Grim Company 02 - Sword Of The North

by Luke Scull

  ‘Stand down. All of you!’

  Cole dared open one eye a crack.

  A handful of Whitecloaks were approaching, led by Captain Priam. For the most part the town’s garrison did not venture outside Newharvest, leaving the running of the mining operation to the Mad Dogs. Whatever his reasons for being here, Captain Priam’s shaved head was the most welcome sight Cole had seen in days.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Priam demanded. He had a soft voice, almost feminine, but it carried well and contained a quiet strength. He reminded Cole of Captain Kramer, the skipper of the Redemption – the ship that had taken him on the ill-fated voyage to the Swell.

  Kramer was also the first man Davarus Cole had ever killed.

  ‘Rebellion!’ Corvac barked in response to Priam’s question. ‘These Condemned must die!’

  Captain Priam shook his head and gestured towards the north. ‘There’s been an incident at the Fist. The earth shifted and a dozen men were crushed. We cannot afford to lose anyone else.’

  ‘Shit.’ Corvac spat and turned away.

  Cole leaned back in the chair and stared glumly down at the table. It was a rickety thing, covered in scratches and with a wobbly leg on either side. Smiler and Ed sat opposite Cole. The former nursed a swollen jaw, while the latter was wrapped in bandages and carried more bruises than the rotten apples unscrupulous fruit merchants occasionally sold in Dorminia’s Bazaar for ten a copper. That Ed had been able to walk back to town unaided was testament to the halfwit’s unexpected tenacity. He had taken a heck of a beating, and Cole considered himself a good judge in such matters, having been on the receiving end of a fair few in his time.

  Across the table from the three men, an old Condemned named Whistler shook his shaggy grey head and gave a throaty chuckle. ‘You’re a rare one, Ghost. Thought I’d seen it all, but to hear how you plucked Corvac’s sword from his hand and turned it against him… Sounds to me like one of them tales the young women like to read about. Of heroes and suchlike. All that shite.’

  ‘It was just a trick I learned,’ Cole said irritably. Why did everyone insist on thinking of him as a hero? He was a bastard and a whoreson. ‘You know what I’ve learned?’

  ‘Yeah?’ obliged Whistler.

  ‘That true heroes don’t exist. The world sucks the goodness out of everyone sooner or later.’

  ‘That’s a cynical point of view.’

  ‘Well, it’s true! I used to be an optimist. People were drawn to me because of it. Drawn to my charisma. I even had a henchman. His name was Three-Finger and he was a good sort. But just like me, the grim reality of life got to him eventually. Turned him into a bitter husk of a man.’

  ‘A sorry tale and no mistake.’

  ‘It’s just how I feel. I don’t even have money for a beer.’

  Neither he nor Smiler nor Ed had been handed any coin at day’s end. Corvac wasn’t the type to let go of a grudge easily.

  Cole’s stomach growled again. The evening meals seemed portioned to leave the miners just the right side of famished. He was hungry, broke and had made an enemy of one of the most powerful figures in Newharvest.

  ‘I wish I could help,’ Whistler said. ‘But I’m out of coin too. I could really use a warm beer and a cold woman.’

  Cole frowned. ‘Don’t you mean a cold beer and a warm woman?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s what I meant.’ Whistler shifted uncomfortably.

  Smiler sucked on his remaining teeth for a moment before speaking. His mouth was all swollen and he looked as though he had swallowed a handful of stones. ‘Whithler… didn’t you uthe to work down at the morgue? I’m thure I remember your fathe. How’d you end up in the Obelithkth dungeonth?’

  ‘It don’t matter,’ Whistler snapped. They sat in silence for a time, lost in their thoughts. Except possibly Ed, who just looked lost. Cole glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching.

  ‘You must be the one they call the Ghost.’

  The speaker was a burly man with green eyes. Behind him loomed two equally large men.

  ‘Yes,’ Cole answered wearily. He knew he had taken a risk coming to the ReSpite, what with the Mad Dogs all riled up about the incident with Corvac. He was quickly reaching the point where he no longer cared.

  ‘They call me Floater. Mind if I buy you a beer? That prick Corvac’s been tormenting us for months. It’s about time someone stood up to him.’

