About "TT" the Author:
TT has been writing fantasy stories, scripts, poems and fanfic since her early teens and hopes to be a published writer one day. This story is her first in the warhammer world and also the first of a series of stories she is currently halfway through writing.
When Talon had to leave Broken Paths in a hurry all the future seems to have in store is a life of aimless wandering, however a chance meeting hints that fate has other ideas. Two axe wielding dwarves and a rampant halfling with no scruples to speak of are hardly the companions of choice but when beastmen, muggers and the forces of chaos enter the fray such friends are a matter of necessity rather than choice. And Talon is about to learn that the past left behind in Broken Paths isn't as far behind as Talon might have wished...
In Strange Company
All starts so small.
Spring to Sea.
Seed to tree.
Boy to Man
Girl to Woman
All things start small,
even heroes.
Chapter One
“Beware the road my friend least you too become well travelled."
It was the last days of winter. The rolling green and brown ocean of Great Forest was cast into a lifeless grey by the rain. It fell on the trees, on the intersecting and winding rivers, on the occasional jutting hill and, in the clearings hewn by axe or toppled by the fall of giant oaks, it fell on to the dark rich earth. This was one such clearing, large enough to encompass a few hills and support fields for crops and grass for sheep, enough to feed just one village.
The collection of rambling dwellings was tiny, barely big enough to warrant the name village more an assortment of wood structures huddled together for company out of the trees. Dirt tracks led from house to house in a series of haphazard paths in the lush grass, fat geese gabbled as they made their way under the animal fences and out to pasture. It was just another forgotten village built on the crossing of some ten paths into the forest, some ten well used paths.
Broken Paths had a habit of spawning travellers, boys growing into manhood in that confinement often felt the need to escape into the wider world. Few ever came back, and those that did bought tales that would send the next generation scurrying out for adventure leaving mothers and sisters worrying after them shaking their heads as the trees swallowed them up as if they had never been born. At the crossroads a good walk from the final house many had said goodbye for the last time, it was traditional and in Broken Paths tradition was everything.
So it was at the crossroads that Mother Shepherd finally stopped and sighed. ‘Tradition‘, thought the old woman with contempt, drawing her already soaked shawl further round her shoulders, ‘tradition always caused trouble‘. It was because of tradition that her husband had refused to come here with her today, it was because of tradition that he had forbidden her sons from walking with her, he had said that if she insisted on seeing off ‘the stray’ that she would do it alone. She sighed again and forced a smile, trying to keep her voice cheerful, even though her heart sank low in her breast.
“Here we are then.” Her companion said nothing, and then.
“I have left my crook on my…on the bed in the spare room Mother Shepherd. Jethro will be needing it in the spring.”
“Yes he is nearly tall enough to use it, it will not be long.” A pause, “You have everything?” It was idle conversation, they had both checked the pack several times that morning, and it was already heavier than most of the men would have been able to carry.
“Yes.”
“Your blankets.”
“Yes.”
“Your…sword.” The weapon was pulled from beneath the pack for inspection in one smooth movement, a heavy staff with a knotted end momentarily shifted to the other hand. Mother Shepherd eyed the sword carefully, she did not approve of swords in general but she doubted if bandits would feel the same.
“I see.” The sword was returned in another fluid arc of the arm. Mother Shepherd had always wondered how someone so big could move with such careful grace. She twisted yet another knot in the cotton folds of her apron skirts holding the fabric awkwardly in both hands, wringing out more water as she did so. Another pause, this time longer, around them the hush of the rain as it hit the grass.
“I…I am doing the right thing Mother Shepherd.”
The old woman sighed and nodded. Her companion was not questioning, they had discussed this well past the point of questions, it was meant as reassurance but for whom she was not sure.
“You cannot stay here Tal.” Talon, her companion, flinched at the words. The old woman fought back the emotion, softened her voice, she had not meant the words to sound so hard. “No matter how much we wish otherwise, you can’t changed who you are and what is done…is done.”
The traveller gripped the staff tighter, beneath the massive hands wood groaned as if it would break. The face under the hood of the cape was pale and worried. Mother Shepherd reached up to rest a rough work worn hand on Talon’s scarred cheek.
“Your mother and father would be proud of you, maybe even your father would have done the same at one time…In fact I‘m sure he would have.” She paused and withdrew the hand. “I am proud of you too my child, remember that.”
“I will.” The face lifted one broad arm was wrapped round the old woman, and they hugged for the last time. Water from the hood tapped gently on the old woman’s nose and mingled with the last sad tears of parting. Finally Mother Shepherd stepped back and folded her hands.
“Go on be off with you.” For a moment she thought Talon was not going to go, but finally her companion turned and ambled off down one of the dirt tracks into the dark all encompassing forest.
Back on the crossroads Mother Shepherd did not move until the trees had finally absorbed the broad shoulders and wide pack into the darkness beyond, only then did she turn back to the village. Home was bare save for Jethro, who had already found the shepherd’s crook and was clumsily practicing with it in the kitchen. Mother Shepherd watched for a while without really seeing him. Already in her head she mused the fate not of one of her nine sons but of Talon…her only daughter.
Chapter Two
“Who can say what man may have achieved had he chosen a different path.”
The caravans came as the sun began to dip it‘s flaming head towards the horizon. From their markings they belonged to merchants and, save a tinker or two who had elected to tag on the end, were dull and heavily loaded with wares…and guards. This was deep into the heart of the Great Forest the closest town at least four days ride away, banditry was rife and the law descended to something below the code of thieves. The road however was regularly patrolled, something established by groups of merchants who had lost too many caravans over the years, and the soldiers were relaxed. They talked and joked away the miles on carts and horses, passing ale skins between them as below the animals whickered and skittered at the forest depths. On the carts essentials such as pots and pans were tied on the sides along with some of the larger wares and in the case of the tinkers small silver bells, the resulting noise was deafening.
High up in the depths of the oak, Talon Forester finished setting the last of the string traps and descended a few branches with the slow careful grace that marked much of her movement. She sighed and once again tried to pull closed the worn leather jerkin that was threatening to burst at the seams. Already over abundant muscles had multiplied swiftly on her massive frame in the months since she had left Broken Paths. Life on the road was hard. Not that a shepherd’s life had been much easier she thought, casually fingering the deep scar that ran jaw to eye marring her hard features.
None would have called Talon a beautiful woman but before the scar and after a heavy-duty bath a few may have called her handsome. Red hair the colour of autumn leaves, or as some would have it the colour of newly spilt blood, was scraped back in a ponytail that reached almost to her waist. Weather tanned skinned contrasted well with a pair of ice blue eyes that stared out at the world. Muscles fought for space on the thick frame as it slid easily from movement to movement through the branches.
Settling in the nook where she had jammed her pack she pulled out a glutinous leaf cake and mused over the last few months. There was no doubt she had been travelling relentlessly pushing a pace that had taken her far from the crossroads of her home. The local bandits had been little trouble helped by the strange mixture of her threadbare appearance and assorted weaponry, even a small party of soldiers had elected to stay clear.
Recently she had started to debate where to go from here, and what to do as her travels so far had been aimless, her need only to be away from somewhere, and she felt keenly a lack of purpose. The forest’s leafy folds appealed to her sense of spirit and her deep love of Rhya, Goddess of the Earth. She also knew that even the mother Goddess would not protect her from freezing to death if she had not given thought to building shelter or moving into a town by the time winter came. Money was also proving difficult, absentmindedly she shook the small pouch containing her funds, a few coins clinked together morosely. As of yet she had spent nothing on her travels living entirely off of the abundance of the forest as her father had taught her, but she knew she would have to spend some soon. ‘Most likely on clothes’ she thought with vague annoyance and tugged once more at the open waistcoat.
Ripping off a large hunk of the nutritious rubbery cake, which unfortunately contained more taste than Talon would have liked, she leaned back and waited for the caravan train to pass and the birds to settle back into the tree and her awaiting traps. She amused herself for the time being by examining the merchant carts and guessing their cargo. As the procession went ambling on her attention gradually shifted from the snaking carts to the soldier’s whickering horses. Her chewing became slower the more she watched the beasts as they skittered and danced over the hard surface of the road. Talon had spent the best part of her life around animals in one form or another and she knew the signs. After a few minutes of thoughtful chewing she spat out the leaf cake, drew a sling from her belt and, wiping a hand on a grubby shirt, palmed a few small stones. These horses were frightened, and when soldier’s horses were frightened the soldiers should be too. In the heights of the tree Talon waited for trouble. She did not have to wait long.
Shrubbery exploded on either side of the path as something dark and horned took out the throat of an idle guard. Horses screamed and tried to bolt with the carts as the drivers whipped their charges up into a frenzy. A few managed to flee before the monsters thought to bring down the lead horses and block the road. Screams began as the Beastmen piled onto the track.
Talon’s heart froze in her chest, she had been expecting bandits or bears, not monsters from old bar tales. All in Broken Paths had heard the tales, stories from men who had discovered small pockets of evil in places all over the Empire, some who had brought tales from war and many a drunken boast once she had hit her teens, but this! They had never described the variation, more like the body parts of random creatures and demons had been melded together by some mad God than real born things. They had never described the eyes which, even from the distance, burnt with bloodlust and malignant intention. They had never described the smell, she gagged as something between temple jacks and a corpse pit hit her nose. For a moment she considered quietly climbing down the tree and creeping away, so great was her fear that she almost reached behind for her bag. Then something with the head of a goat and the body of a man took the throat out of a carthorse before moving onto the occupants, it was a tinker’s caravan, and there were probably children hiding in its depths, that thought alone pushed through the fear.
Talon’s face hardened. She leaned forward her breath shaking on her lips, loaded a stone in the sling with trembling hands and began to turn the weapon. As the whirling leather became a blur the strap released and a round river stone flew out, fast as a pistol shot, hitting the raging creature in the middle of it’s forehead with a dull smack and bursting through it‘s skull in a shower of bone fragments and blood. It fell hard from the caravan step, a thin line of dark liquid leaking from the fresh wound. As one of it’s companions spun to see it fall another stone caught the second beast in the throat, blood and gristle exploded showering the frightened guards.
As Talon began to reload the tree shook, the stone fell, bouncing off trunk and bough to the ground. Cursing she leant out of the branches and peered down the trunk. Through the thick foliage three pairs of nightmare red eyes stared straight back up, it had not taken the things long to work out where the shots were coming from.
Her mouth went dry as one began to climb. The thing had bird claws rather than feet and was climbing the tree with speed, a head that would have looked better on a ram swayed to keep her in view. Shivering, praying and cursing in equal measures she pulled her sword from beneath her bag and used the thick blade to hack off some of the smaller branches unsure whether she was hoping to deprive her enemy of handholds or knock it off the tree with a shower of debris. It was still staring up even though the falling limbs smashed against it’s head on the way down. Bestial screaming drifted up from below but Talon dared not take her eyes off of the climbing creature, she could only hope that the debris had caught one of its brethren below.
With a howl that turned her blood to ice and a speed she would never have thought of such an awkward form the thing lurched into range, saliva dripped from its yellowing teeth and hot breath hissed through the bulging nose. Talon judged wildly then slashed downwards with all her might, the blow slicing a superficial cut on it’s shoulder. She struck again and managed to hack the tip of one of the horns. On the third strike however the thing grabbed the blade casually and wrenched it out of her sweat soaked hands letting the weapon drop to the ground along with at least one of it’s fingers. Swearing Talon backed up her mind spinning, Gods these things didn’t care what happened to them. She had barely a second before the thing came over into the nest of branches where she knelt, her staff was tied up in her backpack and there was not enough room to swing a cat. As a last resort she freed her belt knife and, when the thing put an arm over the junction of branches in which she was perched, she grabbed the limb, yanked upwards with all of her strength and buried her knife deep in the jelly of an eye. Agonized screaming erupted from the thing, it grabbed at the decimated eye with its free hand and realized it’s mistake too late. Talon released her hold on the beast and sent it bouncing down the trunk, bones snapping as it went.
She looked only when she heard the finial sickening snap of it’s impact with the ground and was greeted with the sight of the creature laying limp and broken below her. Cautiously she looked for other two Beastmen terror still throbbing through her body. For one gut wrenching moment she thought they must have climbed the tree while her attention was diverted, then she heard their snarling screams off beyond the line of branches that obscured her vision. Something else caught her eye. Below buried in the soft forest sod was her sword. A keen longing for the weapon woke in her breast. She knew it was her only real chance against the two monsters, she also knew she would have to go after the weapon before the things came back. As Talon reached behind to free her staff the tree shook again. Below the screams grew, twinned with low gravely curses in a language she didn’t understand. Almost fearing to see what was climbing after her now she leaned over the edge of her perch again.
One of the Beastmen, back against the tree, screamed as someone short but heavily armed put an axe through it’s chest. All Talon could see of the axe wielder from this angle was a great black beard and a lot of chain mail but she guessed by the squat build, the beard and the guttural obscenities her rescuer was a dwarf. He turned as the first Beastman fell, his axe trailing gore and bile with the things internal organs caught firmly round the spike at the top, and charged at something just out of sight, disappearing behind the screen of tree branches once again.
Talon grabbed her pack and scrambled down the tree in a desperate rush for her fallen sword and a chance to witness the outcome of the retreating battle. For a moment she couldn’t see the fight but as she pulled her sword from the grasp of the earth screams broke out to her left and the dwarf came into view again, his back to her. The second Beastman was missing an arm and seemed to be in frenzy, blood foamed on it’s lips and a snake like tail whipped behind it. As it lunged the dwarf neatly step sideways and brought the crest of the axe down on the thing’s neck, cleaving off the head like beheading a thistle and showering himself and nearby foliage with oily black blood.
The scene was pure carnage, unidentifiable pieces of gore were strewn over the grass and the head of the Beastman glared up accusingly from the undergrowth. For a moment she could almost see her limbs in their stead, what might have been had the dwarf not been there. A long drop of cold sweat trickled down her back.
The dwarf stood nearby with his back to her, cleaning his axe on the foliage. Talon sheathed her sword and took a step forwards to give thanks for his help but before she could call out the bushes started to rustle. She spun round as a small girl tore into sight for a few seconds before once more disappearing into the undergrowth. The dwarf forgotten, Talon ran after the child not sure if she was chasing to stop her becoming Beastman fodder or to get away from whatever the girl was running from. As movement started behind her intentions quickly switched to the later as desperation doubled her speed.
She crashed through the undergrowth branches slapping her face and brambles tearing at her clothes. The child soon disappeared in the thick foliage and when Talon finally reached a clearing in the woods the girl was gone altogether. In front of her a sheer cliff soared up towering high above the tree line, curving round to provide a natural basin. The rustling behind got closer and, momentarily forgetting the child, Talon pulled herself up the nearest tree, scraping an arm on the rough bark. There was not even time to draw her sling before her pursuer burst out into the open.
The dwarf surged into the clearing covered in the dark beast blood and brandishing his axe. In her chest Talon’s heart began beating again as the hordes of monsters failed to materialise. She called out. The dwarf stood blinking in the sudden light trying to trace the source of the noise before peering up into the branches of the tree. He lowered the axe.
“What ya’ doin’ up there Miss.” The voice was low and heavy and the language spoke as if it was not his first tongue. She swung down from the branches laughing in relief.
“Running away from a four foot Beastman.”
Now that she could see him face on rather than from the top she took stock of the dwarf. He was quite tall for one of the low race and even for a dwarf seemed to have an excess of armour. Where there was not plate there was mail, and where there was not mail there was a choice of either leather or of the great black beard. The little she could see of his face looked tanned and weather worn and a meaty hand held an axe that was at least half as big as he was.
“And ya’ friend.” Talon looked up just in time to see a tiny dirty foot disappear into the branches above her, a voice cursed and the child appeared.
“Yarda, big jobs.”
Something about the child seemed wrong. The face was the right size but the features looked older somehow and as she climbed down the tree Talon noticed the body shape was not quite right either, too much round the hips and chest. Like Talon the girl wore britches, shirt and waistcoat, but unlike Talon’s mud browns and greys her clothes were vibrantly coloured and embroidered within an inch of their lives. Peacocks danced on the back of the waistcoat and a belt of red silk held several daggers at her waist.
