Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "gang"

“Hey!” Someone poked Habbly in the back as he lay on top of a 50-pound sack of rice. Habbly grumbled and rolled over, pulling an empty grain sack over himself, but the unwelcome guest wasn’t giving up. “Hey, this is private property!”

“Then neither of use should be here,” Habbly mumbled. “You leave first and I’ll be right behind you.”

There was a pause before the man addressed Habbly again. “Nice try. Go find another place to sleep, because for the next four hour this warehouse is under my protection.”

Habbly sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing aside copious amount of dirty hair to reach his eyes. He studied his surroundings, slightly brighter than when he’d snuck in last night and even less impressive now that he could see it clearly. The warehouse contained sack after sack of rice, tons of the stuff. A few rats scurried about while a bored cat followed them, not sure whether it was interested in hunting. If you were looking for exciting places, this was as far away as you could go.

The young man with brown hair facing Habbly was equally unimpressive. He was in his late teens and wore gray and black clothes. Plain was the best way to describe his face, hair, height, weight, everything. He practically radiated blandness, averageness.

Then Habbly saw the youth’s staff. It was made of oak, stained and carved with strange symbols the goblin didn’t recognize. Long, narrow panels made of black marble were built into the staff so beautifully that they looked like the wood had grown around the marble. Maybe it had. That staff must have cost real money to make. Worse, it meant the kid was a wizard.

“Why is a wizard guarding rice?” Habbly asked.

“It’s a paying job, thank you very much, and temporary. So toddle on out of here and…wait, you’re a goblin. I thought those sacks you were laying on were you. Feeling kind of stupid now.”

Habbly yawned and stood up. He’d come here last night in the hope of finding a quiet place to sleep. If it was nice enough he would have spent days here in the silence and darkness. Goblins as a rule were well suited for living in shadowy places like this, but Habbly had another reason to take shelter in a grain warehouse. Warehouses were boring places where nothing happened, and Habbly was desperate for peace and quiet. The wizard would doubtless make sure he didn’t get it.

“I am a goblin. I didn’t eat your rice, although rats are chowing down on spilled grain. I’m not carrying money, weapons, gems, magic, artwork, knickknacks, horsehead bookends or anything else you might want.”

To Habbly’s shock, the wizard got down on his knees so he could look Habbly in the eyes. “I need a goblin. Please, can you help me?”

Habbly stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need a goblin to introduce me to William Bradshaw, the King of the Goblins, the War Winner. Please, it’s more important than you can imagine!”

William Bradshaw was a name Habbly knew even if he’d never met the man. Bradshaw was the latest human to be tricked into becoming King of the Goblins, and earned the moniker War Winner by leading his goblins into one fight after another. No one understood how he’d survived those fights, much less won them, but he had. The poor fool should have been killed long ago or at least been slapped silly. Instead he’d become a man both feared and despised. That made the wizard’s request all the more confusing.

“Um, why?”

The wizard took Habbly by the hand and led him outside. “We shouldn’t be in here. Come, we’ll talk outside.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Habbly protested. He would have rather stayed in the relative safety of the warehouse, but he was half the height of the wizard and nowhere near as strong. He was pulled outside to the streets of Nolod.

Nolod was a city blended with a sewer, a stinking metropolis of a million souls known for trade, manufacturing and indescribable filth. The tall brick buildings were stained black by smoke and pollution. Streets were paved with cobblestones, and then covered with a glaze of mud, sand, dung and trash ground up by people’s feet until it became a paste. Men of wealth bought clothes monthly not only to stay current with fashion but also to replace clothes ruined by the foul air. Countless men, dwarfs, elves, minotaurs, ogres and trolls traveled the streets and spoke so much and so loudly that it became a constant background roar.

A few men stopped when they saw the wizard come onto the streets with Habbly. The wizard waved them off, saying, “It’s under control.”

“Can we take this into an alley, or at least a doorway?” Habbly asked. It was broad daylight, or at least as bright as it got through the thick layer of smog. Goblins stayed out of the light to avoid bigger races. “I’d rather not be chased off the street.”

“No one’s going to bother you while I’m here. I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Kadid Lan, wizard of earth magics.”

“Charmed,” Habbly told him. “Earlier you sounded like you wanted me for something other than target practice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you!” Kadid exclaimed.

Habbly scratched his head, digging out a pile of dandruff in the process. Wizards were known for being powerful, grumpy, overconfident and preferring quiet to company. Kadid defied expectations. What could Habbly possibly do to help a wizard?

“Let me explain,” Kadid began. “I studied under Uoni Marthax, one of Nolod’s resident wizards. He’s powerful and respected, or at least feared enough that men give him a wide berth. Not long ago your King was fighting Quentin Peck, the richest man alive, and he came to my master for help. My master refused him. He said your King’s problems weren’t his and turned him away empty handed. King Bradshaw went on to defeat Peck, and when he did he revealed the horrors Peck had done to the world. Peck had created suffering like you wouldn’t believe across three continents.”

“I’d heard about him,” Habbly replied. The poor goblin had grown up in the living nightmare known as Battle Island and survived the war against the Fallen King. Suffering and fear were no strangers to him. But Quentin Peck was in a class all his own when it came to wreaking havoc. He’d pretended to be an honest businessman, all the while insidiously destroying the kingdoms he traded with. No one knew exactly what Bradshaw had done to Peck, but the richest man alive was gone and none mourned him.

“Afterwards I told my master that we should have helped your King. My master disagreed.” Kadid scowled, which would have looked intimidating on anyone except him. He just couldn’t look bland and scary at the same time.

“And that’s bad?” Habbly asked.

