by M. Walsh
The truth was she felt more like the latter and didn’t want to spend any more time here than needed. Aside from the Goblins, who were known to be unwelcoming at best, this part of Graylands was Seba territory.
Leaving Hyde to his water, she entered a nearby shop which reeked of stale cigarettes. The inside was even hotter, to the point where it felt smothering. The shop-keeper was sweating so bad he looked like he’d been swimming.
Buying a pack of smoking leaves and rolling papers, she asked, “Who runs the mines here?”
“That would be Mr. Carmine,” the shop-keeper replied. “He lives in the fancy house up the road.” He took her payment and yawned. “He also runs the fighting pit.”
“The what..?”
“The fighting pit,” he said. “That’s that big building at the other end of town. They have the fights there.”
Returning outside, she faced the square, wooden building at the end of Gain and felt uneasy. She had assumed it to be a stable, but now looking at it, she pictured a dirt pit or cage inside for fighters to kill each other. She imagined the residents of Gain rewarding the bloodshed with cheers and hollering and remembered Armand Tyrell’s fighting pits in Vigor …
She convulsed and took a swig from her canteen. She longed for something stronger but resisted the urge to head into one of Gain’s taverns and drink herself into unconsciousness.
“It’s too hot,” she muttered under her breath and decided to find an inn. She returned to Hyde and, to his evident irritation, pulled him away from the water trough.
Walking down the dirt road, she noticed a few men leering at her as she passed. She frowned, knowing without her coat on she brought attention to the fact she was not an unattractive woman—traveling alone no less. She kept her sword close and ignored them.
But there was one who caught her attention. He was a short, thin man with scruffy brown hair. He had a plain, unremarkable face except for two scars—one running down the right side of his face and another across his left cheek. She saw him leaning against the wall of a saloon with his arms crossed, and he watched her with cold, gray eyes.
Meeting his gaze, she couldn’t help but feel she’d seen him before and felt a chill despite the heat.
* * *
After leaving the Ugly Pig, Krutch wandered the streets of Frank. He found himself by the docks, which were quiet and still save for the creaking of ships and flowing of water. The moon was overhead and shining against the sea with a trembling white line amidst solid black. Behind him, the silhouette of Seba loomed and looked even more threatening at night.
What the hell am I doing here?
He only agreed to come in this direction because Arkady suggested it. He only ended up crossing the sea because he needed to escape bounty hunters. He had no business in a place like Seba. He was no pirate—just an idiot in over his head because one night he accidently pissed off the wrong woman. A sorceress who did not take kindly to his bungling.
He sat on a wooden platform and flexed his scarred arm. It didn’t hurt, but his healed flesh still felt stiff.
“What’s wrong, Lee?” Audra appeared and sat beside him. “You seem out of it.”
“I think it was a mistake coming here,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Because of that Brick guy..? Come on …”
“Did you not notice the guy who got smashed with the hammer?”
“Yeah, but what are you worried about? You’re Krutch Leeroy.”
He grumbled. It was always the same, everywhere he went. No matter what he said or did, everyone he met was convinced he was that guy—the infamous, legendary pirate.
“Why are you here, Audra?” he asked. “You clearly know what goes on in this city. What are you hoping to get out of this?”
She looked at him as if he was joking. “Are you serious? You can’t already tell?”
He turned to her and found the same look he saw on Lemmy Hobbs and Arkady and others he didn’t remember. They wanted adventure, action, and all the benefits that went with being a great pirate, and in Krutch, they thought they found their goldmine.
“My dear, beloved father,” Audra said, “had a very narrow view of what makes a true man and what a proper woman should be. Suffice to say, I didn’t see eye to eye with him on that.” She shook her head. “I’m not meant for the Lady’s court. And I sure as hell don’t belong in some mission in the middle of nowhere.”