The girl paused on the lowest branch to shake the twigs out of her blonde hair and glanced nonchalantly down at Talon.
“What’s the matter biggin’. You never seen a halfling before?” Talon shook her head dumbly.
“Mores the pity for you!” She gave her hair one final shake and bounded down from the branch to land with catlike finesse on the ground.
“You the one shooting from the trees.” enquired the girl one thin eyebrow raised.
“Yes.”
“Good. Those bastards took out my entire caravan.” Talon stared in shock, surely there had been enough guards to handle the few monsters left. She remembered the tinkers.
“Everyone’s dead.”
“Cept for those smart enough to make a run for it in the covering fire.”
“But there were guards.” stammered Talon open mouthed.
The dwarf snorted loudly in amusement at this statement and then stopped and took a longer sniff, the halfling wrinkled her nose in distaste. At the base of her spine Talon felt the shivers begin again.
“Beastmen?” Both dwarf and halfling nodded their heads in unison and the dwarf slung his axe over his shoulder.
“Lots of the bastards, better get out of here.” Talon frowned in confusion.
“I thought dwarfs liked combat?” He scowled slightly, gimlet bright eyes already working their way round the cliff top.
“Combats one thing miss, suicides another. I‘m not a bloody slayer.”
To Talon there was no way out of the curving basin, behind them into the forest they would have to cut their way through monsters and in front of them loomed the impossible cliff. The dwarf however was not phased by mere rock and with the aid of a grappling hook he soon had a rope firmly secured on a small ledge halfway up the rock face. On his insistence Talon went first hauling herself hastily up the thick rope. The dwarf was quick to follow as the first faint sounds of pursuit began to filter through the trees, the halfling somehow managed to hitch a ride on his back. It was a heavy climb before Talon hauled herself over the top and collapsed on the dry rock of the ledge, hands red raw from the rough rope. As her breath steadied she rolled onto her knees and looked down over the edge.
The things were out of the woods, stalking towards the rope snarling and growling with murderous intent. Even from this distance she could see the dark brown stains of drying blood on their flanks and traces of gore on the snouts. They stared upwards with gluttonous eyes, it was only a matter of time before they decided to climb. Below her two companions were barely halfway up the rock face the dwarf steadfastly hauling himself and the halfling up the rope, fist after fist, with an air of concentration. They would never reach the top before the creatures reached the rope.
Talon looked around desperately, she was out of small stones and hurling her staff down would only give them something to throw back at the climbers, she needed something, anything that they couldn‘t pick up. Her frantic eye soon fell on the only other thing on the ledge, a number of large rocks from an earlier slope failure. They looked heavy she mused that surely even three or four of the Beastmen wouldn’t be able to toss them high enough to poise a risk to the climbers.
Grunting she tested one of the largest for weight, she could just lift it. With an air of concentration and a prayer to Rhya she locked her arms and hoisted it onto her broad chest. Gods it was heavy and difficult to get a firm grip on, if she dropped it too soon it would likely roll off the cliff and squash the climbers. Cold sweat started under her arms as she took two tottering steps to the cliff edge, the rough surface of the stone scraped her skin and her lungs burned as she moved ever so slowly sideways to clear the climbers. Her arms shook now as she shifted the stone up higher, the weight crushing at her ribs, and hurled it over the ledge with a yell.
The rock fell with thuggish grace, bouncing and bounding over the steep slope of the cliff face. On the ground below there was a moment of crowded confusion as the monsters desperately tried to flee but to no avail. There came the unmistakable crunch of bone and flesh as the bolder hit the panicking mass at the bottom of the slope crushing many beyond recognition beneath its weight. As the remainder once again surged forward for the rope another smaller rock sent them scattering backwards. Small piggy eyes turned upwards, unbridled hatred scored in their depths. On the third attempt to reach the rope and the last of the good sized stones from Talon the things finally scattered back into the forest snarling their rage from the safety of the tree line.
“That’s enough miss.” Talon almost lost her footing on the ledge in surprise. Beside her stood the dwarf, the rope now hung from his hand, behind him the halfling stared down at the mess below.
“What are you part ox?” She said eyeing the mess of flesh under the first rock with an air of jovial approval. Talon shrugged and pushed the long red hair from her eyes. She was breathing hard and shivering, the cold sweat of pure terror had soaked her shirt drawing the warmth from her body and blood ran freely down her arms from the rock scrapes.
“What’s your name?” Asked the halfling, still looking at the boulder in the clearing below.
“Talon Forester.” The halfling straightened, flashed her a grin and held out a tiny hand.
“Well Talon I’m Pebble Shortwell, Bawd of Altdorf, but you can call me Pebbs.” Talon frowned.
“Sorry…Bored of…?”
“Not bored, Bawd a kind of town guide.” The dwarf finished gathering in the rope and snorted at the description.
“The kind that guides those with too much coin and too little sense to brothels and drug dens.” Pebbs took a bow, smiling broadly at the sordid portrayal of her work.
“And you are?
“Grax Gorimson Grimnir, militiaman in the Brigade of the Blood Axe.”
“No wonder you know so much about bawds.” The dwarf stiffened and for a moment Talon thought he was going to attack the halfling. Then the laugh began, a deep hearty laugh that echoed round the cliff in great booming waves. She sagged in relief at the sound, the ledge was not a place for a fight. Behind her companions the sky was beginning to show flecks of red and gold on the horizon, soon it would be dark.
“We best get off this ledge, it won‘t be long before night comes.”
”I‘ve got a mate at camp,” Said Grax squeezing past the halfling to take the lead.
“About two miles east, you‘re welcome to food and a fire if you can handle the walk.”
They stopped on the ledge only long enough for Talon to clean and bandage her arms as the dwarf wound the rope and put it back within easy reach. Soon the ledge began to dip downwards and eventually merged into the ground where it became dense woodland and the dwarf diligently led them through the trees. Talon hung back, dragging herself along at the back of the party. The intensity of the fighting over she felt worn out and exhausted. Somewhere in the tangled web of emotions that haunted her was guilt and shame. She had always known she was a good fighter but at the sight of monsters she had almost run. Running when others were in trouble was not what her father had taught her it was not the way of the Mother Goddess, but if the things had picked a slightly different target she may well have climbed down the tree and fled.
“Coward.” She spat at herself.
“Speak for yourself.” Pebbs had quietly appeared beside her, ahead she could just about see Grax marching solider style along the small dirt track through the trees. Talon sighed. The halfling looked up at her through tangled hair her smile gone, there was no humour this time.
“Scared the living daylights out of me when one of those beasties stuck it’s ugly mug in the caravan, almost cacked my britches.” She scratched her nose with a short pudgy finger. “I‘m the camp cook not some sort of warrior and running away is nearly always a good move when you’re my height.”
Talon remembered the thing she’d taken the throat out of and shame burned inside her. If she’d run her new friend would be dead and her cowardice would have cost another life. And those at the caravan, how many would have been saved had she stayed and fought instead of run after the halfling. Her mind spun with guilt and randomised responsibility. When it came Talon’s voice was a near whisper.
“I wasn’t calling you a coward Miss Shortwell, but I‘m not your height. I vow on the tears of the Mother Goddess I shall not run from those monsters again.” The halfling knotted her eyebrows and then the smile returned full beam.
“Good for you. Listen I just wanted to tell you something while Mr Homicidal Axe Wielder’s out of earshot, call it a small thanks for your services today. This is a dwarf camp and therefore it seems reasonable to assume there may be dwarf food.” She looked up conspiratorially. “If they offer you dwarf bread, don’t eat it. Just look very humble and thankful and store it in your pack for clubbing a rabbit to death at a later date.”
The halfling looked up at Talon’s puzzled face and sighed.
“Look, it’s a great honour to be offered dwarf bread, to dwarfs it’s a kind of semi religious experience eating the stuff, but they don’t call them grit suckers for no reason, the bread’s ninety percent ground stone and will likely break your teeth if not your jaw.”
Talon raised her eyebrows.
“You seem to know a lot about dwarfs.”
“I know a lot about most races, part of my job, ignorance can get you in serious trouble.”
“Can you tell me something about other races…starting with halflings.”
Pebbs laughed. She began to tell Talon about her species, about Altdorf about the world outside the Great Forest. It seemed to Talon as if the halfling had been everywhere. In turn Talon started telling her companion about the forest, about the plants around them, about her previous life as a shepherd. By the end of the tale Talon had forgotten all about her terror and guilt, but not her vow.
Grax was waiting for them at the edge of the forest. It was almost dark now but even in the half-light Talon had never seen such a big clearing, it stretched for miles in either direction. In the near distance Talon could seen the bright pin prick of a fire.
“That your camp.” She asked, the dwarf nodded.
“Yep, should be food on if he’s had any luck with the rabbits. Come on.”
They waded through the knee-high grass. The small group was only a short way from the fire when something short and burly exploded from the long grass nearby.
“Friend or death?” Cried the figure bearing an axe almost as big as Grax’s in a non-too-friendly stance. Grax walked forward, grasped the other dwarf’s wrist and began talking hurriedly in dwarfish, eventually waving an arm vaguely in their direction. Talon heard their names but understood nothing more of the introduction but soon the other dwarf was laughing and clasping their the wrists as well. Grax broke back into the common Old World tongue to introduce his friend.
“Talon Forester, Pebbs Shortwell this is a cousin of mine Stalag Ulfarson Grimnir, he sings, he dances and he ain’t bad with an axe either.” The second dwarf laughed and swung the weapon over his back.
“Ain’t bad! I could knock your helmet off at fifty paces. Welcome friends, come, eat and warm yourself by the fire.”
The meat turned out to be rabbit and there was plenty even though the dwarfs ate like they’d been starved for weeks. Stalag was similar in appearance to his fellow save for a light brown beard and a certain faraway look to his eyes. His voice was much softer and lacked the gravely quality of his companion, he also smiled almost as much as the halfling. They found themselves repeating their stories of introduction and in turn learned the two dwarves were on their way into Nuln.
“No money you see.” Stalag explained as Grax wondered off into some bushes.
“There was some unpleasantness on the part of our last employer. Instead of paying up two months wages he orders us killed by some of his thugs. We escaped with little but our lives and some possessions. But there’s always work at Nuln, big city, place where a dwarf can stand tall.” Talon tried not to choke half way through a gulp of water at the comment. Luckily the dwarf ignore her. The halfling looked up.
“Big city you say, far from here?”
“Two day’s walk and a boat ride, not too bad.” Pebbs smiled another dazzling smile.
“Good, you’ve got me tagging along then. Need a new job after that business back at the caravan, Nuln sounds just the place, big, sprawling and probably ripe for the picking for a halfling like me, as you said somewhere to stand tall.” Pebbs looked at Talon, this time Talon didn‘t even cough.
“Great.” Said Stalag beaming. “Grax is good company but only knows three ways to sing the Gold song. And you Miss?”
Talon looked around. She was warm, comfortable and tired. She had fought and lived, and eaten a good meal. For the first time in months she felt she had found purpose.
“I’ll come along, if that’s alright with everyone else. Cities aren’t really me though.”
Pebbs laughed.
“You’ll love it. It’s a world of colour, light and interesting smells.”
“More like a hive of pickpockets, thieves and murderers. Ah you’ll find out soon enough.” Stalag leaned back and shouted into the undergrowth.
“GRAX” a grunt filtered back from the bushes.
“You’re on first watch, see you in a couple of hours.” Something was shouted back in angry dwarfish. Stalag grinned impishly and reached back for his bedroll.
Talon fished the spare blanket Mother Shepherd had insisted on out from the bottom of her pack and gave it to the halfling who quickly buried herself in it and fell asleep, the belt of daggers by one hand. Talon settled on the grass by the fire, the softer part of her pack under her head as a pillow and her ankles sticking out from the end of her blanket. A little later there was stomping as Grax returned from the bushes and a scrape of metal as he retrieved his axe from the ground. For a while she listened to the soft breathing of her companions and the gentle ebb and flow of the night sounds until sleep sent her into weary oblivion.
Chapter Three
The fire roared, leaping and twisting in the grate like some caged beast against its bars. Another armful of bone dry tinder made the flames rear still higher, sparks managed to break free and fell in a shower of quickly cooling specks on the hearth stone.
They fell on the fine shoes of the man on the hearthstone. He stood over the fire like some kind of dark guardian the red velvets of his clothes mingling with the dance of the flames. The man’s frame had a kind of sinewy bulk that could only have come from hours of weapon work and the head full of hair resting against the stone of the fire mantle marked him as still in possession of his youth. One foot stuck out sideways from beneath a carefully positioned cloak.
Lord Herrick’s eye’s absorbed the fire light voraciously and compressed it into two bright spots in the centre of his iris’s as he felt the wind snarled down from the chimney, he felt his own lips twist in mimicry. The goblet of wine forever half way to his lips spilled wine over his bejewelled fingers as the man behind him finished talking. His expression had been carefully blank through the man’s narrative but now it contorted into a feral mask of almost bestial fury in barely a heartbeat.
“ENOUGH.“ Behind him the man cowered as if he had been struck. As Herrick turned from the fire his face smoothed slightly though a snarl still played upon his lips, the firelight in his eyes did not fade, his right foot dragged slightly behind him as he moved. In the corner a dark haired woman sat, her dress was of the same material as Herrick’s and her eyes burned with the same weird light.
“You failed.”
The wretch he addressed slumped further between the two heavyset men, Herrick’s personal guard, his voice shook with fear.
“There were so few of us master, so many places it could have been hidden. So many…”
“You FAILED.” The goblet the lord had been toying with struck the man hard on the forehead drawing a thin line of blood, the woman looked up suddenly interested. Herrick began to stride towards the man, as best he could.
“I gave you directions, you knew which cart to separate where to search for it. You wasted ten of my creatures and found nothing.” Spittle foamed at the corners of his lips as he snarled, his eyes burned with fury. The man at his feet shrank back, pressing hard against the legs of the immobile guards behind him.
“My Lord I swear, I can get it, give me but one more chance, I live to serve you.” Herrick turned and glared at the man.
“Then serve me.” The man’s eyes went wide as the blade hit home. Herrick worked the blade, pulling it through the man’s flesh until he had opened a gaping wound in his chest. The man gurgled, eyes wide, blood frothing at his lips from his lungs. Herrick plucked the fallen goblet from the floor and held it under the gapping chest wound until it filled with blood. As his victims eyes went dark and he slumped forward hitting the floor with a dull thud Herrick held the goblet up watching the surface of it exploded with sparks of light, feeling the warmth from the blood seep into the metal.
“Take the wretch’s body and feed him to the beasts below, let them know what failure entails.” The guards nodded and took up the corpse, dragging it out by the arms so the bloody wound did not touch the stone flags. Herrick glowered at the fire lost in dark thoughts.
The lady leaned forward from the shadows where she sat, her eyes on the goblet and her expression hungry.
“Our Lord grows impatient Herrick, he will not put up with this inept folly much longer.”
“I am surrounded by idiots.” He limped now, his face once more a blank mask, but the fury still twitched on his lips, his foot dragged behind him as he stalked across the room depositing the warm cup in front of her.
“And he does not accept excuses.” Herrick laughed at her, a short sharp sound without humour,
“He will have what he wants, as soon as the caravans reach Nuln and the cargo is unloaded, I have people there, it will be but a little time.” The lady brought the full goblet to her lips greedily, when she drew it back the thick red liquid stained her mouth for a moment before her tongue found the last few drops and drew them inside. Herrick watched her in disgust. “Make it last Thera, it will be a while before we can take another to quench your thirst.”
“My wants Herrick, I thought I was summoned to hear your wants.”
He turned back to the fire watching the dancing flames, his face once more a contortion of hatred.
“My wants are few spawn, I want the miserable wench tortured, defiled and her still living torso here to beg at the foot she twisted into this useless limb you know this.”
Thera’s eyes darkened momentarily, she smiled.
“Such a little thing Herrick but enough to sell your soul for.”
“I want her dead…now, it has been months since she left the village.”