“It’s inexcusable! My master doesn’t want anyone angry at him, so he does nothing. He ignored Peck even when your King said what was happening, and my master is only too happy to ignore the next problem and the next after that.” Kadid looked down. “And I used to be just like him.”

Habbly rubbed his eyed. This was getting maudlin. “I’m not seeing where I come in.”

Kadid’s scowl was replaced with a pleading, sincere look. “I want to be more than what I was. I want to be the kind of person who makes the world better, like your King. I want to be a hero.”

Passing men snickered. Kadid raised his staff and shouted, “Angry wizard doesn’t like being laughed at!”

“Then angry wizard shouldn’t guard a warehouse,” a man retorted. “That’s poor man’s work.”

Kadid snarled before returning his attention to Habbly. “I left my master’s service after he called me a fool. Fool, maybe, but I’m no coward. I want to go to the King of the Goblins to apologize and offer my services. My old master was happy to let others win or lose. Your King fights for those in need, and I’d like to fight beside him.”

Habbly stared at Kadid and did his best not to look horrified. He wasn’t worried that Kadid would do something stupid like attack Bradshaw. The War Winner could take care of himself. But it was clear that Kadid was feeling heroic. Habbly had seen that plenty of times before, and it usually ended with the guy dead.

The wizard and goblin were drawing an audience as pedestrians stopped to watch. Most of them snickered at the wizard’s words. Nolod was known for riches and filth, a contradiction the city excelled at, but honor, courage, decency, these were foreign concepts. Seeing a man pledge himself to a distant king was laughable.

Not all men were so snide, their faces instead betraying fear and revulsion. Will Bradshaw had come to Nolod to face Quentin Peck, a man against a metropolis, and he’d won. The fighting had taken less than three weeks, yet the city hadn’t fully recovered from their battle. Half of Peck’s many businesses had closed forever and the rest been snapped up by opportunists, and many of Peck’s ships had been seized or stolen, reducing trade. If Kadid was willing to follow in Bradshaw’s footsteps then he was a threat to the city.

Habbly waved for Kadid to follow him into an alley running between warehouses. Once they had some degree of privacy, he said, “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“No, you’re an idiot among idiots. Wizard, you have no idea what you’re asking for. If you go this route then you’ll never know a second’s peace. Enemies will come after you day after day after day until you’ll dead. I’ve seen it happen to better men than you.”

“What?” Kadid struck a pose pointing a finger at Habbly. “You’re insulting your own King! He fights the good fight.”

“And nearly dies from it. How long can his luck hold out? Gamblers put his odds of living until year’s end at one in ten. You want to be like him, fight alongside him? You’ll go down with him.” Habbly put a hand over his face and shook his head before saying, “It’s just like Julius.”

Kadid’s outrage changes to surprise and then delight. “Julius Craton? You think I’m like him?”

“Yes.” Habbly looked at Kadid, the poor, bumbling fool. “I know him. He’s a friend of mine, sort of. I gave him the magic sword he uses these days.”

“That’s incredible! You’ve helped the greatest hero of our day!”

It was awe inspiring how blind Kadid was to reality. Maybe Habbly could get through to the wizard if he tried harder. “I met him, armed him, and I nearly watched him die. Julius is a man three steps ahead of death and losing ground fast. He fights one noble quest after another, usually alone or with too few helping him. He’s worn thin. Most men would have given up or died by now. He’s tough, so I figure he’ll last another eighteen months. After that he might get a funeral if someone can find his body, people will make nice speeches, and then they’ll look for their next hero.”

Kadid leaned his staff against the warehouse and threw his hands in the air. “Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to fix! Your King fought against impossible odds alone. Wizards, dragons, generals, knights, none of them helped! That happens all the time in Nolod and most of the world. No one is willing to risk their lives or reputations. They sit back and let someone else face the danger, and let the consequences be what they may. You need more men like me to help men like your King and Julius Craton. I want to be that man!”

Habbly gave Kadid a skeptical look. “You think you’re as strong as they are?”

Kadid looked down and rubbed the back of his head. “Um.”

“He’s not,” a passing woman said.

“It’s embarrassing,” said a dwarf.

“Ran for his life from a devil rat,” a man added.

“That happened once!” Kadid shouted. “Don’t laugh! You weren’t there! It was huge, with red eyes and sharp teeth, fifty pounds of hate! I got it in the end!”

“You’re guarding a warehouse,” Habbly pointed out. “That’s not exactly heroic, is it?”

Kadid looked down. “I need the money. The journey to your King is going to take weeks. That means money for food, road tolls, taxes, maybe bribes. This is one of the few honest jobs I could get.”

The wizard bent down to look Habbly in the eye. “You’re right. I’m no hero, not yet, but I could be. I could help men better than me, learn from them, and in time I’ll be as great. It’s a risk I’m glad to take if the alternative is living the life of a coward.”

“Living a life is better than dying for your dreams.” Habbly was getting a headache. This fool was so dead set on being a great man that he was going to end up just plain dead. What was it about humans that they were constantly ready to throw away their lives? Goblins weren’t this stupid!

“Let me explain it to you this way,” Habbly began. “I’ve seen more fights than I can count and been in too many. I’ve been in a war. Whatever you’ve heard about glory in battle is garbage. I came to Nolod to stow away on a ship going far away, somewhere there are no fights or at least less of them. I’ve had my fill of war and want no more of it. So when you come begging for the chance to run into battle, I’m letting you know as someone who’s been there that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Habbly saw men running in the street. He peered out and found a gang of men lazily walking toward the warehouse. There were eight of them dressed in leather and armed with daggers, clubs, gaff hooks and blackjacks. Young, strong, healthy, they were a threat and the street cleared as they approached.

