Scion of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 8) Read online

  The elf shuddered as they moved across a narrow bridge.

  She’d met Knocker.

  A small man who fidgeted a lot. Left hand bearing scars from old burns. Owlish face and odd ears. When she asked why he was called Knocker, he said he’d earned it.

  Never elaborated further.

  Didn’t seem the type to make up stories.

  Gators.

  There were swamps north of Lostlight. The Jukkala sent her there more than once in her early days. Survival training, they called it. So, she’d seen gators. Seen their size.

  Their primordial horror. Unnatural strength.

  Always knew enough not to get too close to the murky waters.

  Sensing the young Shiv was waiting for something, the elf grunted. “Better than wyrms,” she said. “Gators will keep out of your way most times. But wyrms will hunt you down.”

  “Ain’t sure I like the sound of either.”

  The elf patted the hardened leather bracers. “They ain’t all bad. Skin can be useful.”

  “Shit.”

  “Plenty of it down here.”

  “Not funny.” Klista rubbed at the mask. Tried tightening it. “You know where you’re going?”

  The elf grinned beneath her mask. “Nope.”

  An iron gate had been left open. Rust chewed hinges. Strings of ghostly white sludge drooling from the ceiling. A few bars had fallen loose and lay on the ground. Lock had a key inside, wet with slime.

  Didn’t look like it’d been taken out in a long time and she felt no compulsion to touch the rotten metal.

  Paused mid-step as a loud wooden clatter shuddered up from the throaty dark.

  Shot a glance to the Shiv, who shrugged.

  The elf crept through the gate, feet sliding in thin layer of mud. At least, she hoped it was mud.

  Didn’t want to think too much about it.

  Around a corner, she saw light at the end of a narrow passage. The passage split often into thin corridors no wider than her shoulders. More rats.

  Clumps of rot and weed.

  Mould choked the walls.

  Ceiling dribbled and drooled. Wet droplets she angled to avoid.

  Puddles.

  Some she had to hop over.

  At the end of the passage, the elf kept low and in shadow. Peered into a wide cavern. Stone pillars formed a lattice which kept the light fragmented. Light from a few magelights in the centre.

  Hole in the stone above provided ventilation. Thick beam of moonlight managed to make its way down the wide shaft, illuminating a grotesque pool of rancid filth.

  Eerie wisps of mist clung to the ground. Floated aimless, fingering the barrels and curling across the muck. Canals journeyed into the dark, carrying the weight of Dragonclaw’s sewage system. Pushing evil fluid from the rotten heart and out into the bay. Through the mask, the elf still had trouble trying not to gag. The stink was unbearable. Made more so with the added fumes of spilled oil.

  She looked back at the young Shiv as another thought occurred. Pointed to the small thiefstone and made a slitting motion of her throat.

  Klista nodded and tucked the thing away, stifling any chance of a stray spark.

  Not that hers had been as worn as the one Nysta had inherited.

  But this wasn’t a place to take chances.

  Because it wasn’t the air which sent shivers down the elf’s spine.

  It was the barrels.

  Hundreds of them. Collected like insect eggs in a putrid nest. How the Duke had managed to get his hands on so much oil, she didn’t know. But he must’ve been stockpiling it for a long time. And if United were useless at patrolling the Halls, they were fairly good at moving stock.

  She headed toward the lights, weaving between barrels. Keeping low.

  Moving quicker as she saw shadows moving up ahead.

  Heard another rumble, followed by a crash.

  Curse.

  “Caz, you dumb fuck. Watch what you’re fucking doing!”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, Fee.” Not really sorry.

  The woman threw her hands in the air. The oversized uniform making her look comical. “You nearly fucking killed me!”

  “Yeah yeah. You got out of the way.” Pause. “Hey, you seen Fulfar around? He was supposed to bring the new guys through. Maybe get them to tidy this shit up, or something.”

  “I haven’t seen Fulfar since Sagg sent us down here after that crazy elf killed his meal ticket.” Fee grunted with exertion. Kicked a heavy barrel in frustration. Looked at him. “You gonna give me a hand? Or you just gonna fucking stand there starin’?”