She inched closer, right up against him. She was looking into his eyes, and he felt almost lost in hers. The moon highlighted the softness of her features, and she looked like a dream. Then an image of Brick or someone like him dragging her away to do with as he pleased burst into his mind like an unwanted visitor.
“Audra,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “You are going down the wrong road on that one. I’m not the guy you should be pledging yourself to. I’m not …” He paused and flexed his burnt hand. “I’m not that guy.”
He was surprised how unhappy saying that made him feel. He pictured Brick again and realized what bothered him most was knowing he could do nothing about it. If Brick or someone else tried something, what then? He hated the idea of people who did as they pleased, and he hated knowing he could only stand aside and let it happen.
“It’s that dragon, isn’t it?” Audra asked, caressing his hair. “It really did a number on you, huh?”
“I … well, yeah … I guess. But that’s not—”
She wrapped her arms around him and leaned on his shoulder. Her breathing against his body was soothing, and he felt a flush of warmth travel through his blood. “You can’t let that keep you down,” she said. “You need to remember who you are and pick yourself up.”
I do remember who I am, he thought—not without bitterness. It was the dragon that reminded me.
“How did you get caught up in that anyway?”
“Gods,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “I guess it started with my old, idiot partner. And then I tried to help a friend and thought I could do the noble thing.”
“Maybe you’ve been relying on the wrong people?”
He looked at her and knew what she was getting at. “Audra,” he said. “I told you. I’m not the guy you’re looking for. Last thing I need is to see you get yourself killed on account of—”
From the shadows, a pair of figures appeared and snatched Audra away from him. One was a scrawny man with greasy hair and bloodshot eyes who held Audra’s arms behind her back. His partner was an overweight slob with pockmarked skin and crooked teeth, and he grabbed her hair and held a knife to her throat.
“Hand over whatever money you got,” the fat thief hissed. “Or I cut your girl.”
Krutch hesitated, too stunned to react. Just like that, on their first night, exactly what he feared was happening. Just like that, someone snatched her away, and what could he do about it? He clenched his fists and felt his face flush with anger.
Audra, however, looked calm. “Man, did you pick the wrong guy,” she said, smiling. “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”
“Shut-up, bitch!” the pockmarked thief said. “One more word and I cut you!”
“Go ahead,” she said. “And see what happens when you screw with Krutch Leeroy’s girl.”
Pockmarks stopped, and Krutch saw his eye twitch. Keeping the knife at Audra’s throat, he said, “You ain’t Leeroy.”
“Show him, Lee.”
He looked into Audra’s eyes and saw the same mischievous spark he saw back in Lucas’s mission. There was no fear. If anything, she looked excited. Despite the knife held to her throat, Audra looked like she was playing a game. And that, for some reason, gave him confidence. He drew his pistol and pointed it at Pockmarks’ face.
“The hell is that..?” the skinny thief holding her arms asked.
“I think you know what it is,” Audra said. “That thing there, that’s Mr. L’s gun. It can summon thunder and shoot fire. It’s …” She paused. “What’s its name?”
“Hasn’t got one
.”
This seemed to catch her by surprise. She shrugged and continued, “Anyway, you two should consider yourselves lucky you’re not already dead. If you got this close to Krutch Leeroy, it’s only because he allowed it. Now you want to let me go, or does Mr. L have to bring the thunder?”
Krutch clicked the hammer back, and the fear he saw on the thieves’ faces was satisfying in a way he never expected. For as long as he had his pistol, he almost never used it to threaten or intimidate someone, and seeing Pockmarks’ jaw drop made him wonder why.
The only problem was he had no shells.
“Look buddy,” said Pockmarks. “We don’t want trouble. Just … just give us whatever money you got, and—uh—and we won’t hurt your dame. You got that..?”
Krutch frowned. The confident smile never left Audra’s face, but she didn’t know he could do nothing but bluff. If he had shells, there wouldn’t be a problem. If he really was the Krutch Leeroy everyone said he was, then maybe …
Screw it.
