“What the hell was that about?” Green asked.
Bones put one of his giant paws on the boy's shoulders again. “Don't worry about it, kid. Black Thorn always gets all wordy when it comes ta killin' like that.”
The hideout, if you could call it that, was on the outskirts of Korral. It was little more than a derelict wooden hut that Bones had found on their first day in town. Of course, what Bones meant when he'd said, '
found
' was that he'd chucked the previous occupants, a couple of old beggars, out on their arses with a sound kicking. The result was the same, they got themselves a rat and lice infested place to hide with four walls and a patchy roof to keep out at least some of the rain. Betrim always found it funny how rain didn't bother a man until he had a roof to keep it off him, then it seemed a right nuisance.
Bones had sat himself down, his large frame managing to fill one of the few dry spots, and started cleaning the flesh off the newest bits of his collection. Rats darted forwards to collect the scraps of discarded meat, coming ever closer as they decided Bones was a meal ticket instead of a threat.
Green paced about the place making stabbing motions with his dull, cheap sword. He hadn't even bothered to clean the blood off the blade. Boys like that didn't last long in the game.
Swift was perched near the window, practising some slight-of-hand trick he'd learned from a thief who'd tried to pick his pocket. It seemed to involve making a gold coin disappear up his sleeve. Betrim could think of much better uses for a gold bit.
The door slammed open making Green jump for the rafters and point his sword towards the sound. The Boss ignored him and sauntered his way into the room before sitting down on the one and only bed. Henry followed the Boss in, closing the door then eyeing the crew with savage scrutiny.
“Job went well, lads,” the Boss said cracking a metallic grin.
Henry threw one small purse at Betrim and another smaller one at Green. She dropped a third into Bones' lap making his growing audience of rat admirers scatter, and handed a fourth to Swift. Swift grabbed at the purse and held Henry's hand with it.
“How 'bout a bonus, Henry?” he leered into her face.
Henry smiled, as sweet a smile as can be possible with a nasty scar from cheek to lip anyways, and took a step forwards, her hips swinging. She pressed herself up close to Swift and brought her knee up into his groin.
“Hard an' fast. Jus' the way I like it.” She spat on him and then, with more grace than the average cat, deposited herself on the bed next to the Boss.
“Your lovin' caress is as cruel as ever, Henry,” Swift groaned from the floor as he rolled about, laughing through the pain. Best way to get through a knee to the stones Betrim reckoned. You either laugh or cry and tears would get you no-where in this crowd.
“Boss, I got a problem,” Betrim spoke from the section of wall he'd taken to leaning against. A good spot of wall, nice and dry.
“The Arbiter,” the Boss growled, his bright eyes going hard in his dark face.
“Aye,” Betrim growled back. “If that prick from the job recognised me, chances are others will.”
“Might be time we all moved on for a spell,” the Boss said with a nod. “Reckon that last target was blooded by the look o' her. Reckon her family might come lookin' fer those that did her. Best we skip town whiles we can. Good?”
Betrim nodded. “Good.”
The Blademaster
Jezzet watched the river. She watched the waters moving along their lazy course. She watched the froth where the water rushed over rocks. She watched a fish battling its way up stream, an eternal struggle against the current. It felt peaceful, not a word she often associated with anything in her life.
Here in the forest, among the sparse trees, all jutting up reaching for the sky their branches thrusting in random directions, some growing downwards to grace the earth, some upwards towards the hot sun, others twisting and coiling around themselves. Here in the forest everything felt calm.
She started walking again, following the river up-stream. You wouldn't have thought it to look at its lazy waters but, Jezzet knew, a long way away the river joined up with the furious Jorl; a crazy, thrashing mess of white rapids and currents that whipped in all directions at once. A person could get reduced to a bloody, messy pulp in moments in the Jorl. She'd seen it, witnessed it first hand, not something she'd like to experience.
The noise of the river made Jezzet smile. Not too loud, and not too quiet; it was almost like a thousand tiny waterfalls all joining together in one chorus. Nice smell too; clean water, clean earth, clean trees. A far cry from the greasy, rancid stink that accompanied larger settlements, all smoke and waste.
