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I’d taken a bath. I can’t tell you how good it felt to be emerged in steaming hot water. I scrubbed at the weeks of dirt my quick excursion to a watermills pond had missed and relished the feeling of absolute clean. Even better was the liberating feeling of losing my beard. That matted mess of lice and grime looked like a bobbing caterpillar in the bowel of tepid water Evin had brought up to my room and I was glad to be rid.
I sheathed my dagger and patted at the red skin of my cheeks. If felt odd to be bald faced again. Odd but good. Wait 'til the warrens get a load of the old Flendin again!
The Fortune of War was an old thieves den. More than just a tavern it was a place where shady deals were struck, palms were spat on in good faith, plans were devised and misadventure was analysed over a tankard of beer. It was somewhere for the crooked of Never to meet and it was a rowdy place the watch were loath to trouble. A bit like poking a very small stick at a sloth of very angry bears. So stupid no one would do it, regardless if baptised by the law or not.
Its regulars were an unwholesome lot but I knew each and every one of them and they were, to a certain degree, almost trust worthy.
Evin booted them out.
The tavern had been in Evin’s family for years and she was as tough as her patrons. A straggler was clipped around the ear then she hoisted her skirts and put a boot to his rear. “Tavern’s shut,” she balled, slamming the studded door shut and drawing the bar across to drop in place. “They want to see you. Followed you all the way from the plaza,” she said thinking I was stood behind her.
Like with Ordesky I’d known Evin since we were children.
She used to sneak beer and bits of roast meat out to me when her parents weren’t looking. I couldn’t recall when we’d first met, or even what’d first impelled her to want to help me, but her doing so certainly attributed to me surviving Never’s winters. I was a starving waif back then, small and thin and pale and just one in a city of a thousand sad orphans.
Her parents had passed away long ago. I suppose I could’ve taken her as a wife but there’d never been anything sexual between us. We’d always been friends, good friends.
I thought she looked pretty. Her auburn hair, loose and free flowing, trailed along her shoulders and her neck and face were the colour of delicate porcelain. She rarely left the inn, had no reason to. The city streets were dangerous but in The Fortune of War she had power, she was a queen. Lowlifes had respect for Evin. I’d respect for Evin.
“Good to see you,” I said, two steps shy of being off the stairs.
She sighed, leant back into the door. “I’m glad you’re back, Flendin,” she said. “Things have been crazy since you’ve been gone.”
Both Smidgen and Bent were in the bar, stood stock still like they were embarrassed or uncomfortable. They’d no reason to be as there’d never been anything intimate between Evin and me. We were just friends, always had been.
“They staying?” she jabbed a thumb at the pair of them, which made them look even more embarrassed and awkward. Come to think of it, how they managed to get Smidgen to fit inside the building was beyond me. I was glad they managed as he fitted quite nicely. High ceilings helped.
“That a problem?”
“Not if you want them to.”
“They’re my friends, Evin. And they’re going to help me put this city straight.”
Evin moved to a table by the door and sat down. I joined her.
We spent a moment just looking at each other. Her eyes were brown and the skin around them dark. She looked tired, I thought, still pretty though, in an unassuming way.
“What’s going on?” she asked and there was trepidation in her voice. “One bad thing’s happened after another since you disappeared, and now we’ve got that monster on the tower. What is it? Why is it at Never? Crazy people attacked the watch. Still some around, hiding, every now and then one of them will burst out of nowhere and kill an innocent person. Like this city wasn’t dangerous enough as it was.”
“Thanks for letting me clean up and for letting me stay here. I knew you’d help,” I said, ignoring her questions. Then she pulled a resigned face and I weakened. “I’ll tell you everything I know but first I want to find Ordesky. Get him here.”
“Then you haven’t heard?”
I widened my arms in exasperation. “Heard what? I’ve just arrived in the city, I’ve heard nothing.” A lot can happen in a city in a single day and I’d been away for weeks. I didn’t like not knowing something. It made me feel incomplete. It was my city and I was used to having my finger on its racing pulse.
“It’s about Ordesky,” she said conspiratorially.
“What about him?” I asked, leaning in close. “Please Evin, cut to the quick.” He’d better be alright. I felt scared now. If anything had happened to him I didn’t know how I’d react. If Maver Kane had touched him there would be repercussion, there would be blood.
“Bannin’s got him at the Rampton Road gaol house. Rauper’s been there and seen him. Says he looks a little beaten but okay.”
“Bannin wouldn’t have hit him, it’s not his style.”
Evin avoided looking at me and she sniffed. There was something she wasn’t telling me.
“Kane,” I said and she nodded. “Kane had him.”