“Trouble,” Habbly said.

“Evening, governor,” one of the gang said. “Seems to me we have a problem.”

Kadid should have run off. Instead he stepped out of the alley to meet them. “And what would that be?”

“The captain who rented this warehouse didn’t pay toll. You own a warehouse, you rent one, no difference, you pay the Warf Rats fifty guilders a month. We take it in cash or in cargo, but make no mistake, we take it.”

“My employer rented this warehouse for two nights and will have his goods shipped off tonight,” Kadid told the gang as they spread out in a half circle around him. “He’s already paid the fees Nolod requires. He’s not paying a guilder more, especially for protection money.”

“Ooh, strong words, governor, strong words,” the gang’s leader jeered. The others chuckled. “What’s he paying you? Can’t figure it’s enough to die for.”

Kadid gripped his staff and pointed it at the nearest gangster. “Your boss should have sent more men if he’s going to threaten a wizard.”

The leader drew a dagger and held it up to his face. He licked the flat of the blade and smiled. “An apprentice wizard for hire, hmm, let me think, does that intimidate me? You know what, no. Thought I felt something for a second there, but it was just gas.”

Habbly watched the two sides ready for battle. Kadid was outnumbered and by all accounts not that great of a wizard. The only smart thing to do would be back down, run or maybe get help. But he was sold on the dream of heroics, of being a big man, and it was going to get him killed.

And then Habbly saw it, a sight to disgust any sane, moral being. The streets had cleared around the fight, but only for twenty feet. Men, women, even children who’d been going about their business stopped to watch. Not one came to help Kadid, who might be an idiot, but was at least in the right. Some of them placed wagers on the fight, as if this was a sporting event. Habbly had seen the same thing on Battle Island and its gladiator pits. Men fought and died while crowds cheered, like it was fun.

It made him mad.

The gangsters moved in, Kadid began casting a spell, but Habbly got the first hit in. He grabbed a mop from a nearby washerwoman and swung it like a club, striking a gangster across the face. Two gangsters turned to face him while the other six went after Kadid. Habbly jabbed the mop handle in a man’s gut and then cracked it against his shins.

Kadid finished his spell. The layer of filth coating the ground slid across the street and gathered in front of the wizard in a glistening, stinking column six feet tall and two feet wide. There was the slightest pause before it sprayed at the gangsters and splattered against them, ruining their clothes and blinding them. The crowd cried out in disgust as a fair portion of that toxic stew hit them as well.

“You’re not getting one coin!” Kadid screamed. He swung his staff and struck the gang’s leader in the shoulder. Another swing hit the man in the ankles, tipping him over. “Not now, not ever! Do you hear me? Nothing!”

A gangster drew his dagger and threw it at Kadid. Habbly raised his mop in time to catch the dagger in the mop head. He pulled the dagger free and tripped the man with the mop handle.

Three gangsters cleaned enough filth from their eyes to get back in the fight. Kadid saw them coming and cast another spell. Cobblestones pulled free from the road and connected end to end, forming a long whip made of bricks. The whip swung at knee height, sending all three men screaming to the ground before the cobblestones went back into the street.

The gang leader staggered back to his feet. Kadid saw him and charged the man. The leader had just enough time to raise a club and block Kadid’s staff swing. Two more followed and broke the man’s club. The leader swung his dagger, but Habbly ran over and grabbed the man’s arm to make sure the blade never hit.

“Are you intimidated now?” Kadid yelled. He struck the leader hard enough to drop him to the ground. Another gangster tried to tackle the wizard. Kadid braced his staff against the warehouse and pointed it at the man. The gangster’s charge sent him straight into the staff stomach first. That staggered him long enough for Kadid to hit him across the face.

Two gangsters tried to run. Habbly tripped the first with the mop while Kadid chased down the second one and knocked him down. A lone gangster looked strong enough to continue the fight, but seeing so many of his fellows defeated convinced him to surrender.

Kadid breathed hard as he stared at the men. “Get this through your thick skulls. This warehouse is under my protection. You won’t steal a single grain of rice out of it. You won’t get so much as a copper coin from my employer. If you even think about setting the warehouse on fire, I will personally entomb you in bricks and dump you in the ocean. Am I getting through to you, or do you need a demonstration?”

“Clear, governor,” the leader gasped.

As the gangsters tried to leave, Hably whispered to Kadid. The wizard ordered, “Drop your weapons. You can leave, but not armed.”

Reluctantly the men disarmed and left a pile of weapons at Kadid’s feet. Habbly whispered more to Kadid, who added, “And your money. Come on, empty your wallets.”

“What the…you’re robbing us?” a gangster sputtered.

Kadid leaned down into the man’s face and scowled. “Call it the price of stupidity. Angry wizard is losing his patience. Money, now.”

The gangsters emptied their pockets and produced a small pile of copper coins. Injured, disarmed and broke, they fled into the crowd. With the show over the crowd dispersed, moving on as if it was just another day. A single man with a badly stained suit stayed behind and marched up to Kadid.

“Look at what you did to my clothes! This is never going to come out! I demand—”

Kadid pressed the tip of his staff against the man’s neck. “You stayed to watch the show, you take responsibility for the consequences. Beat it.”

With that the fight was over. Habbly handed the mop back to the washerwoman while Kadid took the loot from the fight and retreated to the warehouse’s doorway. Exhausted, Habbly joined him there.

“That was pretty impressive for someone who doesn’t like to fight,” Kadid said.

“I don’t like it, but I’m good at it.” Habbly sorted through the weapons until he found a dagger that fit his hands well. “That’s not bad magic. Why did you hire out for a job this small if you’re so strong?”

