by David Ekrut
“I don’t think you do. You have no idea what I’m intending, or you wouldn’t still be standing there.” Jax pulled his sword from its scabbard. “Enough people have suffered at yours and Brinnon’s hands. And I mean to see this never happens again.”
The magistrate held his hands up as if in surrender, but not a touch of worry entered his tone. “You always were brash. Think, Jaxton. Since being disinherited, you are not even a member of nobility any longer. You have no titles or power. No one of consequence would even lend an ear to your ridiculous rantings, save me. And I only stepped in as a favor to a dear friend. You are out of your depth, child. Do you not see this?”
“It doesn’t take a title to see what you and my father are doing here is wrong.”
“Wrong? How so?” Not a hint of mockery tinged his voice.
“Are you serious? There are children down there for Life’s sake.”
“Jaxton. Child, this is all your doing. If you would have let well-enough lie, they would still be digging the mines, living out their pathetic lives. You are a dog with a bone, rutting up your master’s favorite garden. What did you think would happen here? After all, he warned you of these consequences. Admit when you’ve lost, and we can all move beyond this unpleasant business.”
Anger struck him with such force, his knees felt weak. “All of this to teach me a lesson?”
“I proposed to have you tied up and beaten until you knew your place, but your father has always been prone to a bit of theatre.” He walked to the edge of the pit and looked at the two children for many moments. “He insisted on finding a boy and a girl to pose. Why? Is this about the death of your sister?”
That was exactly why, but Jax no longer carried the blame for Caria’s death. He’d left that guilt in the deserts of Kalicodon. Of course, Brinnon wouldn’t know this and would be eager to shove salt into the old wound.
Jax focused on Thisban’s face. No sorrow touched his expression, only mild curiosity. Jax became much more aware of the naked steel in his hand. Had picking up this weapon all those years ago made the world less dark? Was Jax any better than Thisban and his father? It didn’t matter. He could ponder trivial things like consequences later. People like Thisban needed to be stopped.
“I didn’t do this,” Jax told him. “You did. And Brinnon.” He felt his lip quiver as he said, “I would never take an innocent life.”
“Do not be so naïve. There will always be casualties in war. And there will always be a use for bodies when our new king arrives. Would it not be a great sense of irony if he set their corpses to work still digging the mine?”
“You’re working with Bain,” he accused.
“Of course. We all see which way the wind is blowing. Why get caught in the storm when a shelter has been offered freely? With the dragons’ return, Alcoa City is in chaos, providing the perfect opportunity to create a new nation. Now, put that sword away and let us discuss your future.”
“You’ve just confessed to treason. By all rights, I should kill you now.”
These people deserved justice. If not by Jax’s hand, then whose? As Thisban was keen to point out, no one else would even grant him an audience. And with the dragons coming back, law was becoming very fickle.
“I see thespian tendencies run in your family,” Thisban mused. “Even if you had such a deed in you and anyone of note allowed you to live long enough to hear your explanation, I have a dozen guards outside this cavern. And you have but a single man amongst them. How are you going to explain my corpse to Alcoan’s finest?”
Jax held his sword up, preparing for a strike. “Pocket of bad air.”
Thisban laughed. “Come now. We both know you would never execute an unarmed man in cold blood. Put the blade aside and let us go speak with your father. His plans are ambitious, but they will bring us all safely through the Awakening with more wealth and power than we could imagine. Brinnon is waiting for us at his manor and wants you to know he forgives you for the debacle in Kalicodon. You are welcomed in the kingdom he would build.”
“Forgives me? He abandoned me in a foreign city and used my life like a token in a game of cards. When that failed, he tried to have me killed by burning a building down around me. And look what he’s done. What you’ve done in his name. I want no part in such a kingdom.”
“Nonetheless,” Thisban shrugged as if all of this were a matter of course, “he wishes to make amends. He is your father.”
“Even if we didn’t have an irreconcilable history,” Jax pointed at the cavern of broken bodies. “No amends can be made with someone who could order this. In fact, I have a message for Brinnon Fliste.”
“I am no pageboy, and I grow weary of this. This is your last chance. Drop your weapon or use it. Come with me now or die here with your savage.”
“You misunderstand.” His fingers trembled as he took aim. “You are the message.”
“I said to stop waving that thing in my fa—”
Jax plunged his sword into the man’s heart.
Thisban’s smug expression vanished, his eyes widening in shock. He grimaced when Jax pulled the saber free and pushed Thisban’s chest with his foot. He let out a pained cry as he fell. The man’s limp form crashed into the two posed bodies far below. The little boy fell over with his eyes aimed upward, fear and pain frozen in his expression.
“Magistrate,” a voice echoed down the shaft. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” Jax whispered. “It is not all right. But it will be.”
He lifted his bloody saber and prepared to fight.
~
A thin line of moonlight shone a pace into the alley, not quite reaching the figure crouched in the shadows of two shops. Beyond the edge of the buildings, the wheels of a wagon rolled across the cobblestones. Echoes reverberated through the quiet night for several minutes, growing louder as it moved closer to the alley.