She reached across the table to reassure me. Her hand touched mine and she stroked it. Her fingers were warm and soft and I was reminded that I hadn’t been with a woman for weeks. A tingling sensation formed around my groin. I had to curtail my impulses for I couldn’t jump Evin. She was a good friend. I shouldn’t even be having these thoughts about her. “He had him for days,” she said, her voice dropping to a shaky whisper. Any thought of her welcoming cunnie evaporated with the reinforcement of Ordesky’s ordeal. Passion killed I moved away from her with a start so sudden she jumped too. I was angry with myself for thinking that way about her. “Poor Ordesky,” I said meekly though I meant it. I felt bad for leaving Ordesky the night I fled the city but more than that I felt mad at Maver Kane for having the temerity to take him and put his life in jeopardy. “Smidgen,” I growled and he took a step closer to the table. “I’m going to need you to eat someone later.”
“Whatever Flendin,” he said. He didn’t like it when I got agitated. He looked itchy, uncomfortable. “Whenever you say.”
“I’ll wait for the night then I’ll get Ordesky out of the gaol. Can you get Bib Pompatoo to feed the horses, brush them down, look after them?”
“Already told him to,” said Evin. Pompatoo was an old Neveren who sometimes helped out with menial tasks around the tavern. Tasks like cleaning, cooking and errand running. “There’s a store building around the back we put the horses in. Pompatoo put some bedding in there so they’ll be just fine. You with a horse. All the things to happen I couldn’t see that one coming,” she laughed.
“Pretty accomplished too,” I said, pulling on some imaginary reins. I don’t know why I did, just seemed appropriate. I felt stupid then. Despite not having ridden before I felt sure Evin had a grasp of the mechanics. “Hey listen thanks Evin,” time to recover from my embarrassing charade. “I ask you to keep the tavern shut too. We’re going to need some privacy. Any one of your usual clients could work for Kane. In fact I’m sure a lot of them do.”
“And what of Kane?” she asked fearing the answer.
“He’s a dead man.” I got up and made for the stairs. In spite of the joking around I was furious at Maver Kane. The potential had always been there for Kane to push his luck, I just never thought he would stoop so low as to pick on Ordesky to get to me. Ordesky was a fence and not some hardened criminal; he couldn’t handle himself in a fight and as such he should’ve been untouchable. Kane would pay for this outrage and he would pay with his life. “We’ve had a long trip to get here so I suggest we all get some sleep. Sleep during the day, operate at night, it’s the thieves way. What is it?” I noticed Evin was trying to get my attention in a furtive manner.
“Well that thing. I mean where would it like to sleep?” she said, not daring to look at Smidgen.
“That thing is my friend, just as he is yours too. Give him a bed.”
I could’ve sworn I heard Smidgen cheer as I stomped my way upstairs. No stable for Smidgen today. Thinking about it I could’ve cheered myself.
––––––––
It was night. I loved the night for I could become invisible and move freely as a spirit. I pressed my head to the cold glass second storey window and checked outside.
I was looking for trouble, however it may manifest. Obsessive watchmen, Maver Kane, Turned, anything at all but I registered nothing. I wiped moisture from the glass and double-checked. Still nothing. If someone meant me harm they’d be out of sight anyway. They’d be in shadows with daggers drawn, waiting. Rooftops tonight, I thought. I would keep off the streets and travel the roofs of Never.
I left my room and took the creaky stairs down to the bar. Evin was waiting for me at the bottom; she’d been expecting me. I asked her for a coat. The only one she had was too small for me so, again, I was stuck with my old blue one and reluctantly I pulled it on.
“I had a very comfortable sleep,” Smidgen admitted with no provocation from any of us. He looked pleased with himself. “I’d just like to say that I like beds,” he added superfluously. “Apples and beds. I don’t care where I end up as long as I’ve got an apple to eat and a bed to sleep in I will be a happy monster.”
“You’re a nice monster Smidg’.” Thought I’d better get that in, trying to colour Evin’s opinion of him if she had formed one yet. It would be best if we all got along and no one was scared or intimidated by anyone else.
“Yes I noticed you like apples. Nearly a whole barrel gone in one sitting,” Evin rolled her eyes. I got the feeling that if Smidgen was a bit smaller she’d hoist her skirts up and kick him out.
“Take that flower out of your hair,” I said. It was a souvenir he was reluctant to throw away. “Monsters don’t wear flowers. I want you and Bent to stay here, guard the bag with your lives and protect Evin. If Kane knows I’m back he may send men here looking for me.”
“I’d very much like to come with you, Flendin.” Smidgen was anxious for me. He didn’t like the thought of me wandering around on my own.
“Not tonight, Smidgen.”
“But Flendin....”
I turned to Bent. “Bent, make sure he stays here.”
“Will do.”
“I think I preferred you with a beard.” Smidgen being funny. “But really. I think I should come with you. Look out for you. You may need something eaten.”
“Then I’ll eat it myself.” I opened the door and took a deep breath. Behind me I heard Evin going on about apples. Cold air hit my legs and chest and I shivered. I pulled my hood up over my head and took a step out into the night. Destination Rampton Road gaol house and Ordesky. By gods it felt good to be back.