Kadid looked worried. “Um, those two spells are all I can muster. I won’t be able to cast more magic until tomorrow. But I’m getting better! Last year I could only cast one spell a day.”

Habbly put a hand over his face. “You can cast two spells a day and you want to be a hero.”

“I want to be the man who saves those in need. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I guess not.”

They spent the next few hours talking and keeping an eye out for the Warf Rats. Thankfully the gang didn’t make a second attack. Men came near dusk with wagons and loaded up the rice for shipment elsewhere. A richly dressed merchant counted out ten guilders and handed them to Kadid.

“Good money for two day’s work,” the merchant said. He tipped his hat and left without another word.

Astounded, Habbly asked, “That’s all you got paid?”

Kadid shrugged. “That plus another job and the bounty money on that devil rat should get me where I’m going. Are you coming or not? I don’t want to force you into this, but it would go smoother with a goblin’s help, and I think you’d be happier in a kingdom of your own people.”

“I don’t know,” Habbly said. He and Kadid left the now empty warehouse behind and headed into Nolod’s tangled web of streets.

“We’ll find a flophouse to spend the night and make a decision in the morning,” Kadid said. He stopped in mid stride when they came across an elaborate poster stuck to a wall. “That’s weird.”

Habbly went over to study the poster. “What is?”

“This. I’ve seen lots of advertisements in Nolod, but they’re always on cheap paper and have sloppy writing. This one’s made of high quality paper. It looks like it’s made with linen as well as wood pulp. Pricy. And look at that fine penmanship. The blue ink is a strange choice, too.”

“No secrets,” Habbly read aloud. “I’ve seen these before in Sunset City. That’s hundreds of miles from here. Let’s see what they’ve got this time.”

“Ooh, look at this!” Kadid pointed to a paragraph near the middle. “It says Julius Craton is on a secret mission to Oceanview Kingdom, where he will do battle with the Red Hand criminal organization. I’ve heard of them. They used to work out of Nolod before they were chased off. Still a dangerous bunch.”

Habbly’s jaw dropped. “Do you have enough money to pay for ship passage to Oceanview? Please say yes!”

Kadid looked confused. “What’s the matter?”

Habble stabbed the middle of the poster with his new dagger. “This! If Julius was on a secret mission, it’s not a secret anymore! Anybody who comes across this poster knows about it.”

“Not just this one.” Kadid pointed his staff at identical posters on other buildings. “Look. There are dozens of them. Who put these up? They weren’t here this morning.”

Terror gripped Habbly’s heart. “I’ve seen these posters in other kingdoms! If there are so many and they’re spread so wide, it’s almost certain the Red Hand will hear about Julius’ mission. He’s walking into a trap!”

Ocean waves tossed the merchant ship Dawn’s Hope back and forth so much that most of the human passengers were violently ill, which normally would have cheered up Brody immensely. Not that he was a cruel goblin, but the men and women onboard had been constantly insulting him during the voyage. This came close to evening the scales. But seeing men who’d mocked him fighting to get to the railings before their lunches made a return appearance offered Brody no mirth after what he’d seen outside Ballop’s Hole.

Julius Craton walked up alongside Brody by the ship’s mast. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll manage.” The blue skinned goblin shivered, not from the cold but from the events he’d seen.

“I understand why you’re upset,” Julius said. “The fight was harder and more brutal than I’ve experienced in a while.”

“You had those revolutionaries on the ropes from the beginning. Why didn’t they surrender?”

Julius gazed out over the rough sea. Tall, strong, handsome, the hero was a sight to behold, but he looked troubled. “Desperate men make poor decisions. They sacrificed so much, even their lives, because they saw no hope for themselves. I’m surprised we took as many prisoners as we did.”

The battle that troubled both man and goblin had occurred outside the town of Ballop’s Hole, a small fishing community known for flooding. Fifteen years earlier, Julius and other members of the Guild of Heroes had helped save the town and surrounding settlements from a small army of bandits that were looting the countryside.

Except those men had been revolutionaries, not bandits, drawn from the poor and desperate of their kingdom. They’d envisioned a better future for themselves, which sadly revolved around leaving others with no future at all. Another generation of the disaffected and dissatisfied had risen up to take their place, and it had fallen on Julius to help the authorities put it down before it destroyed communities like Ballop’s Hole. The second generation of revolutionaries had been fewer, less organized and worse trained than their predecessors, but the fight had still lasted twenty days and been messy.

And after all that, Julius and Brody were on their way to another fight.

“I’m rethinking your line of work,” Brody told his friend.

The ship hit a large wave, rising and falling hard. Julius put a hand on the mast to steady himself before answering. “It would have been worse without us.”

“But you saved the same town twice.”

Julius frowned. “Some days you have to settle for partial victories. There’s a town in the Raushtad Mountains that specializes in slave trading, black marketeering, brewing poison and selling dangerous magic. It’s a nightmare. The town has been destroyed four times that I know of, once by me, but evil men keep rebuilding it because there’s money to be made.”

“And we’re heading after some gang called the Red Hand,” Brody said. “Do we have friends to turn to for this one, or is this one of those situations where the locals don’t like you?”

“I’m not sure,” Julius admitted. “The king’s knights had a feud with me, for reasons I never understood. I’m told their king put an end to that. There was another group there I wasn’t on good terms with, The Ladies Gardening Guild, but the assassination threat is over.”

Goblins were used to confusion and nonsense, and were the leading source of both on Other Place, but that statement was so odd it gave Brody pause. “The Ladies Gardening Guild hired assassins to kill you?”