“All can be achieved given time, you know this.” She slid her hand across to him and brushed his fingers, he glanced at it momentarily and stalked back to the fire. Thera stiffened slightly and leaned back into the shadows, her voice was like ice when it came.
“When we found you Herrick, you could barely walk, you crawled on the floor like an animal howling your pain into the darkness. Yet here you are, strong and upright, apart from a few minor scars.” Herrick snarled and drew the cloak further over his twisted leg. “My Lord made you strong, he rebuilt you, and if you fail him he will break you again and far worse than he found you Herrick. Don’t anger the Lord of Change.”
“There is no need for threats Thera.” Snarled Herrick turning on her. “I have a cousin in Nuln, he will find what we seek and bring it to us.”
“You did not send the Wolfe?” Herrick went back to the fire.
“He is on a different mission, one he is more suited for.” Her eyes darkened.
“You sent him after the girl didn’t you.” Herrick said nothing for a moment. “You foolish man, when we are so close to success…” Herrick snarled again.
“My agents look for her but can’t find her, the useless fools, but no-one can hide from him, not even the daughter of Rowan Forester. No the beast will find her and then…” He smiled into the flames.
“…then Talon Forester your soul will be mine.”
Chapter Four
Nuln harbour rose up out of the night mists like a midden heap as the ancient river boat creaked and wallowed its way into port. Talon shivered, she was as near to the prow as she could get staring out at the vast city in a mixture of awe and horror. Behind her came the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up. ‘One of the dwarves again,’ she thought morosely, trying desperately to rub some warmth back through her soaked clothes. Lack of funds had prompted all of them to buy cheap tickets on the deck of the boat and they had spent most of the journey soaked and freezing thanks to the continual shower of spray from the river. She looked again at the surrounding countryside and shuddered with something other than chill.
When she had emerged from the true edge of the Great Forest for the first time in her life and seen the horizon she had almost passed out. There had been no trees, none at all save the odd lone oak huddling in a hedge line. She had spent her whole life surrounded by trees, even in the clearings she had known in any chosen direction there was hundreds of miles of forest between her and the outside world and now there was nothing just miles and miles of clear horizon.
Nuln harbour did nothing to lift her spirits. The boat eventually bumped and jostled into dock among the other river craft at about midnight. She followed nervously holding onto the halfling’s coloured waistcoat as Pebbs led the small party into the crowds of people as passengers poured off into the harbour in a swarm of bodies quickly swallowed up among the sprawling buildings of the city. Talon found the city choked her, it’s atmosphere felt evil and oppressive. Strange cheerless buildings glared down at her, disturbing and grim, casting their haunting gaze over the occupants of the street. She had never seen so many people, so many buildings, so few trees. The height of the houses made her dizzy, their facades strange and unfamiliar, the smells assaulted her nose and the lights spilling out of the open doorways dazzled her. The smell was worse than that of the Beastmen. She had trouble getting her head around its sheer size. Surely the town couldn’t really be as big as it had looked from the boat.
Strangely no-one else seemed disturbed by it. The dwarves were glad to be off the rocking boat and Pebbs had a glint in her eye that made Talon suspect they had just put a fish back into water. As they moved along the waterfront they saw that all the inns were brimming with the travellers that had arrived earlier that day. As they moved from tavern to tavern they soon discovered that the story was the same everywhere, even though Nuln was indeed vast no one had a bed to spare. Eventually at the blunt prompting of both dwarves the small group ducking into one of the heaving bars to quench their thirst.
Talon hated it, the atmosphere had a murky, smoke filled quality that made her long for even the river air. The ale seemed stale and made her feel groggy, the noise reverberated around her skull. Pebbs and the dwarves on the other hand were at their element. They sang, laughed, Stalag even danced on the table, and made merry like tomorrow would never come, much to the amusement of most of the customers and by the end of the evening a new companion had made himself at home with them.
The man had an ear missing and was covered in small scars, his clothes were in even worse repair than Talon’s and his face looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a year. He had introduced himself as Gresham Carr over an hour ago and hadn‘t stopped talking since, often cheering the dwarves on as they danced and sang loudly. Talon began to wish he’d bugger off back into the crowds of the bar, his inane chatter was not helping her head.
“Well now, I know what you fellas…” Said Gresham in rumbling tones that sounded like they had taken a lifetime of heavy smoking and a few mucous diseases to achieve. “And ladies of course” Talon felt him slap her shoulder heartily and half turned in time to see him try to rub some life back into his hand. “Need. Some warm rooms and some food. And coincidently I know just the place. Cost ya a few coins though.”
Pebbs frowned leaning back against the wall, she had not taken her eyes off the man since he had appeared, her expression unreadable. Stalag dropped heavily onto the bench beside her nearly overturning the table, Grax stopped singing.
“We’ve looked all over the docks.” the man smiled.
“Ah you’ll never find anywhere in the docks, first place everyone goes, expensive too. However deeper in the city, that’s where the best places are, they’ll be empty until the pubs close and this lot stalk the streets.” He jerked a thumb at the rest of the crowded bar.
“So why a couple of coins then?” Pebbs was leaning forward now, Talon saw her eyes gleam. Gresham wet his lips and gave a nervous smile.
“Got to cover my expenses haven’t I.” He licked the gap where a tooth had rotted away. “I usually try my luck beggin’ off these mugs when the pubs close, but I can’t get back here in time for that if I’m escorting you fellas… and ladies.” He went to slap Talon again, she grabbed the man’s hand halfway to her shoulder and snarled.
“Alright, only trying to be friendly girl.” Talon resisted the urge to squeeze, she was not feeling very friendly. She pushed the hand back hard and took another swig of the foul ale.
“These rooms, close are they?”
“Fairly, got to be far enough away from the harbour to be empty.” He wet his lips again. Pebbs shrugged and, seeming to reach a decision, tossing a few coins over the table at Gresham.
“Fine, Talon seems to be falling asleep in her mug and we could all do with rest on something that’s not moving.”
The night air of the harbour smelled of sewage, but Talon drew it deeply into her lungs to clear the bar stench and her head. She stared as they walked the stinking streets and alleyways of Nuln, rubbish and debris clogged the back streets, rats were everywhere. Her head hurt and her feet were having trouble negotiating the ground. It had been something of a joke in her hometown that her massive frame had never been able to hold drink and the ale in the bar had been stronger than the watered brew of Broken Paths. The ground spun and lurched beneath her. Talon didn’t notice therefore that Pebbs had drawn at least one of her daggers and that the dwarves walked hands on the base of their axes.
For half an hour Gresham lead them through the streets before he eventually reached a small wooden door set into the side of a building.
“Here we are then.” In one fluid movement he casually turned the handle, wrenched the door open, darted inside and slammed it closed behind him. Pebbs swore as there came the metallic grinding of a lock and the next minute they were alone in the alley...well not quite alone.
“Right.” A gruff voice behind made them turn round, the door momentarily forgotten. “Drop the weapons and purses and sod off if you know what’s good for you.”
Four footpads stood waiting menacingly for compliance, two behind and two in front, blocking off the exits to the alley. They were scruffy, dirty and all branded the weapons of their trade, they were all big men.
“Oh bollocks.” Said Pebbs again. Talons heart began to pump hard, adrenaline surging round her system as she finally drew her sword with a dull hiss of steel, the dwarves already had their axes out growling menacingly in dwarfish. The biggest of the footpads, likely their leader, shook his head.
“That was not a wise…”
“NOW.” Yelled Grax, the four travellers surged forward.
Talon was much stronger than any human had a right to be and the footpad, even armed as he was with a club, should not have posed a problem, but she was also drunk and exhausted. Her first mad swipe with the sword missed but luck blessed her as the movement took her head out of range of her attacker’s closing club. Instead the weapon smashed into the wall shattering the brickwork and showered her with tiny shards of sharp grit, temporally blinding her for a few seconds. It was all the man needed.
The bludgeon hit her arm with surprising force causing her to lose the sword with a cry of pain. Even as she heard her opponent kicked the weapon out of reach instinct made her duck and saved her head a second time as the club came round again. Her stomach rolled with panic and drink as she shook the last of the brick dust from her eyes and struggled to free the dagger from her belt. The man steadied himself after the swing, the club seemed too big for him, and its momentum dragged him off balance with every blow. Hoping to use that to her advantage she dodged as he swung up trying to hit her in the face and then dived forward under the club catching the man round the waist and knocked him backwards. They smashed into the wall, its surface narrowly missed her head as she buried a shoulder against her opponents ribs trying to crush the breath out of him. The man dropped the weapon gasping, unable to land a blow at close quarters, and began trying to smash her spine with his bunched fists. Her response was to drive the dagger hard into the man’s thigh.
With a final scream he lashed out sending her sideways on the slimy cobbles, and limped back down the alley. Talon righted herself, not bothering to chase the retreating figure. Retrieving her sword she turned to aid her friends, but her help was not needed. The dwarves had killed their opponents and Talon was just in time to see Pebbs send hers to the ground in a fit of agony as she jumped on his back and dug her fingers in his eyes.
“Yarda big jobs.” The halfling yelled giving her victim a kick and gathering weapons from the ground. “Get their cash and get outta here, we don’t want trouble from the Watch.”
Gathering up the few items that seem of any use the small party disappeared once more into the night.
Chapter Five
A battered sign declaring the Three Barrels to the world. This was fortunate, as many may have otherwise dismissed the soiled and dilapidated building as a hovel. But it had taken another exhausting hour to find even this in the maze of back alleys and Talon would have fought a troll for a bed at the place, looking round she could see everyone felt the same. It had not been a good day.
Grax tried the handle but the door was stuck fast.
“Shove it.” Came the gruff voice from inside and after a moment’s pause. “The door damn it, give it a good hard shove.” Grax pushed with his shoulder and then backed up wiping his nose with the back of a hand. Talon watched him stare at the door so hard that his busy eyebrows merged and then he charged flinging himself at it once, twice. Talon ducked as, at the third blow, the door broke in a shower of splinters sending Grax crashing inwards with a muttered oath and to the vexed cries of the innkeeper.
“You’ll have to pay for that you know gravel eater,” The old man growled as Pebbs, Talon and Stalag entered climbing over the wrecked door. Grax spat something in angry dwarfish and made moves to get up, Pebbs started forward catching Talon‘s arm.
“I’ll deal with this.” She whispered winking. “Lovely ol’ gent, heart of gold etc, etc. You handle the battering ram.”
They picked Grax up and did their best to dust him off and pick the bits of splintered wood out of his armour as Pebbs took the innkeeper by the arm and lead him to a corner of the room. The dwarf was more angry at the innkeeper’s jibe than physically hurt and she got the feeling whatever Stalag was saying in hurried dwarfish was an attempt to calm him down. It was not working, Grax looked at if he was going to explode and whatever he was muttering back at Stalag had his cousin going pale under his beard. Her hands still rested on the dwarf’s shoulders from dusting off the splinters, she wet her lips, if she did not do something soon there was going to be murder.
“Grax. “ Her voice was low and firm the same she sometimes used on Jethro when he was being petulant, she increased the pressure on the dwarf’s shoulders. “You take one step further and you and me will be fighting.“
Stalag’s pallor drained of colour completely, she didn‘t even what to think about Grax‘s face. Beneath her hands she felt the great bunches of muscles tense and heard the armour clink together with the movement. When the dwarf spoke he spat out the words at her.
“I don’t fight women girl.” She swallowed; he sounded as if he badly wanted to make an exception at that moment in time. Unbidden the image of the gutted Beastman he’d been fighting when she’d first seen him rose up in her head. If push came to shove she doubted she could stop the dwarf, but she would give him one hell of a headache. She gripped the shoulders tighter and gave them an ever so gentle shake.
“But you’d go after an old man who must be seventy if he’s a day? Grax look at him, he’s hardly what you would call a worthwhile opponent.” She let that sink in and then lay down her hand trying to give him a way out without losing face.
“Look here’s a deal. You save me the trouble of breaking my hand on your dwarfish skull trying to stop you from axing the ancient and I’ll buy you a pint.” She could feel the dwarf thinking about this, she thought she could almost hear him licking his lips. She lay down her last card. “Dwarf beer if you can find a bar in this city.”
The dwarf straightened beneath her hands, like a terrier just catching the scent, the huge shoulder muscles relaxed slightly.
“Fine.” He said in a petulant tone. She saw Stalag begin breathing again, the colour slowly returning to his cheeks. “If only to stop ya from making a fool of yourself.”
Pebbs and the innkeeper’s short conversation ended up in a reduced price for the door and a room for the night between them.
“Least we get breakfast.” Muttered Grax as he handed over the money and an equally old and grumpy woman led them upstairs.
“Cheer up Hammer head” Stalag slapped his still growling companion on the back “ It’s better than a night in the gutter.”
Talon doubted this as she saw the room. It was an attic with four cot beds and a tiny grate with a fire. It stunk of the canal just outside the window, but at that particular moment she would have given serious thought to sleeping in a midden heap if it had a roof over it. Grudgingly they got out the blankets and bide the old woman goodnight. The window and door were bolted as they heard the old crone disappeared down the shaking steps to the rest of the inn muttering about the strange party in half legible tones. Not trusting either the bolts or the innkeeper the company elected the halfling for first watch.
Sleep at first proved elusive for Talon. Her arm ached as if she had been wrestling a troll and it was hard to find a comfortable position as the ancient bed sagged and creaked under her weight. The snores of first Grax then Stalag soon began to hack through the night like saws and she could hear Pebbs shifting in her seat not far away. Water gurgled below adding an off beat background noise to the meddle and a tiny fire spat in the grate drying off the few clothes put in front of it. From the small cot bed Talon watched the fire dance. As her eyes slowly closed she remembered the flames.
They were everywhere now fuelled by the dry timber of the house. All was a blackened shell the fire raging for so long that the bucket chain had been abandoned except to douse the few sparks that drifted into the surrounding trees. No one could have survived.
The child was vaguely aware of the other people, villagers and soldiers, but more aware of the flames. The skin on its hands and face was raw, the loose shirt three times too big was singed at the edges. It kneaded the ground with bleeding fingers and the milling villagers tried not to look as it stared into the fire with a frenzied intensity.
Eventually a woman forced her way through crowds and came to stop in front of the girl. As she knelt someone with a bleeding hand called out from the throng.
“Careful Mrs Shepherd it bites.” The woman straightened and half-turned.
“What’d you do to her Fletcher? Try to drag the poor little thing away? You mind your business.”
“Everyone knows Red Mark’s child is wild.” The woman ignored him. She bent again the child didn’t look up but growled softly. Mrs Shepherd sat on the ground besides her ignoring the warnings as she did the warnings of the villagers.
“You can‘t sit here forever girl.”
Talon thought she could. Sitting watching her parents home burn she thought she could watch until the old oaks curling in the heat above her withered and rotted into the soil, until the earth grew over her crouching frame, until the pain in her soul went cold and dead like the ashes of the house. As it was she sat for three days with Mother Shepherd beside her, watching for her father’s great frame to shoulder its way through the smoking doorframe to take her for adventures in the forest. For three days she waited for her mother’s face to come to the blackened window as it had done every day of her life when she came in from play. Then and only then when she felt the air empty and the earth become barren beneath her did she allow herself to be taken by the hand and lead out of the forest she had always know and into the village below.
In her troubled sleep Talon moved fitfully. There was something wrong with the dream she had had so many times before.
“A face.” Something breaking through her vision of childhood.
“A FACE.” Something dragging her from sleep.
“A FACE AT THE WINDOW. WAKE UP BIG JOBS.”
Talon shot upwards out of the cot ripping off the blankets, the alarm doing the work of a bucket of ice water. On the other side of the room Pebbs was already half out of the open window, stubby childish legs scrabbling the sill.
“A face,” She screamed ”I saw a face at the window, tried the bloody lock too. For the sake of the Gods get UP.”
By the time Talon had reached her, the halfling was already clambering out on the roof tiles. Beyond the night had turned nasty. As she leaned out rain pelted down plastering her long hair to her head and soaking through her shirt, ahead of the halfling a lean figure in the shadows leapt over the gap between the roof of the inn and next house. With a grunt Talon grabbed either side of the rough frame and hauled herself out her bare feet slide on the slick tile and her heart pounded as the realisation dawned that the edge was only a foot or so away. There was a noise behind her, she turned to see Stalag trying to heave himself over the sill.