  “Ain’t my job. My job’s to watch over you. I’m Overseer, right? You heard Anj give me the title. And this badge right here. That’s my job now. I watch. Anyway, you can handle it. It’s just some fucking barrels, right? Ain’t like they’re full of bricks or anything. Just roll ‘em. I did that one for you, didn’t I?”

  “You rolled it into the fucking shit! It’s supposed to be up against the fucking pillars. Neat and tidy is how the Duke wants it. Not in the shit. What the fuck you think Anj would say if he came down here and saw it in there?”

  “Yeah, well. You can get it out, right?”

  “You what?”

  “Get it out. There’s a grappler over there. It’s for fishing stuff out. I’ve seen Jorg use it all the time.”

  “You had Jorg down here? But he’s an enchanter.”

  “So? Enchanting’s bullshit. Anyone can enchant shit.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Anj.” Pause. “Anyway, he needed something to do while we were having a drink, right? You know what Jorg is like. He’s like you, ain’t he? Likes to be busy.”

  Fee said nothing.

  And the elf crouched, hidden in the dark. Could see the young woman trying to grab a long pole with a hook on the end. It was hung over a pipe above the bubbling canal, and she wasn’t tall enough to reach it easily.

  Her fingertips brushed the pole.

  Which danced out of reach.

  “Fucking shit,” Fee cursed. On her toes. Balancing along the edge.

  Caz up next to her.

  Taller.

  Red-haired and beady-eyed. Teeth a little too big for his mouth. He snorted with laughter, watching as she tried to reach. Sound like a donkey braying.

  “Come on,” he said. Inching closer. “Stretch.”

  She pushed him with both hands. “Will you quit standing so fucking close?”

  “Hey, I’m just Overseeing, Fee. My job, remember?”

  “You alright?” A third voice pushed into the cavern and Caz scowled at it. Took a few steps away from Fee before throwing a grin at the newcomer. “Yeah, Shatey. Fine. What you doing down here? Weren’t you supposed to be helping Coff?”

  “Anj sent me down. Coff’s not around no more. And Bran says his Lordship’s wanting to know if it’s all in place. Everyone’s got a hard-on for it to be done tonight.” He looked down at Fee. Absently scratched his balls. “Hello, darlin’. How are ya?”

  Fee rolled her eyes and turned to try reaching the pole again.

  Let out a frustrated sigh.

  Nysta aimed a finger at Shatey.

  Then thumb at herself and at Caz and Fee.

  Klista arched an eyebrow.

  The elf narrowed her eyes.

  The young shiv sighed inaudibly and nodded back.

  The elf pointed to her right, and Klista moved away. Heading toward the tall fat man by the doorway.

  Leaving the elf to ghost in direction of the two up against the canal’s edge.

  In putrid mist, she loped. Rubbed the scar on her cheek with her fingertips. Felt the hard edge of it.

  Watched Fee make another try for the hook.

  Caz let out a nasal laugh.

  And the elf didn’t give a signal.

  Didn’t need to.

  Realised in that moment that she trusted the young Shiv in the same way she’d trusted the Jukkala. Knew she’d do what needed to be done
.

  So, as she flew from the dark at the two figures, wasn’t surprised to see a flash of steel in the periphery of her vision.

  Her shoulder hit Fee in the back.

  The young woman let out a shriek. Her wrist hit the pole, which swung violently as she was sent cartwheeling into raw sewage. The splash was thick and Fee was quickly swallowed by the rancid flow.

  Caz proved he had a little speed by getting two steps away before the elf’s hand whipped out to grab the hook as it returned on its swing.

  In one movement, she tugged it loose and swung in a deadly arc. An arc which ended in a wet thunk as the clawed hook sank deep into Caz’s side.

  “Get over here,” the elf snapped. Tugged on the pole to bring him reeling back against her.

  Fee reared up from the evil soup. Horrified and afraid, she clawed for the edge to get out. “Fuck, oh fuck! What the fu-”

  Wrestling with Caz, the elf stamped down hard on Fee’s head.

  Fee resisted. Arms reached around the elf’s leg.

  “No!”

  Stamped again.

