“Ever noticed how tavern signs perpetuate illiteracy in lower districts?” Cade mused as he and his crew neared their destination.
“Because they use symbols instead of whatever annoying new set of runes the gods impose on us?” Elena replied as she glanced over her shoulder for potential tails. “I’d call it efficient, not whatever you’re insinuating.”
“On the contrary, my red-headed friend!” Cade answered enthusiastically, much to the dismay of his friends. “By indulging the easy route for us plebeians, these shop owners allow the gods and their followers to have greater access to knowledge and thus privileges than us! We must rise against these shackles! We must—”
“You want us to graffiti words on these signs, don’t you?” Rayka cut her older brother off. Cade, mid-speech, gaped at her audacity. What thunder he felt blew away in the next breath, and he sighed heavily. He lazily kicked a loose pebble and watched it scatter erratically across the uneven ground.
“Fine, yes,” Cade grumbled in a glum tone. “I want to graffiti the signs using a different language for each. It’d be educational and funny.”
“And likely set off a feud war between various religious groups in the city,” Elena prompted indulgently.
Cade shrugged, though some of the spark returned to his eyes. “That’d just be a bonus.”
“We’re here.” Orro’s words cut through their banter like a knife.
The damp, fetid air of Silfheim clung to them like an unwelcome companion as Cade and his crew reached The Broken Horn. The tavern’s entrance was almost hidden between two crumbling buildings, its wooden sign swinging on rusty hinges. The smell of spilled ale, sweat, and something much more pungent seeped from the cracks around the door, promising an evening of dubious pleasures and dangerous company.
Cade took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Ah, the sweet aroma of nearly guaranteed betrayal. Let’s hope tonight we only get a light backstabbing. Joy has got to be in there, but most of these folks are gonna be on high alert with all the Ravens about. Be careful.” He looked them all in the eyes, unblinking.
“Yes, mother. We get it,” Elena groaned and shuffled her feet impatiently.
“Let’s get this over with,” Cade sighed.
He opened the door and let them all saunter past while he kept a careful watch on the street. Orro was the last to enter, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he walked in. Cade saw a group of figures duck into a nearby alley, but disregarded them. He had no doubt they were suspicious characters, but so long as they weren’t affiliated with Scorn, he couldn’t care less.
Satisfied, Cade closed the door behind him, the heavy wood creaking ominously.
Inside, The Broken Horn was a dimly lit cavern of vice. Smoke curled lazily towards the ceiling, mingling with the scent of stale beer and unwashed bodies.
Shadows clung to every corner like spiderwebs. They masked the figures who lounged in dark booths or huddled around scarred wooden tables. The hum of whispered conversations was punctuated by occasional bursts of raucous laughter or the clink of coins and tankards.
The centerpiece of the room was an oval bar, above which the skeletal remains of a wyvern were suspended on rusty iron cords. The wyvern’s horn was partially missing, a grim testament to the tavern’s namesake. Bunny’s eyes gleamed with a sick pleasure as he took in the sight, no doubt inwardly gloating that a lowly wyvern and not a dragon hung there.
Cade’s eyes swept the room, taking in the myriad of faces, each marked by a life of crime and hardship. Scarred knuckles, furtive glances, and the occasional flash of a hidden blade spoke of a place where trust was left by the door. His crew lurked on either side of him, all of their faces warped by scowls and raised brows. Despite the oppressive atmosphere, Cade’s grin never wavered.
He had grown up around people like this. He could read them all like the open books that they were. He caught every shift in their shoulders, every feathered muscle in their jaws. If he had the time, he would’ve set up a small hustle to get all of their coin purses a good deal lighter, but had to let that impulse go.
He had work to do.
Grug, the tavern’s formidable barkeep, loomed behind the bar. His green skin gleamed dully in the torchlight, and his tusks jutted out from his lower jaw like ivory daggers. He wore thick suspenders and a ragged bandana, his muscular arms crossed over a barrel of a chest.
