Savage (7 page)

DRAISHA

FROM the shadows, keen eyes watched as the merchant closed his shop and started walking down the street.

The merchant, a narrow framed little man almost completely bald except for the strip of shaggy mane that surrounded his head like a laurel wreath, was no one of true importance in Draisha. His imminent death certainly didn’t warrant the four assassins who were watching him walk home, stalking him from the street and the rooftops, and it certainly didn’t warrant Jasper supervising the deed.

Jasper smiled as he watched the merchant slip into the alley. The shortcut was the merchant’s normal path home, and tonight was the last time he’d make the routine trek. Without being there in the alley, Jasper knew exactly what was going to happen. Twenty-three steps into the alley, the merchant would be at the exact point where he was completely invisible to anyone standing outside the alley.

Jasper counted the merchant’s steps as he disappeared from view. He kept counting as he mentally tracked the path the merchant would take. Fifteen steps into the alley, Jasper looked up to the rooftop and watched an assassin slide over the edge of the building and silently slither his way down the alley wall behind the merchant. At the eighteenth step, the second assassin who’d been following the merchant up the street stopped at the corner of the alley, blocking any possible escape. The third assassin would be in the exact same position on the far end of the alley. By the twentieth step the first assassin would now be on the ground, snaking his way along the alley wall until he was directly behind the merchant. At the twenty-third step, the last step the merchant would ever make, the fourth and final assassin would step out of the shadows and stick a stiletto into the merchant’s ribs, angled up to penetrate his heart. The first assassin would cover the merchant’s mouth, ensuring no sound left the alley.

Jasper strained his ears, trying to hear any sounds of the deadly attack, but none came. The assassins had done their job. By morning, the merchant’s body would be in pieces, spread out over a hundred miles of desert. It was complete overkill, any mindless thug could’ve dealt with the merchant, but Jasper was weaving a masterpiece and to leave even one thread in the hands of an amateur would not be acceptable. Piece by piece, supporter by supporter, Jasper was destroying Prince Valentine, shrouding him in a blanket of terror, making all of the prince’s supporters wonder who was next. It was a complex and dangerous venture, waging war against the most powerful man in the kingdom, but Jasper’s employer had incredibly deep pockets and was willing to spare no expense in the terror campaign. Jasper originally had thought simply killing the prince would be sufficient, but now that he was implementing his employer’s plan, he saw the beauty of it. The attacks against the business ventures of the prince, and anyone associated with him, along with the seemingly random deaths of known supporters of the prince, created more fear than any simple murder ever could. No one aside from Jasper knew who would be next to die, or whose business would be destroyed.

The merchant his men were now dismembering wasn’t rich, powerful, or important. His only mistake was being a vocal supporter of Prince Valentine. His disappearance was just another step towards destroying the prince.

DRAISHA

DRAISHA was just as Bazur remembered, hot and muggy with a sickly sweet smell. Compared to the badlands, and his old village of Lagvon, the city of Draisha was a sea of humanity. Each time Bazur visited, it seemed he’d never seen so many people in one place before. It was a lively and dangerous city known for its brothels and other sources of entertainment. Bazur knew many men from Draisha that came out to Pera in hopes of seeing him fight. It was a city that lusted for entertainment of all shapes and forms.

One thing Bazur found strangely comforting was that it seemed the larger the crowd of humans, the less they looked at an individual. In the badlands, everyone noticed Bazur was half-orc. Here, with a simple cape, he was practically invisible. Strangers walked by him without giving him the slightest bit of attention. The odd one noted him for his large size and would make an effort to walk a little wider around him than they did others, but almost no one really looked under his hood. They were too busy with their own lives to note one new stranger in a sea of strangers.

After arriving at the Yawning Bear Inn and getting Bazur checked into a room of his own, Kyra had taken off to take care of some of her own business. It seemed strange to Bazur that Kyra lived in an inn, but her explanation of her living arrangement had been logical. Property in Draisha was expensive. Kyra traveled often so having a simple suite in the inn simply called the Inn, was all she needed. Bazur believed Kyra also liked the fact she could leave the Inn on a moment’s notice and not look back. Being a thief always meant there was a risk of becoming a fugitive. Kyra was smart and took great care to limit her risks, but the very nature of her business guaranteed there would always be a risk factor.

Bazur looked around his room. The entire inn was built with thick burwin oak planks. His eyes noted the bed. The bed was small. He sighed. The bed looked fragile. Bazur would sleep on the floor and not test his weight to the slender framed structure. His eyes traveled to the window. The window looked out into the alley and across at the Inn. Not the most scenic view in the city, but Bazur didn’t care. The room fit his needs. It was close to Kyra’s quarters and the thick plank walls offered more privacy than the average inn.

