Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (5 page)

Anatin’s Mercenary Deck
, Lynx reminded himself, glancing at Kas. She didn’t wear a jacket, but Deern indeed wore a stylised Jester of Blood, while the big man beside him bore the Knight of Blood.

‘Give it a rest, Anatin,’ Deern grumbled. ‘The boy don’t need any more help. Goat-shagging yokel’s been bleeding me all night as it is.’

‘I’ll keep talking ’til one of you does something more than stare at their bloody cards,’ Anatin replied. ‘Now, boy – what was yer name again? Fashail?’

The youth nodded.

‘Right, Fashail, you better show more balls than Deern or you’re no use to us. Modest bet on the table, options fer both o’ you. Deern will go to the hilt if he’s holding the rest o’ Jester’s own and he ain’t done that. What’s it going to be?’

‘Who gives a shit?’ said the unhappy black man abruptly. ‘It’s not his call yet.’

‘Course it ain’t, Himbel,’ Anatin exclaimed, ‘I just thought you’d fucking died or something, you’d been sat there so long. Thought Teshen had checked your hand and decided to put you out of your misery, all sneaky like.’

The dealer, Teshen, raised an eyebrow and snorted at his commander before returning to his vigil.

‘Play, you black bastard,’ Deern added. ‘What you waiting for? That finger to grow back? Hairs to appear on ya chest?’

‘I’m waiting for you to grow some manners,’ Himbel spat back, the twist of a grin on his face. ‘Some brains too. You
do
remember I’m the one who stitches you up after every bloody fight we get into, right? I know you’re a gutless shite, but that ain’t the only reason you scream louder’n the rest.’

‘I fucking knew it, you filthy son of a whore!’ Deern yelled, half-rising from his seat before the meaty paw of his huge friend grasped his arm. Deern flailed for a moment then was dragged inexorably back down.

‘Aye,’ Anatin commented, ‘you listen to Reft and keep that naughty tongue in check. There’s nice folks in this town who don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth. We know there’s bugger all chance of you bein’ quiet, but you’ll stow that crap until we’ve got the place to ourselves.’

Lynx gave Kas a look and she laughed.

‘Aye, Deern’s got a mouth on him – don’t get any better the more either of you drinks. But he comes along with Reft so …’ She shrugged and indicated the huge man, who was so big that even sitting quietly his value to the company was undeniable. ‘Time to time Deern gets a punch, shuts him up for a day an’ gives us some peace. You get used to not listening.’

‘You’re usually too busy—’ Deern’s spiteful little riposte was cut short by the big man again, Reft nudging his companion with one massive elbow hard enough to jolt the sentence loose in his mouth.

‘Stow it, the lot o’ you,’ Anatin proclaimed, ‘Himbel – make yer call or Teshen takes you out.’ He cackled cruelly. ‘Out o’ the game that is.’

‘I’ll raise,’ Himbel said at last, tossing a coin into the centre of the table where Teshen snapped it up quick as a snake.

Lynx felt a slight spark at that, noting well just how fast Teshen’s hands had moved.
No burner-fodder that one. Old enough to be an elite during the wars, too.

‘I’ll match,’ the shop boy, Fashail, said, quick enough that Deern gave him a sly smile as he also tossed a coin down.

‘Let’s see that last card then, Teshen,’ Deern snapped.

The dealer didn’t respond, just slipped the top card deftly over his thumb and revealed it to the table before placing it beside the others. He blinked his cold grey eyes. The Prince of Sun itself.

‘There I am,’ crowed Anatin, ‘come to fuck up your day once more, Deern!’ He thumped his fist on the table for emphasis, causing his own goblet to jump in the air and spill.

‘Be the only thing you’re able to fuck these days, old man. Last time we went—’

‘Oh just shut up, for the love of all five gods!’ Himbel groaned, head sinking down over his cards. ‘After this afternoon’s rants about how beetles are the wrong colour round here, why cheese makes you stupid and the merits of female goats over So Han whores, I’m going to shoot you in the face if you don’t shut the fuck up. Reft can do what he likes after, I’ll die a happy man knowing I shut you up first.’

The collected mercenaries all chuckled while Deern cursed under his breath and tossed three more coins down.

‘Shove these in your face, ya black bastard.’

‘I’ll kiss ’em as I collect your money,’ Himbel announced, matching the bet with all he had left. ‘How’s about you, boy, you in?’

Fashail nodded, tossed his remaining money down and set his cards on the table. They all leaned forward and for a moment silence reigned.

‘You little sod,’ Anatin breathed. ‘That’s a sneaky kind o’ luck right there.’