Cade sauntered up to the bar, leaning casually on the worn surface. “Evening, Grug. Busy night?”
“Always is, for those who know how to look.” Grug’s eyes narrowed, his gaze heavy with suspicion. “What do you want, Cade?”
Cade’s smile widened. “Just some friendly advice. Is Joy in tonight?”
“Maybe he is, maybe he ain’t. What’s it to you?” Grug grunted, his eyes flicking over Cade’s companions.
Orro stepped up, his presence a silent but effective deterrent against the interested glances of nearby patrons.
They knew who he was.
“Tell us what we need to know, Grug,” Orro stated coldly.
“No need for that, my dear assassin!” Cade cut in with a conspiratorial roll of his eyes for Grug’s behalf.
The large orc shifted nervously.
“Now, Grug,” Cade continued amiably while the rest of his crew watched his back in the dark tavern. “I have to admit, Orro here is in a bit of a hurry. The sooner you can help him, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair. You know how he gets when he has to wait. How is that bouncer you hired a few moons ago? Burk, was it?”
“My cousin’s still recovering, thanks for asking.” Grug’s gaze lingered on Orro before he nodded slowly. “Joy’s here. In the back room tonight. But tread carefully. He’s not in the best of moods right now.”
Elena snorted. “Is he ever?”
Grug’s tusks flashed in what might have been a smile. “Fair point.”
“Thanks, Grug.” Cade straightened, giving Grug a nod. “We’ll be careful.”
He passed the barkeep a single silver and gave him a friendly wink. That should keep him happy for the rest of the night.
As they made their way to the back room, Cade’s senses were on high alert. The smoky air seemed thicker here, carrying a myriad of scents: the tang of cheap liquor and the faint metallic scent of blood. Conversations halted as they passed. Greedy eyes tracked their every move as they navigated around tables and chairs cheaply reconstructed after whatever most recent fight had broken out here.
Cade smiled and nodded to each of them.
A formidable presence surged from her seat and blocked their path. Cade’s gaze slowly crawled up the muscular pillar in front of him, each new detail adding to his shock. Her boots were speckled with blood, and daggers that glowed with powerful runes lined her thighs and hips. A tight tunic barely contained a rippling abdomen, accentuating the barreled arms that crossed over her chest.
The scarred warrior’s face was etched with the story of a hundred battles, and she stood mere inches from Cade. He had to look up just to meet her cold gaze. Slowly, her lips curled into a predatory smile.
Around her, a group of equally menacing figures began to circle, their hands resting on an array of wicked-looking weapons. Daggers, enchanted blades, and knuckles glinted in the dim light. If Cade remembered correctly, his old mentor had dealings with this fledgling guild. They were wannabe Slips, who usually just got odd jobs as swords-for-hire and debt collectors. Cade’s mind whirred until he remembered her name.
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He grinned.
“Well, if it isn’t Hugh’s runt,” she purred, her voice a dangerous whisper. “Your boss owes me a hefty sum. Did he send you to settle it like a coward, or are you the down payment?”
Orro’s hand moved instinctively to his weapon, muscles coiled and ready to strike. Cade put a hand on his arm, stepping forward with a disarming grin.
“Easy there, Mercy,” Cade said smoothly. “Hate to disappoint, but Hugh is no longer in the business of owing money.”
She bristled at his use of her real name, her eyes narrowed. “My name is Nightdagger, you stupid gutter rat. And why’s your boss suddenly unwilling to pay his debts, huh?”
Of course she chose a nickname like ’Nightdagger.’ Truly, art was lost to the world.
“Hugh’s dead, Mercy,” Cade lied, his tone light. “And not in the figurative ’deadbeat’ way. Dead, as in, permanently out of the picture. Courtesy of us.”
This lie was easier than the truth. That their lifelong mentor and boss had cut them loose, leaving them to take the fall for a heist against a goddess was too much for such casual banter.
The woman’s expression flickered with uncertainty for a moment, but then she stepped closer, her breath hot against Cade’s face, smelling of cheap ale and malice.
