Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector (21 page)

“We did it, Talon.” Dak whispered, his chest
heaving from exertion. When Talon didn’t answer, he rushed to where
he lay pinned beneath what was left of his horse.

“Talon!” Dak pushed at the remains until his
friend was free. “Come on, man, talk to me.”

When Talon groaned and rolled to his back,
Dak sent a silent prayer of thanks to every deity he knew and
checked for injuries. “Nothing missing--that’s good. Can you sit
up?”

“I think I’m okay, thanks to you. I have a
bitch of a headache. Must have passed out since its dark now. Man,
I’ve never seen such a totally dark night. Not even a star in
sight.”

Every word from Talon’s mouth sent cold
chills down Dak’s back. The sun blazed down on them. It was just
past midday.

“Talon. Let me have a look at your
head.”

“Come on, Dak. You can’t even find your own
head in this darkness. It can wait until morning. Did any of the
Riders escape? I figured the one that got away the last time we met
brought his friends looking for Kierin. How is she, by the
way?”

Dak’s heart twisted when Talon looked in his
direction. A laser burn cut across his forehead. He was damned
lucky to be alive but he didn’t think the bounty hunter would think
so when he realized the light beam fried his retinas.

“I’ve got to get you back to Kierin’s
fortress. She’s an excellent healer. I’m sure there’s something she
can do to help.” He grabbed Talon’s arm to help him stand.

Talon pulled free and stumbled to his feet
on his own. “I’m fine, Dak.”

“No. You’re not
fine
.” Dak ran his
hand through his hair in frustration. “A laser blast grazed your
head which explains being unconscious but ….”

“Just say it.” Talon’s neutral monotone told
Dak he was beginning to sense something was wrong.

“Damn it, Talon. It’s not dark. It’s the
middle of the day.”

For the space of several heartbeats Talon
just stood there. As the truth of Dak’s statement registered, his
knees buckled and he sat down hard. When Dak tried to help him
stand Talon pushed him away.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Talon yelled.
“Why the hell didn’t you mind your own business, Dak?”

“The Riders would have killed you.”

“They
did
kill me. Get out of here!
Leave me the hell alone!”

“I’m not leaving you out here. Come back to
Kierin’s. You know how talented she is with her crystals.” He
couldn’t believe he was actually praising the witch’s use of her
cursed rocks. “There’s bound to be one that can heal the burn.”

“What if there’s not a way to fix it, Dak?
What am I supposed to do then? It’s a little difficult to be a
bounty hunter when you can’t see to wipe your own ass. I have no
desire to sit out my remaining days on a corner in some backwater
town begging for coins and food.”

“Talon ….”

“I once offered to kill you to set you free.
I now ask you for the same. Kill me, Dak. Set me free.”

“I can’t do that, at least until we find out
if Kierin can help or not. Come with me and let her examine you. If
she can’t help we’ll talk about it again. Deal?”

“I want your word.”

“I give you my word that we’ll talk about it
after
you see Kierin.”

“That will be some trick.”

“What?” Dak asked, confused by Talon’s
comment.

“I can’t
see
Kierin. Remember?”

Dak shook his head in disgust. “Just get on
the damned horse. It will be dark before we get back.”

“Your horse can’t carry both of us for long.
Why don’t you go get help and I’ll wait here?”

“Why don’t you just shut up?” Dak hit
Talon’s chin hard enough to snap his neck and caught him before he
hit the ground. “You couldn’t make this easy on either of us, could
you?”

Chapter Seventeen

Kierin confirmed what he already knew. Talon
was permanently blind. She implanted tiny crystal shards behind
each eye that would allow him to see the heat image released from
living organisms but that was all she could do for him. She
promised to watch over him while he adjusted to his new reality. He
didn’t envy her that task. Talon was proud and driven by some
serious demons. It would take a pretty powerful incentive for him
to accept that he was no longer the man he thought himself to be.
Dak was grateful he wouldn’t be around for the process.

Ten days later he rode into Cypriana. It was
as crowded and unruly as he remembered. The first order of business
was to find a place to stay and a job. He needed enough coin to
send a message to JarDan and to look for his crew. The trouble with
being a trained warrior--not many honest folks needed to hire one
and he wasn’t desperate enough to go with the criminal option.

