Death's Reckoning (24 page)

“Have a wonderful night, Styles,” Muldor said over his shoulder, and the young runner chuckled.

Muldor stepped up the polished wooden stairs. Tapestries and paintings adorned the inner hallways, and the building was built much the same as any other except the accruements were more expensive; a simple upgrade to the regular squalor. Not worth more than the comfort and familiarity of Muldor’s office, which cost him nothing.

Fools and their foolish priorities, for luxury items have little effect when Muldor used his spendable coin on getting into the favorable position he was in. He combined the best qualities of the politician with the tools and abilities of the thief. All he needed was to embrace the charisma the common man found in him, and his dominance would be complete.

Picking the rather simple lock Dollenger employed took mere moments. The Dock Master must have felt secure because of the men strolling the property. How silly to trust in corruptible humanity. Trust in yourself and personal skills.

Inside was a soft light from numerous candles, and Muldor felt surprised that Dollenger was a dandy whom needed such trivialities to sleep. They smelled very sweet, something a woman would have, and Muldor searched the room with his eyes, seeing a bedroom towards the back wall.

“Who’s there?”

Muldor started.

“You’ll go no further, Muldor. This attack of yours is ended tonight.” Dollenger stepped out of the doorway to his room, armed with a sword. “This is how you will see your fate come together.”

Muldor peered closer and sensed no one else in the room. “You plan on dueling me on your own, do you? I expected you to be more prepared. Don’t think you are my better in martial prowess.”

“I expected more planning on your part. Don’t think I am alone because I appear to be.”

A shuffling from the hallway alerted him, and Muldor sprinted across the room towards the lone window. He smashed through glass and wood. The outcropping of a lower hang saved him from serious injury. He threw his arm over the side and dropped to the ground from ten feet up and landed hard. Shouting from a dozen men told him the exact circumstances of the situation. They had him trapped.

* * * * *

Cubbins met the five foreigners back at the precinct the next morning. The officers and the swarthy fellows had time to cool off and relax, so they could all settle their anger. There had been enough fighting in town to last him his entire life, however long that might’ve been. He also made certain the officers present at Madam Dreary’s the other night were either off duty or assigned somewhere else, just in case.

Lieutenant Dillon joined him, and together they brought the five foreign men into his cramped office. The three silent men stood at the back of the room. The two more talkative men sat in front of his desk while Dillon stood behind him.

Unri spoke, his deep voice only adding to the exoticness of his persona. “Thanks to you for speaking with us.”

“I appreciate you coming here today,” Cubbins said. “My desire is that we move forward from here with a mutual understanding.”

“Yes, yes.” Unri touched his chest and his forehead with the back of his thumbs. “This is helpful. Very good.”

“The understanding is simple,” Cubbins said, slugging ahead and ignoring the pleasantries. “This is our city. It is run by various agencies, but when it relates to crime, I am the law and my power absolute. There will be no more vigilantism on your part. The laws of this province will be respected. I don’t care where you people are from. I’m sure you understand my meaning.”

Unri looked thoughtful for a moment but then nodded. “Yes, you are right, Captain Cubbins. Please to forgive. Your laws by right.” He nodded in respect to Dillon and Cubbins who in turn nodded back. “But this special circumstance. Hear from local tavern this very building have very bad experience. You have recent trouble. Please to show us, and I explain as we look to rooms here. Is very important.”

Cubbins saw no reason why not, so he escorted them around the station house. They strolled around the precinct. The five men peered into every nook and corner of the front offices and jail rooms. Some of which were filled with prisoners. Others were empty rooms with dirty, scorched floors and stain covered walls.

Blood stains marred most of the floors and corners of the walls. Spots they could never clean off. The mess of the corpses had been too much.

“
Quanim
was here,” Unri said and took a deep breath. His wrinkled, sun darkened face looked grimmer than normal, and the others stirred. They turned his way, and Unri said a few words to his brother Yuri in their language.

Cubbins waited with an irritated look on his face, tapping his foot on the stone. Dillon looked bored, and that irritated him further. He should’ve cared more about this. Their lives were at stake.

“So, must ask more questions,” Unri said.

Cubbins lifted his chin. “Have at it.”

“There are other troubles in town?”

Dillon nodded. “You could say that.”

“In graveyards, places of burials, bodies found missing, yes?”

Cubbins and Dillon nodded.

Unri said something quick to one of the cousins, who answered with a non-committal grunt. Unri nodded and looked to Cubbins. “This town, this place, this what we call ‘well of souls,’ great place of suffering and death. Much death has come in recent days, much more to come. Has become target of great evil. Ancient man has come and caused more death.”

Dillon scoffed. “One man did this? Ridiculous. You haven’t seen what these rooms looked like.”

“Let them finish,” Cubbins said. “They’ve seen more than we have.”

Unri nodded in respect to Cubbins. “This man not real man. Not how you think. Wears body of man. Has many forms, through many generations, across many lands, and taken many lives to feed his eternal hunger.” He indicated the others with him, and a reverent silence fell over them. “We are last members of family, all that remains of entire line. Rest all murdered by this supreme ghoul, the one that walks silent in the night, the ultimate reaver.

“He is timeless, unassailable. But we have skills, have trained many years and hunted him across the continent. We devote lives to ridding world of this scourge, this plague of plagues. It will devour your homes, your people, until death take you all. Please to give assistance. You must to help or it will be blighted forever by his mark.”

Cubbins nodded. Wary relief spread throughout his loins, having no choice but to trust the men. He was already a dead man. “Fine. Tell us what you want us to do first.”

The five men relaxed and Cubbins saw a deep sense of satisfaction in their eyes. Unri gave a grim smile.