  Fee’s head went down under the elf’s boot. Bubbles bursting desperate. Fingers clawing for grip on the ledge. Nails splintering as she tried to drag herself free of the elf’s heel.

  Caz wrapped both hands around the hook, letting out a warbling hoot of pain as he tore it loose. Then tried pulling it out of her hands. The elf let the handle go rather than lose her balance. Pulled lips back in irritated snarl as he struggled to pull the hook’s curling barb from his side.

  Succeeded with a whine.

  He stood there for a moment, watching his own blood glide off the rusted edge. Then looked at her, incredulous. “What the fuck you do that for?”

  “Get your attention,” she growled. Didn’t want to lunge forward. Wanted to keep Fee’s head under the surface. Dug a coin from her pocket and tossed it at him. He let it roll away, too stunned to make a grab. “You’re a bunch of couriers, right? Well, I’m thinking to hire you. The enough? Ain’t looking to owe you anything.”

  “What the fuck are you on about? We ain’t couriers anymore. We’re guards now.” A pathetic whine as he edged backward, ready to run.

  The elf spat a wet stream into the writhing sewage.

  Stomped her boot down as Fee tried to lurch above the surface. “Slapping a uniform on your skinny ass don’t make you something you ain’t.”

  Shatey defended the first few strikes, showing some basic skills of self-defence.

  “Come on, darlin’,” he cooed. “Put down tha sword, yeah? Let’s get ta know each uvva. I ain’t a bad sort, am I?”

  Klista laughed.

  Cut off his hand.

  And Caz took the scream as a trigger to run.

  Stopped as the elf bunched into a crouch, hands moving fast.

  He remembered the pole in his hand and lifted it with a sudden burst of bravery. Satisfied he had the reach to kill without getting in range of her knives. “Fuck you, long-ear. I’ll show you. I’ll fuck you up.”

  Go With My Blessing burst from her fist in a glitter of steel. Drove hard into his chest. Low.

  He squealed. High pitch and feminine. Dropped onto his ass and began scooting along the ground like a wounded dog until he hit a wall. Eyes bulging as he stared at the knife protruding from his body.

  Lifted his hand.

  Quality Assurance pierced palm and nailed it to the wall beside his face.

  The squeal rose impossibly in pitch.

  Open mouthed. Staring at his hand.

  Confused.

  Looked back to see the elf grinning at him as she put more of her weight on Fee’s head. Pushing the woman deeper into the sewage.

  Ignoring the hand slapping her boot.

  Fee’s other hand raking the ground.

  Every time the woman seemed to push harder against the elf. Body thrashing and lunging for the surface.

  Almost got her face free.

  Almost found the air she was desperate for.

  “Don’t go anywhere, feller,” she hissed to him. “I’m just preparing the package. Like for you to deliver it for me.”

  “Deliver? The fuck are you doing? You stabbed me in the hand!”

  “Like for you to take it to the Shadowed Halls,” she said. Cold. So cold he shivered. “I’m sure they’ll let you inside long enough to pass it on. Reckon you can do that?”

  Fee gave one last desperate lurch.

  Sewage washed out of the canal and flooded the bank.

  Then she twitched.

  And never moved again.

  He reached for the knife pinning him to the wall. Knew he had to pull it free if he had any hope of getting away.

  One quick tug.

  Then he could run.

  Sprint into the dark.

  He knew the way out. She didn’t. She’d never catch him. He’d laugh all the way to the surface. A good alchemist could fix him.

  Not the drunken old fool Anj had hired to deal with rat-bites. A real one.

  Just had to pull the knife out first.

  Fingertips tentatively touched the hilt.

  Then he let out a horrified shriek as Shatey’s head landed between his legs.

  It rolled against his knee. Slack jaw. Eyes open and dull.

  Blood and gore spilling in long threads from the stump of his neck.

  He didn’t care that it had been Shatey. It was just a piece of wet meat now.

  And it scared the shit out of him to stare into unblinking eyes.

  He lashed at it with his feet. Kicking it away. Yelped as the thing bounded into the river of sludge with a grotesque splash.

  Wriggled against the blade, feeling the pain riddle up his arm. Screamed again.