“They’re more dangerous and deranged than they sound. The Ladies Gardening Guild is the only all woman group in existence where every man gets a vote. I insulted their leader when I turned down a marriage proposal by her eldest daughter, who had an unhealthy interest in taxidermy squirrels. And they didn’t so much hire assassins as send angry guild members after me. Thankfully their leader was deposed in a violent coup.”

Brody put a hand over his face. “Leave jokes to the professionals.”

“Jokes?”

Their conversation was interrupted when a well-dressed merchant staggered over and pointed a finger at Brody. “You, you swine, I know you’re behind this plague.”

“Sir, you’re seasick, nothing more,” Julius said. “It will pass once you’re on land.”

“Don’t you tell me what my problem is!” the merchant shouted. Equally sick passengers looked up from the railing at the commotion. “I’ve traveled by sea for years and never been ill. Your goblin poisoned the food!”

Julius stepped in front of the merchant. “He was never near the kitchen or store room, and he had no access to your meals. Brody only brought his swimming paddles and the clothes he’s wearing, and has no place he could hide poison.”

The merchant went around Julius to point at Brody again. “You did this, you!”

Brody tended to avoid confrontations, a healthy choice for a goblin three feet tall and not too strong, but he had limits. He stared back at the merchant and began to sway opposite to the rocking ship. The effect was that he seemed to stand still while everything around him moved.

“You’re not feeling well because of the ship,” Brody said as he swayed. “I don’t blame you, the way it’s going back and forth, up and down, churning and churning and churning.”

“I,” the man began, but he stopped as his face turned pale and he ran for the railing.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Julius said.

“I’m in a bad mood.”

Captain Yeaver, the brightly dressed owner of Dawn’s Hope, walked up to Julius and nodded. “We’ll reach Oceanview Kingdom’s capital Sunset City by nightfall. Sir, it’s been a pleasure having you aboard. Our journey has been peaceful, aside from complaining passengers, but I’m always happy to have a man good with a sword when these seas have known bad times.”

“I’m grateful you got us here as quickly as you did,” Julius replied.

“We’d be there sooner except the winds are dying down.” Captain Yeaver looked to the northwest, where lights were visible in the growing night. “You, ah, were very eager to get here fast, sir. Pardon my saying so, you tend to go places others would avoid, but I’ve heard of no trouble in Sunset City. Should I be worried about entering the port?”

“There’s a gang called the Red Hand in Sunset City. They settled here after other gangs drove them from Nolod. The king wants help dealing with them. I don’t expect too much trouble since they’ve already been beaten once and don’t know I’m coming, but you may want to keep your men alert and armed.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Captain Yeaver said, and tipped his hat to Julius. “I’ve heard of the Red Hand. They’re a nasty lot. Hopefully they’ll give up or move on rather than fight. If fortune favors us, you’ll be bored and I’ll have cargo to transport instead of men.”

Sea travel was still picking up long after the threat of the Pirate Lords was over. Dawn’s Hope was a medium sized ship capable of carrying tons of goods, but the ship’s hold was only half filled with bales of cotton. Captain Yeaver made up the difference on this trip by carrying paying passengers like Julius and Brody. It kept his books in the black, if only just, and passengers created their own problems.

“Seaman, wash those planks,” Captain Yeaver ordered.

“I did it ten minutes ago,” one of his crew protested. Then he looked down and saw that the merchant who’d accused Brody of poisoning the food hadn’t reached the railing in time. “Curse our luck. I’ll get the mop.”

Night was falling as Dawn’s Hope reached the port of Sunset City. It was a large city, prosperous and built to survive the worst the sea could throw at it. Buildings were made of brick and in good condition, with a high sea wall to take the brunt of the ocean’s fury. The city was lit with oil lanterns mounted on stone pedestals scattered across the streets. Captain Yeaver eased his ship into an open berth on a short dock before lowering a gangplank. His passengers wasted no time in departing, while Julius and Brody went ashore with the captain.

“The harbormaster is going to want a share of those men’s passage fee,” Captain Yeaver said. He sounded resigned to losing what little money he had. “Still, I hear merchants here need help moving goods to the nearest market. With luck I’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”

Brody studied the dock and frowned. It was nearly night, when men usually went to sleep, but he’d expected someone on the docks to demand taxes and tolls. “Where is the guy?”

Captain Yeaver looked across the dock. “I don’t know. A harbormaster always meets my ship the moment we dock.”

Julius put a hand on his sword, Sworn Doom. “I was supposed to be met by the king’s representative when I arrived, night or day. I don’t see inspectors to check incoming ships for contraband, either.”

“We are running late because of those revolutionaries,” Brody reminded him.

“I wrote ahead to the king to explain why we were delayed and when to expect us,” Julius replied.

Brody listened intently for snaps, breathes, jingles or any other out of place sound that might suggest trouble. The problem was there were too many noises with the waves crashing and an indistinct rumbling from Sunset City.

A crewman from Dawn’s Hope called out, “Captain, should we unload our cargo?”

Captain Yeaver took a step back toward his ship. “Not yet. I don’t like the smell of this. Sir Craton, perhaps we should hold tight here until—”

Screams tore through the night air as the passengers ran back to Dawn’s Hope and raced back up the gangplank. The crowd nearly trampled Julius, Brody and Captain Yeaver. Seconds later they saw the reason for the panicked flight, as dozens of armed men ran for the ship.

A spearman with a red hand painted on his wood shield pointed at Julius and shouted, “There he is! Kill him!”

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Brody told Julius.

“Get back on the ship and raise the gangplank,” Julius ordered, his voice calm and collected. He drew his sword, and Sworn Doom glowed like a lantern. Captain Yeaver ran for his ship, but more armed men burst from concealment and blocked his way.