Leaving his horse at the same stable Kierin
used on their arrival, Dak made his way through the seedier side of
town. Here the canvas tents formed a continuous line of bars,
gambling dens and whore houses. The stench of stale alcohol, body
sweat and cheap perfume sent him hurrying toward fresher air and
fewer vagrants.

Luck was on his side for a change when he
rounded a corner and found the local law enforcement rounding up
the walking wounded from a major fight. A man sitting on an
upturned barrel and sporting an impressive black eye was shaking
his fist and cussing for all he was worth.

“I warned you the last time you let these
sons-a-bitches wreck my place, Bull.”

“But they wuz jus’ havin’ a little fun, Mr.
Jamison. It weren’t nothin’ serious.”

Bull
was built like his namesake but
with half the brains. Dak almost laughed at the man twisting his
hat in his ham-sized hands acting like a kid caught stealing an
extra cookie.

“
FUN
? You call all that damage
FUN
? You’re fired! And you get no wages for this week.” Mr.
Jamison glared at his former employee through the one eye that
wasn’t swollen shut. “Now, get outta my sight before I have you
arrested with the rest of these friggin’ bastards.”

“Who’s gonna keep peace in the bar tonight
if you fire me, Mr. Jamison?”

“My crippled grandmother could do a better
job than you do, you dumbass! Go on, get outta here.”

It didn’t take long for Bull to disappear
into the crowd gathered to see what was happening. Dak started to
make his way through the crowd when he caught Mr. Jamison’s
comments to the policeman in charge of the arrests.

“Bull’s a good man, officer, but he just
looks
mean. As soon as folks figured out he didn’t like to
fight they took advantage of him. Hell, I didn’t’ want to let him
go but I just can’t friggin’ afford the damage.”

“I understand, sir.” The officer replied.
“I’ll arrange for extra patrols by here until you can hire another
guard. If I hear of anyone looking for a job I’ll send him your
way.”

“Thanks, officer. It will take me a couple
of days to get the place back together enough to open. Maybe I’ll
get lucky before then.”

Mr. Jamison went back into his bar and the
police left with all of the brawlers who didn’t need medical
assistance. Dak waited until the street was quiet before walking
into the dim bar.

“Sorry, son, but you can see I’m not open
for business. You’ll have to find your pleasure elsewhere.” Mr.
Jamison was sitting on the floor with a piece of cold meat against
his black eye.

“You do know that it’s the cold of the meat
that makes the swelling go down and not the meat itself?” Dak asked
mildly.

“You do know I don’t give a shit?” Mr.
Jamison answered just as mildly.

Dak laughed and extended his hand to the man
on the floor. “I’m Dak and I’m looking for a job.”

“Pull up a spot here on the floor, young
man, ‘cause there ain’t a chair in the place that’s safe to sit in
after this mornin’.”

Dak kicked broken glass and splintered wood
until he cleared a space and sat down. Looking around the large
room, he smiled.

“Looks like it was one hellava disagreement.
I can repair most of the chairs in a couple of hours. You may have
to get creative for the tables to go with them. If you can scrounge
up enough glassware and the liquor to fill them you should be able
to open by sundown tonight.”

“The hell you say! And you’re gonna do all
this outta the goodness of your heart?”

“Absolutely--if you’ll give me Bull’s
job.”

“Why would I do somethin’ like that?” Mr.
Jamison asked around a crooked grin.

“Because I need a job and you need a
guard.”

“Lots of folks around here lookin’ for work.
Don’t mean I’d hire ‘em.”

“That may be true, but I have an advantage
the rest don’t have.”

“You’re a cocky bastard, I’ll give ya that.”
Jamison cackled. “Okay, sonny, jus’ what is it you got?”

“You mean besides the fact that I’ve been
trained in hand-to-hand warfare since I was old enough to hold a
sword?” Dak had to wait for Jamison to finish laughing before he
continued. “I’m one mean bastard who
isn’t
afraid to
fight.”