“Then I guess his debts fall to you and your pitiful excuse of a crew, don’t they?” Mercy clarified menacingly.
Cade’s smile never faltered, though he inwardly bristled at the insult to his crew.
“I’m afraid that’s not how it works,” the thief answered easily. He used a single finger to push her face away from his. “Hugh’s debts died with him. No inheritance, especially not in the form of misplaced obligations.”
Her smile vanished, replaced by a snarl. “Nice try, but I think I’ll just take what you’ve got instead. I think I’ll start with that delicious-looking red-headed boy. He’ll make for a fun plaything for me tonight.”
She reached forward for Jer’s hair, calloused fingers curled like some hellish claw. Several of her compatriots rose to stand in front of Orro and Elena.
Cade’s grin vanished. “Move one more inch, and the only debt you’ll be receiving is from the coroner. No one—no one—threatens my crew.” Cade warned.
His blood boiled, and it was all he could do not to smash his fist into her face then and there. Elena raised an eyebrow, the barest hints of a smile playing across her face while respect danced in her eyes.
“Big words,” Mercy retorted and then resumed to reach for Jer, who was in the middle of petting beneath Bunny’s chin. “Too bad Hugh isn’t here to settle this for you, Stormhollow.”
Cade’s eyes blazed like a forge from hell even as his smile widened.
“You know,” he admitted while he toyed with the edge of a nearby table. “I can see why Hugh avoided you. That desperate reach for power, the way you hide your fear behind threats—it’s almost endearing. Almost. But here’s the thing: you’re aiming at the wrong target. Hugh was weak, a coward, but I am not. Touch my friend, and you’ll learn just how small of a fish you really are.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that only she could hear, every word dripping with icy menace.
“And believe me,” he whispered. “You’ll wish you never stepped into this mess. Because while you might think you’re tough, you don’t even rank in the top fifty scariest people who’ve wanted me or my crew dead. So, why don’t you take a step back and rethink your life’s choices before they end here?”
The woman’s eyes darted around, catching the poised readiness in Orro’s stance and the unwavering confidence in Cade’s eyes. Her bravado wavered, just for a moment, but long enough for her to reconsider. She pulled back her hand, glaring at Cade, but not daring to push further.
“Smart move,” Cade said, his grin returning, but this time with a razor-sharp edge. “Now, why don’t you run along and find someone else to harass. We’ve got business to attend to, and you’re not on the guest list, Mercy.”
“Oh, that’s it!” The brutal woman bellowed, and all hell broke loose.
Cade kicked with all of his might at her left knee, and he heard a satisfying snap as she crumpled to the ground screaming. Elena’s fist connected with the first man’s jaw, sending him reeling into a table.
Jer finally joined in and ducked under a wild swing from another and delivered a precise kick to his knee that dropped him to the floor. When a fourth jumped at him in a tackle, Jer used the fallen patron as a stool to leap and flip over the final assailant. The attacker slammed headfirst into the side of his fallen comrade while he landed gently on top of their empty table. He kicked up one of the filled tankards and took a satisfying pull from it.
“Gross,” Elena chided with a shake of her head.
“Don’t break the furniture!” Grug bellowed from behind the bar, his eyes flashing with irritation.
Cade stepped back, ensuring Rayka and Bunny stayed out of the fray. “Let’s keep this civil, shall we?”
The other patrons watched with a mix of amusement and interest, their whispers barely audible over the sounds of the scuffle.
“That’s Hugh’s crew, alright,” one murmured.
“Didn’t think they’d show their faces here,” another grunted.
“Did he just compare Nightdagger to a fish?” A disheveled man contributed as he scratched his mangy beard.
“You’ll pay for this!” Mercy yelled as she clutched her broken knee, her face pale with pain and fury.
Cade shook his head, his tone almost sympathetic. “That’s kind of the whole point of our unfortunate disagreement. We won’t be. Now, if you don’t mind, we have business to attend to.”
Without another word, Cade turned and left the woman lying there. Orro held her gaze while Elena and Jer rejoined Rayka and the others.