Brody had too much experience dealing with armed men, and as their attackers charged he had a moment to study them. Surprisingly, he wasn’t impressed. Most of them had no armor except for a few with leather breastplates and helmets. Their weapons were daggers, lassos, hatchets and staffs that had legitimate purposes and could be explained away to nosy authorities. Only a few had proper weapons like spears, and even those looked handmade. The men came in a disorganized rush rather than a formation.

Spearmen in front of the mob tried to impale Julius. He swung Sworn Doom and hacked off the spear points. A few men tried to tackle Julius, but he grabbed one with his free hand and shoved him into the bay. Brody tripped another, and he and Captain Yeaver rolled the man into the water. Ten men tried to overwhelm Julius and might have done so, except crewmen aboard Dawn’s Hope threw bales of cotton overboard onto them. Their attackers cried out in surprise as many of them were knocked down. The few still standing had to go around fallen comrades or jump over them.

“Take him down!” the now disarmed spearman shouted while staying back. “Hurry!”

Armed crewmen from Dawn’s Hope ran down the gangplank to support their captain. One man tossed Captain Yeaver a sword, which he snatched out of the air. “Well done, boys, and not a single bale went into the drink.”

“You sound surprised, captain,” one of his men said in a pained tone. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this.”

The ragged attackers pulled back, dragging their wounded away. They retreated only as far as the nearest street corner before stopping to dress their wounds. They still outnumbered Julius and the crew of Dawn’s Hope, but made no move to attack.

“Get your cargo back onboard and prepare to leave,” Julius said. He watched the Red Hand and pointed at one of them. “That one looks like the leader. He’s got them holding their ground, not fighting or running. What are they waiting for?”

Just then a second group as large as the first ran onto the streets near the port. The two groups merged together and pushed forward with spearmen leading the charge and archers behind them.

“Ah, reinforcements,” Julius said. “Everyone board the ship.”

Captain Yeaver rolled a cotton bale up the gangplank. “Faster, men!”

Dozens of Red Hand killers ran screaming down the dock. Julius stood guard at the gangplank as the last man of Dawn’s Hope boarded the ship. Terrified passengers begged them to leave as the howling mob neared. Julius looked up and saw the ship’s sails were slack with no wind left to fill them. The ship was going nowhere. His face was expressionless as he swung Sworn Doom at the gangplank and sliced it in two. Both halves fell into the water as Julius sheathed his sword and turned to leave. He was surprised to see Brody alongside him.

Julius ran as fast as he could in his armor and shouted, “Why aren’t you on the ship?”

“If I was going to bail out on you, I’d have done it months ago.”

Julius and Brody fled for their lives with the Red Hand steps behind them. The pair went down an alley and found it nearly blocked by junk. Brody went first and Julius followed, pulled down stacks of driftwood, scrap lumber and other garbage to slow their pursuers. They escaped to the sound of men cursing as they tried to force their way through the junk.

Julius led them through the port until they stopped at a crossroads. He turned to Brody and said, “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I really did want you on that ship.”

Brody gasped for breath. “The ship you chose not to board?”

“The spearman leading the first group said, ‘kill him’, not kill them. They want me, not the ship or anyone else on Dawn’s Hope. I destroyed the gangplank so the Red Hand couldn’t board it. I didn’t go on myself because the ship can barely move until the winds pick up. The Red Hand could throw lit torches on it and burn it to the waterline, and there would be nothing I could do to stop them. They’re safer without me.”

Pointing back at the harbor, Brody said, “So you save them and pretty much doom yourself! Julius, you keep risking your life like this and sooner or later you’re going to lose it. I don’t want that to happen. Lots of people don’t want that to happen, including a shocking number of men with marriageable daughters. Can we please find a way out of this that doesn’t involve you dying?”

Julius just looked at Brody for a moment without speaking. He finally looked around and said, “That would be nice. For now we’re on hostile ground. We can find help at the city’s garrison or nearest watch house, but that’s risky. I’ve been here before so I know the city’s layout, but we have to assume the Red Hand does, too.”

“So they’ll have ambushes ready if we go for help,” Brody said. “Since we’re on the topic, where are Sunset City’s soldiers and watchmen?”

“That’s a good question.”

They used their brief respite to study their surroundings. There were plenty of houses and shops on the street, their doors locked and the windows barred and shuttered. No one was on the roads so late at night, which was normal, but they still heard noises. Brody strained to figure out what they were, and frowned when he did.

“There’s fighting north of here,” he said.

“That’s where the city garrison is located. It looks like the Red Hand is mounting multiple attacks across Sunset City, at the docks to intercept me and at the garrison. I’m surprised they’d attack soldiers. Most gangs aren’t that aggressive.”

Brody sniffed the air and frowned. “I smell smoke, too much to be kitchen fires. I think they’re burning down buildings the way you thought they might burn the ship. This is bad. Where do we go?”

“If we go to neighboring watch houses we can gather watchmen and head for the garrison. We’ll attack the Red Hand from two sides and destroy them, then deal with the group at the bay…which just caught up with us.”

Red Hand killers ran out onto the street a block away. They struggled to see under the dim light of lanterns posted on the street, but still spotted Julius. The spearman from before (now armed with a club), pointed his weapon at Julius as yelled, “After him! A hundred rils for the man who takes his head!”

Julius grabbed Brody’s hand and ran. “Come on, the nearest watch house is this way.”

“What’s a ril?” Brody asked as an arrow arced high over them and broke against a brick wall.

“Local currency,” Julius explained as they turned a corner. “It’s worth about a third of a guilder.”