Jamison laughed until tears ran from his
eyes. “Son of a bitch! That burns like a muther ….” Wiping at the
wetness with his shirtsleeve, he turned his good eye on Dak.
“You’re bold as brass, and that’s a fact. I like you, boy. Can you
do it? Can you get my place fixed up enough to open tonight?”

“Yes, sir, I can. Do I get the job?”

Jamison struggled to stand but shook off
Dak’s help.

“If I can open this place tonight, it’s
yours. There’s a room out back--ain’t much, but the bed’s almost
big enough. I cook twice a day--early mornin’ after we close up and
clean up from the night and about sundown I serve dinner to the
customers. Even got me a regular cook who comes in for that. You
want to eat anything else; you have to pay for it just like the
others. I pay ten silver coins a day plus the room and board.”

Dak quickly calculated how long it would
take before he had enough to send word to Anderas. One hundred
silver coins equaled one gold coin and it took fifty gold coins to
send a communication. At ten coins a day it would take him over a
year to have enough saved. It was a start until he could find
something better.

“Deal.” Dak smiled and offered his hand to
Jamison. “Where do you keep your tools?”

By sundown there were enough chairs for ten
tables. Most had no backs and if none of the customers wiggled
around too much the wire and nails should hold up through the
night. Jamison managed to produce the tables using empty liquor
barrels and planks he ripped from the storeroom floor. Rough was
about the best compliment anyone could make about the bar but it
would open for business as usual.

“I’ll be twice damned and double buggered.”
Jamison slapped Dak on his back. “Wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t
been here and saw it myself. Looks like you got yourself a job,
sonny.”

“I need to clean up before customers arrive.
Which way to the room?”

“Out past the storeroom, to the left. Ain’t
much,” Jamison looked around him and snorted. “But it’s a sight
better than this.”

Dak picked his way around stacks of food and
barrels of liquor and found his room. Jamison was right; it wasn’t
much to look at but it was dry and warm. The small cot was too
short but the bedding looked clean and fresh. There was a small
chest for his clothes and a small table beside the cot. After the
spacious rooms of Kierin’s cave, this place felt like a closet.

You have got to stop comparing everything to
Kierin. What the hell is wrong with you?

Shaking away the memories, Dak washed the
best he could with the bowl of water, shaved and changed clothes.
By the time he made his way back to the bar it was beginning to
fill with customers. The place was loud and smoky and he liked it.
He hadn’t realized until that moment that he missed the
conversations of men. He liked women just fine but there was just
something about talking with other men to make you feel alive.

There were card games of all descriptions
and watching the money changing hands gave Dak hope that it
wouldn’t take quite so long to raise the capital he needed. Most of
the men played with more enthusiasm than skill. The evening
progressed smoothly until one burly miner stepped in front of
him.

“Did you need something?” Dak asked
quietly.

“Yeah, I need to kick your ass.”

“What did you say your name was? I need to
know who to contact.”

“Contact for what? You as stupid as you
look?”

The man was really starting to piss Dak off.
He expected a little territorial posturing from a few of the
self-proclaimed leaders. They needed to know how far they could
push the new guy in their world. So far a calm, cold look was all
it took to end the stare down. Until now. The sudden silence of the
once rowdy crowd told him this was his only chance to prove he
meant what he said.

“Your next of kin or someone who’s willing
to claim your body for burial.”

The miner laughed hard and loud. “Jack’s all
you need to know. You’re big, alright, and you talk mighty big but
we,” he indicated a table of his friends with a jerk of his head,
“don’t like bein’ told what to do. When I heard old Jamison call
you
boy
it got me to thinking. Is that what you are? A big,
overgrown
boy
? Does your mama know you’re out after dark,
boy
? Come on,
boy
; let’s see just how big and bad you
are. You’re the one gonna need burying.”

He lunged but Dak shifted to the side and
landed a blow to the back of the miner’s neck. Jack was out cold
before he hit the floor.

“You.” Dak pointed to the three men at
Jack’s
table. “Get your friend out of here and I don’t want
to see any of you back here again. Understood?”

The trio stumbled over each other in their
rush to leave.