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Salagar The Grim
The Pirate's Gold
By Michael Egley iUniverse LLC
Copyright © 2014 Michael Egley
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2052-3
CHAPTER 1
The City of Haven Year 4052 in the Era of Dagnir Month of Mesc (The Time of Melting)
I dodged as a dagger flew towards me, thrown from the mouth of a dark alley, the passage into which our quarry had fled. I dropped to the ground and rolled behind a water trough, another steely missile striking the wood on the other side. "Damn bastard is good," I thought as I crawled to the other end of the trough and peered around its far corner. I pulled back as the hairs upon the back of my neck rose in protest, presaging another attempt from the alleyway. This time the dagger struck sparks as its metal tip skittered across the cobbled street, at last coming to rest against a stone wall not five spans from my water filled shield.
"Garth is moving further into the alley," Malina instructed from on high. "I do think he is going to try and make a break for it; there is an exit at the other end of the dark corridor."
Just then I heard a curse and saw Perry dive behind a wagon that had been left for the night, the horses that normally carted it about then stabled and most likely happier than we were at that moment.
"Lalaith-blasted bastard," Perry exclaimed. "I couldn't even get a proper shot at him before he sent me flying to avoid his damn dagger. How many of those toothpicks can one man have on his body?"
"Only Lalaith knows," I responded in frustration. "Though he must almost be done with throwing, for he has now thrown at least six daggers since we first accosted him not five minutes ago."
A harrowing five minutes it had been! The man must have uncanny senses or mayhap something akin to my sense of danger. We had set a merry trap for the brute and he had not only felt our presence, but had extricated himself from our attack with speed and skill. One dagger nicked my arm as he sprinted away. It was only Malina's ability to follow him from above that let us keep track, since he had led us on a merry chase through twisting alleys and crooked streets. This was the third time he had turned and thrown daggers our way, forcing us to maintain a healthy distance or become potential victims.
"We need to bring our quarry to ground before he can seek help," I said to Perry. "The man is leading us along a route of which he is intimately familiar and I fear it will only end in tragedy; mainly our deaths."
"I reckon we can try and get in front of him," Perry advised. "Ask Malina if she sees only one exit from this here alley."
"Malina, how many exits stem from the foul alleyway in which our dear friend is hiding," I sent through our bond.
"He can only escape one way," she advised. "If you decide to gain advantage by flanking him, you best decide now, since he is moving rapidly towards the exit. If you run down for a half block, there is another passageway that ends at the same cross street. You can then strike him as he enters the street."
"Come on Perry," I said. "We can cut the bastard off this way."
I turned and ran towards the other alleyway. We were soon running as fast as we could, dodging refuse and abandoned property, attempting not to breathe too deeply since the odor emanating from the old worn cobblestones was most foul. I slowed as we neared the exit, a low glow from a lamppost giving a fitful glimmer of the street beyond.
"Is he still within the alley," I inquired.
"He has slowed and is sniffing about," Malina answered. "If you run to the corner, you can surprise the brute and bring him low."
Moving quickly but stealthily along the alley, we entered the cross street and instantly melted into the shadows provided by the tall buildings and feeble light cast from the lamppost. I slid my daggers from their customary resting places and saw Perry twirl his sling, waiting for an opportunity to brain the ruffian. We were mayhap ten spans from the darkened entrance when the brute broke free, his head swiveling left and right, looking for danger as his feet propelled him into the street. He was halfway to the other side and another dark corridor before he caught our presence. Before we could even think to move; his arm was halfway back, a dagger glinting in his right hand. The bastard was fast!
Perry let fly with a whoop, his stone speeding towards the man's head just as his hand whipped forward, sending his dagger towards my crouching form. I had just enough time to bring Heleg Telanin up to strike the weapon from its course, the steel clanging off the wall to my left. I arose and sped towards the ruffian just as he dodged to the side, Perry's stone rushing past his face, not a hairsbreadth from his left eye. He then pulled forth a wickedly curved short sword and then leapt towards me, snarling a curse.
I stopped short and let his first strike cut in front of me and then stepped back again as he reversed his attack, bringing the blade down and around, his greater reach giving him the advantage. The sharp blade cut a few hairs from my head as I jumped back in desperation, the speed of the Human surprising me. Perry yelled out another whoop and let fly, his stone taking the man square in the back. All Garth did was grunt and then grin, bringing his left hand down and up, a throwing dagger glinting in the lamplight. Before he could throw the weapon at Perry, I lunged with Heleg Telanin, that Dae inspired magical dagger I had found in my Grandsire's study, which the brute caught with his own blade. Sparks coruscated about the blades as I brought my left hand dagger under his guard, piercing his thigh, but not deep enough to cause deadly injury to the villain.
