by Amy Braun
I hung back in the shadows, for once grateful for the crushing silence. With no wind in the air, I was able to hear what the two men were saying.
“It’s true, I tell ya,” the old man said. “Hellion skiff was flyin’ low this morning.”
“Probably just the last of the raiding party,” countered the younger rogue.
Davy stopped and crossed his arms. I imagined he would have stamped his foot if he were a little younger.
“I know what I seen, boy. Those damned beasts are coming out in the day.”
The rogue turned and looked at the farmer. He shifted the crate in his arms and took a deep breath.
“Look, Davy, I was out all day taking care of those Rattail jackasses for you. I didn’t see a single skiff.”
I swore I saw Davy turning beet red, and imagined his lips quivering with rage.
“You callin’ me a lair, boy? Pirate scum like you?”
Pirate? At least now I knew who I was dealing with.
“You wound me.” The rogue’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “Why don’t we go back to our deal? You give me a crate a month, I clean up the riffraff and keep you breathing. Sound good?”
His bluntness and arrogance surprised me. He acted like a captain when he was no older than a deckhand. I wondered what Clan he was from that would allow someone so young to command so much authority. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I didn’t want any witnesses when I confronted Davy. No telling how messy that scenario would be.
“Come on, Davy,” the rogue said. “We both know that’s as good a deal as you’re going to get in Westraven, especially with Ryland and the Stray Dogs so close.”
Davy snorted. “I ain’t scared of those inbred curs. They’re a pain in the ass, but not a knife in the ribs.”
The rogue chuckled. “Just looking out for you, old man.” He glanced around, his gaze passing over me. I shrank back into the shadows behind a craggy, boulder-sized piece of stone that might have come from the caved in apartment on my left. I was certain he hadn’t seen me, but I wasn’t willing to take any chances.
“You never know who might be out there,” he continued.
Davy scoffed, and I peeked out from behind my cover. “You worry too much, boy. That ain’t somethin’ marauders are known for.”
The young man shrugged and grinned. “I’m unconventional.” He shuffled the crate in his hands again, trying to get used to the weight of it. “Guess I should be off. This isn’t exactly a bundle of tissue, and if the Hellions are running around during the day now, I don’t want to be slowed down.”
He started walking away, heading through the open gate of the fence to the right side of the streets. He would be at least a couple blocks from me. This time, Davy actually did stamp his foot. “They are, I tell ya! One day you’ll see it, and you’ll be the fool, Sawyer!”
The rogue– Sawyer– stopped and turned to Davy with a mischievous grin. “I’ll make sure to count the hours.”
Sawyer continued walking with his loot, the grin still on his face as he left the old farmer behind.
Davy stamped his foot again and shook his head, muttering something I couldn’t hear. He turned and marched back to his collapsing home. He didn’t bother to close the gate, maybe forgetting to do so in his temper tantrum, but I remained in the dark. I waited another ten minutes until I was sure that Sawyer would be out of sight. His deal obviously involved fighting off unwelcome marauders for Davy. I didn’t really see him as a threat– even from where I’d been sitting, I knew I was bigger than him– but I still didn’t want to risk another confrontation. Regardless, I had a knife tucked in my belt, but I had no intention of using it. Not unless I was pushed.
Assuring myself that no one was going to interference, I slipped out from my cover and crossed the open space to the farm. I moved quickly, glancing at the Behemoth. I told myself that I was alone, but with that ship lurking up there, no one was ever really alone. The Hellions watched, waited, and killed when they wanted. The feeling of eyes around me didn’t disappear as I slipped through the open gate and reached the porch of Davy’s house. I tiptoed up the steps that creaked every time I planted my foot. I was big for my age, so I was relieved when the steps didn’t cave in and take my foot with them.
I stood in front of the door, wondering again if I could make it over the barricade and find somewhere else. A place to start over and live without hating myself every day.
Sonya’s pleading voice echoed through my mind, and I sighed.
I knocked on the battered wooden door three times, shook out my wrists, and waited. Davy’s grumbling and cursing could be heard from the other side.
“Dammit, Sawyer, I told ya–”
He spoke while opening the door, coming to a halt when he saw me taking up the entire frame. His sharp brown eyes widened, flicked to my right arm, and widened again.
“Ryland has a proposition for you,” I said.
Davy scowled. “That so? Well, you tell that dirty mongrel I ain’t gonna–”
I grabbed the straps of his coveralls and yanked him onto the porch.
