dead.
Bazur pulled his spear from the back of the bandit and slowly walked up the caravan.
“Thank you, stranger. If you hadn’t intervened, I don’t know if we would’ve survived the attack,” said one of the royal guards.
“Yes, a very well planned out and coordinated attack. Not the normal, cowardly bandit activity,” said Bazur. “These men were true warriors, a good test of my blade.”
“I’ll say,” said another guard. “I’ve never seen such an attack. They came out of nowhere. If you hadn’t whistled, it would’ve been even worse. I can’t imagine why so many bandits were involved in attacking this caravan. It is not that rich.”
“Perhaps they were hired to attack it. Besides Angora, who has goods in this caravan?” asked Bazur.
“I don’t know all of the cargo, but mostly it is Draishan wine and jewelry headed for the markets in Azmarin. I didn’t know Angora had cargo in this caravan. His goods and the jewelry are likely the most valuable items. Most of the wine is from the Grunta farm, and the jewelry is from an assortment of Draishan artisans. I saw it being loaded, and for the most part, I wouldn’t say its anything special,” said the first royal guard.
Bazur did the math. There had been at least twenty bandits in the ambush. Whoever had coordinated the attack was not worried about money. It had probably cost more to hire the bandits than the caravan would bring in on the black market. Draishan wine was good, but there wasn’t a large amount of it. From what Bazur knew of Draishan artisans, the guard was being kind when he said the jewelry wasn’t anything special. But whoever was behind the ambush wasn’t Bazur’s problem. Despite wishing to honor his father somehow, he still preferred to battle with his blade, not his wits. After all, they still had a long way to go and with just over half of the royal guards had been killed or wounded in the attack, he would get many chances to test his blade again. “I suggest you get the caravan moving again. You can come back for your bodies once the goods are delivered.”
Savage Page 3