Jesnia smiled when the driver stopped the wagon within sight of her hiding place. Gold well spent for this tip.
The driver stepped into the street and continued east, toward the river. She waited for a count of ten. She notched an arrow to her bow and stepped into the open.
She could see the outlines of a second man emerge from an alleyway across the street. As he walked onto the cobbles, she loosed her arrow. His body crumpled without much sound. One bounty earned, dozens more to go.
Following the driver at a distance, she kept to the dark edges of the shops and homes whenever possible. At the crossroads, her quarry paused to glance in her direction. She froze. After a moment, he continued on, turning right. The instant he vanished from sight, she ran on the balls of her feet. When she reached the corner, she stopped at the edge of the building.
The street was empty, but she could hear the echoes of rapid boots pounding the cobbles.
“Curse it all.”
Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she sprinted after the sound, taking shortcuts through alleys or gardens as necessary. The echoes grew softer by the moment, but moved ever closer to the river. She quit following the driver, instead picking the most efficient path to the pier. After a few minutes of hard running, she emerged on the wharf and stopped at the edge of a large building.
She covered her mouth to muffle her breathing and peered toward the docks. Several ships rocked in the gentle breeze, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. She frowned. The city watch should have been on patrol. The wharf was always guarded. Either those assigned to the docks tonight were dead or on the take. She locked the information away for later use and focused on the task at hand.
The Lenders would pay for any information leading to the capture or death of the man called Coin. Of all her clients, the Lenders provided the best and most reliable bounties. Even the heads of Coin’s associates would earn her a hefty sum. When would criminals learn? It never paid to thump with the Lenders.
A figu
re emerged from a side street and ran toward a ship on the far side. Even with the brightness of the moon, she couldn’t be sure if it was the driver, but the man’s gait and size matched the figure she’d chased. Jesnia shadowed him from a healthy distance. No reason to alert him before he led her to the correct ship.
With any luck, Coin would be onboard. She could cash out with the Lenders. Maybe, they’d even have another bounty for her. Who knew? In time, they could pay her to be on retainer, permanently. Wouldn’t that make for a cushy retirement? Not that she was nearly old enough to retire, but a girl could dream, right?
The man went to the last pier and paused, glancing in every direction. She had moved close enough to get a glimpse of his face. It was the driver. After looking about for a few more moments, he ran down the dock to the gangplank and vanished onto the last ship to the left.
Though she couldn’t place a finger on it, something didn’t seem right with the driver. It felt as if he had posed for her just then, when he turned—as if to look for someone following. Curse it all, this was a trap. She hadn’t been discrete enough with her questions. It was the barkeeper at the Winking Wyvern or she was a red-nosed gnome. At least she had a few leads now if this night’s nuggets didn’t pan out.
She pulled her bow from her shoulder and notched two arrows. Skulking onto the dock, she kept a close eye on movement from the ships. As she closed half the distance to the gangplank, a thin figure stepped onto the dock in front of her.
“Why are you trying to find Coin?”
She froze mid-step, pivoting her weight back onto her rear leg as if to take aim. Several paces behind her, the wood of the dock creaked. The torsos of three shadows moved into the field of vision at her feet, each aiming a crossbow in her direction.
“The same as anyone, I suppose,” she said, shrugging. “You know. Food. Clothing. Shelter.”
“Lose the act of innocence. You’ve been asking questions about him. Why?”
“Well, typically one asks questions to get answers. That was my purpose as well.”
“Do I look amused to you? One last chance. Talk now and this will go easy. What do you know about Coin? And more importantly, who have you told about him?”
“Did you think of that name?” she asked with feigned astonishment. “So clever. He mints counterfeit coins, and he goes by Coin. Genius.”
The man frowned. “You are surrounded. This need not be painful for you.”
“Need it not? I mean, imagine my disappointment when I opened up the Lenders documents and saw my bounty was going by Coin. Half the thrill of this job is the chase, you know?”
“Enough,” he said, taking a step closer. “Tell us what we want to know.”
“Not much for foreplay then? Fine, we’ll get to the thumping.” She grinned at the man. “But for pips and pipes, just answer this. Is he here in Weatherford? My sources said he would be here. Instead, I found you.”
A moment of relief showed in his expression. Dragons take her, not in Weatherford then.
“I weary of this game.” The man nodded to the figures behind her. “Take the wench alive. She will be more amenable in the chair.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the gangplank without a backward glance.
“The wench? And only three men? I have to kill you. It’s part of the bargain with the Lenders, but now I’ll make it slow.”
“All right lassie,” a brute said, “drop the bow and turn around.”
“Lassie?” She’d taken her last insult.
Pivoting toward them, she aimed both arrows and rolled to the side as she fired. Only one arrow hit its mark. The man fell from the dock with a shout of surprise and pain.
The twang of crossbows came from the other two men. Bolts thunked into the wood where she’d been standing. As the man on the left fumbled his crossbow to reload, she drew and loosed. The shaft took him in the eye. The other attacker reset his bolt and aimed.