A hatchet flew past Brody and clattered across the cobblestone road. “The last guys who wanted you dead were paying ten times that.”

A Red Hand killer armed with a club lunged out of an alley and swung at Julius’ head. Julius grabbed the man by the wrist and spun him around, sending him face first into the nearest brick wall. “Prices on my head went down. I blame the weak economy.”

Julius and Brody kept running with the baying mob of killers in hot pursuit. They lost them briefly when they went into the alleys again, but the Red Hand was expecting the move and sent scouts after them. The few minutes the move bought them was enough to reach a burned out stone building still smoking. The furniture and wood support beams were nothing more than hot cinders.

“Let me guess, watch house,” Brody said.

“One of many.” Julius peered into the smoldering interior and said, “I don’t see bodies. Looks like the watchmen escaped before it was burned. Brody, this is a takeover attempt. The Red Hand is attacking anyone who could oppose them, but from what the king told me the Red Hand numbers only five hundred men. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a move this bold.”

“Or stupid.”

A Red Hand killer with a hatchet ran out onto the street. He charged Julius and screamed, “He’s here!”

Brody was used to being ignored and happily took advantage of the killer’s mistake. He tripped the man and sent him flat on his belly. Julius stomped on the man’s hand, forcing him to let go of the hatch, which Brody grabbed before the man could recover. Unarmed, the man snarled as he scrambled to his feet and fell back. “I found him!”

“There’s another watch house a few blocks away,” Julius said as he and Brody fled. “It might be burned down as well, but I don’t see a better choice.”

A door opened as Julius and Brody came near, and a frightened looking man peered out. Julius shouted, “Stay inside!”, and the man slammed the door shut.

Two men wearing red helmets came out of an alley ahead of Julius and Brody. The first man drew a sword while the second raised a horn to his lips. Julius rammed the first man and knocked him over while Brody threw his stolen hatchet at the second man, shattering the horn before he could blow it. The second man pulled a knife from a belt sheath, but Brody grabbed the man’s belt and yanked down hard, pulling his pants around his ankles and showing the man’s red and white poke-a-dot underwear. Julius pushed the man over and led Brody away.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that,” Julius said.

“The one I got will need more time to get up.”

“I know, but—”

“It’s him!” The Red Hand finally caught up to them in numbers large enough to fill the streets. They formed crude ranks around Julius and Brody, blocking all exits as still more men joined them. Julius drew his sword and backed up against a wall. The odds were badly against him, but Julius had defeated so many threats that the Red Hand wasn’t guaranteed victory.

“If you do this, not many of you will see the morning,” Julius warned.

A man with a bandaged face stepped into the front of the Red Hand. “We’re doing this, and we’ll toast our victory over your dead body.”

Sworn Doom snicker at them. “Better men than you have tried. We’ll accept surrender from however many of you survives the first two minutes.”

The crowd around Julius and Brody raised their weapons and howled like demons as they charged. They’d gone only three steps before a carriage pulled by four horses raced down the street, and their howls turned into screams of terror. Men scattered, many dropping their weapons as they scrambled out of the way. The carriage went right in front of Julius, slowing down just long enough for a young man dressed in gray to reach out his hand. Julius sheathed his sword, grabbed the offered hand with his right hand and taking Brody’s hand with the other. He vaulted into the carriage and pulled Brody along. The carriage rocketed down the road, nearly running over a handful of men as it escaped.

“Sir, it’s such an honor!” the gray clad youth shouted over the sound of the carriage clattering over the cobblestone road. He was one of many passengers already in the carriage. “Kadid Lan, sir, wizard of earth magic, and a big fan! Officer Dalton is driving the carriage.”

“A pleasure, sir!” the watchman called back. Julius collapsed into a seat, only to have a large dog sit on his lap. “Shep, no!”

Kadid tried to pull the dog off and failed. “And, uh, the goblin is—”

“Habbly, yes, we’ve met,” Julius replied. He shook the goblin’s hand and waved to Brody. “It’s a bit of a reunion. What brings you here?”

“Kadid and I came to save you,” Habbly said. The carriage moved so fast that the goblin’s long braid whipped behind him. He held up two handfuls of papers, offering one to Julius and another to Brody. “Someone’s been plastering posters across entire kingdoms. They tell secrets, like that you were on your way here to fight the Red Hand. We saw them and came to warn you, but the Red Hand saw them, too.”

Julius studied one of the paper and scowled. “Who wrote this?”

“We don’t know, sir,” Kadid said. He picked up an elaborate staff off a seat and waved it at the papers. “It’s been happening for months with stories about Ocean Kingdom, Kaleoth, Ket and independent cities like Nolod. So far no mention of the Land of the Nine Dukes, but give it time.”

Brody looked at his copies and frowned. It was hard to see the flowery blue writing under such poor light, but there was another reason for his trouble. The strange markings made no sense to him because he couldn’t read a word. He’d lived most of his life alone and never learned the skill. Whatever terrible secrets were contained on these pages were lost on him.

“The Red Hand got this information before we did!” Officer Dalton shouted over his shoulder. He slowed the carriage as it took a wide turn at a corner. “They’ve mounted surprise attacks on watch houses across the city, hitting us before we could hit them. We’ve fallen back to the city’s garrison and are organizing a counterattack. Kadid and Habbly found me fighting my way to the garrison and told me you were coming. The papers say you were going to help us beat the Red Hand, so thought you could save the city. Shep, no, stop licking the man’s face!”

“How far have they spread across the city?” Julius asked as he wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck and pulled it into his lap.

Kadid replied, “We’ve run into groups of them every few blocks. Watch houses across the city have been destroyed, but a few are holding out with help from citizens.”