Both were picture cards, a contorted face with blood running from scratches down his cheek – the Madman of Blood – and a hooded figure with bloody tears – the Stranger of Blood. With the Jester on the table he had a run of three noble cards in Blood and that would win most hands.

Deern grunted and tossed his cards carelessly forward. Jester of Stars, sixteen of Sun – nothing that could beat Fashail’s. ‘Bastard.’

Anatin grinned at him then. ‘So, noble run of Blood for Fashail beats Deern’s pair. Don’t worry, boy, his pair have taken a fair beating over the years. Can you beat that, Himbel?’

The company surgeon shrugged and turned over his own cards. ‘So close,’ Himbel sighed, shaking his head. Two of Stars, eleven of Snow. It gave him a run of four cards – five, four, Jester, two – but given the spread of suits, he needed five cards to count.

Teshen tossed the shop boy half the coins for winning the show, then as one the mercenaries craned forward again to watch as he turned Banesh’s card. The God of Chance was represented in a deck of cards by the Tempest suit, so the card would only came into play if it was a Tempest. A third Jester wouldn’t win it for Deern, but a Madman or a one would make Himbel’s run into five cards. Lynx wasn’t the only one to smile as the Knight of Tempest appeared – in play, but of no use to anyone.

‘I’ll remember this, boy,’ Himbel said nastily, ‘if you ever need stitching up.’

The shop boy looked startled, but the other mercenaries just snickered at their surgeon’s words and if anything the man looked more cheerful now he was out of the game and able to concentrate on his drinking.

‘Don’t you mind him.’ Anatin laughed, reaching over the table to thump Fashail on the shoulder. ‘Himbel don’t know how to be happy, it’s been so long. He’s only comfortable when he’s losing, it’s all he knows.’

‘If you’ve all stopped kissing his arse,’ Kas declared, ‘maybe we can be dealt in now?’

She got a jumbled chorus of assorted curses and agreement from the mercenaries at the table, all of which she laughed off, while Teshen gave her a level look. Undaunted, she planted a loud kiss on the man’s pale cheek. That made the dealer crack a small smile at last and with a shake of his long hair he started to shuffle for the next hand.

It took Lynx an hour to be cleaned out, he was pleased to discover. Unlike most such groups, the mercenaries seemed to have adopted their commander’s love of the game itself rather than mad risks and aggressive bluster. He wasn’t enough of a fool to play for higher stakes, but other than bitter little utterances from Deern and Himbel, it proved a pleasant accompaniment to an evening of drink.

The neat, muscular frame of Kas half-draped across him ensured it was a better evening than he could remember having in a while. As a man used to his own company and little else, he didn’t speak often but no one demanded much of him and he was left in peace to observe their ways.

Eventually the number of players dwindled until the pot went to the tall, reserved woman at the far end. Only then did Lynx hear her name spoken, Payl, though by then it was clear she was Anatin’s second in command. With a certain ceremony she gathered the coins from the pot and stowed them in a pocket while Anatin stood and called for more wine.

‘Now, boys,’ the commander said gravely to the shop boys, ‘the stakes go up. You can play if you’ve got money in your pocket, but we’ll take it off you like as not, ya hear me? So unless you want to join up or become broke, now’s the time to head home.’

Payl, the winner, grunted at that and stood herself, draining her cup before gathering up her mail-stitched jacket. Only then did Lynx notice Fashail’s eyes follow her and Payl give a nod in the direction of the stairs leading up to the inn’s rooms. He smiled inwardly as the young man scrambled up, almost falling over his cousin in the process, and followed her.

‘Someone else winning tonight,’ Deern muttered, turning to the cousins. ‘You two want to try for our money? You played a good few hands there, just poor luck an’ that tends to turn when the stakes change.’

‘Shut up, Deern,’ the white-haired woman snapped, clipping him around the side of the head. ‘They ain’t got much and their luck ain’t changing all night – I can see that easy enough.’

‘You don’t see shit with that head o’ scrambled brains.’

Anatin raised a hand and the small man fell silent, rubbing the side of his head and scowling.

‘How about you, Lynx? You’re looking for work and we’ve always got space for new blood.’

‘I don’t do mercenary work no more,’ Lynx said carefully. ‘Not the best at taking orders these days.’

‘You’d be in fine company with half o’ these pox-ridden mules then.’ Anatin laughed. ‘Don’t stop them needing to earn some coin. I hear you ain’t so welcome in town and we’re the only folk with work to offer.’

‘Still not interested.’

‘Tell him about the job,’ Kas urged rather tipsily, prodding Lynx in the shoulder and pointing at Anatin. ‘Not usual merc stuff.’