  Cole breathed a relieved sigh and beckoned them to sit. Floater took a seat while the other two men went to order drinks. ‘Only a few more weeks till I’m outta this hellhole,’ Floater said. ‘Does me good to know Corvac got a taste of his own medicine before I left. I’m looking forward to telling my children about it once I’m back in the City of Towers.’

  ‘You’re Thelassan?’ asked Whistler.

  ‘Yeah. Second shipment. I got six months for slapping a shopkeep after she tried to swindle me. Most of the Indebted from the first shipment are home already. Those that survived the Blight, that is. Lost a couple of pals at the Fist just today.’

  Floater’s friends returned with a tray piled with tankards. The big Thelassan handed one to Cole, who stared down at the murky liquid within. He gave it an experimental sip and winced. It tasted like the cheap pisswater they served in Dorminia’s scummiest dives.

  ‘I’d go slow with this stuff,’ warned Floater. ‘It’s stronger than you think.’

  ‘I can handle myself,’ Cole replied, a little defensively. It was true, his drinking prowess had been near legendary among the regulars of Dorminia’s taverns. He smiled, remembering all the times he had had to drag his friends from the dives lining Copper Street, so drunk they could barely stand. Sometimes he’d been the one who couldn’t walk out. He would wake up in a gutter somewhere, his friends having disappeared after he’d squandered his allowance buying them all drinks. That didn’t seem right somehow. Not now that he thought about it.

  He frowned and brought the tankard up to his lips, then downed the beer in one long gulp. It tasted like bilge water but there was no denying the warm glow it left.

  ‘It’s funny,’ Floater was saying. ‘Working the Blight’s hell. But I tell you, I’ve felt more… alive here than I ever did back in the City of Towers.’

  Floater’s friends nodded their agreement. The man’s observations didn’t make much sense to Cole, but as long as the Thelassans were supplying the drinks he wasn’t going to argue.

  ‘So then, Ghost,’ Floater said, passing him another beer. ‘How’d you learn to dodge a sword? And why are you so damned pale? If I didn’t know better I’d think you one of the Mistress’s handmaidens. Except they’re all female.’

  Cole took a long sip of his beer and stared into the depths of the murky liquid. ‘I’ve seen a few things in my time. Done some stuff you probably wouldn’t believe. I even considered myself a hero, once. Then I was betrayed. I took a dagger in the stomach. I think it was coated in some kind of poison. That’s why I’m so pale.’

  Floater nodded at Ed. ‘Sounds pretty heroic, the way you stepped in to rescue your friend there.’

  Cole shrugged and drained the rest of his beer. There was a pleasant glow in his chest now. ‘Garrett always said you have to protect those weaker than you.’

  ‘Garrett?’

  ‘My mentor. He was murdered.’

  ‘Tough break.’

  Cole nodded and grabbed another tankard. He took a long gulp, draining it faster than he intended and accidentally spilling some over his lap. ‘The Blight won’t break me,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What’s that, Ghost?’

  ‘I said the Blight won’t break me. I’m going to escape. I’m going to find Sasha.’

  ‘Thatha?’ Smiler repeated, creating a moment of confusion around the table as the others tried to work out what the hell he had just said. ‘Who ith thhe?’

  ‘She…’ Cole searched for the words. When they’d last parted Sasha had told him he was an asshole. Told him that Garrett would be ashamed of him. She’d been
angry, probably on her time of the month if Cole was any judge of women. She hadn’t meant what she’d said. Had she?

  ‘Sasha is the reason I won’t die in this place,’ he rallied, impressing even himself. He emptied his tankard and set it down on the table, a little unsteadily.

  ‘You’re Condemned,’ Floater told him gently. ‘You’re stuck here for life. There’s no way out.’

  ‘No way out,’ Cole repeated, slurring the words slightly. ‘Who says there’s no way out?’ He thought of all the times he had endured against the odds. The Swell. The Obelisk. The Darkson’s betrayal. I survived them all. They have no idea who I am! Well, it was time they learned.

  He surged to his feet and snatched up Whistler’s beer.