Cursing ferociously, he tried to stomp my foot with his massive boots, only to receive another nick along his right arm from Heleg Telanin for his troubles. Another stone flew into the man, striking his upper left arm. The man gasped with the pain, the dagger that he was holding in his left hand falling, grating against the cobbled street as it struck the hard surface. Before Garth could give another swing of his sword, I leapt up and struck down with my left hand dagger, piercing his shoulder and causing the man to scream in pain. It was only speed and luck that let me jump back from his riposte, the sword scoring across one of my bracers, causing a bit of pain in my forearm but not penetrating the magically enhanced bands that I had secured from a rather grumpy wizard.
By jumping back so quickly, I lost my dagger, which was still lodged within his shoulder. The man grunted and moved to the side as another stone came whizzing by, just missing his right arm. He lunged with his sword held out straight, using the surprise of his attack to pass right past Heleg Telanin, hitting me squarely in the chest. My leather armor buckled, the sword piercing my chest, just above my heart. The tip did not penetrate fully, mayhap a finger of steel caressing my skin as I leapt back and away from the offending metal.
The man actually grinned as he spotted the blood on the tip of his sword. "Now you are gonna die little man," he grated as he lunged again, this time putting all into a single thrust. I was prepared for just such a maneuver, his quick attack lacking the surprise of his earlier attempts. I let Heleg Telanin score across his blade, pushing it just enough to the right to miss my shoulder and rush past me. Before he could recover, my dagger had traveled up his weapon and past the guard, cutting through his hand, almost severing it completely. The man screamed, his blade falling to the ground. Bright red blood trailed after the weapon, quickly pooling upon the cobbled surface.
He tried to grasp a dagger from a belt along his chest with his injured left arm, but before he could pull the weapon partly from its leather sheath, a stone struck him in the back of the head with enough force to drop him to his knees. He rested thus, a dazed expression writ upon his face, the blood pouring forth from his wounded hand coloring the cobblestones a vivid red color. He looked up at the night dark sky and tried to speak, his words incoherent babble. He then toppled to his side and was still, the blood pumping from his injured arm slowing to a trickle.
"I reckon that bastard won't be hurting folk anymore," Perry reasoned.
"No Perry, his days of wanton brutality and shameless thievery are done this night," I agreed. "Let us take his body as an example to those that we capture, for this man was feared by all, and if a captive spies the brute in death, he may be more willing to talk."
CHAPTER 2
"Eventually you will talk, my good man, so why not dispense with this unpleasantness and spill the beans?" I said to the scrawny thief trembling before me. I had caught the unlucky lawbreaker named Bart just the night before. We were in the spacious cellar of a once magnificent abandoned manse that had burned down, rumors say, mayhap fifty years ago. I found this particular spot by chance while attempting to avoid some bully boys that Kraven had slipped loose almost three weeks ago. I spied the burned out husk, using its many shadows to hide from the brutes. As I backed further into the darkness, my boot landed upon a loose board and it was only my quick reflexes that saved me from an undeniably nasty fall. Once the fellows became bored and subsequently left, most likely to the nearest pub, I peered down upon the mud spattered floor and found a rusted iron ring among the debris. That brought me down to my current location.
We spared no expense in making our new "counter-guild" habitable. We used old plumbing to bring in fresh water, cleared out the debris that had collected through broken floorboards during the years, and surreptitiously fixed loose floorboards, thereby insulating the basement from the outside. We then secured a large consignment of cotton padding, using it to provide a bit more soundproofing to our cozy headquarters. Some thick rugs, tapestries, and an assembly of old, gilded furniture completed the ensemble. We were even able to use a few tapestries to section off sleeping areas for each of us, laying the cold stone floor deep with furs and assorted pillows. The only item missing, which we did not necessarily require, was a heat source, of which Malina constantly complained. However, it was indeed quite comfortable in our spacious cellar, for the temperature, although mayhap sixty degrees, was constant nonetheless. With sturdy woolen garments, one hardly noticed the cool air.
The strident voice of our new guest broke my reverie. "I'm tellin ya, I don't know a damn thing. You gotta believe me, I'm just a messenger and don't know nothing!"