“What you waiting for?” He yelled. “Get after him.” Talon turned and ran.
Ahead the halfling took a running jump over the gap and hit the roof on the other side sending a shower of loose tiles onto the street below. A longer stride meant that Talon cleared the distance between houses faster and as they leapt over the reeking canal in pursuit of the shape she overtook Pebbs. The thief, now a skinny figure in loose black clothing, powered over the next roof but Talon was catching rapidly. The man ran like a scarecrow, elbows and knees flailed the night air for balance, feet slipping over the sloped roofs.
They flew over the streets, Talon glared fixedly at the thief’s back, anything to avoid catching a maddening glimpse between the rooftops at the waiting cobbles. Adrenaline left over from the nightmare surged through her body and her muscles tensed as the shape finally veered sideways, jumped off onto an outhouse and disappeared onto the street below. Talon skidded, landed awkwardly on the outbuilding and finally fell onto the rising thief. As they both rolled and rose she struck out hard, the power of her blow more than enough to send the man sprawling on the alley floor.
Feet pounded down the street as Pebbs dropped off the outhouse and ran up to the prone thief.
“Caught the bugger did ya.” Talon nodded breathing hard fists still raised as if the man at her feet would rise, her wet hair flowing over her soaked shirt like a veil of blood. The halfling prodded the figure with her foot, he didn‘t move.
“Good for you. Got the attention of the local Watch at any rate. Trust them to be a minute too late for the action.” Stalag strolled out another side alleyway picking straw from his shirt.
“And him.” She added as the dwarf came huffing up grinning.
The pounding feet gradually turned into a small group of armed Watchmen. The thief it seemed was a wanted man and was quickly handed over for a small reward. As they dragged him off Talon picked a stray piece of straw from the back of Stalag’s neck.
“What’s this?” He plucked a few more stems from his beard.
“Well, I gave chase like you, but I’m not as springy see. On that last jump I missed the roof and fell into the hay wagon underneath, lucky for me I did or I’da broken every bone in my body.” Pebbs straighten up from looking at something on the floor, her hand emerged empty from her waistcoat.
“Did Hammerhead fall as well?”
Stalag laughed.
“He stayed behind to let us in on our return, doesn’t fancy paying for another door if you ask me. Come on, time to get another couple of hours sleep before breakfast.”
Breakfast was hardly worth getting up for. It turned out to be a grey porridge with a meagre helping of bread and large quantities of hot bitter tea. The old innkeeper, whose name was Proust, smeared the dirt and grease around a nearby tabletop as the company ate and made blunt enquiries in a grating voice about whether or not they would be staying another night. The general murmuring around the table was that yes, the accommodation, although rank, was cheap and even then they only had enough for a few more nights at the most.
“What we need.” Said Grax as he swallowed the last spoonful of his third bowl of porridge “Is money,”
“And to get money” Stalag added.” we need a job and fast, we can‘t rely on thieves at the window every night.”
“Good plan.” Talon said trying to wash away the taste of the porridge with the tea. “It’s just that jobs don’t just fall into your lap like that, you have to find them, which is the difficult bit.”
Pebbs, like all halflings, was a finicky eater with a large appetite, and the prospect of actually missing a meal had only just overturn the thought of swallowing the less than appetising breakfast. She’d listened to conversation with half an ear and now, pushing her bowl aside, called Proust over to the table.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he said tucking the filthy cloth he’d wiped the tables with into his belt.
“No it was disgusting.” Proust smiled
“You get what you pay for in Nuln.” Grax grimaced and Pebbs laughed
“Is there anywhere in the city poor travellers such as ourselves could get some work.” She asked as she cautiously picked at the hunk of stale bread. Proust stroked the patchy grey stubble on his chin.
“Reiks Platz is your best bet. Always someone looking for something at the old elm near the main square.” With that Proust started to clear the table and the company headed back up to the room. He called after them as they left.
“Tonight’s rent on the bar before you go out. Remember or I’ll sell the room on.”
The company spent a weary morning wondering round Nuln. Daylight did not improve Talon’s opinion of the sprawling monstrosity she had encountered the night before. Buildings still towered and the air was still filled with filth that clung to skin and clothes alike. Pebbs on the other hand lead them round shops and markets as if she had been born and raised there. With her few funds Talon bought a few things necessary for adventuring on the recommendation of the two dwarves and on the insistence of the halfling enough new clothing and repair work to stop all chance of casual ogling. By the end of the morning she had acquired a metal helmet, shield and some rope and the others had various bits and pieces that would come in useful for whatever work lay ahead.
As the day wore on the party started to make their way to Reiks Platz. The flow of people seemed to gravitate that way. The tree itself was huge, old and twisted, as big as a house and used as a communal notice board for most of the city’s population.
It was left to Grax to decipher the bits of paper pinned over the trunk and he waded off in to the throng of people his progress marked by the occasional cry or curse as someone didn‘t move fast enough. The square was packed out with job seekers, merchants and ships captains looking for bodyguards and crew, all low paid and tedious work that the company desperately sought to avoid. In the bustle of the heaving crowd someone bashed into Pebbs and she only avoided being pulled under by grabbing onto Stalag.
“Watch were ya’ going big job.” The man turned angrily and made a move to grab her but she was too quick for him and he ended up with a handful of angry dwarf. Stalag’s axe appeared from nowhere and the man fled into the crowd. Pebbs appeared red and huffing.
“Yarda, he comes back here and I’ll give him a fight. Bite his knackers off I will.” Talon blushed red with vague embarrassment and turned to find out where Grax had gone.
The dwarf was making his way back through the crowd, disappearing occasionally as people bustled about the square. They made for a side street to talk out of the throng, huddled in a shop doorway Grax revealed what he had found.
“Mostly low salary high risk jobs, Watch looking for a brute squad, couple of Lords looking for body guards. Only one really looked any good.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Ripped this off the tree.”
Talon peered over his shoulder, for all her skills she was almost illiterate and the marks on the paper meant nothing, Grax read it with a look of intense concentration and followed the writing with a finger as if trying to pin the words to the page.
“Specialists required for repossession job. One night’s work, legal, some danger, good money. Military background helpful. No time wasters, Councillor Edelmar, Edelmar Mansion Edelmarstrasse.” Stalag raised a hairy eyebrow.
“Don’t sound very legal to me, only one nights work, good money.”
“We’ll have to see about good money.” Said Pebbs “Good money always seems to be less than I expect.” Talon fingered her long scar and frowned
“Wonder what it means by some danger.” She said cautiously. Everybody went quiet for a minute. Grax shrugged.
“There’s danger involved in everything. You can get killed eating breakfast or walking down the street.” Pebbs coughed.
“Not quite the same as getting a sword put through your ribs though is it?” the halfling remarked.
“Well we either go and see what this is all about or we try and get some work in the brute squad or similar.” The group went quiet for another minute before Pebbs broke the silence.
“Well I’m for it, anything’s better than babysitting some rich old coot or getting your skull bashed in on the brute squad.” Grax swung his axe out and picked some imaginary speck from the blade.
“It pays and we need the money.” He said balancing the weapon in his hand “I say go. Stalag what’s your say.” Stalag shrugged.
“You go, I go. But I still say it’s going to be illegal.” Pebbs looked at Talon.
“What do you say big job? Yes or no.” Talon tugged the leather jerkin she had bought to replace her waistcoat. She felt shaky in the pit of her stomach at the mention of unknown danger, but it might give her a chance to make up for her cowardice at the caravans, she had to go.
“We go.” Everybody clasped wrists and they headed for the lodgings to prepare.
Chapter Six
It was late when they left, even the lights on the bars had gone out leaving the stars in their full glory in the heavens above the city. On Stalag’s insistence they climbed over the rooftops and dropped off the same outbuilding they had used the night before, his point being that if the work was illegal as few people should see them come and go as possible. Nobody spoke as they trudged through the dark winding streets.
Talon’s new jerkin stank of leather, heightened by the funnelling effect of her travelling cloak over a backpack and shield, she was sure any enemies would smell her coming way before she got a chance to attack. She was too nervous to look at the mansion when they arrived as if seeing the building would make the whole situation more real and frightening. As a servant opened the door however it was hard not to notice the inside piled high with expensive furniture and ornaments. Portraits in various past costumes lined the walls, the dead eyes’ gazing down made Talon shiver.
The servant seemed to expect people in well-travelled clothing and weaponry and lead the party wordlessly along windy corridors and into a study and what could only be Councillor Edelmar. He sat behind an immense mahogany desk, framed by hunting trophies, playing with a bejewelled knife. His skin was hard and drawn, limp oiled hair hung either side of a protruding bald head, and a straggling moustache coupled with a finger thin beard fought to cover some of his skeletal face. Dull oddly feverish eyes glanced up as the group entered and looked them up and down without interest. When they were lined up in front of him he put the knife aside and spoke.
“You are here for the repossession job I think.” He voice was horrible, whispery and horse, it sent tendrils of sound through the ears and scrapped against the brain. Pebbs smiled a toothy smile, the company had already agreed that she would negotiate for them.
“We are.”
“And you’re credentials?”
“None that we wish to divulge.”
“Your names then!”
“The details of the job first, then we will see if it would be…wise to let you have our names.” Edelmar seemed flustered but not unduly so, it seemed this arrangement was expected if not exactly welcome. He drank from a silver goblet and continued.
“Very well. As you may or may not be aware, the house of Edelmar is engaged in trading and other activities at a number of levels and would be most...unhappy if our dealings here tonight were made public. Accordingly I must insist that this business be conducted with the utmost discretion.”
He passed to take another sip of something from the silver cup and rearrange some of the papers on the desk waiting for a response from the halfling. When none came he eventually continued
“A certain gem has appeared in the city” he croaked “The details do not concern you, except to say that the jewel was acquired on behalf of the House of Edelmar by a group of people uncouthly known as the Ottinger gang, who have so far failed to make delivery. You are to recover the stone from them and deliver it here by dawn tomorrow.” He glanced up again. Pebbs coughed
“That’s it?”
“That is all until I have some more details of your party, the advertisement said no time wasters.” Pebbs shrugged and waved a hand down the line.
“The two Dwarves are brothers from Altdorf, Gorim and Orim Gorimson. The lady built like an Ox at the end of the line is someone we picked up in Nuln, she doesn’t speak but can use the sword or her fists as the mood takes her.” Edelmar’s watery eyes seemed to focus for the first time since the party had come into the room, his gaze fixed on the scar on Talon’s face and rested there for a few minutes. Talon shifted uncomfortably glancing up every now and again, there was something familiar about the man and she didn’t like it, she wished Pebbs would hurry up so they could get out of there.
“What did you say her name was.” Edelmar’s hand found the dagger again, Pebbs watched it like a hawk, he seemed interested in her companion so she spun the tale.
“We don’t know, as I said doesn’t speak but you should see her fight and…”
“Hair like blood.” Talon fought the urge to pull her hood up over the thick bun of red hair, instead her lip curled and she bared a few teeth at Edelmar. The man quickly glanced down at his papers once more and then at Pebbs.
“And you.”
“Holly Riverbank sir at your service. Thief and extortionist.” Edelmar shuffled his papers again and glanced back to Talon once more before focusing on the halfling.
“The rest of the story goes as so. As with many great stones, there are several legends and superstitions attached to this gem. It is said to be the ring stone of the God Nurgle and carry a highly infectious rotting disease, which afflicts all those who handle it. I set no store by these superstitions naturally, but in case there is some substance to them you will take this…”
He pushed a highly decorated box over the table, Grax picked it up and turned it over in his hands.
“…It has been enchanted to negate the magic of anything inside for precisely six hours. That should give you ample time to deliver the stone. You will set out in half an hour, I will have you guided to one of the entrances to the area known as the Crypt, which is where I believe the stone to be.” He glanced up at us again. “Are there any questions?” Pebbs grinned.
“How much we getting paid for this big job. The paper said good money to be had.” Edelmar sighed and picked up the knife again.
“You will get a hundred crowns on delivery of the stone to me.” Grax whistled at the mention of the money, Talon’s mind had trouble fitting itself round the idea of that much gold, but Pebbs shook her head.
“Not enough.” Edelmar dropped the knife and looked up with a shocked expression on his bony face.
“I beg your pardon.” Pebbs grinned.
“Not enough mate. From what I hear, and I hear a lot, anything with a rotting disease on has got to be worth a pretty penny indeed to go anywhere near let alone handle.”
The dwarves nodded in agreement, and Talon looked on in shock at her companions, turning down a hundred gold crowns took some nerve especially when they were so short of money. Edelmar had recovered quickly and sneered.
“You are not the only group of people with weapons in the city you know, others can be found.”
Pebbs laughed, stepped up to the desk and, with a spring that wouldn’t have attributed to someone so small, she leapt onto it and sat with her legs dangling over the edge.
“What in half an hour? At this time of night? And to make matters a little more tricky we, ill-mannered travellers that we are, took the advert from the tree this afternoon.” Edelmar’s face darkened as she continued sweetly “So unless you’ve had other company tonight I doubt anyone else will turn up to get your stone for you.”
At this Edelmar went to rise out of his seat, but stopped and sat back down again, his face gradually returning to its pale sickly colour.
“Your point is a valid one.” He conceded. “Very well, bring the stone here and you shall have one hundred and twenty gold crowns to do with as you wish, but not a penny more.” Pebbs smiled.
“Done and done your Councillorship.” She hopped off the desk. Edelmar continued.
“You will be taken to the edge of the Crypt but after that you are on your own. The entrance leads to the portion of the complex controlled by the Ottinger gang, mainly forgers and traders in stolen goods. It is believed that Karl Hearst, the gang’s leader, has the stone. As the complex runs towards the river control is handed over to the Imeldians, mostly Tilean immigrants and one of the most powerful gangs in Nuln. The easternmost edge of the Crypt is run by the Harbins, who are Wastelanders and are the worst kind of smugglers and cut-throats.”
He stopped and stroked his limp moustache leaning back thoughtfully in his chair.
“You should not have too much of a problem entering and moving through the complex, although you may need to know the correct passwords. The Ottinger password for today is ‘Charity’, this is all I can tell you and if you are worth the money it will be enough.”
With that Edelmar rang a bell and went back to examining the documents on the desk, the meeting was over. Within a minute or two the servant reappeared.
“Feed them, water them and stay with them until the guides arrive, they are not to leave the downstairs study.”
The servant bowed and the party were ushered out of the room leaving Edelmar to reach, once more, for his knife. He coughed and Pebbs threw the blade back over her head, laughing as it landed with a thud somewhere behind.
Edelmar plucked the knife from among the sheaths of papers where it had landed and stared at the party long after they had disappeared from view. Up till now he had not been having a good week. The betrayal of the Ottinger’s had been final straw after no less than three failed attempts to retrieve the item from the merchant’s caravans. He had started to become worried. Especially after he had found a severed human arm roasting in his bedroom grate that morning, time he knew was running out. His cousin was known for his brutality when irked but also for his generosity when it came to rewards and apart from the gem he had been most specific about the description of a certain person he wanted very badly. Something would have to be arranged if the group ever made it from the Crypt alive.
The time in the study passed all too quickly and soon two thin nameless men in dark clothing arrived to guide the party on the first part of their journey. It was the dead of night when they left the mansion and the two guides quickly traversed the dark litter filled streets of the city, occasionally glancing behind them to check the group was still there. Eventually they found themselves in a back alley behind a large timber framed warehouse on the west bank of a stinking black river. Talon felt sorry for the two dwarves and the halfling with their sensitive noses, the smell was stomach churning even for a human‘s dull sense. The guides muttered to one another and pointed to a door half-hidden behind some barrels before disappeared noiselessly into the night.
There was the gentle chink of metal against metal as each of the party freed weapons and pulled cloaks away from arms. Talon pulled out a crossbow almost shaking with tense nervous energy, She was sure everyone within ten miles could hear her heart trying to escape from her chest. A few more minutes and Grax nodded, moved forward to the door and turned the handle. A flight of steep narrow stone stairs quickly turned to a passageway and ended at a rough wooden door with a small grubby notice pinned to the boards. It read, after some low mumbling from Grax, ‘Observe the Laws of the Crypt. Knock and Wait’.