––––––––
“Who saw this?” Maver Kane took a gulp of mead from the wooden beaker. It missed his mouth and trickled down his front but he was too drunk to care.
“I did. Came in through that hole the thing made. Had two others with him. Big ugly men they were. Bigger than you,” Millet ventured bravely. He’d had too much to drink as well.
“Did he have the shield with him?”
“Don’t know,” Millet belched.
Maver Kane had his thugs gathered around him in his private rooms beneath the bakery. The two men he’d sent out to find Ordesky hadn’t returned so he figured either they were dead or in hiding. But Millet’s news was bigger and way, way better than anything Ordesky related.
“Like he’d never been away,” Millet sounded sour. “Everyone cheering him. Even the city watchmen. Warrens all getting wet and cooing at him like he the next King or not.”
“King of shite,” someone ventured.
“Pah,” Maver Kane spat. “I bet he was heading towards The Moss.”
Millet nodded eagerly, saying, “Yeah, to The Moss. That’s the way he was going.”
“He has a tavern there, The Fortune of War.” Kane threw his beaker across the room and some had to duck to miss its crazy trajectory. He stood drunkenly and clapped his hands together. “Fetch me Bone Splitter,” he commanded.
Millet’s face contorted disapprovingly and he sat back down with a heavy slap. “We’re going out tonight? I thought we’d think about a course of action. No point rushing in. He had some odd looking types with him earlier, foreign looking.”
“You think them Turned?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a worrier, Millet. Bone Splitter is enchanted. No incense for me tonight, no drug to dull my senses. Just get me the 'Splitter. Turned or not I’ll bite them in half.”
Kane was handed a small chest, about a forearm in length, from a selection of similar looking ones nested at the back of the room. They were a collection of some sort and a prize possession of Maver Kane’s and he stroked reverentially at the metal around the lip of the lid before he pulled it open. “No incense. No drug to ease the pain. Just pull my face off, Millet. Just do it.”
Millet put a hand on Kane’s face; he placed four fingers one side and his thumb the other and the skin of the face started to slip. “Are you ready?” he asked, preparing a better grip.
“This pain prepares me for the carnage I know I will inflict on the Blade. I want to kill him. I need to bleed him. Do it, Millet.”
Millet pulled and Kane’s face came off in his hand. It was wet and limp like weed washed up on a shoreline. Its fine white muscle adhered to anything it touched and Millet took a long time unwrapping it from his hand to save from tearing it. Eventually he exchanged it for the mask in the chest.
“Put it on,” Kane slurred. “Put the 'Splitter on.” The glistening pulp of Kane’s skinless face was a sight old hands were used to, yet young initiates groaned and clutched at their guts, for the first time seeing Maver Kane for the monster he truly was. Pink and ghoulish. “Put it on,” Kane repeated, unable to form the words properly. “I want to kill tonight. Bone Splitter wants to run through the streets and kill.”
Millet placed the mask over the raw flesh of his head and Kane, suddenly empowered with dark magical properties, felt a surge of animal aggression pulse down along his arms. He threw them out and screamed, “Bone Splitter.”
The mask was a huge blood stained silver tooth, razor sharp and curved like a monstrous tusk. He bit at the air with it and the men stood nearest to him backed off warily. It could take a head clean off, bite through solid stone.
“To The Fortune of War,” Millet commanded and even those too drunk to think were dragged along to the fight.
––––––––
I ran silently across the snow-topped roofs of Never, passing unseen like the shadow of a spirit.
The roofs of the ancient city were treacherous. Many bowed low with age, groaned with the weight of snow, would wrong foot a man of poor balance and judgement but I was agile and knew the routes well and was never in any danger of slipping and falling to my death.
I leapt divides wherever terraces ended or new streets began and in little time I reached my destination and slowed to a moderate gait, passing the face of the low moon and for a fleeting moment becoming visible as a silhouette. The city watchmen in the streets below were oblivious to me and I wondered how easy it would be to pick them off, one at a time. An assassin in the dark, an invisible peril.
But then as I stood and watched, crowned by the glowing moon, I witnessed two guards dragging one of The Terrant’s followers out from a side alley. They set about him with fists and boots, killed him and threw his lifeless body down into the gutter. I heard one of the guards telling the other to leave the body for the Collectors to find and then I jumped down to land silently behind them. I contemplated doing them in. Neither wore much armour, a mistake these lawless days, which would make killing them even easier, even quicker. I rescinded. The guards were purging the streets of threats to the populace. They were losing the battle. There weren’t enough to make a difference as it was without me taking two more out of the unbalanced equation.