To tell the truth, his whiny voice was beginning to irritate my sensitive ears, especially since we were now ensconced in a rather small wooden room, one which we had specifically crafted for our "special" guests. "My dear fellow, I have been following you for many days now and know exactly who you are and what you do for the guild. Shall I tick off the points I know and then cut off one finger for each correct answer? Or shall we dispense with this useless conversation and get to the meat of the issue?"
The man, wretched in his pee stained breeches and saliva strewn shirt, turned his hooded head in my direction and sniveled. "Damn yer eyes, but I am tellin you the truth about me! All I do is move money from one point to another, I got nothing ta do with the guild's dirty work."
"Well," I thought. "This question and answer is beginning to warm up." The bugger had just confirmed my earlier suspicions. He did not sully his narrow, crooked hands with the "foul" business of the guild, but he did move the money they made from their nefarious schemes. Therefore, he would know all their stash sights and some of their safe houses, from which they sent their members to assigned tasks.
"My good man, now you are talking sense," I reasoned. "For you just said something I find very interesting. Yes, you do not dirty your dainty hands with the guild's day-to-day work, yet you know where they keep their money and know of at least a few safe houses. That is why you are here my good man, and why you may yet live; if you provide me with the right answers. So, I am going to remove this hood and then you will commence speaking. If I begin to lose interest, you will undoubtedly lose a finger. We will continue our conversation, until you have given me all or you have run out of fingers. In that event, we will then start with your toes. I daresay, it will become much more gruesome from there."
I gazed over to the left and beyond our captive, where we had chained a cadaver, whom we affectionately called Brute. His true name had been Garth Gruelle. Garth had been a brutal enforcer for the guild, breaking bones of even the most innocent of grandmothers and children, all in the name of Kraven. He had been our first mark and we continued to use his dead body as a coercive element. We gave him horrendous wounds after he had died, and then stuffed him in a trunk for later use. Malina had used a complicated spell, similar to what she used to clean my clothing and armor, to keep the cadaver from reeking. Accordingly, when we entertained a new guest, Brute would be hung by a meat hook from the ceiling, in full view of our captive. His horrific wounds told more than mere words could describe. Thus far, it had been a very useful tool, for most captives, once gazing upon the dead enforcer, opened up more quickly than a fishwife gossiping with her cronies.
I quickly snatched the hood from Bart's head and gazed harshly upon his startled eyes. "Now, I will provide vellum, pen, and ink," I insisted. "You will then write down all you know about the guild's money operations and any safe houses or business fronts used. If not, prepare to face the same fate as Garth, who swings next to your chair. You remember Garth, a brute of a man, feared by all within the streets of Haven. He failed to completely answer my questions, so we had to resort to more barbaric methods; an approach I will not hesitate to use again!"
The man took one look at Garth and shivered, losing his bladder yet again. "Don't ya touch me like that; I'll give ya anything ya want," he said, a quiver in his voice. "Give me the skin and yer tools and I will sketch ya a masterpiece I will!"
"Look here Bart," I said. "You are shaking like a leaf and will make quite a mess with this ink. Let me pour you a bit of wine to calm your nerves. I will also slip loose the bonds securing your arms, so that you can move a bit more freely. Now, do not go anywhere while I am gathering your drink." I gave him a confident smile, to bolster his flagging spirits, and then marched out of the small room to secure a goblet.
It took Bart almost two hours and five sheets of vellum before he was finished, his body sagging against the back of the sturdy oak chair, exhausted and ready for collapse. I secured his hands to the armrests and then took the sheets to my friends, so that we could attempt to discern their veracity. We had a few other tidbits that we could use to ensure our man was truthful to his tale, for we definitely did not want to waste time following false leads. The guild was out in full force, searching for me and my companions. We had limited time before their informants found our little hidey whole and Kraven sent a force to eradicate our burgeoning effort.
"I reckon they look solid to me," Perry reasoned. "This here house and that there cellar, was pinpointed by another feller we captured three days ago. I say we got some good information and can move on the rascals."
Malina nodded in agreement, her wings moving rapidly as she hovered above the vellum sheets.
"Alright," I advised. "I will lead our guest to the edge of town, per our prearranged route, and set him free with a few coins. I do not believe he will trouble the city of Haven again."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Salagar The Grim by Michael Egley. Copyright © 2014 Michael Egley. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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