“Bugger that.” Hissed Pebbs eyes flicking to the door and back up the alley “No way are they going to just let us waltz in.” Grax nodded and gently turned the handle.
Suddenly he dropped, Stalag lunged forward and grabbed his arm, dragging him up and out of the hole. They cringed at the sound of the trapdoor as it slammed heavily against the side of the pit, expecting guards to explode through the door any second. Talon’s crossbow twanged as if imitating her stretched nerves, it nearly went off as Pebbs reached up and squeezed her arm. The halfling’s mouth drew out into a thin humourless smile as her companion jumped and banged her helmet noisily on the roof of the low passage. Talon righted her headgear and nodded at Pebbs’s unspoken words, she was the only one big enough to step over the trap and open the door. Cautiously straddling the hole she turned the handle to a series of ominous creaks and snapping of springs, but the door gave them no more surprises and she stepped into the space beyond.
The room was dark and apparently deserted but seemed, until recently, to have been in frequent use, but no more. Everything had been smashed, large wooden lockers had been pulled away from the walls and ripped open their contents strewn about the room, the only thing that had seemly remained untouched was the steel lever fixed to the floor in the centre. Talon dragged a piece of planking out of the debris on the floor and slid it over the trap for the others to cross.
The dwarves military training became immediately apparent as they spread out and checked the passages that lead off of the room, while Pebbs took it upon herself to search the wreckage. Talon stood by the door they had come in through as a heady mixture of fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Finally Grax came back and muttered in low tones.
“There is nothing up that passage but a back alley, and I’ll bet my beard that lever disables that trap at the door. Keep sharp I don’t like the look of this place.”
Stalag appeared out of the darkness of the other passage and motioned everyone forward with a grim face. Only a few guttering torches lit the room that they stepped into, not that anyone really needed it to see the horror that greeted them. Furniture lay destroyed all around and crunched underfoot, beyond that lay half a dozen corpses all either bristling with crossbow bolts or stabbed so viscously that they were a mass of holes. Talon tried desperately to keep a calm face and a steady stomach as the dwarves once more took position at the exits to the room and motioned her and Pebbs to check the bodies. Never before had Talon seen so many so brutally butchered and she searched with shaking fingers and a throat full of bile as Pebbs calmly went from body to body, removing anything that looked of interest.
In the end the search yielded little, the bodies had been completely stripped of anything of value, but four had little white cards placed on them, which were dutifully taken to Grax to read. The dwarf read it them in whispered tones, glancing all the time between the paper and the open doorway he was guarding.
“They all say ‘Congratulations, you have just met the Imeldians Anti-Personnel crew.’ Bloody hellfire we’ve stepped into a war zone.” Pebbs looked thoughtfully at two cheap pendants in the shape of a fig leaf.
“I guess these pieces of trash belong to the Imeldian assassins then.” She said throwing them aside in disgust. “We should have asked for more than one hundred and twenty gold pieces to get involved in this.”
Stalag, once again silent, motioned them to join him. The room he was in was destroyed but what it had contained was of higher quality than that of the one they had come from. Pictures were slashed and furniture smashed, the rugs on the stone floor were stained with blood. In the middle of the room the corpse of a richly dressed man lay in a wide pool of congealing blood. One of his arms was missing and there were sores on his face that wept even in death. Pebbs immediately covered her mouth with her cloak and swore.
“A lot more than one hundred and twenty.” She hissed under her breath. Talon moved forward to check the corpse but Pebbs grabbed her arm.
“Stay away from him, you want to catch whatever he’s got?”
Talon nodded burning red with embarrassment at her lack of forethought and, picking up a piece of broken wood, poked and prodded at the clothing on the corpse until they were all satisfied that the gem was not there.
“I bet the assassins took it with them.” Whispered Stalag. “They’ve taken everything else of value. “ Pebbs nodded her head her cloak still over her mouth.
“We don’t touch any more bodies from now on, I don’t want to catch any rotting disease.”
The party moved back then onwards through the only other exit into another room. This time however there was a closed door. Stalag nodded to Grax, the dwarf moved forward, counted to three on his fingers, Stalag threw open the door and Grax dived into the darkened room. A crossbow fired and then they heard groaning, Stalag disappeared inside axe drawn and a minute later, when the dwarves failed to reappear, Pebbs and Talon moved cautiously inside bringing a torch with them.
The room looked as if it had originally been used for food storage, grain and smashed barrels littered the floor, and one chest containing pork had been torn open. There were more corpses here each with the same white calling card that had marked the other bodies. Grax was in the centre of the room near a bloodied body, his boot on an empty crossbow. Next to him Stalag wore a grim expression, his axe at the corpse’s throat. In the doorframe was the bolt they had heard released only a moment ago, an inch to the right and one of them would have been dead.
Trembling only slightly Talon turned and looked at the ‘corpse’ again, it snarled at her. He was alive, if only just, he too seemed to have been riddled with crossbow bolts, one of his legs was at an unnatural angle and his stomach had been punctured many times, leaking blood onto the floor beneath him. Talon knew enough of medicine to know the man would never recover from such wounds.
He gurgled as he spoke in a deep rough voice.
“You…you bloody Imeldians. Come to finish me off! I won’t go easy.” He tried to reach the crossbow but Grax’s kicked it away, the man snarled again.
“We’re not here for your life man, nor are we Imeldians.” Pebbs moved forward and pulled Stalag’s axe from the man’s throat. The man stared at her for a moment.
“A child? No…a halfling, I’ve never known the Imeldians to hire your kind as their Gods forsaken assassins. Olin may not know much about the little folk but you’re far from home small one.” It was an insult, or a threat Talon couldn’t decide which. Pebbs smiled a lazy smile.
“They took something from here Olin, something your boss Karl Hearst had, I need to find it. Do you know where they went?”
Olin went wide-eyed for a moment and gasped, small flecks of blood had started to appear on his lips.
“Olin…”
“Let me guess who sent you, did he tell you what it can do, do you think you alone can survive it. Take some advice, leave it, get out of here, nothing is worth what it can do to you.” Cold sweat trickled down Talon’s back at his words, it was like he’d read her mind. Pebbs pressed on.
“Never the less we must.”
His head lolled in the direction of a passageway whose door had been obliterated, Stalag took position beside it his axe strangely dull in the torchlight. Olin didn’t bother to roll his head back to its previous position.
“Through there if you must. Animals, you’ll be dead before the day is out…A drink child I’m dying for a drink.”
By the time Pebbs had undone her flask and found a bowl intact enough to hold water Olin was dead.
Chapter Seven
As the group gathered round the empty doorframe that marked the Imeldians assassins exit from the room. Stalag drew them closer and spoke in tones so low they could hardly hear them.
“There’s people up there, I can hear them moving around. We need to be careful it wouldn’t surprise me if we’ve come to a guard room.”
The warning to be careful was unnecessary, everyone felt both on edge and drained after watching Olin die Talon’s nerves once again throbbed with nervous energy. Her companions were stone faced, the dwarves through an intermit knowledge with violent death throughout their working lives, and although Pebbs’ knuckles were white as they clutched her dagger hilt her face and manner were dangerously calm.
Leaving the torch in the storage room they walked silently up a long dark passageway at the end of which stood a thick oak door similar to the one they had first come in through, on it was painted a fig leaf design like the pendants Pebbs had found earlier. At the door she drew a scrap of paper out of her pocket and cast her eyes over it again before shoving it back and forcing a large grin.
“Follow my led.” She whispered before throwing open the door and striding in.
It was difficult to say who looked more shocked, the two dwarves and Talon or the three guards who had been having a quiet game of cards on a rough wooden table at the other side of the room. Pebbs on the other hand seemed to radiate companionship and warmth and she bustled over to the men as they half got up, reaching for nearby weapons.
“Here at last. I tell you if your boys had told us we were going to have to traipse through a mortuary to get here we would have come another way.” She said with a grin that split her face ear to ear. The guards looked at her then at each other confused at this outburst. Pebbs’ grin froze.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting us!” They began to look worried, the men didn’t seem to be chosen for their brainpower and this seemed to be taxing them.
Talon tried to look relaxed but this was hard, especially with Grax fidgeting with his axe so close to her back and Stalag’s small dark eyes darting to each men in turn. One of the guards, possibly the leader frowned, his forehead wrinkled like leather when he spoke.
“Labourers.” He ventured his voice heavily accented, finally managing to grasp a beat up looking sword by his seat.
“That’s right.” Replied Pebbs smiling sweetly, her hand moving almost casually to her own blade.
“Then you have the password.” For a moment Talon thought the dwarves were actually going to charge before the guards had a chance to realised they didn’t have the password, but before any of them could move Pebbs said without hesitation and in a slightly put out tone of voice.
“Coffers. Can we go now?”
The man’s caterpillar eyebrows joined for a minute, then he shrugged and motioned them past before dropping the sword back on the ground and going back to the card table, his companions joined him.
There was no doubt where the group had to go next as there was only one door leading out of the room. As they went through it and out of earshot Stalag whispered to Pebbs.
“How?” She smiled.
“It seemed our thief at the window was part of the gang, the paper that fell out of his pocket when Talon flattened him had the password on it followed by a small scrawled fig leaf.” Stalag went white under his weather worn skin.
“And if it hadn’t been the password but a child’s scrawl?” Pebbs flashed him a dazzling smile.
“Well Grax said you weren’t half bad with that axe of yours.”
Someone shouted something in an unknown dialect. For a moment they all stood stunned, the group had been concentrating so much on the explanation that they had wondered straight into a large storeroom that was feverishly being torn apart by a small army of men and rapidly packed into carts.
In the centre, standing on an upturned crate, was a large man that seemed to be in charge, and if there was any doubt about this issue on his belt hung a wicked looking blade. He tried yelling at them again in the foreign dialect and then switched to Reikspiel.
“You, short stuffs, ox woman, pack up chop chop or I’ll chop chop up you!” As if to confirm the issue he took out his sword and waved it in their direction. The halfling once again came to the rescue.
“Yep no problem.” She snatched up one of the lighter looking chests and Talon, Grax and Stalag again followed her led. The man had obviously mistaken the group for hired hands and they weren’t about to contradict him. For ten minutes they helped pack the carts and then someone at the back of the room dropped a chest spilling its contents all over the floor. As the overseer went to investigate they slipped into a side room and closed the door on the manic scene.
Heaping the chests they were carrying by the door they glanced at each other, Pebbs looked a little shaken and motioned the others closer to her.
“Some of the packers were willing to talk about what was happening here. They know about the gem and the curse on it. Also cultists have arrived in the Harbins’ area probably trying to take the stone by any means necessary. The Imeldians gang are building a barricade to stop anyone crossing into their territory before they’ve escaped, that’s why they’re trying to get out of here so quickly.” Grax frowned.
“But how do they know all this?” Pebbs lowered her voice further.
“The Harbins sent a messenger to ask for help to fight the invaders. He was killed as soon as it was found out what he wanted, the Imeldians don’t want to risk catching diseases from the cultists.”
“So what do we do now?” Talon asked now unsure whether to retrieve her crossbow from her back or carry on playing the hired hand and leave it there.
“We go down this passage. We can be pretty sure the stone won’t be on the hired hands so going back is out, and I don’t want to risk going too near the barricade, we don’t know whether the cultists are just on the other side of it or a mile away.”
The passageway was a short one and ended in a lavishly furnish office. Lamps hung from the ceiling and shone down on walls adorned with hunting trophies and framed with carefully removed wanted posters depicting various people probably from the Imeldians gang. Behind a large desk sat a heavily built man with dark oily hair almost dripping from his head. His face was so red and scarred that it would have looked comical if not on such a massive frame, he was made more dangerous by the item he sat playing with, a pistol. There was no door and they had little choice but to enter the room hoping that since they were this far into the gang’s domain the man would not question their presence. As they entered the man got up and said in a voice laced with the same accent as the overseer.
“Mr Imeldian does not want to be disturbed, not by you or anybody. You have business you leave it with me.” The whole sentence was let out in one hurried breath and even Talon could see that the man looked puzzled about something, the hand on the pistol was twitching slightly.
“That’s a shame.” For a moment Talon wondered who had spoken, and then realised with horror it was she. Pebbs kicked her hard in the ankle and continued the sentence the fixed smile once more on her face.
“What my friend means is that it’s such a shame we have to wait, I mean we have other…business ventures to attend to tonight and we have already wasted much time and Mr Imeldian was so…insistent that we saw him immediately. If you could just see your way to letting us see him it could be worth your while…say two gold pieces.”
She let the sentence hang in the air for a minute and then punctuated the silence with the jingle of her money pouch. Talon held her breath, what would they do if the man actually let them see his boss, what was worrying her more was that she knew Pebbs’s purse was, like the rest of theirs, bereft of anything but a few coppers.
“Mr Imeldian does not want…” The smile flashed again and in a voice as smooth as silk the halfing said.
“But that doesn’t apply to us now does it, he’d want you to disturb him for us.” She put her hand to her purse and jingled it again. This was too much for the man.
“No.” He said slowly eyeing the halfling’s purse. “It doesn’t apply to you.” She smiled.
He went to the door and knocked gently then called, no response, he knocked louder, again no response. After a few minutes he hammered on the wood and screamed for Imeldian to come to the door. When no one answered he charged. Talon noticed the dwarfs quietly and calmly bring round their axes, before the last splinters of wood fell they were all armed.
This room was more ornate even that the one they had come from, the floor was carpeted and the walls adorned with pictures, but it was ransacked, books from a bookcase against one wall had been strewn about the room, the large heavy desk had been rifled. But none of this interested Imeldian’s henchman who at once burst through a second door and yelled. The sound was quickly cut off by Grax, who threw his axe into the man’s head, Stalag nodded grimly and the three moved into the other room. Talon was about to follow when something caught her eye, the rug underneath her feet was a assortment of dark blues, symmetrical in pattern…almost symmetrical that is. On one side in an uneven line were slightly darker spots spoiling the pattern. She fetched thick creamy paper from the writing desk and pressed it on the spots, when she turned the paper over there was a matching line of red blood. She rose as the others came in from the room, Stalag went to keep an eye on the passageway while Pebbs leaned despondently on the doorframe, Grax was scowling.
“Man.” He said he voice devoid of emotion “decapitated, was probably Imeldian. No sign of the head though.”
“Or the jewel.” Added Pebbs bitterly, she looked at Talon and then at the paper.
“What is it?”
“Blood.” Talon showed her the paper and it’s red trail.
Pebbs smiled wearily.
“Grax just killed someone bound to be a spot of blood.”
“Not spot, spots all in a line going away from the doorway.” Her companions hurried over to look.
“There.” Said Talon pointing “And there too. It leads all the way up to this bookcase.” Grax stared at the blue rug.
“How did you spot that Talon?” She shrugged.
“My father taught me to track. Blood trails are easy to follow, especially in here.” Pebbs was examining the bookcase, she gave it an experimental shove.
“It seems solid enough.” She said. Grax stepped forward and examined the bookcase, staring closely at the point where it met the wall. He pushed one of the flagstones at the corner of the room and there was a grating sound as the bookcase sprung open.
“Hydraulics.” He muttered “Good principle though crude of course being built by humans.” Talon coughed politely and gave him a toothy smile. “No offence meant.” He added quickly.
“None taken.”
“Oh come on Big Jobs.” Sighed Pebbs impatiently as she barged past them and into the passage. Stalag was the last in.
“Not a moment too soon either.” He muttered as he pushed the bookcase closed behind him. “They’re getting restless out there I can hear them stomping about.”
It didn’t take them long to find a torch on one of the walls and light it piercing the dark with a flickering yellow halo. They were in a sewer, the door had brought them out onto a ledge running parallel to the main channel where grimy brown water gurgled and slopped about on its way out to the river. The dwarves covered their noses and grimaced while Pebbs dug a scarlet handkerchief from her pocket and clamped it over her face, wrenching. The smell was worse than that of the river they had first come in by and the enclosed space did nothing to help matters. On the ground the blood trail continued on the slippery stone ledge following the flow of the current into the darkness ahead.