Here a woman could almost make a decent life for herself, Jez... you know if not for the wild animals and occasional bandits.
Jezzet tried not to think about those things, best just to keep on thinking happier thoughts. Dream of bandits and they'd no doubt appear. Much like dreaming of a fight.
Shame dreaming of coin never makes it appear though.
She saw something that didn't belong sticking out of the earth near a tree. A jagged strip of rusted metal half buried in the ground. An ancient sword. No doubt this forest was the site of some old, glorious battle. Seemed everywhere people went, glorious battles weren't far behind. Jezzet had seen plenty of battles; she'd yet to see a glorious one though. In her experience they were all just messy and painful and full of blood and shit. Still, it couldn't hurt to have a look at the sword.
Jezzet started towards the antique. As she stepped in front of a large oak she heard something, only for a moment, only when the tree blocked out most of the sound from the river but she definitely heard... something. Could have been a bird in the bush somewhere, Gods knew there were enough birds but...
Always best to be cautious, better to be cautious and wrong than careless and dead.
She stopped by the ancient sword and gave it a poke with her foot; still sturdy but rusted beyond use. Jezzet looked around, as if searching for other artefacts, scanning the trees, the bushes for any sign of the noise she had heard. Nothing. Nothing made her more nervous than something. Nothing usually meant something while something had a habit of being nothing.
She picked a direction away from the river, tightened the straps on her backpack and started walking. There were no leaves in the trees this time of year; they were all long since littering the dry earth, dead and rotting. Would make it hard to be silent should anything be following her; hard but not impossible.
Not ten paces and she heard something else; sounded like padded feet moving on leaves. That was all she needed, to be set upon by a pack of wild dogs. What a wonderful end that would make to Jezzet Vel'urn, torn apart by a pack of mongrels, alone in a forest. Not many would weep. Not many would care.
Shit, it could be worse, could be...
“Dangerous place fer a women t' be all alone,” came a voice from somewhere in front of her.
...bandits.
The owner of the voice stepped out from behind a large tree not ten paces ahead, a large grey wolf snarled at her from the man's side. He was tall and skinny, with a distinct unwashed appearance about him; long greasy hair, yellowing teeth, dirty leathers for clothing.
Why do all bandits look the same? Is there some sort of dress code like those fancy balls the blooded folk throw?
She'd been to a couple of those balls, turns out she scrubbed up quite well when she bothered to wash, something to do with a pretty face and full figure. Didn't make her any friends among the blooded women though.
There was a rustling of some bushes to Jezzet's left and another man stepped into view and moved to stand next to the first. He grinned a yellow grin at her.
“That dog o' yers a'ways sniffs the bes' fun,” said the second man, as unwashed and uneducated as the first. Not that Jezzet could claim to be the best learned person around, or the cleanest for that matter. Truth was she could have used a bath.
Jezzet sighed. In her experience situations such as these ended one of two ways; fighting or fucking, and if you lost the fight you were going to get fucked anyway. Two on one odds were dangerous no matter what situation you were in. Hell one on one odds were more than dangerous enough as far as Jezzet was concerned.
“Very dangerous place ta be,” the dog man said, licking his cracked lips with a brown tongue.
Think of something smart to say, Jez.
“Do you live near here?”
Yeah, good one. Next ask 'em how they like their eggs cooking.
“She's alone,” came a voice from behind, “checked all round, no one about.” Jezzet craned her head round to look behind her. The man was a huge, bald, black-skinned bear with beady, little eyes. How he'd managed to sneak up on her was beyond her understanding.
Now the odds were three on one, four if you counted the wolf, which she did, and Jezzet liked them not at all. Did she fight and risk dying, or fuck and risk a wounded pride and catching whatever they were carrying. She was half way to dropping her trousers when her right hand found her sword and drew it from its sheath.
“HA!” shouted the second man. “I likes 'em with a bit o' fight, saves me 'aving ta smack 'em ta git 'em movin'”
Well at least I know fighting was the right choice.
“Fight?” The dog man laughed. “Look at 'er, shakin' like week-long drunk.”