I waited for the two watchmen, still oblivious to me, to move on before I stepped out from the shadows. I watched them go with interest. They looked tired, I could tell from their deportment, the slope of their shoulders, the lethargy to their steps, but they had another five hours scouring the streets before the dawn. Who’d be a watchman? Not I, I thought as I scaled the side of the gaol and climbed up onto the snow covered pitched roof. Loose snow trickled down from the eaves and put-putted onto the cobbles below but no one noticed.
Not long after I reached the top of the gaol, two watchmen, probably the same from moments earlier stepped back into the street and loitered by a torch fixed to a wall. They were looking across to the man they’d killed and were talking in low tones and I thought I heard The Terrant mentioned.
The Terrant. Even now I could hear the damn thing crying and it was a siren calling out for Turned, summoning more of the cursed to Never.
The Terrant’s cry was inescapable as there wasn’t a district in the whole sprawling city free from its range and it put the fear of hell in all that heard it; mothers, fathers, children, watchmen and even hard hearted thieves.
I felt numbingly cold inside, not just from the sound of The Terrant’s call alone but from the memory of seeing the source of that constant noise wrapped around the tower of The Eagle and the Rose. With a shiver I recalled it had a thousand legs that were blackened and spindly and forever moving. They twitched with the anticipation of cadging meals, occasionally lolloping down to capture anyone foolish enough who strayed too close.
Its hunger, like its masters, was insatiable.
The watchmen moved away again. Time to move too. I all-foured it over the pitch and dropped down into the courtyard behind the gaol.
An empty bottle rattled down an alley and I pulled myself down low to save from being seen. There followed incoherent burbling’s of a drunk but he was a street away at least. His proximity had been an illusion, his voice carrying far on the still night air.
There came an authoritative bark from an irritated watchman and the drunk was moved along.
I waited longer, snuck between a couple of snow-topped barrels. I’d time on my side as winter nights could drag. I had to be sure there was no one around before I made my move towards the gaol house. Sheriff Bannin could have men placed in the dark corners of the frosty night; alert men, patiently waiting for me to blunder. So I would wait a little longer. To watch and listen.
In the dead of the night I contemplated several things. Firstly The Terrant. I thought I should make killing it a priority, before it could call too many Turned to the city. I had to break Ordesky out of the gaol house and then I would kill The Terrant and somewhere between the two actions kill Maver Kane too. Terrant, Ordesky and Kane. Three big problems. Getting Ordesky was the easier out of the tasks but I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be easy. It could, after all, be a trap.
Rumour had reached my ears that Sheriff Bannin wanted to talk. His long legs had taken him from one end of the city to the other in search of me but I’d remained elusive for I’d no reason to trust the Sheriff. He’d wasted his career trying to capture me and it could be just another ruse so I’d remained safely out of sight. Having Ordesky locked in a cell was the perfect bait to lure me out from the shadows I loved so much. Be wary Flendin, I thought again, this could be a trap.
I hadn’t heard anything in long minutes, save the constant drone of The Terrant, and keeping to shadow I moved to the back door of the gaol.
Suddenly another noise, this time closer too. It was a repeating tapping sound, like a blind man’s walking stick might make navigating a busy street, and again I pulled myself down low.
An oblong shape appeared, quite indistinct in the darkness, and I stifled a shocked gasp as it slid around the base of the gaol house, passing mere inches away from me. It was a Turned. It had a multitude of long hooked fingers that it tapped at the area directly around and in front of it.
I guessed it would be blind, but blind creatures overcompensated with other senses didn’t they? Such as an acute sense of smell and hearing. I willed myself not to breathe, not even gently and hoped I smelt of nothing remarkable and all my wishful thinking must’ve helped for the tapping creature finally went around the corner and disappeared.
I had a pick married to the lock in half a heartbeat. It clicked once, twice, then the back door yawned open and I snuck in, quietly closing the door shut behind me.
––––––––
I kept to the darkest parts of the gaol house. I hugged corners, hid in alcoves and behind heavy curtains and timed my progression to avoid moving in the open when there were guardsmen about. The odd isolated guard I shadowed, haunted his steps with my own, but I was never discovered.
The guards of the Rampton Road gaol house had no idea I moved among them, even when I was within touching distance, murdering distance, from them. But I never killed. I wouldn’t, unless I’d no other choice, unless they forced my arm.
I moved with speed and purpose down the labyrinthine rooms in my hunt for the detention area. I knew it would be below ground. Like a rat-run in a cemetery there’d be room after room hidden beneath the feet of free men. It’s hard to hear the screams of mental anguish, to smell the stench of enforced degradation when it’s buried beneath the cobbled streets and all gaol houses stuck mendicants in deep holes to forget about. So I had an idea of where to find the cells holding Ordesky, just needed to locate the door that would lead to them. It would be heavy, reinforced with steel and possibly even guarded.
I heard footsteps approaching and slinked backwards into a shallow wall recess. I may’ve been heavy handed, may’ve made a noise for a watchman stopped suddenly like I’d been discovered. I felt for the hilt of my dagger. Incrementally, and without making a sound, I slid my dagger out of my belt, inch by stealthy inch.