  ‘Hey, that’s mine!’ the old man protested, but Cole ignored him. He drained the beer in a single gulp and flung the empty tankard across the table. It landed with a loud clatter, getting the attention of half the tavern. Just as Cole had planned.

  ‘My name is Davarus Cole,’ he hollered. ‘I’ve been tested at every turn. Suffered adversity you can’t even begin to understand. But I’m still standing. You would as well attempt to break mountains with your bare hands as break me! You would as well try to shackle a raging storm! Know this: Davarus Cole… will not be caged!’

  ‘Twat,’ someone muttered at a nearby table.

  Cole swayed slightly. ‘I’m going for a piss,’ he announced dramatically, still lost in the moment. The glow-globes overhead seemed to pulse as he staggered towards the door. The floor heaved beneath him. Annoyed faces stared at him and he stared right back, unafraid. He felt almost like his old self again, and it felt good.

  Just before he reached the door, it opened and a small group of women sauntered in. There were no female miners in Newharvest, only a handful of Freewomen looking to make some easy coin before they returned to the City of Towers. Many were the wives of Mad Dogs, though none were wedded to Whitecloaks; apparently Thelassa’s city guard did not take wives. In any case, these particular women did not look like the marrying sort.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Cole slurred, making to walk around the women. As he moved past, the wavy-haired blonde at the front of the group placed a hand on his arm.

  ‘Fancy a good time, darling?’ she drawled, giving him a wicked grin. Her breath was warm on his ear and Cole felt himself respond. It had been long time since he had felt the soft touch of a woman. He stared at her, noting the revealing cut of her clothing, and a suspicion began to take hold.

  ‘Are you a whore?’ he asked loudly.

  The woman’s smile remained fixed on her face even as her eyes hardened. ‘We don’t use that word around here. I’m whatever you want me to be. A silver will buy you ten minutes with one of my ladies.’

  ‘I only need two,’ Cole said, thinking he might borrow a few coppers off someone. ‘Do you offer discounts?’

  The whore’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘No.’

  The sound of chairs scraping backwards filled the room as men rose and began fishing around in their pockets, counting their coins out onto the tables. Cole glanced at his own table with bleary eyes. Floater and his two friends had wandered over to the bar. Smiler was asleep, wide-open mouth revealing the sorry mess Corvac had made of his once perfect teeth. Whistler just looked angry, though Cole couldn’t think why.

  One by one the whores paired off with punters and departed into one of the rooms at the back. No one approached the blonde. Cole thought that odd seeing as she possessed the most obvious assets, though if he were being honest none of the women were exactly great lookers.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, reaching out to guide the woman gently out of his path, but she chose that exact moment to turn and say something to another hooker and his hand accidentally brushed against her breasts.

  The blonde slapped his hand away angrily. ‘You pay first, you fucking animal!’ she snapped. The sudden change in her demeanour shocked Cole even through his drunken haze. ‘Give me a silver and I’ll tug you off. That’s all you’re getting. I ain’t no piece of meat.’

  ‘I don’t have any money,’ Cole said. ‘I just want to go for a piss.’

  The woman’s face twisted in rage. ‘You’ve already tasted the goods,’ she hissed. ‘Now you pay. Or I’ll see you get what Mockface got!’

  ‘Hang on, that’s not fair!’ Cole glanced over at his table again seeking support. Whistler seemed about to say something, but then he looked down at the tankard Cole had hurled to the floor and frowned.

  ‘No one fucks Corvac,’ Ed said suddenly.

  ‘You’re damn right they don’t!’ the blonde spat. She pointed a quivering finger at Cole, pressing it right up into his nose. ‘And no one fucks me without paying!’

  ‘Just get out of the way,’ Cole said, angry himself now. He thrust her aside and stormed towards the door. He turned back just before leaving, petty irritation getting the better of him. ‘Pay you?’ he said sarcastically. ‘You should pay me.’

  Cole felt a little guilty when he saw the shocked outrage on the woman’s face, but it had been a long day. He had the girl of his dreams waiting for him back in Dorminia. Even if he had possessed the coin, he’d be damned if he’d disrespect himself or Sasha by paying for such an average-looking hooker.