He wasn't wrong. The shakes always seemed to come on at the worst possible times.
No chance of bluffing my way out of this now, I guess.
“Could still cut 'er a bit,” said the second man, a nasty gleam in his eyes.
“Say what ya want, Pol,” said the dog man, “I'm first.”
“Ya wen' first las' time,” the second man complained.
“An' I'm goin' first again.”
Jezzet slipped her backpack off and turned her head to look at the giant behind her, hard to keep all three of them in view, at least he was keeping some distance. “You don't wanna wade in? Happy to be sloppy third are you?” she asked him.
“Shut it whore!” the dog man roared at her; seemed he had a temper. “He gets whatever we don't want. You say one more word an' the dog goes first!”
“I'd prefer the dog to you.”
Good one, Jez. Real smart.
The dog man roared and started towards her, short sword drawn. He took one meaty swing and Jezzet dodged to the left and thrust with her own slim sword at the same time. The dog man, teetered for a moment and then dropped, dead before he hit the floor. Jezzet's blade had entered his neck and separated his spine from his head.
The dog was the first to react; it bound towards Jezzet and leapt at her, teeth bared and a nasty snarl issuing forth from its snarling maw.
“Shit!” Jezzet squeaked as she leapt left again slashing out with her blade in a wild arc. The dog landed and crumpled among a pile of twigs. She had no idea what part of it she had hit but it must have been vital.
Never fought a dog before... or a bear!
The black giant had closed on her and swung with a heavy fist. Jezzet dodged backwards right into the waiting arms of the second man. His beefy limbs wrapped around her and held her tight, too late she realised that her sword had slipped from her hands and lay at her feet. She hadn't realised how big the man was before, one of his arms wrapped round her whole body with ease.
“Now I git ta go first,” the man said from behind her, his hot, wet breath on her neck, his rancid smell in her nostrils. He took one hand away and reached down in between her body and his. Jezzet heard him fumbling with his belt buckle.
Not a chance!
She flung her head backwards and felt it connect with the man's nose, something warm and wet splashed against her hair but still the man did not let go. She threw her head back again and was rewarded by a crunching noise and freedom. Jezzet didn't wait. She rolled, picked up her sword and thrust. She caught the man in his groin, just below his belt. He roared in pain through his shattered face and thrashed but the next thrust took him through the heart.
The big black giant stared on in shock. Jezzet reached behind her head with one hand and it came back bloody, the second man's face was broken and crushed but the stinging told Jezzet some of the blood was hers.
The giant unhooked a large wooden club from his belt and swished it through the air in a menacing fashion. He had the strength to use it too. One hit from that club and Jezzet knew she'd snap like a twig.
“I suppose fucking is out of the question now?” Jezzet laughed at him.
Yes, taunt the giant why don't you.
“You ain't gotta be live fer it.”
“That's... urgh,” Jezzet said just before the man came at her swinging.
She dropped to the ground, flat on the earth as the blow swung overhead. Then Jezzet pushed with her feet, trying to get behind the giant. Her feet slipped in the leaves and she went no-where. A moment later a heavy boot connected with her stomach and sent her flying. She slashed out with her sword as the force of the kick propelled her before coming to a rolling stop next to the body of the dog man. He smelled just as bad in death as she imagined he had in life.
The giant grinned and took a step forwards, then his leg collapsed as hot, wet blood gushed from a large slash in his thigh. He took less than a minute to die, gasping and screaming right until the end.
A fight, but no fucking today, it seems.
Jezzet wasted no time in searching the bodies. Corpses don't need money or food but she did. It was then she noticed that each man had a red cloth tied around his right arm. They weren't bandits, they were soldiers, or at least as close as it came in these parts.
There's only one place round here soldiers would be headed... Time to go warn him, Jez.
“By I live an' breathe, Jezzet Vel'urn. Reckoned you'd make it at least a week before coming crawling back this time.”
Jezzet stepped through the gateway, glancing at the heavy gate and the soldiers on either side then spat into the dirt, staring a vicious hole through the man in front of her.