He was looking my way but he couldn’t see much, just the shadow I hid in, and maybe the faintest outline of my figure or the tiny glimmer of light reflected in eyes. The guard focused harder. I didn’t want to kill him but I would to preserve my secrecy. I tightened my grip on the dagger and positioned my wrist ready to strike when there came that tapping sound I’d first heard outside the gaol. I couldn’t place it, neither could the guard for he looked all ways around and, perplexed, moved off towards the front of the building with his sword drawn.
I spilled out of the shadows that’d hidden me so well and crept deeper into the building. Every step I took was another passing second I shouldn’t be in here and I strained hard to listen out for any sound of alarm or notification of my presence. Thankfully I heard nothing.
I crawled beneath a curtained archway and stumbled face to face with a reinforced door. I put a hand to the base and felt cold air moving. This would be it; this would lead down to the cells, subterranean.
I looked all ways about me, put the lock pick to the lock and set about moving the tumblers. This one took longer to open being of more complicated design, but I forced the pins to move and after anxious time this door, like the first one, yawned open.
I thought the noise deafening as it turned on its hinges but no one came to investigate and before my luck had chance to change I took the steps down into the cell area and closed the door quietly behind me. I heard footsteps walk past just moments after I’d done so and breathed easy that I hadn’t been discovered.
Now all I had to do was to find Ordesky.
The stairwell was unlit and I felt my way down single step by single step and upon reaching the last one I hesitated. The only light in the room came from a candle burning in a recess. Its incense was musty, like burning dust, and it caught in my throat and tasted foul. I looked around. There were no guards. I scanned the room for a second time; just to be sure my eyes hadn’t been tricked as it was hard to pick anything out in the oppressive gloom. I waited longer, could hear nothing, and then said out loud, “Bergamot Bannin disappoints me.”
Ordesky rushed to the bars on his cell door and gasped, “Oh Flendin. I hoped you’d come and get me.”
“Quiet,” I hissed and when I heard the other inmates rouse I repeated myself. “Quiet now or you’ll bring the guard down.”
“Get me out of here, Flendin.”
“Settle down, Ordesky. Settle down.” I’d the lock pick out again. Click, click, the door swung open and I threw my arms around my old friend. “I’m sorry Ordesky. I should’ve got you the night I left the city.” Ordesky’s arms squeezed me tight and I could feel the warmth of his tears wet the side of my neck.
“Let him go Flendin the Blade,” said Bannin coming down the stairs. He must’ve followed me. In one hand he held a bell that he raised now, threatening to ring. “One move from you and the guards will be down here, all of them. I’ll ring it. You can kill me but not the entire watch so think before you draw that famous sword of yours.”
“I didn’t know about this,” Ordesky pawed at me. His eyes filled with more tears. “I didn’t know he was waiting for you. I swear it Flendin. I’d never betray you.”
“Do anything unpredictable or risky and I’ll shake this bell like I’m throttling a rat.”
“I heard you wanted to talk to me,” I said coolly. I’d half expected a trap so Bannin didn’t have the edge he supposed he did. I’d hear him out before I walked out of the gaol with my very good friend Ordesky. Whether or not I forced the bell inside Bannin’s own arse before I left depended on what the old sheriff had to say to me.
––––––––
Bent was in the topmost room of The Fortune of War. He’d the shutters thrown open and was leering out of the window. It looked as if he was being wary and assessing the night but there was a shrunken head bobbing just outside that he was talking to.
“The Green Man is just outside the city south gate,” said the head. “He followed you from Audry.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s put his roots down and seems to be waiting.”
“Waiting for The Golem of the South?”
“I would imagine so.”
“Do you think we can trust him? The Green Man.”
“If I’d shoulders I’d shrug,” said the head, non-helpfully.
“Where is Hunger?”
“Three days away, maybe more.”
Suddenly shouts from downstairs and Bent backed away from the window.
“That’ll be the gang I warned you about,” said the head smugly.
“How many of them are there?”
“Eighteen. That includes one very angry leader.”
Bent heard Smidgen roar. Then came sounds of something or someone being thrown through a wall. “I’d best help,” he said drawing further away from the window.
“There you go again, putting yourself in harms way when you needn’t do.”
“My existence means nothing. I fight for a cause greater than the sum of myself.”
“You’ve been reading too much.”
Bent closed the shutters with a bang. He reached round to the back of his head and found a tail end of material to pull free. But then he thought twice about unravelling his headgear and left it alone.
On the ground floor there were bodies strewn about the bar. Smidgen had two men clambering over him, trying to fell him with dagger thrusts and Evin was crouched behind the bar, alive but clearly shaken. The thugs previously hurled through the wall by Smidgen were coming back through the door. They were unsteady on their feet and covered in white plaster but they looked mean.