The adrenaline surge that had kept Talon’s nerves on edge for what felt like an eternity had begun to ebb away as she lead her companions through the sewer passage tracking the blood along the walkway. They could only walk in single file, as the ledge proved narrow in places, one of the dwarves stood behind her footsteps strangely silent on the stone beneath. Talon had previously heard that dwarves liked to live below ground given the choice and she wondered what the mines looked like and whether the darkness of the sewer reminded her companions of home.
Instinct began to take over the further down the passage Talon followed the blood. She had followed such trials many times before, tracking animals wounded by her bow until she could end their pain, tracking lost sheep and troublesome predators, she had once even tracked a man for some soldiers, this was familiar ground to her, something she excelled at. Occasionally the sewer system branched and passages lead off to the side. She ignored them not wishing to get lost below ground, keeping the spots of blood in sight. Now and again they heard the sound of scrabbling and squeaking from the branching passages, each time they froze waited for the noise to stop and then moved slowly on. Eventually Pebbs’s voice drifted up from somewhere behind.
“What’s making the noise?” Talon cast the torch around, the sewer had once again branched and she wanted to make sure she followed the right trail.
“Probably rats.” She said not taking her eyes from the ground. “Nothing to worry about.”
The ledge now widened and joined with the opposite side creating a large platform under which the foul water disappeared. Lighting more torches that were fixed on the walls they looked around the chamber. There was straw scattered on the ground in an attempt to provide some grip on the slippery surface, small broken crates were left to rot against the walls. Up ahead the light seemed to outline a mining cart and track.
“Some sort of storage and transport arrangement.” Ventured Stalag.
The dwarves and the halfling moved ahead to examine the new finds as Talon cast around for the trail again. It seemed to explode here, spots of blood were everywhere scattered on the floor with no pattern or fathomable purpose, and now and again small dragging lines followed the dots. This was lost to her companions however who had found something much more interesting than blood spots.
“Talon we’ve found the gem” Called Pebbs excitedly.
“And Imeldian’s head, the assassin as well, dead.” Added Stalag.
Talon ignored them, the marks now headed in one direction, she followed the blood leaving the others still talking.
“Get it in the box.”
“Careful now. Pull the body out it will make it easier.” Shadows loomed ahead of her as the blood disappeared into a side passage Talon followed eyes adjusting to the dark as she moved out of the light. She could still hear the halfling instructing the dwarves in the other chamber.
“And the head get it out, don’t touch it nutter, use a piece of crate.” Talon rounded a corner, the blood was harder to see in the shadows, she consider whether to bend down to track it by touch or get a torch.
“Gem’s safely in the box, mission accomplished.” The halfing’s voice came again from beyond the darkness. Talon heard the low reply of Stalag.
“Right how do we get out of here?”
Talon’s instincts were screaming at her, she stopped, something was horribly wrong. Grax’s voice came drifting over from the cart.
“They’re a mess aren’t they, strange though no sores this time just all these little marks.” He laughed, “Almost like something’s been biting them!”
Cold sweat trickled down Talon’s back as something clicked inside her brain. She began to back up slowly as ahead in the darkness something stirred.
“Get in the cart.” Her voice was low and almost hoarse as she drew her sword brain numb with fear.
“What?” It was Stalag, still chuckling at Grax’s notion of the bite marks.
“Get in the cart.” Talon screamed. Too loud, she turned and fled as behind something shrieked…correction some things shrieked. Behind her there was scrabbling as thousands of little feet gave chase. She cursed her slow brain as she rounded the corner and saw the dwarves and the halfling pale as they piled into the old mine cart and wrenched at the brake. A rat was not dangerous not a worry, a swarm of rats on the other hand.
The cart was moving now but not nearly quickly enough. Talon slashed her hand as she forced the sword back into its sheath and hit the cart at a speed that nearly dislocated her shoulder. She threw her weight against it and forced it down the track, the wheels screaming in protest. Pebbs yelled at her as the noises behind grew louder and the dwarves loosed handfuls of scrap at the monstrous swarm. The wheels groaned and then squealed as the rust freezing the axles gave way under Talon‘s straining muscles. She began to run with it making the thing build up speed. Rats snatched at her boots and something landed on her shoulder, the cart threatened to leave her behind as it shot along.
Talon leapt, landing in a heap upside down in the cart and almost crushing Grax who had been trying to pull her in, Stalag and Pebbs feverishly pulled away rats that had clung to her legs and back as she jumped. It took a few seconds and the help of her friends to right herself and disentangle her gear and Grax. She sat up dazed, lungs heaving, sweat soaking through her shirt and mixing with blood from fresh scratches, it was only as she looked up that she saw the black horde that had threatened to engulf them. Hundreds of huge black rats the size of small dogs that were even now falling behind red eyes glaring hatefully at the escaping sustenance.
They were going faster now as the cart began to pick up speed on its own, scenery dropped behind almost as fast as they came upon it. The dwarves with their excellent night vision stared into the blackness ahead as the long tunnel began to open up in to a series of small chambers, the air began to smell decidedly fresher than in the sewer.
“The tracks won’t go on forever,” shouted Grax over the noise of the cart as it tore through the chambers. “We should be prepared to…”
“…JUMP.” Yelled Stalag who had been paying more attention to track ahead than his fellow. It was a mad rush to get out of the runaway cart before it collided with the ancient wooden buffer at the end of the track. All four hit the stone floor hard, rolling away with a series of groans and curses punctuated by the smash of metal on wood as the mining cart hit the buffer and tipped over.
Talon’s head was spun and her body was battered on all sides as she tumbled from an awkward landing and rolled across the stone floor. When the rolling eventually stopped she rose unsteadily to her knees and promptly threw up. Her shoulder, which had survived the collision with the cart only minutes earlier now sent stabs of pain up and down her arm as she gingerly moved it to pull out her sword.
There were moans coming from behind, a shape moved in the semi darkness.
“Grungni, I think I broke something.” Talon recognised Grax’s rumbling voice. The dwarfish shape rolled over with the accompanying thuds and scraps of loosened armour and weaponry. She crawled over to him as he sat up.
“Lie still.” She said looking around for a splint, “Let me help, where does it hurt?” Grax looked up his hairy eyebrows momentarily knitted in confusion, then the tinny smell of alcohol hit Talon’s nose.
“Right in the arse.” He said and pulled a split metal flask from underneath him “A fine twenty year old malt whisky ruined, my best flask broken and to top it all off my trousers are going to smell like a drunkard for months bah.”
She groaned at him and stood up shaking her head to try and dispel the pounding and think straight, she felt like she was going to be sick again.
“Everyone all right?” It was Stalag from somewhere on the other side of the track.
“Grax thinks he’s broken his arse.” Talon called back, that didn’t sound right she tried again as dwarfish laughter pierced the dark. “I meant flask.” Someone else called in from off to one side.
“You were probably right the first time.” It was Pebbs, she came into view limping slightly and baring a knife. “Did we lose the rats?” Talon nodded and the halfling seemed to relax “Good. Who’s been sick?” Talon half raised a hand. “Watch it next time, us halfings go barefoot you know.” She nodded and the world span again. A shape moved in the gloom on the other side of the tracks, it had an axe.
“You all right Stalag?” The dwarf nodded.
“Unlike some I landed right. Come on let’s get out of here.”
There was only one passageway apart from the tunnel the cart had just come through, now they moved in silence weapons drawn and Stalag leading. Talon was getting tired it must have been coming up to early morning and although she had done little fighting the sheer exhaustion of continually being alert and more than a little afraid was taking its toll. Grax was walking behind her and the smell of the whiskey made her want to cough, the pain in her sword arm was flaring up every few seconds.
The next chamber was as much of a shock to the system as being thrown into a snowdrift asleep. After hours of bloodshed and destruction they had come to a room where every wall was lined with thick dark shelves and every shelf was filled with an assortment of its own particular treasures. The smell of wine as old as the dwarves combined or barrels of spices from places Talon had never even heard of drifted over and assaulted the senses. Another track, unconnected to its twin in the other chamber, split the room in two disappearing into a shadowy tunnel ahead. And then there was the barricade. Furniture had been haphazardly piled on the ground in low heaps, chests and chairs lay intermingled with rugs and spice crates hurriedly pulled from the enormous shelves still containing their aromatic hoard.
There were low torches on the walls, the group stopped while there were still shadows enough to hide them and began trying to fathom the best pathway through the chamber. The barricade undoubtedly lead back to the Imeldian’s area and coming from the direction the gang were so desperate to avoid contact with the party could expect to be shot on sight. Ahead lay the cultists waiting to take back the ring stone of their God and somewhere nearby lay what remains of the Harbin’s gang, if they were not already dead they could prove dangerous. Wherever they went they were in trouble, whoever they met were sure to be enemies and whatever direction they chose they couldn’t be sure what was lying ahead in the darkness.
Suddenly, as the group was preparing to move on, Grax cried out and dropped his axe. An arrow, shot from somewhere near the looming barricade, took a chunk out of his arm, the chink in his chain mail couldn’t have been more than a few centimetres wide, someone had them in very good sights.
“That was a warning shot.” Came the voice from behind the nearest pile of furnishings. “I do not have to miss. Drop your weapons.”
They obliged, they had other weapons, and they only had one life. “Good.” Said the voice, it was male and the tones spoke were of a level measured calm if not somewhat tired and with a hint of strain on its edge. “Now turn around slowly.” The group turned to face their attacker, there was more than one.
A small group of men, some only just out of boyhood and others worn with age, stood along the barricade, enough of them had crossbows to dissuade any foolish heroics. They were in rags, bandages and assorted weaponry. One man stood alone on top of a broken backless chair like a king on his castle, an arm was bandaged and an eye had been missing for a long while but he was dressed for war and was holding a bow.
“A woman, a halfling and two dwarves all armed to the teeth. An odd assortment to be wandering about in the Crypt at this time of morning. What are you doing here? Speak or we’ll make a pin cushion of your hides.”
There was silence, Talon’s mind spun what could they say ‘we were just walking our rat in the sewers when we stumbled in’ that would throw up more questions than answers. Pebbs half opened her mouth to speak then stopped.
“Well, answer me.” The man pointed his crossbow at Pebbs urging her to finish, she didn’t seem to be able to. Talon felt her face grow hot she had to do something. She said what came into her head through the haze of exhaustion not trusting her tired mind to try and think it through.
“We came in through a mortuary…” The man seemed to notice her for the first time, his one bright brown eye burned as she spoke, Talon tried to stare back defiantly.
“…We saw the sins of greed and watched death take hold. We followed a blood trial and outran a swarm in the sewers.” His arrow swung level with her head as she spoke, if he released it she wouldn’t just lose an eye.
“We don’t worry too much about the sins of greed, we’ve seen our fair share of death too. Who are you?” Talon tried to extract the basic truth, she didn’t trust herself to lie to the man, she wasn’t as good at it as Pebbs.
“Just hired hands on our way to the outside world. We’re just trying to get out…or die trying.” The arrow in the bow dipped at notch at these words, there seemed to be a general murmuring among the men, weapons lowered.
“Aren’t we all. Most of my men lie ahead who died trying to escape, and maybe we’ll join them before the sun sets again.”
“Then maybe we can help.” Pebbs had found her tongue again, which was good, Talon didn’t know what else to say to the man. The bright eye turned away from her, Talon realised she was shaking and soaked in cold sweat.
“You need reinforcements or you wouldn’t have sent word to the Imeldians.”
“How?”
“You tried a direct assault and that didn’t work.” It was Stalag, he stated it as fact not a question. “It must have been a direct assault or you wouldn’t have been able to hole yourselves up in here as a second option.”
“A direct assault is the only way dwarf, you can’t creep up on cultists they know you’re there before you do, it’s like they can smell you.” There were general whispers of agreement from the men, some of the older ones made various blessed signs across themselves as the cultists were mentioned.
“It’s not the only way.” Grax was pale under his dark beard, blood leaked out onto his leather jerkin. Hissing a curse Talon tore strips from the bottom of her already ruined shirt and began to bind the wound, the metallic chink of weapons shifted to follow her movements but nobody shot.
“What do you mean? Explain yourself!” Grax took a breath.
“The cart I bet it’s kept well oiled.” The man shifted his gaze again.
“Checked every day and used every day, it would not be any good to have crates pile up in the harbour to be ruined by the tide.”
“So there’s a harbour, good, what about the track?”
“Good as the day it was laid.” Grax half closed his eyes and smiled.
“And a boat, I’d wager my beard there’s a boat.” The man raised an eyebrow, Talon could almost see his mind working as she finished binding Grax’s arm. An old man waved his bow dismissively at the half-formed plan.
“A boat’s no good, you’d never get to it. Even if it’s not smashed to pieces by now the damn cultists have magic, they could blast you before you have time to breath.”
“That depends.” Said Stalag grasping the thread his fellow had begun. “On how fast you are going at the time.”
Grax nodded.
“A direct assault failed, but what’s the one thing no barrier can withstand.” There were murmuring among the men.
“I don’t know…fire.” The gimlet eyes shone again in the light of the chamber.
“No…a battering ram.”
Chapter Eight
Murmurs started up among the Harbins again, the one eyed man was the only one who stood silent mulling the escape plan over. Talon finished the makeshift dressing and pulled Grax back to his feet.
“I’ve bandage it best I can but you’ll need stitches, the arrow bit deep into the flesh.” The dwarf flexed his arm, the colour was coming back to his face now, and apart from the blood on his jerkin he looked almost normal.
“I’ve fought with worse field dressings girl, it’ll do.” Talon managed a small smile, it was soon lost as she glanced at the huddle of men.
“Do you think they’ll go for it Grax, the plan I mean.” The dwarf whispered back in as quiet a voice as he could manage.
“I can’t see that they’ve got much choice, the only worry is whether or not they’ll take us with them.”
For a moment Talon was too shocked to answer, she had never considered that the Harbins might leave them behind but as she thought about it, it made sense. There would be little enough room in the cart as it was and who knew how much room in the boat, why bother to drag them along when they could just as easily kill them and leave them here to rot. She tried not to shiver.
Eventually the deliberations came to an end and the one eyed man turned to respond.
“You’re plan seems far from watertight dwarf, we don‘t know how much the cultists have left undamaged in the main chamber…but it seems to be the best chance we have of getting out of here alive, very well make yourselves ready, we don‘t have much time.”
Talon’s heart almost back flipped inside her chest and her knees felt like they were going to give, even Pebbs seemed to sag in relief, they weren‘t going to be left behind after all. The man’s last words it seemed were not just meant for Talon‘s party, his small group went into a frenzy of preparation.
Even with the help of the Harbin’s and their leader the one eyed Egan Harbin it took the best part of twenty minutes heavy work ripping off shelving and nailing it too the cart before they were ready. Every minute Talon was expecting either a knife in the back from the Harbin’s or to hear the cultist’s footsteps on the stone passage that lead to the cove harbour. She could hear their chanting now, a slow horrible sound that worked from the base of her spine to a dull chilly throbbing inside her brain.
Weapons were found and checked the crossbows mostly abandoned in favour of swords and cudgels, small packs were shouldered many full of the most expensive of the loot from the shelves. All around the wounded were loaded inside the cart and there was a tense atmosphere as men talked in low voices if they did at all.
The Harbin’s leader caught up with them as they were helping Grax into the cart.
“If this goes wrong, or you’ve betrayed me and my men in any way, I’ll make sure you’re the first ones the cultists get their diseased hands on.”
The room in the cart was saved for those who couldn’t hang on round the outside, the old and the wounded, of which Grax was one, and Pebbs who was too small to grab the rail. Any extra room had gone to those Harbin’s who were good bow men and had opted to retain their crossbows. As a result men hung off the sides balancing on wooden ledges nailed on the bottom of the carts. Stalag and Talon and two young men nervously climbed onto the back of the mine cart and others arranged themselves as best they could on the makeshift ledge that had been a shelf not half an hour beforehand.