Acting on impulse, he smashed the butt of the pistol onto the bridge of Pockmarks’ nose. There was a crunch, and he fell to his back—his face splattered with blood. Without thinking, Krutch struck him with the pistol another two times, knocking out several teeth and shattering his jaw.
The other thief watched this with horror and loosened his grip on Audra. Springing free, she elbowed him in the head and sank her teeth into his neck. He squealed as she ripped out a chunk of flesh and spit it in the air. With blood pouring down his chest, the thief fled into the night, clutching his wound and crying.
Silence returned to the docks. His adrenaline flowing, Krutch looked at the motionless fat man at his feet and then the pistol in his hand. He felt his heart pound and almost couldn’t believe it.
“That was great!” Audra said, grinning with blood dripping down her chin. Her eyes shined, and she seemed to glow. “Did you see that?!”
An almost dazed half-smile came to him. Through the years, Krutch had gotten into fights and skirmishes. He’d been forced to defend himself. But as far as he remembered, he’d never done anything like this. He’d never asserted himself like that.
Is this what victory feels like?
Before he could reply, Audra leapt into his arms and kissed him. It was passionate and fierce—though undermined by the taste of blood. He felt the warmth of her body pressed against his and managed to be turned on and a little disgusted at the same time.
When they stopped kissing, she apologized and wiped her chin with the bottom of her shirt. Krutch’s head was swimming. “Right, okay,” he said. “I mean … I just … you’re okay, right..?”
“I’m perfect,” she said. “It’s like I told you, Lee. I think you and me are going to do well here.”
Finally catching up, he held his hands up and said, “Okay wait, Audra. What just happened here was … it was … something. But if we actually go into Seba, we’ll just—”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, holding his face in her hands. “I’m not some dumb girl playing pirates. We belong together. We belong here.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “You and me … we can own this town. Remember: you’re Krutch Leeroy.”
He looked into her eyes, and he almost believed it. He’d heard people say that sort of thing to him for a long time—telling him of the great tales he never did and grand adventures he never participated in—always with the same refrain: You’re Krutch Leeroy.
“Audra,” he said, pulling away. “That’s not what you think it means. I don’t even know what it means anymore. I’m not … I don’t …”
She kissed him again. She then looked into his eyes and smiled. “Krutch,” she said. “It means whatever you want it to mean.”
* * *
Katrina rested for most of the day, but once evening came, she decided to ask around about Jagger. She left Hyde in a stable at the edge of Gain, seeing no point in exerting the ill-tempered horse when the town wasn’t that big.
As night fell, it seemed the workers returned from their mines or whatever else they did during the day. There were numerous taverns and saloons, and most of them filled with people, so she picked one at random. She had no intention to drink anything more than a pint of ale, but thus far, taverns, bars, and saloons had been reliable sources of information on Jagger’s path.
She entered a tavern called Better Don’s, which was across the road from one simply called Don’s. Shrewd, she thought. The inside was packed with large men dressed in filthy clothes. In the corner was a platform where a woman—a little young for Katrina’s liking—danced. Her movements were supposed to be sexy, but they came across as spastic and flailing. The men didn’t seem to mind.
She found a spot at the bar, but didn’t get a drink. Instead, she looked around the saloon, hoping that by some miracle she would happen to find Jagger in the crowd.
The majority of patrons was hard-looking men with skin red and cracked from the desert sun. They drank and laughed—most keeping their focus on the young stripper. The only one not paying attention to the dancing was the scar-faced man Katrina happened to see earlier that day.
She paid no mind and got the bartender’s attention. “Tell me,” she said, “have you heard of someone named Jagger Ryggs?”
The bartender stared into space, considering the question. “Hell, lady,” he said, scratching at the stubble on his thick cheeks. “Lots of guys come through here. What this fella look like?”