‘True, it’s a rescue,’ Anatin confirmed. ‘We’re heading there now, out Grasiel way. Some small-time landowner didn’t like getting no for an answer. We took some losses in our last job and could do with the numbers. You’ve seen action, Lynx, that much is clear. The young ’uns can sign on recruit wages, but experience and a mage-gun buys you a named man’s wage.’

Lynx was quiet a moment. Grasiel stood at the heart of a region of interweaving river valleys, every landowner sat in their toy castle on a hillside and ruling over a tiny fiefdom. They spent half their time feuding with each other – it was places like that where he’d become sickened by mercenary work. Petty squabbles leading to stolen crops, poor folk burned out of their homes, or the brief skirmish between a few dozen pretend soldiers. A man of Lynx’s skills and few morals could make a good living there, but not Lynx. He had no illusions about settling down with a farm and a family, that just wasn’t in his nature, but there were still choices he had no intention of making.

‘Where you escorting her to?’

‘Chines. Father’s a merchant there. Used to do the trade routes through Grasiel, it’s where the baron saw his daughter. Barely fifteen, so I’m told, just a slip of something.’

‘Fifteen? Won’t be a virgin by the time he gets her back then.’

Anatin shrugged. ‘Man’s no fool; I guess he’s just ignoring that bit. Wants his daughter home safe, is all – he’s not a nobleman anyway, so probably ain’t too bothered there.’

‘Chines, eh?’ Lynx paused. ‘Means you’ve got to round Shadows Deep. You’re not proposing to cross the ruins, right?’

‘No reason we should. Any soldiers come out after us, we ambush ’em before we have to cross Shadows Deep. Life’ll be pretty hard before I go anywhere near any ancient ruin. I’m no treasure hunter or errant knight and it’s not like any Militant Order patrols those valleys, no presence we couldn’t handle.’

Lynx sighed and shook his head. He really did need to move on and his purse was light enough that he couldn’t just wait until a job crossed his path.

‘Fine, I’m in.’ He stood and gathered his bag. ‘Unless I change my mind when the drink’s worn off. See you in the morning.’

As Kas hopped up beside him and took his arm, Anatin chuckled filthily.

‘I can live with hoping you’re in a good mood come morning, aye. We’re on the road an hour after dawn – ah, wait, one thing we got to do first. If you’re coming on as a named man, that is.’

Lynx hesitated, old instincts kicking in as his hand itched for a weapon. ‘Which is?’ he said cautiously, making sure he could see the whole table of mercenaries.

‘We work out where you are in the order o’ cards,’ the commander said, nodding towards the white-haired woman, Estal. ‘Our seer assigns the cards to everyone in the company. Guessing Fashail will be, heh, something
under
the Knight of Sun given that’s Payl, but you’re a veteran so you might get a picture all o’ your own.’

Estal reached out a hand to Lynx, who took it after a moment’s effort to relax his muscles. That close he could see the scars at her hairline – not a sparker burn or anything, but a jagged wound that had to have brought her close to death. He’d heard of folk granted second sight after such injuries, but never before met one.

‘Ah, now that’s a soul to suit us,’ Estal murmured, eyes closed. With her free hand she waved blindly until Teshen placed the deck in her hand. She spread the cards with her fingers, fanning them in a wide mess as Lynx felt his hand grow oddly warm.

‘Yes, there you are.’ Estal opened her eyes and released Lynx. They both looked down at the table at the cards under her hand. Both their eyes went straight to one particular card under her thumb and Lynx felt a chill run down his spine at the sight.

Estal raised the card to show the rest of the table. ‘No doubt for this one – Stranger o’ Tempest.’

Anatin growled. ‘You going to be more trouble than you’re worth, Lynx? That’s the Vagrim card. Always messes up my hands when it’s dealt.’

‘Vagrim?’ Deern snorted. ‘That bloody myth? Hells above, bunch of old women the lot of you.’

Lynx met Anatin’s eyes and attempted a mysterious smile.
You call it the Vagrim card, eh? More right than you’ll ever know.
He avoided glancing down at the silver ring on his finger, the mark of the Vagrim to others of that nebulous, disparate brotherhood.

‘See you in the morning then.’

Tyn opened the door and the back of her head exploded. The mercenaries threw themselves back as more detonations fractured the night. White streaks of icers burst across the darkened room – punching through walls and leaving their wraith trails hanging in the air. Splinters rained down, beams burst open. Before Tyn’s corpse could fall another icer smashed through her arm, half-frozen blood rattling against the wall behind.