Bent punched his fist through the throat of the first one and the massacre begun.
––––––––
“We had a good conversation, Ordesky and I. We understand each other. I want you to understand me, Flendin,” said Bannin.
“Make for the door, Ordesky. Keep to the shadows.”
“Stay where you are, fence.”
“Just go.” I pushed Ordesky towards the darkened stairs but he was reluctant to leave and manoeuvred behind me instead.
“Be still, both of you.” Bergamot Bannin threw a hand out like that could really stop us.
But we stood fast anyway. I thought he looked old. He looked old, and frail. “For years you’ve chased me the length and breadth of Never. The trial has obviously taken its toll on you.” I said, intending to needle.
“I’d chase you right now if circumstances were different.”
“You won’t be chasing anyone. You’re like an old dog, Sheriff. Even in this light I can see your lame with age.”
“And what are you? What do you compare yourself to these days? A vain peacock? A Fox? A lion? Well I’ll tell you, Flendin the Dark, you are and always have been a snake. A black hearted cold loving snake. For decades you’ve slithered through my streets at night taking what you want, hurting innocent people, filling your own pockets and lapping up ill-advised adulation from those too stupid to know that it isn’t clever to worship a low down, filthy black hearted villain like you. Oh you’re charming, I’ve no doubt about that, but you’ve made a life taking from good people that have earned every bit of fortune that may have come their way. What right have you to take a single coin from a hardworking man? Ordesky’s an intelligent person and yet you’ve managed to corrupt him as you have so many others. You’re a blight on this city. My city.”
“Your city?” I couldn’t believe his vanity. “Your city you say? I guess I see things differently because from where I’m standing it most definitely is my city.”
“Whosever it is I want it back. I want things the way they used to be.”
“You mean with me sliding through the streets on my belly? You’re not making a lot of sense old man. First you berate me then you eulogise about the good old days.”
“Life isn’t as clear cut and as simple as I’d like and I’m fast losing the power to do a thing about it. Before the King was killed, before the Turned came, I knew my place in the world. I could get up in the morning and predict with reasonable accuracy the events of the impending day. Yes there’d be fights, some theft and a few murders but nothing compared to the violence and the gravitas of recent weeks. We’ve had riots on the streets, the King’s residence, Tambroite Manor has been ransacked, mad men come to Never to bleed her and Turned are appearing in greater numbers with each passing day. Help me thief. Help me kill the Turned. Help control the crime. Help me get order back on the streets before there’s nothing left to save. The rigs, the royal captains and their soldiers left soon after the assassination of the King. Few Neverens have been seen since the Turned ransacked the city. Anybody of any influence hightailed it towards Vague and left us all here to rot. Every day I lose more men and can do nothing with the numbers left in my ranks.”
I couldn’t believe it but Bannin was sincere to the point of desperation. He was being heartfelt. Oh the tears welling in his sallow eyes told me that, along with the quake in his voice and I felt embarrassed for him to be in this situation. It’d be like finally admitting he was wrong and that he’d wasted all those long years trying to arrest the one man he now believed could save his world. And it must gall. It must tug on every nerve in his scrawny body.
Little doubt Bannin considered himself my nemesis but he’d never come close to troubling me, not once, and I’d always thought him poor competition. Yet he’d done something I could never do; he’d put the people of Never before his own needs. Asking me for help reduced him, made him less of a man and despite all the corruption, the hate and the burgeoning evil he still thought the city more important than his own existence. Still put it before any pride he may’ve once possessed.
You had to admire a man like that, one whom loved others more than himself. So unlike me. It was misguided sentiment, of course, but admirable nonetheless. “The Devil’s coming here, Bannin. Do you still think your city is worth saving?”
“It’s been my life, of course I do. But Flendin don’t mock me. Don’t make this harder than it is already.”
“Is it really down to me, a thief, to do everything for the municipality? A city of this size should have resources, should have friends. You seem eager to play with my life.”
“It is as I say. Anyone with power left Never the day the King passed. Rigs, commanding officers, others who held positions of authority distanced themselves from the crime almost as soon as the atrocity was committed and no help comes from our neighbouring cities. The northern army remains defiantly deaf to our pleas for help as most have broken up and returned south whilst those stationed to the south are too far away to make a difference. The orchestration of the King’s death runs amok our friends or else his sudden passing apoplexies them to inaction. The fate of the city resides with you and I, Flendin the Blade, and I’m saying we’re all damned if we chose to do nothing. Even now control of the city has gone. Mad men quarrel and fight over criminal control of the quarters. Turned run riot. People are murdered in their own homes and everyone turns a blind eye and pretends all will be well in the morning. Then another morning breaks and we all wake to find the blood level has risen just another inch higher. Soon the chaos will overtake us all. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t necessary because believe me it hurts to, but the people love you maybe just enough to listen and to follow your example. So help me to help Never.” The arm holding the bell lowered a fraction and the Sheriff’s eyes were open and honest. He thought he really needed me. Oh the irony of fate.