Tired of waiting around, Bazur left the room and wandered up and down the streets to get a feel for the city.  From what he remembered from previous visits, Draisha is a sprawling city, spiraling out from its center where the royal palace is built on top of a low sloped hill. The palace is surrounded by the homes and estates of the elite before the next ring which contains the businesses and shops dedicated to serving Draisha’s upper-class. Next are the homes of the working nobility, shop owners and distance relatives of royalty wealthy enough to own small homes in the city. After passing by the wealthy homes, one enters the main business district, the heart of the city, where the majority of Draisha’s citizens work, eat, and get their entertainment. At the outer edges of the city are the slums, the huts and homes of the working poor, pressed tight together against Draisha’s mighty city walls.

As he left the Inn, Bazur walked slowly and absorbed all the details of the city around him. The streets were wide, hard packed clay, easy to navigate on sunny days, but murderous on rainy days when the clay turned slick and smooth. He studied the businesses, eyed the street vendors with care, noting which were light with their fingers and or tongues. A good con artist could rob you blind without lifting a finger, but Bazur knew what to look for. The badlands were filled with unsavory types. Bazur watched a street child sneak fresh fruit from an unsuspecting vendor. He chuckled as he’d seen the same vendor ripping off a customer only moments before.

Turning the corner to go up the next street, something in the adjacent alley caught his eye. It was Kyra pressed up against the side of the alley wall with three men surrounding her. There were no weapons drawn, but the men’s postures were decidedly threatening. Bazur clenched his fist and took a deep breath, he needed to remain calm and not overreact.  He crossed the street to investigate.

“We’ll be having all your coin, Kyra. Now hand it over before we have to take it,” said the man in the middle.

“What? No way!” replied Kyra. “I’ll pay my debts, and I can give you some gold now, but I can’t give it all to you right now. Besides, Grundal said I’ve two weeks left before the money is due.”

“That was before you skipped town. Grundal now believes you are no longer trustworthy, not deserving of his patience. We’re to take any coins you have and you have three days to come up with the rest. If you don’t… well, let’s just say me and the boys will enjoy what comes next. Try and leave town again and you’ll be buried out in the badlands,” said the thug.

From the way the thug eyed Kyra’s body up and down when he told her what would happen if she didn’t have the money in three days, Bazur knew he was lying. The man was looking at Kyra like he already knew he’d have her, one way or another. Even if Kyra paid her debts on time, it seemed she would be punished. Bazur wanted to smash him right there, but he waited. He’d let Kyra handle it until she requested his intervention. She had glanced over when he arrived at the alley, but quickly averted her eyes back to the thug. Bazur was leaning against one of the alley walls, hidden in the shadows.

“I didn’t skip town. I left for work, so I can pay my bills. How am I to pay Grundal if I’m not allowed to work?”

“Not our problem. Grundal makes the rules. Now hand over your coins before we have to give you a sample of what will happen if you don’t pay if three days,” said the second thug, a weasel looking man with a high nasal voice.

“I’ll give you what coin is mine, but most of what I’m carrying doesn’t belong to me. I can’t give it to you.”

“I don’t care whose coin it is. We are taking all the coins you have. You can explain how you lost it gambling,” said the first thug.

“I only gamble with my own money, and trust me, you don’t want to take these coins. You’d be stealing from a very irritable person; someone you’d rather not have to deal with. Honestly, I’ll do you a favor, if you all leave right now, I’ll go talk to Grundal and explain the situation.”

“Nice try,” said the first thug as he pushed Kyra against the alley wall. He then patted her down and removed her coin purse. “Grundal is far more dangerous than whoever you are working for. Three days, Kyra, you have three days to get the rest of it.” The thug lifted the coin purse feeling the heft of it. “A pity, it seems this will cover a large percentage of your debt. Perhaps you’ll actually be able to pay it all.”

“First, I always pay my debts. Second, the coins don’t belong to someone I work for, they belong to my friend. And I warned you not to take the coins. Now you can explain to him why you have his coins,” said Kyra as she looked past the thugs towards Bazur.

Kyra’s words were like music to his ears. He had been holding back, waiting to see how she would handle the situation, but now she’d mentioned him. Given him permission to get involved. These horse’s asses were about to get a lesson in manners. Bazur took a half step forward so the thugs could see his outline in the shadows.

The thugs all turned and looked at Bazur. They were surprised to see someone standing in the shadows.

“Mister, you best leave before you get hurt. Our issue is with Kyra, not you,” said the first thug as he waved his hand at Bazur, indicating that he should flee.

Bazur took another step out of the shadows. He now blocked the entrance to the alley. “Your issue may be with her, but that is my coin that you are holding.”

“It was your coin. You shouldn’t have trusted a thief with your coins. Kyra can pay you back once she’s done paying Grundal. Now leave before you lose more than a few coins.”

