‘Time to go, Wolf. I had a run-in with the local authorities. They’ll be all over this place like a rash within the hour.’ He waited expectantly as his friend slowly drained his cup and refilled it from the pitcher in the centre of the table.
Jerek looked up at him briefly. Then he raised his cup and drained it again. ‘Who the fuck’s that?’ he asked in his gruff, rasping voice, slamming the cup down and nodding at the youth across the tavern. His tone was almost conversational. An ominous sign.
Kayne sighed. Might as well get this over with. ‘The lad? He was about to be murdered by a couple of those bastards with the red cloaks. They told me to step aside. I weren’t that way inclined.’ He waited patiently for the outburst he knew was coming.
Jerek stood up suddenly. He wasn’t a tall man by Highlander standards, though he was plenty broad. Fire danced in his dark eyes as he stared at the boy. He stroked his short beard, which was black and shot through with grey. The stroking became a tug. His mouth began to twitch. Here it comes, Kayne thought.
‘Fucking unbelievable!’ the Wolf growled. He slammed his fists down on the table, upsetting the pitcher, which tumbled off the edge and spilled its contents on the floor. He reached behind him and drew his twin hand axes.
The Wolf gestured at the boy with a shake of his left axe. ‘That cunt? Who’s he? Nobody. Let him die. Makes no difference to us. You had to go and get involved, didn’t you? Thought we’d done well. Made it here alive. Looked forward to a night of drinking. Well deserved. Can’t say it ain’t, all the shit we’ve been through. Planned to get myself some pussy tonight, did you know that? Don’t look that way now, does it? Always the hero, that’s you. I’ve had it with this shit. I’m fucking tired.’
Kayne waited patiently for Jerek to finish his rant. The Wolf might be the angriest person he’d ever met in a world full of angry men, and he might be quick to draw blood when a calm word was all that was needed to defuse a situation, and he might have a tendency to alienate just about anyone who spent more than five minutes in his company, but at the end of the day he was the closest friend he had ever had. You take the rough with the smooth, as his father always used to say.
Jerek had stopped to draw breath for a moment. The old Highlander seized his chance. ‘Calm, Wolf. We’ll steal a couple of horses and ride east to the Unclaimed Lands. We’ll be there inside a couple of days. See this?’ He drew the glowing dagger from his belt and held it up. ‘Magic. Belonged to our friend over there. I reckon it will fetch us thirty gold spires. Maybe more.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Didn’t you say you were desperate for female company? You’ve been drinking for the past three hours. Plenty of whores over in the corner there.’ He pointed to the opposite end of the tavern where a small group of scantily dressed women were attempting to solicit business.
Jerek scowled. ‘Fancied a drink first. Can’t a man wet his whistle? I’d empty this tavern’s cellar and still do ’em all raw and you fucking know it, Kayne. Impugning my manhood. The front on you.’ The Wolf’s grip on his axes tightened and his knuckles turned white.
‘Nothing meant,’ said Brodar Kayne hurriedly. ‘Just an observation. Let me have a quick word with the owner of this joint and then we’ll be out of here.’
He moved over to the bar, where a man with a monstrous boil on the side of his nose watched him suspiciously. Kayne rummaged around inside the pouch at his belt and withdrew two silver sceptres. He placed the coins down on the bar. ‘See that lad twitching around on the floor over there? I want a roof over his head for as long as he needs to get himself up and on his feet again. He’s got a few cracked ribs and his head will hurt like hell for the next day or two, but he’ll live. If the Watch happens to stop by here, you never set eyes on him. We understand each other?’
The bartender’s eyes went to the coins and then to the struggling youth. He shook his head and pushed the silver away. ‘My life’s worth more than your sceptres can buy, Highlander. If the Watch discovers me sheltering an outlaw they’ll burn this place down. I have a wife and a daughter-’
He was interrupted as the door of the tavern swung open and a rotund man wearing a blacksmith’s apron burst into the common room, sweat trickling down his soot-plastered face. He spoke in a high-pitched voice completely at odds with his appearance.
‘Important news, fellas! The city’s under lockdown! No one is allowed in or out of Dorminia until further notice. The order’s come straight from Lord Salazar himself.’
Brodar Kayne glanced across at Jerek. The Wolf was tugging at his beard again. ‘Since when?’ he asked the blacksmith. He had a sinking feeling.
‘Since just now,’ the man replied in his girlish voice. ‘Something big’s happened. Something to do with Shadowport and the war over those bloody islands.’ He rubbed at the bristling whiskers on the sides of his face. ‘There’s a group of Watchmen just south of here. They’re searching for someone. Apparently a pair of the bastards got murdered nearby.’
Shit, Kayne thought. How did they react so fast? He turned to Jerek.
‘We’ll make for the harbour and find somewhere we can lay low.’ He felt a tugging at his trousers. The lad was struggling to pull himself up. Kayne reached down and hauled him to his feet.
The boy immediately bent over, his hands curled around his chest, drawing in ragged gasps of air. Then, remarkably, he straightened up. Pain was writ large across his blood-caked face, but there was a determined look in those steel-coloured eyes. So. You’ve got some backbone after all.
Jerek had stalked over and was now staring balefully at the youth. To his credit, the boy met the Wolf’s gaze and didn’t flinch.
‘My name’s Davarus Cole,’ he said, in a voice that held a curious strength in spite of his obvious pain. It was almost as if he was reciting some kind of speech. ‘I know a place north and west of here where we can seek shelter from the Crimson Watch. We’ll be among friends.’ He coughed and spat out a glob of blood. For a second he looked as if he would faint. Then he seemed to notice the two Highlanders watching him, and he shot the bloody spittle a hard glare.
Kayne scratched his head. This Lowlander was a strange one all right. ‘I’m Brodar Kayne. This is Jerek. Can’t say I have a better plan, so we’ll take you at your word. What is it?’ He noticed the boy staring at the belt on his waist. ‘Ah. That. I’ll be keeping hold of this dagger for a while, on account of me saving your life.’
Cole looked as though he was about to protest, but Jerek shot him a look that screamed brutal murder and he promptly closed his mouth.
Kayne reached over and gave young Davarus Cole a reassuring pat on the back. ‘Right then. Lead on.’
Crossroads
The city was abuzz with activity as Davarus Cole led his new companions through a winding maze of side streets. Fortunately, they encountered no Watchmen among the bustling crowds.
Fate smiles on me once again, Cole thought in satisfaction. His chest throbbed and blazing pain shot through his skull with every laboured step, but at least he was alive.
He cast a quick glance behind him. The older Highlander was of impressive height, almost a head taller than Cole himself. He looked to be around fifty. Despite his advancing years, the man’s lean muscles were evidence that he’d lost little of his strength. His broad-nosed face was weathered and creased. An ugly scar began just beneath his left eye and ran diagonally to just below his cheek. The Highlander’s grey hair had receded slightly and thinned a little at the crown, but the mane still fell impressively to the nape of his neck. Silver stubble covered his face, but his deep blue eyes were undimmed by age.