Feinting to the right, she spun left. The man fired. A jolt of pain sliced across her shoulder. Just a scratch. Dropping her bow to the dock, she unsheathed a sword and closed on the man before he could set another bolt. He raised the crossbow to block her thrust, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of her blade took him in the throat. She knelt beside him as he died.
Eyes pleading for aid, he reached for her. She knocked his hand aside and used his cloak to clean his blood from her blade.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she told him. “It is your blood after all. And it isn’t proper to walk around with another person’s insides covering your sword.”
He let out his last gasp without further complaint.
Standing, she felt the sting of a cut on her arm and remembered the bolt had grazed her. Inspecting the cut, she muttered several curses.
The Seeker take her Life-cursed luck. This was her favorite thumping blouse. That gash couldn’t be mended. She would have to replace it, but not before she spoke with the man on the ship. She’d come too far to lose her bounty for a shirt. And the man in the fancy cloak had questions. Maybe she’d answer one or two before collecting her bounty on him.
Chapter 10
Empty Promises
Anetia,
Yes, I did receive the sweater. It is quite lovely and much appreciated. The mountain winds are chill even in the summer months. You are kind to think of me. And no, I have not intentionally dismissed our arguments, but I have benefactors now who do not hold to your scruples. I should have mentioned my pressures to produce, but I did not want this information to taint your opinions of this place. I am still hoping you will join me here someday. I would very much enjoy discussing the moral implications of my work. My colleagues here are predominantly academes and war incanters, focused on the annihilation of our enemies. For all intents and purposes, you are my only source of moral accountability, which brings me to my current dilemma.
An elementalist has been found venturing within our city. Like many would-be treasure-seekers before him, he was surprised to find our members living within the center of the city. We are uncertain how he bypassed the traps etched into the gates, but he is now our prisoner. The shackles of binding will keep him from taming a spark of power.
He was delivered to me along with my regular reagents. I am now faced with a pressing quandary. I need an essence for experimentation, yet I am loathe to treat another person, even my enemy, less than humanely. However, the results of my studies could very well mean the difference in this war, and I have the council to answer to. Academically, you know how I feel about spending one life to save two. Yet, now that my hand holds the knife, the deed feels quite different.
Best regards,
~R., 2993 A.S.
~
Feffer sat on a stone bench in the royal garden, just out of earshot from the royal Zarah and royal-est King Lifesong, so he wouldn’t hear any part of their royal-thumping conversation.
Apparently protecting a person with his life didn’t mean being privy to sensitive information about his closest friend. No one had seen or heard from Elwin since the dragons had attacked, first the palace and then the city.
The last one had destroyed over two hundred homes and shops. They still didn’t know how many people had been killed, and they were putting it all on Elwin for his tamings.
“Are you still sulking about Elwin?”
He looked up to see Zarah strutting toward him.
“I’m not sulking. He was attacked by dragons. What if he was hurt or eaten?”
“He escaped,” she said with ample confidence.
“How can you know that?”
“He flew throughout the city, using the buildings as obstacles. A witness claims to have seen the dragon chase him into the sewage. And you saw for yourself the dragon circling above the city as if searching for someone. There were sightings in homes and farmsteads outside of our walls, as well. It was here for o
ver an hour before vanishing. Would it do that if it had actually caught him?”
“It could have been looking for someone else, another elementalist,” Feffer reasoned.
“That is conjecture.”
“What else do we have? The word of one old man who happened to look out his window.”
“No one happened to look out a window with a dragon rampaging through the city, and that man described Elwin quite well.”
“Everyone knows what Elwin looks like.”
Zarah sighed. “We can do nothing for him now. Let us focus on matters within our control.”
“Such as?”
“I am glad you asked.” She smiled. “Father wishes for us to spar some more. Apparently, he fancies you a decent enough swordsman to instruct me.”
Feffer plucked his practice sword from beside the statue of some long-dead queen and followed Zarah. She walked through the short maze of hedges and stepped into the open yard, moving to the worn patch where they’d been training for the last several days.
She stepped into Air stance with her weapon high. Feffer snorted, and she lowered her practice blade.
“What?’ she asked.
“Air stance has nothing to do with taming Air. You really should learn to start out with a different form.”
“I know that. It is just comfortable. And since I am not likely to be as large as my opponents, Air and Water are better to turn aside blows rather than block them with Fire or Earth moves.”
“But you need to know them all. Widen your base. Use Earth forms only for this session.”
Her frown deepened, but she did as he instructed. He sent a few volleys of light attacks just to see her move through the proper blocks. If he hadn’t run, Elwin would likely be here with them. Why did he leave? And why in the abyss had he tamed?
Zarah’s sword flew from her hand. Hissing a few curses, she shook her hand as if trying to fling away the pain. Cradling her hand to her stomach, she cast him a baleful look. “Not so hard. What has gotten into you? You are still thinking about Elwin. He is gone, Feffer.”