“Good. You are good man Captain Cubbins. Our first task is to find agent of his. We track to this ladies house after fight in tavern, chase through streets. Have means of tracking.”

“And then we kill this great evil,” Cubbins said. “I and my men would be delighted to assist you.”

Dillon grinned. “I’ll kill ‘im. Grind his bones up for my soup.”

“I thought only giants did that,” Cubbins said and couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was hope. Maybe these men had the answer to their problem.

A murmur of disagreement rippled through the five men when Yuri translated for the three cousins. Yuri looked back to Cubbins and shook his head. He was shorter than his brother, very stout, and his head was enormous. His careworn face looked sad.

“I’m afraid you misinterpreted my brother’s words. No killing of this creature is possible. It is more of a removal of his form from this plane. In time he would coalesce back into human form.”

“But would take great time,” Unri said. “If unchecked, his power and influence over men grows. The world become graveyard.
Quanim
has plan for city. This is the way of things.”

Cubbins’ head throbbed with too many questions. This was a beginning, not an end. “If there’s nothing further, Master Unri, we can get started. I’ll put every man I have on finding this agent of his. There’s nowhere in this city where he can hide.”

They made their plans.

* * * * *

Around the same time, another search began. One of a different nature but of no less importance for the hunters.

“I’ve had some boys tracking the beast since the last riot,” Zandor said. “Last I heard, Thruck ran up to Mount Killian, south of town.”

“I know where the damn mountain is,” Jerrod said, irritated. “That’s why we’re here.”

They trekked together through the foothills south of Jerrod’s cabin. Zandor was beside himself with self-satisfaction, and it was getting to Jerrod. The jerk-off was so full of himself, Jerrod saw images of ramming his fist down his throat flash through his mind.

“How do you know the beast is still there? You seen him yourself, Mr. Fancy Pants? Have you?”

If Zandor was affected by frustration, it didn’t show. Instead, he popped another handful of walnuts in his mouth and chewed for several moments, perhaps weighing his next words with care. “Last I heard he was holed up here like a rat in a cargo hold. Them boys what trained him. You should know them since you and Castellan busted them and threw them in jail when they shut down the arena. Remember?”

Jerrod frowned. “I remember them. Couple sissies, two fops.”

“Yep, that’s them. Well, them boys took off for greener pastures when the real fighting started, and I don’t blame ‘em. The rest of the area fighters, prisoners at the time, fought and fought well. ‘Cept ol’ Thruck was smart enough to get out of town when it was possible.”

Zandor laughed and ate some more nuts. As far as Jerrod knew, the man hadn’t been in town during those events, so how he knew these facts with such certainty was beyond him. The little shit’s got people everywhere. A tremor of sincere concern struck him, but he shook it off. Zandor bled like any other man.

“So what if he did?” Jerrod said. “We supposed to just stroll on in there, and this stupid beast just comes out with us? That’ll be easy, sure.” He scoffed. “I knew your brain went south a long time ago. This is proof now, pal.”

Zandor remained unfazed by the insult and kept walking along without a care in the world. “You know, I seen the big fella fight. I got pretty close to him afterwards too. I know a little bit about ogres. Think everyone’s been reading him wrong.”

Jerrod sniggered. “There you go thinking again. Gonna get you into trouble someday. That ogre kills people good, nothin’ else to it.”

Zandor chewed. “Yeah, well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

They met up with several of Zandor’s men, sailors by the looks of them. Half an hour later and Jerrod’s legs began to tire. They were deep into the foothills by then, with plenty of scrub bush and craggy rocks surrounding them.

More men joined them. They looked like hunters, dark and lean with dirty hair and brown and green clothes with knives strapped to their waists. Trackers, used to find the ogre. They stood at the bottom of a sloping hill, quivers on the backs, and bows in their calloused hands.

“Whadaya got?” Zandor said and strode towards them.

A tall, rangy man glanced at Jerrod for a moment, and then pointed up the slope over his shoulder to their right. “We think up that way.”

“Oh, you ‘think’, do you?” Jerrod said.

“There’s a cave,” the other man said, ignoring Jerrod. “A trail leads right to it.”

He and Zandor looked towards the direction they indicated. Jerrod saw very little of what the two idiots were talking about. Only craggy peaks, broken rocks, and maybe a small cleft in the side, but he couldn’t tell what they meant.

Zandor squinted then cracked a smile. “Well done. We’ll check it out, boys. Thanks a bunch.”

Jerrod frowned and put his hands on his hips when Zandor trudged up the slope. The two hunters followed him. Their dirty shirts hung with sweat off their lean, tawny bodies.

“Boss, you want us to come with you? That ogre’s pretty dangerous.”

Zandor stopped mid stride. One foot planted down on a rock, and he turned. “Heh. I figured that, him being an ogre and all. If it makes you feel any better, you can come along and… stand guard or something outside. Might make you feel more useful.” With that he headed back up the hill and shouted over his shoulder. “Hey Jerry! You comin’? Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Since he’d sooner be ripped apart by the arms and legs by a giant monster than be shown up by Zandor, Jerrod marched up after him, shoving one of the stupid hunters with his elbow on the way. Short shit.

They found a trail, nothing more than a rain rivulet that ran through some rocks and mud. It was dry now but still treacherous.

This cave was much further up than it looked from the bottom of the hill. Jerrod found his legs aching; his breath labored, but he tried to hide the fact. This had better been worth it, or he would take it out on Zandor’s skull.

The weather was hot and sticky, and by the time he and Zandor reached the front entrance of the cave, Jerrod was sweating.

The cleft in the hill was a triangular hole set in the side of rock. Scrubby trees’ roots stuck through the broken crevices and hung over the opening. Jerrod stood and stewed while Zandor spoke a few words to the men.