Talon’s arm began to pain her as she got on the cart, for a moment she debated asking to swap with one of the men, but soon brushed the thought away. They would need all the firepower they could to muster to escape the cultists and there was no way she could pull a bow, and the Harbin’s could change their minds about taking them if they proved too much trouble.
“Everybody ready?” there were affirmative mutters from both inside and outside the cart, men were pale faced and clutching onto cart and weaponry with white knuckles, prayers where murmured in low voices to whatever Gods happened to be listening. Talon clenched her teeth murmuring her own entreaty to Rhya as Egan reach to pull off for the brake lever and the last thing she heard before the cart started to roll was a gravel low ‘hang on’ from Stalag.
The cart rolled forward.
The initially jerk of movement almost threw Talon onto the cavern floor and certainly didn’t help the pains in her arm. As it was one of the young men did tumble off but luckily for him had the presence of mind to jump back on before the cart really began to move. And move it did. The track went down a slope to get to the next chamber and as it had been well maintained the cart began to pick up speed faster than a coursing hare when the hounds are released. Talon stopped trying to look at the flashing scenery and shut her eyes for a second, before she knew what was happening they were on the cultists.
The cave seemed to be filled with them though in reality there could not have been more than sixteen. Their robes were ragged and smeared with all assortment of vile and putrid stains, many were hunched over as if in the final stages of some horrific disease and those with that had their faces turned to the group had many sores and pustules oozing from their features. A small group of the most repugnant four men surrounded a fifth off to the right of the track. The fifth man caught Talon’s eye. Flies covered him in a swarming cloud of angry pestilence, skin was pale as cheese and his eyes burned with red light. He turned as the cart shot through the passage mouth and screamed in tones unearthly and bestial, the men surrounding him continued that horrible spine-rendering chant that burned into the bones. The sound was archaic and Talon could only try not to imagine what would happen if they got to the end of that God forsaken mantra. Egan seemed to have the same idea and yelled to his bow men.
“Shoot them.”
The three men with bows turned and began to loose their bolts from the rocketing cart. Most of the shots missed their mark but one, more by luck than judgement, hit one of the four in the back. Blood pulsed from the wound as the man sank to the floor still chanting. The flies around the central figure seemed to become more numerous and he spread his arms wide as they flew in and out of his mouth and nostrils covering his frame in a living carpet of black insects.
Some of the cultists nearer the track began to pile towards them leper like fingers outstretched towards the escapees. The cart was moving fast but they were barely halfway through the chamber when the first cultist managed to grab onto the passing cart. Talon got a glimpse of egg yellow eyes and missing fingers before one of the men bludgeoned him off. Soon another managed to grab onto the back of an old man hanging on the side. He screamed as the rotting figure buried its teeth into his shoulder and let go of the side. Talon saw him bounce once on the ground, the cultist clawing at his back, before he was lost from view.
The archers were still trying to line up a shot at the small group in the middle. Another man had now replaced the one they had killed, the chanting grew in volume. More of the disease-ridden creatures were crawling onto the tracks ahead arms reaching out for the speeding cart.
“They’re trying to derail us.” Yelled Grax from the confines of the vehicle.
“If we come off we have not got a chance.” Shouted Egan indicating the pulsating black mass in the centre of the circle. Grax looked up at the rapidly approaching cultlists.
“We need more speed if we’re going to break their line.” He rummaged in the base of the cart and picked up one of the treasured packs containing the merchandise from Harbins lair. Before anyone could comment he pulled it open and dragged out a flask of oil before throwing the pack overboard. Egan grabbed the front of his chainmail.
“What do you think you’re…”The dwarf shook out of his grip.
“Trying to save your neck, lose the packs, all of them, and hunch down as much as possible.” He saw the men hesitate at losing their livelihood.
“Unless you value them more than your lives lose them. We need all the speed we can get.”
“Do it.“ Commanded Egan snatching off his own pack and tossing it from the cart. Men began to scoop the bags from the floor and their backs and throw them overboard with frightened haste before trying to crouch inside the packed vehicle.
Grax clutched his bottle and leaned out over the front of the cart. Talon couldn’t see what he was doing but heard the splash of liquid hit the tracks.
“His oiling the wheels.” Yelled Stalag trying to hunker down beside Talon.
“And trying to reduce the wind resistance as much as possible, we can only pray it’s enough.”
The cart rocketed forward on the slick tracks, clearing the remaining distance in seconds. Talon heard the smash of metal hitting flesh as they collided with the diseased monks, beside her she saw one of Harbin’s men disappear screaming from sight. For a second she felt the cart rock and thought that they were going to spill over right in the middle of cultists, she wondered if they’d have enough time to run before the monsters recovered from the crash. The collision was over in seconds but felt like a lifetime. She felt the cart steady beneath her and realised in one short panicked breath that they had cleared the cultist’s line. She risked a look down and saw the tracks red and slick with unnaturally dark blood, she wasn’t brave enough to look behind her and see how many of the things had survived the crash.
The light of the cavern gave way to the darkness of another tunnel, the chanting faded with distance. Men were standing up again in front of her, a couple of the crossbowmen loosed bolts over her head, their hands shaking and eyes bright with fear from the recent encounter. Stalag glanced behind her.
“That’s slowed them down a bit.” The dwarf glanced over the insides of the cart, checking on the passengers. “And we’re mostly intact.” Egan snarled at him.
“We lost three more men back there.”
“And if the boat’s not there we’re going to lose a lot more.” It was Grax voice. Talon stood up, breathing hard as the fear lessened, her right side felt very exposed now the man at her elbow had fallen.
Grax was at the front of the cart again, using his night vision to check the way ahead. Egan was at his side, his one eye glaring into the darkness ahead as if his vision was as good as the dwarf’s. The men in the cart were shifting nervously at the mention of the boat, small muttered prayers began again. Talon felt her lips trip over one of Rhya’s mantras and a tiny hand squeezed her fingers gently. In the cart beneath her she caught sight of the pale upturned face of the halfling, Pebbs winked at her and smiled thinly.
“Almost out ox-girl. Hope there’s a bar open, I fancy drinking myself under a table.” Her voice shook slightly, Talon had the feeling the conversation was meant as a distraction for them both, she managed a small smile back at her friend.
“We’ll just get Grax to knock if there’s not, he’s good with opening doors.” The halfling laughed quietly. Talon’s smile faded as she looked ahead again. “I just hope the boat’s there.” Pebbs squeezed her hand again and then retracted her arm back into the cart.
“All those mountain streams and forest lakes big job, you should be good at swimming.” Talon heard her sniff again. “Though by the smell of it you’ll need your annual bath early if it’s through that open sewer.”
The men in the cart were starting to stir, even in the darkness the route must have been becoming familiar to them. Talon could see Grax began to swing round his hand moving to the side of the cart.
“Hang on.” He pulled a lever handle, there was a squeal of metal. Men reached forward to help the dwarf hang on to the brake as the cart protested and screeched against the restraint. It began to slow as the tunnel opened up once more. Talon heard the gentle splash of water and tasted the tang of polluted water in the air, at that moment she wouldn’t have traded it for the scent of even the purest mountain stream.
As soon as the cart has slowed enough Egan leapt onto the ground, his men followed suit, spreading out to circle the dark shore. Talon felt the crunch of gravel underfoot as she finally let go of the cart, her hands felt raw from clenching the hard metal and her bad arm was thankfully numb but unwilling to do more than the smallest movements, her legs shook beneath her. Pebbs leapt over the side and hit the ground in one smooth movement while Stalag bounded round the cart to help Grax from its confines.
They spread out expecting more trouble to emerge from the darkness but there was nothing as they headed towards the dock where the Harbin’s kept their boat.
“They didn’t expect anyone to manage to get this far.” confided Grax who was now leaning on his kin. “Otherwise they’d have left someone on guard.”
Egan saw the boat first, it was moored on a fossilised looking dock unmolested by the cultists and complete with its oars. Men seemed to pick up hope as they waded onto the boat, manhandling those too injured to help themselves onto the rough wooden holding area at its centre. The boat was built to smuggle goods into the sewers but was big enough to accommodate the depleted group without a fight for places and they pushed off into open water without incident. Egan sat at the prow glaring into the darkness with his one eye, growling instructions to guide the party out through a smugglers opening from the sewers and into the open river beyond. He gave orders to the men at the rudder and oars in low voice but mostly silence held sway over the boat.
The companions sat together near to the prow side to side so that their contact gave comfort to one another in the dark. Morning was just starting to creep onto the horizon and a breeze was washing over them from upstream. Talon felt almost reborn as the fear and panic leached out of her system leaving behind it an odd sense of peace. On either side of her the halfling and the two dwarfs sat quietly lost in their own thoughts looking out over the river towards Nuln.
“We’ll moor up for a few hours to collect some of our associates from the city and then we’ll head upstream.” Egan told his men as they started pointing the boat for shore. He turned to the small company sitting in front of him. “You did well Dwarf.” Grax nodded as if this wasn’t news to him. Egan continued “If you and your friends find yourselves in need of a lift out of Nuln in the near future you’ll find us dockside until mid morning, after that you’re on your own.”
Chapter Nine
There was a light mist in the air as they made their way back to the Three Barrels after leaving the Harbins. Grax seemed more sullen than normal, the makeshift bandage on his arm now starting to stain itself red.
“You’ll need to see to that soon as we get in the room.” said Talon eying the stain on the dressing with concern. “those sewers where hardly clean.”
“Dwarves don’t catch diseases” growled Grax moving his arm experimentally. “Stalag can help me put a couple of stitches in it, I don’t want too much of my own blood on my armour.”
“Me and Talon will drop the box off to Councillor Slimeball then.” quipped Pebbs. They were passing the long road than would eventually led to the Edelmar Mansion, she stopped and stared up it. “I don’t want to hang around too long in Nuln with those cultists on the loose.”
“We’re taking the Harbin’s up on their offer then.” Talon said hopefully. Pebbs shook her head.
“They’ll be looking to recoup their losses after that mess and four travellers with a bag full of gold is too much of a temptation. Some fast horses and enough supplies to get us to the next town will do. We can stock up there and take the road west to somewhere I know those bloody cultist won’t dare go.” The Dwarves groaned in unison at the mention of horses. Pebbs sighed.
“It’s that or another boat ride Big Jobs and I don’t fancy watching you two throw up for days on end again.”
“You sure you want to deal with Edelmar on your own?” said Stalag, there was concern on the edge of his voice, even Talon could tell he didn’t like the thought of them going off by themselves after the business in the sewer. But if he went Grax was sure to want to come too and Talon could see the red bloom on his arm growing wetter by the moment.
“We’ll be fine.” she said before Pebbs could answer, “After all he’s only one man.” Pebbs nodded.
“If he doesn’t behave himself Talon can always chuck a rock on him. Pack up for us and be ready to get out of here when we return.”
“Just be careful.” Stalag reiterated taking Grax by the shoulder and continuing up the road to the Inn. Grax said nothing but kept looking round until they were gone from view.
Talon watched the dwarves go something niggling at her. Her gut instinct was to follow them and forget about the money, the thought of meeting Edelmar again gave her a bad feeling. But she knew the halfing and the dwarfs would never abandon the gold and she couldn’t let Pebbs face the oily creature by herself. She hitched up her sword belt, her arm was full of a tingling pains that she was trying her best to ignore. Pebbs watched her amused.
“You think two centimetres higher is going to make a difference to your sword work do you.” Talon shrugged.
“Might do, depends how tall my opponent is.” She looked at the dark road ahead even through the grey morning mist she could see lights from the house in the distance glaring at them like a multitude of glowing eyes. She shuddered.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The house was big and old and gated, what Talon had not noticed through the fear and darkness of the previous evening was now picked out in muted colours in the mist. There were bars on the lower windows, gargoyles stared out from corners and under roofing slates and moss and ivy colonised the walls making the house look like an ornamental prison. They made their way up the drive and through a courtyard, torches flickering on the walls competed with the steadily growing sunlight in an attempt to consume the mist. Talon walked a pace behind the striding halfling one hand on her sword the other resting on her knife the uneasy feeling growing with every step. The large front door open slightly before they reached it, a young man with dark hair drawn back in a pony tail smiled at them from the darkness beyond.
“Edelmar is expecting you in the study.” The man’s voice had on odd singsong quality that made Talon take notice. He had an good face that seemed pinched around the nose and cheeks, his eyes were very dark, pupils and iris’s blended together to create a dilated look. The clothes he wore were well cut and good quality and dark like his hair, they folded loosely around him so that he seemed to be wearing a patch of shadow. Hands pale as chalk twitched on the door frame as he waited for them to enter.
Pebbs grinned at him her eyes lighting up for the first time in hours.
“Wotcha big job.” she said, letting her eyes wander for a second before Talon pushed her inside. Talon said nothing, playing the role of the mute hired hand again, she would have dearly loved to remind Pebbs to keep her mind on the job in hand, though that probably would not have been a good choice of words with what her companion had in mind. She turned once they were halfway down the corridor. The man was staring after them now leaning opulently against the closed door, Talon caught the hunger in his eyes before turning away shuddering and pushing the halfling more quickly towards the study.
Councillor Edelmar was where they had left him at his desk of papers but this time he looked up as they entered his eyes fixing firmly on Talon.
“I see you are missing some of your colleagues Miss Riverbank.” He queried, his eyes still on Talon’s face. After it became clear the halfling was not going to respond Edelmar wet his lips and continued. “Did you manage to obtain the Gem.”
Pebbs removed the box from her rucksack and held it at arm’s length.
“You have the money.” In answer Edelmar reached into a desk drawer and took a thick purse from its depths. He threw it to the floor in front of the halfling. Talon picked it up and pulled it open for her to examine. Pebbs took the purse, shook it to make sure the contents were the same all the way down, closed it tight and tucked it in her rucksack. She handed the box to Talon.
“Your Gem your Councillorship.” Talon walked over, something in her head was jumping up and down screaming at her for attention, the bad feeling in her stomach roamed around like a caged animal. Edelmar’s gaze were still on her, she tried to hold his stare but it was like trying to stare down a crazed animal, his pupils were horrible to look at. She held out the box and out of the corner of her vision saw the hungry man lounging against the doorframe, her eyes moved off of Edelmar and onto the newcomer.
At the exact same second something hard clamped over her wrist and she felt the weight of the box disappear, behind her Pebbs let loose a string of curses. She tried to turn to see what had happen to her friend but her wrist became a white hot line of agony, she swung out blindly and felt something close around her other arm. She was twisted round to face away from Edelmar and ended up on her knees both arms out and backwards in the hands of her attackers. She felt her sword belt disappear along with her knife. Pebbs was squirming in the grasp of a huge man in rags, stubby legs trying in vain to kick him in the chest.
There was the scrape of a chair followed by footsteps as Edelmar rose from his desk, he crouched by Talon‘s side his eyes focused on her scar.
“Hardly a usual wound for a shepherd.” His whispery voice was made worse by his proximity to her, his breath brushed against her cheek in waves. Talon saw the man at the door move into the room and begin laying out metal instruments by the small fire in the grate. “But one my cousin would happily give up all his lands to lay hands on. You may know him Forester. Lord Valen Herrick.”
Talon spat at the mention of the name and the globule hit Edelmar’s fine trousers. His hand hit her face so fast that she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, her head whip-lashed back for a second, he was stronger than he looked, she would have to remember that.
“These men are all experts in their field, kidnap, rape, assault and torture.” On the last word he indicated the man by the fire who was now warming the ends of his instruments in the flames with the loving care of a fanatic. “And while the real entertainment won’t start until you are brought before my cousin I can’t see the harm in a little practise beforehand.” The dark haired man withdrew a long thin spike from the flames, it’s tip red hot and smoking slightly, Talon could smell charred flesh from its previous encounters from where she stood. She felt someone press a blade against her shoulder and heard ripping as they slit open her shirt sleeve. Edelmar stood and stepped back a few paces smiling. Talon should have been afraid, she knew she should have been terrified by the mention of Herrick’s name but she wasn’t. She was angry, angrier than she had been for a long time, anger that rose up from deep in her past and poured into her breast tearing open the old scars of memory. She stared hard at the flames in the grate.