“I’m going to tell you nicely. Give up your supplies to us and no one else, and we’ll make sure you’re protected. Say yes, old man.”
He continued to glower. There was fear in his eyes, but most of what I saw was rage.
“Or what? You’ll beat on me?”
At least he knew what was on the way. “Just say yes.”
“I got a better answer for Ryland.”
He spat in my face. I blinked, but didn’t let him go. I shook my head, then turned sharply and hurled Davy off the porch.
The old man hit the ground hard, crying out in surprise. He cringed and clutched his elbow to his chest. I wiped my cheek and stomped down the steps.
When he looked at me again, the rage was being replaced by fear.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said as he started to crawl away. I grabbed his ankle and yanked him across the pavement. Davy’s hands scraped raw on the rough ground. “I really don’t.” I grabbed his coveralls straps again and jerked him closer. His breathing became ragged. “But you should have said yes.”
I cocked my fist and got ready to swing. I froze at the sound of a clicking hammer, and the feel of a cold gun barrel pressing against my temple.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to respect your elders?”
I grimaced, keeping hold of Davy as I slid my eyes to the right. Standing beside me with a steady hand, a cold expression, and fiery tawny eyes, was Davy’s supposed enforcer. Sawyer.
“You walked away once before,” I growled. “Better do so again if you still want to use your legs.”
The rogue grinned at my warning. “Guess I’ll have to take the risk. That’s my supplier you’re threatening.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Not anymore. Get lost.”
He nudged my head with the pistol. “Might be a good idea to remember that I’ve got a gun.” Sawyer’s grin vanished. “Now let him go.”
I stared the marauder down the same way I would an opponent in the Crater. He must have seen my tattoo. He obviously knew that I was taller and outweighed him. And it didn’t seem like he cared. I didn’t know whether to be offended, or impressed.
I dropped Davy and rose to my full height. Sawyer’s eyes never left mine, and his gun only moved so he could keep it trained on my head.
“Smart man,” he said. “Now, this is what’s gonna happen. You’re going to take your own advice, and walk away while I still let you. Tell Ryland to back off once and for all, or the hell I’ll rain down on him will make The Storm look like a spring shower.”
I continued staring at him, trying to figure out just what his damn deal was. He acted like he was a captain himself, not a servant. Which was impossible. Like me, he would have been no older than ten during The Storm.
But as the seconds ticked by, he mentioned no master, no Clan. He pointed the gun at me with incredible arrogance and waited for me to comply.
Somethin
g I hated to do.
Nodding slowly, I held up my hands in defeat. Davy’s relieved sigh was louder than he probably intended. Sawyer didn’t move the gun, but his cocky smirk was back.
“Good Dog,” he taunted. “Now run back to your master and tell him if he has a problem he’d like to take up with Davy, he can crawl out of his hole and handle it himself. Unless he’s the bitch of your litter.”
If he hadn’t insulted me first, I would have smiled with him. Instead, I took a step back, then another, hands still raised.
Sawyer was so sure he’d been triumphant; he failed to see that I put myself in the most basic fighting stance. Worse for him, he underestimated just how long my reach was.
Too bad for him.
Lightning quick, my right hand shot out and snared his wrist. Sawyer blinked in surprise. I tightened my grip until the pressure became too much and he was forced to drop the pistol. I kicked it away as he swung a punch at my face. I knocked his hand away and snapped my left elbow into his jaw.
Sawyer’s head rocked to the side. It was amazing he didn’t lose a tooth. When I hit someone, I never did so lightly.
I pulled back my left fist again, ready for the knockout punch. But Sawyer proved to be an excellent actor.
A sharp jab pounded into my ribs, jerking me out of control. His fist moved again, driving into my chin. The punch dazed me, but not enough that I missed his foot flying toward my face.
Letting go of his bruised wrist, I stopped the kick. It got me another punch in the ribs, but Sawyer moved in too close. I punched him in the chest and forced him back. I swung a kick at his head, but he ducked down and skittered away. I rushed him, grabbing his around the middle and driving him into the ground. He was dazed, unable to stop me when I smashed my fist into his temple.
I had to give him credit– he was trapped, but he didn’t give up.
And the son of a bitch was smart.