Pretty speech. I did feel for the old man, I truly did, but I’d had my fill of responsibility, having carted that bag from one end of the mainland to the other. “What of Haven?” I asked. It seemed an obvious step to take. He was in charge of the city, its policing, safety and wellbeing. The man was a coward but he had power. He commanded the Neverens. The Roses, as they were affectionally referred to, were a contradiction. Some weren’t expected to fight as theirs was a ceremonial position, made up of retired or injured in service soldiers whilst others were fighting elite, prepped to protect the King whenever he ventured so far north. As far as I was aware Haven still lived. The well-being of Never was his responsibility and not Bannin’s. “Despite what you may think of the Chancellor he is second, was second in command to the King when the King was in residence. There must be vestiges of the Neveren army within the city. I know there is a monster on top The Eagle and the Rose bell tower but has anyone tried to get inside to see where the Neverens are? Are there no Neverens in Tambroite?”
“Haven is a fool and hasn’t been seen since the death of the King. An admission of guilt I’m thinking. Either way it’s typical of him to hoard the soldiers if he has any when we need them here and on the streets. I’ve lost good men. City watchmen are for policing the streets; soldiers are for fighting and dying.”
“If he hasn’t been seen then perhaps he’s dead. Neverens aren’t cowards. If you haven’t seen them then I guess they’re all gone too.” I was being logical tonight. Well it made sense, didn’t it? “Or perhaps he has plans and you don’t figure in them?” That comment could offend. I hoped Bannin didn’t rankle and ring that bell of his. I really shouldn’t push my luck though chances were I could take his arm off with my sword before he rang the blasted thing anyway.
Silence hung thick in the air before a resigned reply finally came, “Perhaps you are right.”
I thought he looked tired and he seemed unsteady on his feet like they were hurting him. I could take him down easy. Either run him through or just hit him with a fist but old Bannin deserved better. He clearly considered himself my adversary and for pities sake I thought he deserved a better end to his fruitless career than a blow to the side of the head or a blade fixed in his gut.
I didn’t move. I let him think fear continued to hold me fast. Fear of his so called reputation and fear that he might just shake that bell he held onto so desperately his knuckles were turning bone white.
That tapping sound returned and Bannin and Ordesky looked all ways around and up and I remained focused on the Sheriff and his weakening arm. I could take him now, easy.
“It’s a Turned,” I said rationally. What a hero. Nothing fazed me. The tapping bothered them whereas I remained focused.
“Where’s it coming from?” Ordesky asked out loud.
None of us could be sure for at one point it was all around.
I’d caught a glimpse of it outside, despite which I still had no idea what it looked like. It was an indistinct, probing, burrowing thing. I remembered it had long fingers. Long, tapping fingers.
Eventually the Sheriff opened that puckered mouth of his and with heavy heart he began to speak. “At this time and place, right here and right now, there is only you and I. I can’t save the city on my own,” he said, “that’s why I’m here talking to you instead of throwing you in a cell next to your friend. I’d talk with Haven if he’d listen but no one has been allowed inside the municipal building since the King was murdered. I’ve tried. The doors are shut fast and no one comes to open them.”
I was amazed at the Sheriff’s lack of grit. “You have the law on your side and yet you won’t force an entry?”
“It is precisely because of that that I won’t. I’d be no better than you if I did.”
“You’ll have to become just like me if you’re going to save the city.”
“I pray not.”
“Praying won’t help.”
“Neither will this,” Ordesky stepped out from behind me. His look told me he was tired and wanted to go home, and that I should appease this old man and get as far from the gaol house as possible. Say yes today; decline to help tomorrow if necessary, but just go. Besides the tapping was getting louder indicating that whatever it was was getting closer again. Ordesky kept checking behind us, like he expected something to come bursting through the wall. Then it faded away, must’ve found something of interest elsewhere. Some Turned were fickle like that. They could lose interest in a heartbeat and never been seen of again.
“Okay,” I sighed, resigned to possibly adopting another charge, this time the fate of the whole city. I’d gone from a man with no responsibility at all to one with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Destroy the Golem and get my life back. I had to make it happen. “I’ll go and see Haven only no locked door will stop me getting to him,” I said brimming with conceit. “That help you some old man?”
“This is good,” Bannin’s face lightened up with the delivery of some positive news at last and a thin smile cracked across his face. “I can’t do everything. See, you bring me hope. A thief to save the city. A unification of law and the lawless.”
“Just keep the watch off my back.”
“Yes, yes. Do right by the city and they won’t trouble you. This is good. Maybe the tide is changing with your return,” Bannin prattled.
“It’s not all good. Be ready for Turned. Many more Turned. You’ll have to secure the city. Make good on the breached wall.”