She waved him off, telling him to never mind. Jagger’s name was a more reliable clue to his whereabouts than descriptions of his appearance. To describe how he looked was describing a man she hadn’t seen in years with brown hair, matching eyes, and a small scar in a country where scars were common.
Even the whores have scars here.
She left Better Don’s and walked across the road to the other Don’s. This one was larger than its counterpart, but serving fewer patrons. It otherwise seemed no different, although Katrina suspected the only thing that made Better Don’s “better” was the platform for dancers, which regular Don’s lacked.
She asked the bartender right away about Jagger and got a similar response. Two more saloons, a brothel, and the drug den gave the same results. Having made no progress and lacking anything else to do, she returned to regular Don’s to consider her options.
She ordered a pint of ale which she stared at for the better part of an hour. Whenever she came close to drinking, she would think back to what happened outside Devon and in Lester. She sighed, rubbing her mouth, wondering how Devon wasn’t rock bottom enough for her.
The craving remained—and might remain for the rest of her life—but she felt no true desire to drink. Even the smell of it made her uneasy. Whether she found Jagger or not, it seemed Katrina was not going to end up drinking herself to death after all.
Oddly, that filled her with more dread than relief. If she didn’t find him—or if he rejected her as the rest of her people had—what then..? Take away the booze and all that remained was just her and her memories.
An image of the Enforcer came to mind. Katrina shivered and told herself she would never go that far. Pushing it away, she then felt the scars on her wrist tingle and prayed it wouldn’t come to that either.
Still not touching her drink, she lit a cigarette and tried not to feel discouraged. She’d gotten this far on little more than a direction and a name—the trail was bound to go dry sooner or later. She was about to leave when she noticed the scar-faced man again. He sat at the opposite end of the bar, and he seemed to be staring at her again.
“Hey,” she asked when the bartender passed. “Who’s that guy at the end of the bar?”
The bartender looked nervous. Keeping his voice low, he replied, “Not sure. He’s been around these parts once or twice. I think he’s some kind of mercenary or something. I don’t think anyone knows his proper name, but I hear he’s called Scifer.” He paused, taking an uneasy glance in the man’s direction. “S
cifer Olc.”
Katrina nodded and looked at Scifer. The name didn’t sound familiar, but she was almost sure she’d seen him before. Scifer stared back, his face blank, and she felt a chill in her blood. Was he following her? The last time a strange man took special interest in her was Rasul Kader.
She finished her cigarette, crumpled it in an ashtray on the bar, and left—her hand on the hilt of her sword. She didn’t know what caught this Scifer Olc’s attention, but if he was looking for trouble, she was ready to give it to him.
A stiff wind had joined the night, causing drifts of sand to blow. Despite this, Katrina did not hurry back to her inn. Holding her coat closed with one hand, while keeping her other at her sword, she walked at a deliberate pace, anticipating someone to follow her.
The inn—located at the end of town—was just ahead, looking like a black shape against a black sky. Away from the center of Gain, with its saloons and brothels, the night had gone quiet. The dirt road leading to the inn was deserted and dark with no sound except the constant wind.
Gripping her sword tighter, Katrina stopped to look behind her. The street was empty, but her instincts were sharp and she wasn’t fooled.
She was being followed.
Taking slow strides toward the inn, she thought, I don’t know who this Scifer guy is, but if he …
She stopped, feeling tightness in her chest. The setting was different, but she was struck by the familiarity like a blow to her gut. This was how it began that past fall—with Rasul Kader and the “assassins” he sent to provoke her. That was what started her on the path to the Blind Cliffs. That led to fire and blood and the Enforcer …
Her grip on her sword came loose, her hand shaking. I just want to find Jagger, she thought, her stomach churning. Why does it have to come to this? Why can’t I just..?
“Lost, lady..?” said a voice coming from her right.
A dark shape emerged from the shadows. Not Scifer Olc, but a tall man with long blonde hair and an ugly scar that ran across his face. He was smiling and even in the dark, she saw he was missing several teeth.