Cade didn’t miss how Elena slipped her hand past the woman’s table and cleaned out the purses there, but didn’t let his eyes show it.
They found Joy sitting alone at a corner table, nursing a tankard of ale. The half-gnome’s face was set in a permanent scowl, his eyes shadowed by the hood of his cloak. Thick scrolls bound by steel clasps rested atop his isolated table in the dark. He took in a deep breath and his face was illuminated by the hot embers inside his mahogany pipe.
Purple smoke blasted from his nose as he exhaled, and Cade resisted the instinct to run when he saw the mad glint in the gnome’s eyes. The shadows around him thickened with bitterness and hate.
Cade raked a chair from a nearby table and dragged it along the wooden floor. It creaked and groaned loudly, and Cade watched as Joy’s eye twitched at the unholy sound. With a casual flourish, he sat down across from the half-gnome, all smiles. The magic inside of him stirred, and his grin turned brittle.
“Joy Dawnbringer,” Cade said in greeting. “It’s been a while.”
Joy’s eyes flicked over Orro and Elena, filled with contempt. “Not long enough, Cade. What do you want?”
Cade leaned in, his voice low and smooth. “Information. Maybe a little magic. We’re dealing with something… complicated. We need your expertise.”
Joy took a long pull from his pipe. “Complicated, huh? And what makes you think I’d help you? You come waltzing in here like we’re old pals. I should have my guys haul you and that fat pet of yours out of here by the ears and dice you up for Benji’s next shipment. They could do with some plump and naíve meat, I hear. “
Cade’s smile didn’t falter. “You won’t throw us to those hounds, Joy.”
“Oh!” Joy exclaimed mirthlessly. He pointed the stock of his pipe in Cade’s face. “You read minds now, boy? Tell me, why won’t I let the Slips here in town take you and your idiot crew for screwing me over?” Joy leaned forward and rested a hand protectively on the scrolls, which clinked softly at the disturbance.
Cade leaned in, taking his time to enjoy the glimmer of interest Joy tried to hide. “We got the amulet.”
Joy snorted. “Bollocks, boy. Show me.”
“That’s not how this works. Take us to your workshop, then we’ll show you,” Cade lied.
Orro, sensing the tension, spoke up. “We’re willing to pay handsomely for your services.”
Another lie.
Elena, her patience wearing thin, leaned forward. “Can you help us or not?”
Joy’s eyes flicked to Elena, then back to Cade. “I can help. But it’ll cost you more than you got. And you might not like what you find.”
Cade nodded. “We’re prepared for that. Just tell us what we need to know.”
The gnome’s smile was a cold, bitter thing. “Alright. Follow me. But remember, you asked for this.”
With a flourish, he swept the scrolls on the table into his cloak pockets and then jumped down off his chair. With a noncommittal wave, he gestured for them to join him. As they followed Joy into the depths of The Broken Horn, the hairs on Cade’s neck stood on end.
Something was wrong.
Hells, there was always something wrong in this town. They needed this information. He needed a way out from beneath this crushing power.
The magic within him churned, and he leaned against one of the walls in the corridor Joy led them down. Orro placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
“I’m alright,” Cade whispered.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Orro answered so softly only Cade heard him.
Joy navigated their group up to a nondescript wall made of dove-tailed wood paneling. Joy placed his hand against a portion indistinct from the rest, and silvery threads of magic interlaced with pitch-black darkness poured from his palm. The magical tendrils snaked inside the wall as if it had pores of its own.
A second later, there was an audible click, and then the wooden slab swung inward on silent hinges.
“After you,” Joy said in a bored tone. Orro hesitated, but the half-gnome waved him through. “Only I know how to reactivate the door, ya twit. Now, get through before I lock your friends in.”
As one, they entered the dark tunnel. Cade got the distinct impression they were headed into the maw of some ancient beast, but then he dismissed the errant fear out of hand.
Everything would be alright.
…probably.
Hmm. What is Joy up to...