The usual furrow returned to Bannin’s brow and his mouth drooped angrily. “More are coming here? Why? Haven’t we suffered enough?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. Which was true, I wasn’t. Of course they had to be related to what I carried inside that blue bag but I wasn’t about to involve the Sheriff of Never in that so I implicated Haven. “I think it has something to do with the Chancellor and the dead King. I can think of no other reason why they’d be coming here. Can you?”
“No. No I can’t. We can’t control the Turned here already. They run amok, taking lives at will and we’re helpless to stop them. Our unification may well be short lived, Flendin the Blade, and we’ll all rot in hell.”
“Standing here won’t help.” I made for the stairs, Ordesky impatiently following me.
“Get information from Haven and get the Neverens on our side,” Bannin shouted after me. “Oh and Flendin.”
“Yes?” I said stopping on the steps on my way back up.
“Kill that bastard Kane too. He’s not helping the situation either.”
––––––––
We were out of the goal house and back into the freezing cold night. I slapped Ordesky on the shoulder, laughed, and he laughed back. “We’ve got the Freedom of the City,” I bragged and we laughed some more.
Keen to reach the safety of The Fortune of War we broke into a sprint. Those abroad late watched us pass with interest for we moved loudly and without a care and in these most recent days vivacity was a rarity in Never, an oddity.
“I didn’t know he was waiting for you. Bannin I mean.” Ordesky’s laugh dried up with the effort of the run.
“I know.”
“Are you really going to kill Kane?”
“For what he did to you? Yes.”
“I missed you Flendin.”
“I know. I missed you too, Ordesky.”
We reached The Moss. I stopped running and pulled Ordesky in close. “All eyes now my old friend, and ears too,” I cautioned and we huddled down low and kept to darkest shadow.
A scream rent the air and Ordesky jumped with fright. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “We cannot afford to be seen or heard,” I whispered and he nodded slowly in agreement. Maver Kane could be local, or some of his thugs sent to kill me, so we shadow hugged. I went first down The Moss. “We’ve got to be careful here,” I stated the obvious and stopped abruptly for I fancied I could hear tapping again.
Suddenly a sense of foreboding hit me and I reached out my left hand to touch the slimy wall for reassurance. It was furry with the moss of its namesake and felt like a woman does between the legs, soft and moist. Not the time for inappropriate thoughts I pulled my hand away in a shot and thought I heard something coming from directly ahead of us.
Some precognitive sense slowed my steps down further and I readied myself in anticipation of something I felt, just felt was waiting for us ahead and in the darkness. As hard as I tried I could see nothing, save an orange willow-wisp of torchlight from a wall sconce just the other side of the tunnel, and gradually I started to believe that maybe I was imagining things.
“Easy now,” I whispered and Ordesky cautiously fell back some way but not back enough to lose sight of me.
Suddenly a noise and a blur of movement and something hurried down The Moss, violently pushing me to the side of the tunnel as it barged past. “Watch out,” I shouted out as it almost knocked Ordesky off his feet and it whimpered or was gasping or cursing as it fled.
It was Kane. I thought twice about giving chase. “He’s come from the inn,” I exclaimed, drawing my sword. I was fearful of what I would find there and silently I prayed that nobody had been killed.
My prayers went unanswered as approaching the moonlit tavern it was clear there had been plenty of death.
There were so many bodies around this side of The Moss that the violence looked wanton and I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter and held a holy image in my head as way of blessing myself and keeping ill spirits at bay.
Then I noticed the hole in the side of The Fortune of War, the same that people had been thrown through, and knew that, regardless of how much I didn’t want them to be, the fight and the tavern had to be related. If Kane, or any of his dogs, had touched Evin or Smidgen or even Bent then I would be their vengeance. I swore it.
There was blood, glowing like deep purple in the moonlight, around the ground outside the tavern and there were more dead strewn all about the hole too like they had lazily only half made it through.
I told Ordesky to stay close to me as we wended through the cadavers.
“Do you recognise any of them?” I asked, expecting Evin’s, Bent’s or Smidgen’s corpse amongst the fallen but I couldn’t see them, thank the gods.
He said, “No.” He was unprepared to investigate and kept his head up stargazing the whole time.
The front door was hanging off a hinge and it groaned and juddered when I touched it and when the door finally opened enough for me to look inside I clapped my hands firmly together.
“Sorry about the wall, Flendin.” Smidgen was stood inside looking at his handiwork. Evin was next to him. She held a bloodied dagger like she’d not long finished using it and the pair of them were covered head to foot in white plaster.
“By the gods,” I gasped incredulously for all around lay Kane’s army of thugs. They were smeared across walls and the floor, ripped open and emptied like so much meat in a slaughterhouse. Stood innocently by the stairs, bloodless hands crossed like he was waiting patiently for me, was Bent.
Ordesky raised a worried finger at him. “He makes me feel very, very scared,” he gulped.
And I was inclined to agree.