  The night air was pleasantly fresh after the stifling heat of the tavern. He made his stumbling way around the side of the Black Lord’s ReSpite until he found a spot illuminated by the light from the building opposite. Then he tugged out his cock and began to relieve himself with a satisfied sigh.

  He found himself thinking of the mysterious blind stranger who had appeared to him at the dosshouse. He wondered if it might have been a hallucination, some lingering effect of the poison that had knocked him unconscious for the best part of a month and sapped the colour from his skin. He still wasn’t sure how he had survived. Every now and then he thought he could hear a crow cawing, but it was always just on the edge of hearing, too faint for him to be sure.

  ‘There he is!’

  The triumphant shriek came from behind him. Cole spun, inadvertently spraying piss over the trio of men who were charging right for him. Fumbling with his breeches, he barely had time to thrust his manhood away before they were upon him. One of them punched him in the head; another kicked his legs away. He fell against the wall of the tavern. A boot slammed into his chest, pinning him down.

  ‘Ghost!’ Corvac spat.

  ‘You know this little shit?’ It was the blonde from the tavern.

  ‘You bet I do. Ain’t that right, bitch? First you embarrass me in front of my men. Then you disrespect my woman. What, she ain’t good enough for you? My Goldie’s not fit for the mighty Ghost? Or maybe you’re just scared you can’t satisfy her?’

  ‘Tiny dick,’ Goldie sneered. ‘He’s got a tiny dick. I saw it just now. He ain’t no real man. Not like you, baby.’

  Cole’s heart was hammering in his chest. Between the punch one of Corvac’s lackeys had just landed on him and the alcohol coursing through his veins, he was too dizzy to think straight.

  ‘Are we going to execute him like we did Mockface?’ Goldie asked hopefully.

  Corvac shook his head. ‘That’d be too easy. This is personal.’ He gestured at his thugs. ‘Turn him around. Pin his arms. I’m gonna show this bitch what a real man is.’

  Cole flailed desperately as Corvac’s goons grabbed his elbows. They were bigger than him and stronger than him. He couldn’t escape their iron grip. He felt his breeches being pulled down and suddenly bile rose in his stomach. He heard Corvac positioning himself behind him.

  ‘You don’t fuck Corvac,’ the Mad Dog leader whispered. ‘Corvac fucks you.’

  Cole waited, eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying not to sob. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  He waited. Waited some more. For that awful moment.

  ‘Fuck. It’s happened again. Fuck. Useless piece of—’

  ‘I can help, baby, just let me just warm you up—’

&nbs
p; ‘Get away from it, you dirty whore! Gaz, pass me that cudgel you keep on your belt. The old pick handle.’

  ‘This? Shit, boss, I don’t want it shoved up—’

  ‘I don’t care give a fuck what you want! Bitch needs to learn his place. Now gag him. I don’t want his screams drawing attention. We’ve only got a quarter-bell until curfew.’

  As it turned out, it was considerably shorter than a quarter-bell. Barely more than a few minutes, in fact. But for Davarus Cole it seemed to last an eternity.

  The Better Place

  ‘Does… does it hurt?’

  Her mother shook her head but couldn’t disguise a slight intake of breath as Yllandris gently wiped the blood from her brow with a wet rag. Her skin had already begun to swell. Soon she would bear a vicious bruise that nothing would be able to conceal. The other townswomen would gossip, muttering that perhaps she had done something to deserve it, that she must have disappointed her husband somehow. Yllandris had overheard them once when her mother had sent her to buy fish at the market. They saw only her father’s firm jaw, the reputation he had brought back with him from the West Reaching.

  They didn’t see the blackness that had festered within him since he had returned from the war. The drink-fuelled rage that had her cowering in her room while her mother bore the brunt of his demons.

  ‘It’s only a bruise. You should go to bed. In case your father comes back.’

  ‘I wish he’d died at Red Valley.’

  Yllandris caught the slap before it reached her cheek. Somehow that made it worse. ‘Don’t,’ her mother whispered. ‘Don’t speak like that.’

  Her mother’s hand felt small and weak in her own. Yllandris stared down at the broken earthenware scattered across the floor with eyes suddenly wet with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  Her mother hesitated; then she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. ‘It’s not your fault, sweetheart. None of this is your fault.’