“You bastards, leave her alone.” It was Pebbs her voice wild with a mix of fear and fury.
“What shall I do with this one.” The man in rags shook the halfling like a rag doll. Edelmar looked at Pebbs as he would a cockroach under his shoe.
“Kill it.” The man drew a knife. Talon exploded.
She bought her arms round hard pulling her captors round with them, ignoring the pain screaming in her wrists and forearms, her bad arm a line of fire. The two men fell forward sprawling on the floor with the force of the movement. As the first rose Talon met him head first breaking his nose in a shower of blood and mucus and sending him down again. The second got as far as drawing Talon’s sword but it had taken him a few seconds, her fist caught him hard in the neck just as the weapon left the scabbard, he collapsed blood streaming from his mouth. Talon snatched the weapon, slammed it back in its scabbard and dragged her belt round her waist. A sword was out of the question, she could barely raise her arm enough for a block let alone swing the blade.
The rag man dropped the struggling halfling and charged at her arms outstretched. She backed away from the desk, fists raised, trying to give herself room for a fight. He was huge, fat and balding his meaty hands covered in hundreds of tiny scars. Talon moved as he lunged keeping far enough back to avoid his grasp. Her opponant was quick for his size and he snatched at her trying to restrain her as he had her companion. She didn’t have time to fight back she could barely keep out of his grip…
Something hot and sharp drew a line of fire down her back. She screamed and spun round to face the new threat, only to feel the iron grip of the man behind her as he drew her into a bear hug. Her captor stunk of sweat and vomit and his hold on her drew a concerto of old and new pains from her torso and shoulders. In front of her the torturer stood smiling manically, eyes gleaming with an insane fanaticism, in his hand the long thin heated spike smoked where it had made contact with her skin.
“A good attempt my dear.” He said casually eyeing the two dead men on the floor. “You have fire I’ll admit, but I have broken better.” He drew the spike lovingly down her bare forearm, she bit down hard to avoid screaming at the burning agony the move created. His dark eyes found her face.
“That was just a taster, an aperitif to get the creative juices flowing. I seek perfection in all things you understand.” He brought the spike up level with her unscarred cheek. “And although your hair is a thing of beauty I find the lack of symmetry in your face disturbing.” He smiled again, her eye began to water with the heat of the metal as he lowered it towards her skin.
Suddenly the fat man behind screamed. She felt the grip round her arms loosen and ducked as the dark haired man brought the metal spike down hard impaling his colleagues chest. Not bothering to turn she kicked him in the knee and was rewarded with the sound of ripping cartilage. The fanatic fell, dropping the spike, she caught it midway ignoring the burning in her hand from the hot metal and rammed it down hard, spike first through the man’s eye. There was a horrible yell as it slid home and then silence. Talon rose expecting to find the fat man getting to his feet, she did not.
Pebbs was standing to one side of the ragged body looking pale and ferocious, in her tiny hands were two of the wicked looking knives she carried, covered in blood, there was blood on her face and in her hair. Talon looked at the corpse and the growing crimson puddle beneath it. After a while she decided the first blow that had produced the ear splitting scream and released her from the giant’s grasp must have been to the groin, that was certainly where a lot of the blood was. Then next was to the back of the neck, probably as he dropped, and the last most devastating blow was to the throat nearly severing the head from the body. She swallowed hard.
“Thanks for the help.” Her companion seemed to notice her for the first time since the fighting began.
“No-one does that to me and lives.” Growled the halfling wiping down her knives, eyes momentarily deadened. She blinked and looked around the room. “Where’s Edelmar.” Talon turned, Edelmar had disappeared, so had the box.
“I don’t know, but he won’t get far, take it from me you don’t fail Lord Herrick and live for long.” She glanced at the dead men and the blood smeared floor.
“We’d better get out of here before any back up arrives. We can clean some of the blood off ourselves at a water butt and head back to the inn.” Pebbs nodded.
“I saw an enclosed stable yard in one of the other houses on the way in. That will be as good a place as any.”
Getting out of the mansion was not difficult, Edelmar seem to have cleared the lower floors of servants, no doubt so any screams his attentions on Talon would have produced did not rouse comment. The stable yard Pebbs had seen was walled and the hour was still early enough to prevent any stable boys disturbing them. Talon scrubbed what she could off her shirt where blood would show the most. Her cloak would have to cover her ripped clothes and battered face.
“You’ve got a black cheek you know.” said Pebbs scrubbing her arms in the horse trough. Talon nodded, she was more worried about the pains in her arm than her face, but her face was more noticeable and Edelmar’s blow had been hard. “I’ve got some make up that will hide the worst of it, the stuff will sting like buggery though.” said the halfling turning her attention to getting the worst of the gore from her hair.
“I don’t care just so long as it lasts until we can get out of town…Are you alright, they didn‘t hurt you did they?” Pebbs laughed but there was no humour behind it.
“My shirt is ripped but no worse, they were more interested in thrashing you.” She paused her fingers picking at a blood spot in her tresses. “Tal, what the hell happened back there, who is Lord Herrick?”
Talon stared into the water for a moment, and then began pulling her cloak on. The truth would put the halfing in danger, but after the mansion she owed her an explanation, or at least part of it. Her voice when it came was hesitant and low.
“My past is…difficult to go into…The short of it is that my parents were murdered when I was young, burnt to death in front of me.” Pebbs went still for a moment.
“Herrick?” Talon nodded slowly the image of the flames rising in her mind’s eye. She could almost smell the roasting flesh mixing with the scent of wood, she fought the memories down. She swallowed trying to work some wetness back into her mouth.
“And some of his cronies. I took my revenge when I was old enough. I broke him in ways I don’t want to talk about and left him alive with the consequences.” Pebbs rolled down her shirt sleeves over her wet forearms, Talon kept her focus down, unwilling to look at her friends face.
“No wonder he wants you tortured, and you lived to tell the tale.” A frown creased her brow. “I thought you said people who fail Lord Herrick die soon after?” Talon nodded tugging the edges of her cloak together more to hide her shaking hands than to cover her wet shirt.
“I didn’t fail him...I broke him. If he ever gets hold of me it will be a long time before he finally gets round to killing me.”
Pebbs was silent for a minute, then shrugged.
“We better make sure he doesn’t get hold of you then. You going to tell the dwarves?” Talon shook her head, Pebbs nodded.
“Good, we’re going to have enough trouble getting out of here as it is without them charging back to kill Edelmar. Dwarves are fiercely protective little buggers towards their friends at the best of times.” She scratched her nose with a podgy finger and stared at the wall. “Comes from not enough lady dwarves to go round if you ask me, develops an unhealthy level of comradeship among the men.” She cast an eye over Talon’s cuts and bruises “Lucky we killed the bastards who gave you those souvenirs or we‘d never get them out of here.”
The sun was high up in the sky as three of them leaned against a stable wall, listening to Pebbs hurried conversation with the owner of the horses. Talon had chosen their prospective mounts half an hour ago and now the halfling was trying to get them for the going rate rather than the extortionate amount the man wanted.
The Halfling had been right about the dwarves reactions to the little tussle with Edelmar’s men. It took all of Pebbs powers of persuasion to get them calm enough to leave quietly, especially after Talon’s back had to be stitched. Even now Grax twitched his axe as he watched Talon as she shifted uncomfortably against the wall. He was looking better than he had when they had left him at the street entrance but Talon suspected that some of his current colour was more due to anger than a full recovery. He growled under his breath as she moved her shoulders again.
“If I ever come across that Basark again girl I’m going to…”
“You won’t get the chance Grax, he’s as good as dead.” She winced as a bit of the stone wall dragged across her stitches. The story they had told the dwarves had been Edelmar had been left fatally wounded in agony. If Talon knew Herrick that story was if not already true well on its way to becoming so. Stalag peered back round the stable wall from where he had been watching the negotiations and glanced at Talon.
“If you don’t stop moving you’re going to rip the wound open again and then it will be a cauterising job.” Talon stopped moving and rubbed her cheek with her bandaged hand, Pebbs was right, the makeup did sting like hell.
“Hasn’t she finished yet?” Stalag shook his head.
“Idiots trying to palm us off with some old nags by the sound of it.” Talon rolled her head trying to clear her mind, she was tired and still in pain, the waiting was killing her.
“I’m going to walk around for a bit.” She saw the dwarves exchange looks, they didn’t fancy letting her off by herself again after the morning’s adventure.
“Watch yourself Tal.” Grax‘s eyebrows crossed slightly. Talon sighed, she didn’t need a babysitter not even battered as she was.
“I’ll be fine, up the road and back, anything rather than leaning against this wall.” Talon hurried off before the dwarves had a chance to answer, she could feel Grax’s eyes boring into her back as she went.
Several small shops where starting to put goods in their windows ready for the day. Talon watched them with interest, Broken Paths had never had shops as such and she found the glass fronted buildings fascinating. There was a noise behind her, scrabbling against the cobbles, something wet brushed her leg. She turned as quickly as she dared pulling a knife with her good arm. The street was empty, the damp cobbles free from the muggers and assassins she had been expecting. She went to turn back to shop window again.
‘Wruff.’ She spun round again and this time had the forethought to look down.
It was grey, greyish anyway in patches and seemed to have drawn it’s ancestry from the entire doggy spectrum with some wolf and maybe a bit of mountain lion thrown it for good measure. It also had big brown puppy eyes.
‘Wruff.’ Talon jumped in spite of herself, the dog whined and wagged its tail hopefully.
“I haven’t got any food.” She said bending down to rub it’s coat, it was wet and very cold. “Go home.”
The dog barked again. She stood up and turned to walk back down the street. Claws pattered on the cobbles as the thing tried to keep up, Talon stopped, it stopped.
“Go home.” she said again and made shooing motions with her hands. The dog tilted it’s head on one side and whined. Talon walked away, she couldn’t look after a stray, it wasn’t fair to pulled around town after town never knowing when it’s next meal was going to be, better to leave it here, least there was always something to eat. She heard it whine again, the desperation in it voice plain, another lost soul in a city full of them trying to find a place to belong. She slowed and turned, meeting the mismatched gaze of the pup with her own piercing gaze, the creature rose expectantly. She felt the connection with the animal, a kindred spirit adrift in the world waiting to find its place, its purpose. She looked away and began walking again, the subtle flick of her fingers was all the invitation the pup needed to follow.
She caught up with the dwarves just as Pebbs emerged from the stables rubbing her hands together
“He’s selling them to us tack and all at a fair price. Stupid bugger could have saved himself half an hour and just agreed to that in the first place, humans I ask you.” She stopped as she caught sight of the small bundle of fur at Talons ankle.
“What’s that?”
Talon had found a bit of string in her backpack and made a leash, she had also attempted to dry the pup off with a spare shirt, it hadn’t helped the dog’s appearance and had likely ruined the shirt.
“There’s good eating on those.” Said Grax eying the dog, it growled and stood its fur up on end, Talon half glared at the dwarf.
“He’s coming with us, could be a good hunting dog with a bit of training.” Talon doubted this as the words came out of her mouth, the dog was too much of a mongrel for hunting.
“Strange looking mutt.” Said Stalag stroking the dog behind his ears. “Looks a bit feral, but no more than the rest of us.” He added quickly, Talon was not in the mood to be argued with.
“Fine, excellent another mouth to feed.” Said Pebbs, but there was no menace behind the words as she too bent and stroked the dog which wagged its tail happily. “The stable lads are putting the saddles on the beasts as we speak and then I suggest we leave. We have enough food to last us a few days, more if Talon show us her new acquisitions hunting skills, and we’ll be well away from here by sundown.”
Soon Talon watched the city gates of Nuln closed behind them and urged the horse onwards into a rolling walk that slowly began to take them away from the city and it‘s dangers and out into the forest once more. Beside her Pebbs sat astride a brown mare her short stubby legs sticking out either side and behind her on two geldings the dwarves sat pale and silent looking even more uncomfortably on the large unfamiliar mounts than the boat that had brought them into the city barely a week ago. On the packs behind her the dog lay staring at the passing countryside with its fur moving gently in the breeze and it‘s tongue lolling from its open mouth.
In her boot a portion of the gold from Edelmar sat heavy against her leg. Her encounter with the lord weighed on her mind. He was right, what wouldn’t Herrick give to lay his hands on her, what depths wouldn’t he stoop to in order to extract vengeance and what right did she have to put her friends in danger to keep herself safe from the madman. She felt hunted, like hounds were at her heels and it was all she could do not to urge her mount into a gallop. In the dappled sunlight of the road under the twisted beams of the forest trees she loved so dearly Talon closed her eyes and watched the flames of memory dance in her mind once more.
Epilogue
Edelmar walked slowly through passage, a secret exit from his study one of the many from the mansion to the outside world. In the nook of his arm he cradled the box containing the jewel of Nurgle and in the other hand he gripped a lantern that threw up strange patterns on the walls.
How could his plan have failed, it was five against one for heaven’s sake, all those idiots had to do was hold on to the girl and it would have been fine, he could have been on his way North now and straight into his cousins favour. If only he had hired better staff. He consoled himself with the fact that he still had the jewel, that would be enough for Herrick as long as he didn’t find out that the girl had been in his possession all would be well.
At the end of the tunnel was a door that led out onto the harbour and to a boat that would take him out of the city for a while until things settled down. As he reached it he found the lanterns light splutter and bend in strange ways, refusing to show him the door to the outside world. Strange shapes formed on the walls in the dancing flames, Edelmar felt a chill wind that seem to come from the very walls themselves.
“Little sheep, little sheep, where have you been?” The voice was right by his ear, he turned slowly the lantern shaking in his hand. Behind him, close enough that he could smell the foul reek its breath was what looked like a man half hidden in shadow. The man seemed in his mid thirties, built for a life outside, his skin was rough and tanned and dark hair lay matted around his shoulders. He had eyes that seem to glow with firelight even though there was no fire in the passage save the tiny flicker of the lantern. What Edelmar could see of his clothes was a mass of stains and tears.
“Who are you?” The man smiled showing rows of sharp white teeth.
“My Lord spoke to me as I wondered the river bank in search of the trail. Spoke to me in my mind. He told me about the city where one who was not as great as he held something of his in his greasy hands, something my Lord wanted, something he wanted very much.” Edelmar shivered, the voice was frightening as if it was spoken both inside and outside his head at one time, the man’s eyes burned, he had the crazed look of one of his cousins creatures.
“You mean Herrick. Your Lord Herrick.” The other man’s smile faded.
“I am not worthy to speak his name little sheep and I am more worthy by far than you. But yes that is who I speak of. He has instructed me to obtained the thing he wants from the one who is not so great, and if the one who is not so great refuses me…I am to do almost one tenth of what I was to do to the thing he wante... to him.”
Edelmar swallowed, the man made no sense but even he could guess that if he did not give him what Herrick wanted he would not enjoy the consequences. Edelmar held out the box slowly trying not to shake, the man took it, looked at it and then looked back at him with his burning gaze.
“The ring stone of Nurgle as agreed…My cousin knows I always deliver what I promise.” The man looked at the box again quizzically.
“I thank you for the gift little sheep. This however is not all of what my master wants.” Edelmar shook until the light of the lantern danced and spun on the tunnel walls as the man drew very close to him.
“Let me give you a hint, eyes like ice on deep water, hair like blood on the grass after you take the throat from a doe…and a scar where he whose name I cannot speak clawed at her face while she bent his back in two.” Edelmar whimpered and tried to move away but the man’s hands were on his arms now, pulling him closer to the rotting breath. His teeth were sharp points.
“I can smell her on you little sheep, her breath, her skin…her blood. You were close to her little sheep, so close that you could have reached out and taken her to my Lord.”
The man twisted Edelmars arms with a crack, the lantern fell to the floor spluttering and flickering on the walls.
“But you didn’t, you let her go, so I will have to find her again, find her and take her kicking...screaming...broken.“
Edelmar wimpered again.
“Who are you, my cousin will…“ The man smiled again, the teeth shone in the dying light of the guttering lantern.
“Let me introduce myself little sheep. I am Wolfe.”
There was a crack and a wet sound, in the blackness Edelmar screamed.
The End
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