  Froze as a cold blade touched his cheek.

  Silence.

  Klista stood there. Smiling. A wicked smile etched in violence from the darkest corners of the Shadowed Halls. Her laughter, soft and mocking.

  “Hey, feller?” The elf called. “You up for the job?”

  “Fuck you. You’re crazy. Both of you. Fucking crazy.”

  “Don’t be like that. I got it all ready for you.” Drew A Flaw in the Glass as she approached with cruel steps. Jerked a thumb at Fee’s corpse floating face-down in shit. “Even stamped it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Anj stuffed the pack full of gems and gold. As much as he could carry.

  Tears whittled the edge of his eyes but his mouth was a coiled spring of rage.

  In pieces at his feet, a scroll.

  A scroll he’d only finished reading a few minutes before.

  The signature at the bottom was unmistakable.

  Bran.

  He’d betrayed them. Sold United Bodyguards to the Bodyguard Guild while the ink was still wet on the Ducal contract, giving the guild its first foot in the Keep. No doubt they’d find a way to riddle the place with their own soon enough.

  He’d always expected Bran to sell the business.

  Had hoped it’d be another year. Enough time for him to make his own profit first. At least build a name for himself. A rep. Something. Sure, he’d make something from the sale. Enough to pay for a few meals at a good inn.

  Not enough to pay for his new horse, though.

  Bran, on the other hand, was getting a voting seat in the Bodyguard Guild and a sum of gold which made Anj’s heart ache in his chest. When Sagg finds out, he thought, the shit was really going to fly. If he didn’t know already.

  But Anj would be gone by then. The gold and gems would get him to Doom’s Reach. He’d be his own man, then. And do what?

  Fuck the bodyguard business.

  He was going back to what he’d always been good at.

  Cooking. Open an eatery.

  Sell spiced buns.

  Fucking fish and potatoes.

  Something. Whatever.

  It didn’t matter.

  He wiped his eyes and hefted the pack. Looked around one more time at the office Bran had set up for himself
. It’d taken long enough to get an office. Kicked the safe shut and rolled toward the hall on legs which had seen a few too many beers already and were looking for more real soon.

  “Hey, Anj,” a raw voice called as he stepped into the Halls. “Where you goin’ with that pack, mate?”

  “Coff.” Couldn’t hide the sneer. “Mind your own fucking business.”

  “Don’t have any business, Anj. Not anymore. You saw to that, right?”

  Anj wheeled to face the larger man. Looked him up and down. “I only gotta call out, Coff. Call out and the kids’ll come flying. You’re old now. Slow. Useless. They’ll tear you to pieces.”

  “They can try. But you and I both know they’re too cheap to be useful.”

  “What are you even here for? You ain’t wanted. No one wanted you here anyway.”

  “Fuck you, Anj.” Bearded jaw squeezed tighter. “I gave you my experience.”

  Anj snorted. “Experience? You spent half your fucking time moaning around the girls. The other half taking the piss.”

  “I went to the docks for you. I trained the kids.”

  “They don’t like you, neither. Face it, Coff. No one here likes you.”

  “Bullshit.” Spat at Anj’s feet. “Even if they’re too spineless to say it to my fucking face, it don’t matter what they think, anyway. I’ve been with you for years. Helped you build a lot of this United shit before you even gave it a name. I was there to help you get the little fucking kids dressed. Taught ‘em to wipe their fucking noses without cutting their heads off with their own swords. Shit, man, I even tried making those cheap pieces of shit you call armor actually fit them.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Coff blinked. “You ungrateful cunt.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Coff. Go talk to Sagg.”

  That made the big man grin.

  “You ain’t heard, then? Sagg is dead. They pulled his body out of the Halls. Reckon someone’s on their way to tell you. If there’s anyone left alive by now.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yeah. Got himself ripped to pieces. Weren’t pretty. Made young Mallif chuck his guts up. And ain’t much makes him chuck. He used to work in a boneyard.”

  “No. Not possible. You’re lying.”

  “Nope. Know what else I ain’t lying about? Just before Sagg went running into the Halls to find this mystery killer of yours, I went to see him about you trying to kick me out. Know what he told me?”