Sawyer stopped my next punch before it could break his nose. He jabbed me sharply in the throat. I choked and gagged, my body reacting through my mind told me to keep fighting. While I coughed and struggled to breathe, Sawyer was moving again. His fist slammed into my stomach, pushing more air out of my strained throat. He shoved me until I was the one pinned on the ground. A solid jab crashed into my head just as I regained my breath. I grabbed Sawyer’s fist as it fell again, using my other hand to punch him in the kidney. He shouted against the pain, defenseless when I struck him across the jaw. Still holding his wrist, I pitched up and hurled Sawyer onto the ground. He slammed his fist on my wrist, sending a painful shock through it and forcing me to let him go.
Sawyer scrambled back and got to his feet. I did the same, raising my hands to keep the fight going.
Intense anger burned in his gold eyes, but there was something else there. I could have sworn it was amusement, of all things.
They said people went crazy if they spent too much time on the surface.
Movement from the right of my vision captured my attention. Sawyer didn’t fall for the feint.
Except it wasn’t a feint at all. He never saw Stanner coming until the much larger, stronger man crashed into him. He started pummelling the young man who could no longer protect himself. For a moment, I considered grabbing Stanner’s arm and stopping him. A heavy hand clamped on my shoulder and held in me place. I looked for its owner, and found myself staring at Dylan.
“Quite the show, Nash,” he remarked. “Didn’t think such a scrawny kid could beat up a tough guy like you.”
I scowled and shoved him away. I turned and marched to Stanner. I grabbed his fist and pulled him off Sawyer. The Stray Dog yanked his arm free and glared at me.
“What the–”
“That’s enough,” I stated. My hands were still tightly clenched, ready to hit Stanner if he made a move for Sawyer or me.
Judging by the hateful look on his face, he wanted to do exactly that.
“You’re defending some piece of shit that you were just fighting? What the hell is with you? Ryland sent us to make sure you were still loyal, you idiot, and now you want to look after some asshole you don’t even know?”
Stanner punctuated his anger by kicking Sawyer hard in the ribs. He grimaced and rolled to the side, groaning in pain.
“Wait a minute,” Dylan said, shouldering past me. He grabbed Sawyer’s hair and jerked his battered face into view. Sawyer gritted his teeth and glared murderously, but didn’t say anything.
“Where’d you get that coat?”
“Living men get cold,” remarked Sawyer, struggling to rise. “Dead men don’t.”
Dylan scrutinized Sawyer’s face. “Your eyes. I’ve only seen that shade once.”
“Keep it in your pants, mutt. You’re not my type.”
Dylan buried his fist in Sawyer’s stomach. The young marauder gasped in pain when the air was driven from his lungs. Dylan dropped Sawyer’s head and whirled to face Stanner. “Do you know if Robertson Kendric had another son?”
The question seemed random to both of us. I had never seen Davin Kendric, and had no way of answering. Though if it was true, I was looking at a surviving member of the deadliest marauder Clan in the history of Aon.
“I don’t know,” Stanner looked at Sawyer. After a moment, his eyes widened. “But… Yeah, I’ve seen that coat before. Ryland and me, that one time we fought Robertson Kendric.”
“You were close to him for a few seconds, did you see his eyes? Were they gold?”
Stanner squinted at Sawyer, who attempted to regain his footing. Stanner’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
“Yeah, yeah, now I see it. The coat, the eyes, the untouchable attitude. He’s just like Robertson and that bastard Davin.”
Sawyer tried to stand up, but Stanner lashed out a violent punch that smashed into his temple. The young marauder dropped forward onto the hard ground. He didn’t get up again. Stanner marched over and started to strip Sawyer of weapons. He used his belt to tie the man’s wrists.
“How much you think Ryland will give us for him?” Dylan asked, walking forward to help Stanner.
“Don’t know,” grunted the other Dog, heaving an unconscious Sawyer to his feet. “Don’t really care, either. Long as I get a shot in at the bastard. I’ll get some rope and tie him up.”
Dylan grinned at that, and walked forward to carry Sawyer. It would be a long walk back to the Barren, and I had no doubt they were going to tell me to lug our captive around at some point. I bowed my head and started following them.
“Hold up there, kid,” Dylan said, sharply rapping his knuckles against my chest to halt me. He ignored my glare and pointed over my shoulder. “You came here for a reason, remember?”
I followed his arm, to where Davy as still sitting on the ground with a shocked look on his face. I wonder if he knew who Sawyer really was. Or, supposedly was. There would be no way to confirm Stanner’s over-eager suspicions until Ryland saw the hostage. He’d encountered Robertson and Davin Kendric during his high-days as a marauder, and escaped them by the skin of his teeth.
I glanced at Dylan. “Come on, it’ll be dark by the time we get back.”