Brody pointed up and shouted, “More are coming!”

The others looked up and saw Red Hand men running across the roofs of houses on the streets. Two of them threw spears and missed. Another drew a dagger and jumped screaming from rooftops for the carriage. His monstrous howl became a terrified cry of panic as he fell eight feet short of his target and hit the road with a thud.

“He didn’t time that well,” Habby said.

“No, he really didn’t,” Julius agreed. “Officer Dalton, how fast can you get us to the garrison?”

“We’re two blocks away,” Dalton called back.

Officer Dalton drove the carriage around another corner onto a large, open courtyard. Ahead of them was a large two story building manned by watchmen and average citizens. These men held the windows and doors against dozens of Red Hand killers. The unruly mob rushed the building and was pushed back by an equally determined resistance. Dalton slowed the carriage, but it still moved fast enough that the Red Hand barely had enough time to avoid being run over. A wooden double door twenty feet across opened just long enough for the carriage to enter before slamming closed.

Julius jumped off the carriage and helped the others down. “Who’s in charge of this garrison?”

A watchman with gold medals on his chest ran over and saluted. “Sir Craton, I’m the ranking officer. We’ve been hit hard, but the city watch still stands. Enemy attacks have been going on for hours, and their strength is flagging. We’ll be able to take the offensive soon and rout them.”

“They’ll fall back the moment they realize they’re lost the advantage, scattering across the city or fleeing it entirely,” Julius responded. “We have to strike before they run or we’ll need weeks to track them all down.”

“The men are tired, sir,” the officer replied. “They can’t take a prolonged fight without rest and reinforcements.”

Julius looked at the nearest window, where frightened men armed with spears prepared for another enemy attack. “They need a quick victory that won’t cost them. Buildings in Sunset City are all made of brick, little risk of a fire spreading. Officer, I saw lanterns across the city. Do you have lamp oil on hand?”

“Well, uh, yes sir, plenty of it,” the officer stammered.

Brody had spent enough time with Julius to know how his mind worked. Panicked, he pushed his way past the others and pleaded, “Julius, no, you can’t.”

For a moment Julius’ face looked pained. “Many will suffer far worse if I don’t.”

Puzzled, Kadid asked Officer Dalton, “What are they talking about?”

Dalton struggled to keep his dog under control. “Sorry, no idea.”

“At least give them a chance,” Brody begged.

* * * * *

More members of the Red Hand poured into the courtyard around the city garrison, including a man swathed in bandages. Others saluted when he neared.

“Staback,” one of them said. “We’ve got a battering ram ready to take down the door. Say the word and we do it.”

Staback was still hurting from when a swarm of bees had stung him weeks earlier. The pain would make most men timid, but instead it drove him to a hatefulness rarely seen. He pointed a hatchet at the assembled men and said, “We’ve enough men to do the job. Bring those doors down. Leave no one alive.”

With the order given, twenty men picked up a mast they’d stolen from the docks and charged the doors. Dozens more men followed them, screaming and waving their weapons. The battering ram struck the door with a boom that echoed throughout the city. Red Hand killers roared in approval as they struck at men guarding the windows. They pulled the battering ram back for another blow when civilians poured lamp oil out of the garrison second story windows.

Men fell cursing as the oil splattered over them. The ones holding the battering ram couldn’t keep their footing and fell. They were still yelling and cursing when the double doors opened and Julius stepped out with a lit torch. The men frozen in terror.

“Hello. I’m Julius Craton, and before you ask, yes, I will do it.

“I’ve fought men like you for more than half my life. It’s kind of sad how many people would kill their fellow man as if they were less than animals. I’ve always found it troubling that of all the ways I have to deal with threats like you, violence seems to be the only way that works. I have to be like you to stop you. That bothers me. It bothers people I care about. I’m tired of it.

“So, this is how we’re doing this. A person better than any of you asked me to offer mercy, so I’m giving you a chance. Surrender and accept full punishment under the law for your crimes. I have received the garrison commander’s word of honor that none of you will face torture or the death penalty. You’ll live and make restitution for your actions.”

Julius held his torch high above his head. Light from the torch made the oil on the men glisten. “Throw down your weapons or I throw down mine. I’d rather not do it, but like I said, I will do it.”

Staback made a guttural, growling noise as he tried to rise to his feet. “I won’t—”

His own men tackled Staback and gagged him. A lone man dropped his spear at Julius’ feet, then another and a third. Bit by bit the Red Hands disarmed, and watchmen took them prisoner. One by one they were led away to the garrison’s cells.

“Sir, that was amazing,” Officer Dalton said. “I’d have never thought of using our oil supply as a weapon.”

“Then you’re a better man than I am,” Julius said. “Some of the Red Hand who attacked us at the bay aren’t here. We didn’t get them all and have to comb the city for the rest before they regroup or flee to cause trouble elsewhere.”

Kadid Lan walked up with a stack of posters written with blue ink. “What do we do about these? Whoever is writing them nearly got you killed, and they’re still writing more.”

Brody took a poster from Kadid and studied it. He couldn’t read the words, but the paper felt silky in his fingers, not rough like cheap paper. The writing was smooth and flowery, and he’d never seen anyone write with blue ink. So few clues wasn’t much to work with, but it was a start. Brody’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the puzzle. It was a tall task for a small goblin who couldn’t read, but one thing he’d learned by traveling with Julius was that no problem was impossible if you had help, and he’d met people who could help.

“I know guys who can find the authors,” Brody told the others. It was an inspirational promise of hope totally ruined when Officer Dalton’s dog Shep tackled the little goblin and licked his face.