Bazur sighed. The story was old. The ploy well and often used. Intimidate and scare your opponents. If they submit out of fear, you can get away with nearly anything. The problem for the thugs was that there was nothing about them that intimidated Bazur. He briefly considered how his actions would affect Kyra, but it was obvious she was in deep with the wrong crowd. If they were going to work together, this issue of gambling debts needed to be dealt with. First, these three needed a lesson, then he’d deal with the root of the problem: Grundal. With a quick step forward, Bazur grabbed the first thug by the chest, his fingers clenched the thug’s shirt. Grabbing copious amounts of chest hair along with the cotton clothing, Bazur yanked his hand back, pulling the thug towards him. He could see the thug flinch as his chest hair was ripped away from his skin. Bazur lowered his head swiftly, bringing his forehead down against the bridge of the thug’s nose. A crunching sound filled the alley as the man’s nose was crushed.

The weasel-like thug tried to jump on Bazur’s back while the third thug, a clumsy oaf with a huge pasty-white belly sticking out of his two sizes too small tunic, took a swing at him. Bazur easily dodged the punch and pivoted. He ignored the small thug trying to climb on his back and choke him. Instead, he focused on the fat thug. He pulled his right leg back and kicked chubby in the inside of his kneecap. The porky thug cried out in pain as his leg gave out. As the fat thug fell, Bazur punched him in the throat. With the first two thugs dealt with, Bazur turned his attentions to the weasel on his back. The thug had finally climbed high enough to reach around Bazur’s neck in a futile attempt to choke him. Bazur ended the attempt by grabbing the weasel by the hair and whipping him forward. The weasel flew through the air and slammed into the alley wall, then tried to brace his fall by putting his arm out. Like he’d done with the fat one, Bazur kicked the limb at the joint, snapping it. Bazur picked up the first thug and slammed him into the alley wall. Blood flowed from the thug’s nose covering his face and chest. Bazur pinned him against the wall with one hand while the other retrieved the coin purse. Bazur casually tossed the coins to Kyra then addressed the thoroughly defeated thug. “The broken nose was for threatening my friend. For your sake, you had best hope nothing bad happens to her, ever. If you or anyone else ever try to harm her, I will come back and break every bone in your body. And if you even whisper a threat about raping her, I’ll turn you into a eunuch. Do you understand?”

The thug nodded, his eyes big and filled with fear.

“Good,” continued Bazur. “The broken ribs are for stealing from me.”

“What broke—”

Bazur threw a wicked jab into the thug’s side. A crunching sound could be heard. Bazur wasn’t sure if the ribs were broken or merely cracked, but he was sure he got his point across. He let go of the thug, letting him fall to the ground. Bazur turned and walked out of the alley, Kyra at his side.

As they walked back toward the Inn, Kyra spoke. He could hear a tinge of regret in her voice. “I’m sorry I’ve gotten you involved with Grundal. I never thought he’d sic his goons on me like that. Normally, he barks a lot but as soon as he gets some coins, he backs off. I don’t know why he would push so hard.”

“Maybe he got word you were investigating for the prince. The other investigators all died or went missing, perhaps he was trying to cut his losses,” replied Bazur.

Kyra gave Bazur a quizzical look, like she was surprised, not at the logic but at him figuring it out. “That is very possible. This will be trouble. Grundal has many more men like those, and some are way more dangerous.”

“We are going to deal with this right now. Take me to Grundal. But before we go, why did you lie about the coins? You already gave me my pay and a share of the bets you made.”

Kyra picked up her pace and turned up the next street. “Because if they took my coins, Grundal would rip me off. He’d claim they only took half of what was actually there and say I still owe him for the rest. I intend to pay the man, but I’m not going to be cheated.”

Bazur smiled as he followed her. The woman did have some orc blood in her. She probably could’ve talked her way out of the alley without his assistance if she’d been willing to part will all of her coins, but the risk of that had made her choose to involve him. Not that he minded, the way the thugs talked to Kyra had gotten his blood boiling. Collecting a debt was one thing, but the way they were practically promising rape and death in her immediate future was something he couldn’t ignore. If he’d overheard them talking to some random woman, he likely wouldn’t have reacted so harshly. They might’ve gotten away with a black eye or two—who was he kidding, his mother would've have whooped him for even thinking that. All men who dared such disrespect to a woman deserved the same as he had just given.

When Kyra led him into a brothel, Bazur’s eyebrows furrowed and a look of mild amusement and surprise was crossed over his face. As Kyra opened the door, she glanced back and read his look. “Don’t look so surprised. Grundal owns half of the brothels in the city, and runs his bookies out of them. You don’t have to like the man, but you have to admire his business sense. Even when he loses bets he wins. Half the time men who win bets just end up spending their winnings on whores.” Kyra paused for a moment. “There is something you should know. Grundal has a weird way of agreeing to a deal. He doesn’t do written contracts or handshakes. He has one of his girls pleasure you… He says it creates a more honest bond. Normally, I get away without having to honor his rituals, but in this case, with so much money involved and your treatment of his thugs, we may have to go along with it. The guards inside are not like those clowns you disposed of in the alley. These are all ex-royal palace guards and battle tested warriors.”