Tale of a blackbird, p.12
Tale of a Blackbird, page 12
“Deep thoughts?” said Paste, looking at him from a dark doorway.
“Just thinking of how fucked we are if we don’t bring back some coin tonight.”
“We could always ask Gurth nicely to let us back in.”
“Heh, that would be something. It’d almost be worth the beating to just see his face.”
After an hour of no promising marks, Leek took a copper coin out from his stocking and tossed it over to Paste. “Fancy getting us some food while we’re waiting? I’ll keep watch.”
Paste nodded. “Anything particular?”
“Something hot and sweet.”
Paste left the alleyway and the minutes stretched by as Leek watched more people flood in and out of the gate. All of the money-making and anything worth stealing was over that wall. Trying to find money in this shithole was like trying to fish for gold nuggets in an old boot. An old, smelly, mould-ridden boot that could snap down on your wrist and swallow you whole.
Leek froze as he noticed a figure sweep out of the gate. Wax strode quickly in and out of view and Leek scrambled up, peeking around the corner of the alley. He saw the skeletal man walking along the thoroughfare, his tattered robe trailing behind him. A boy was walking beside him, hands bound and head tilted forwards. Leek left the alleyway and followed, keeping to the edge of the road in case Wax looked back and he had to dive out of view.
He didn’t know why he was following him, except for the fact that he’d never seen the man outside of the gang hideout, or not hidden half in shadow. Saying that the man gave him the creeps was like saying the far north could give you frostbite.
Wax seemed to be in deep thought as he paid little to no heed of his surroundings or the boy walking alongside him. It showed how little of the street-life the man had ever endured, as any two-bit urchin knew to take your eye off your surroundings was to invite a cut throat and a slashed purse.
They left the thoroughfare at the crossroads near the city gate, crowds filled the path, and Leek only just managed in keeping the tall man’s bald head in view as they headed down towards the docks and Sunnyside. Outside a fortified building, a carriage rumbled out of an archway between the safe house and a tavern next to it. The driver was a Masker, his eyes quickly scanning the street and settling on Wax. Leek crept along the edge of the road, mostly concealed behind a stack of flour bags. He watched as another masked guard hopped down off of the back of the carriage and knocked on its door. Its window slid open halfway and an old man’s face appeared.
Leek recognised it, but from where he couldn’t remember. The old man smiled and looked from the boy to Wax and nodded, then held out a large purse, which Wax quickly took and slipped it beneath his cloak. Wax pushed the boy forwards as the old man opened the carriage door, and then forced him in.
The carriage door closed, window shut and Wax turned and walked away. Leek slipped into a side street beside the bakery, letting Wax pass. As Leek looked around the corner, he saw the carriage rattling down towards the docks, the guard sat on the back seat now holding a loaded crossbow.
Leek’s fists clenched as he looked back and watched Wax strolling along the street, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and hadn’t just sold a person into gods knows what kind of torture. But Leek would find out what was going on. He would put a stop to what Wax was doing, even if he had to…
Had to…
Could he do it?
He shook with anger, but there was still that doubt inside of him. He’d never been a killer. But innocent lives were at stake. The lives of young children that he could protect. And he wanted to help, didn’t he? Wanted to make a difference.
How many times had he wished someone had protected him when he was younger?
And now there was something he could do.
Now there was someone to bring to justice…
Chapter 16: Out of Body Experiences and Truly Frightening Events
The metal shackles chafed her skin. Breathing through the canvas was a task on its own, having dampened and now clung to her mouth. Birdie had no idea how long she’d been here, or where here was for that matter. More than likely the inside of a cell, due to the stench. There was a flickering light visible through the canvas, a torch perhaps. The questions flooded through her mind, again and again.
Who’d taken her?
What did they want?
What were they going to do to her?
How truly fucked was she?
That second last question kept popping up with answers she couldn’t help but worry over. She couldn’t understand it. Her shaved hair had passed her off for a boy, and the charm had made anyone fall for the ploy. Or had she been naive? Why had she trusted the old woman after all? She’d been a stranger. Had she really believed it’d been some sort of magic charm that would protect her? The men that night had known a girl had escaped from the outpost. Birdie hadn’t thought that showing the chain would’ve got her in trouble so quick, at least not until reaching one of the islands, and perhaps being whisked away by her uncle before danger could claw its way around her.
Who am I fooling? They know it’s me. I should have known better than to come here. I’m just a fool…
There was the sound of a door opening and then footsteps.
“This is the boy who had the necklace?”
Boy?
A smidge of relief welled in her chest and she fought it down. Now was no time for hope.
“Yes, master. We kept an eye out for a woman or girl bearing the Black crest, but we thought best to capture ‘im.”
“And my instructions were followed exactly as given?”
“Yes, master. Only one was left alive. All ties t’be traced back to the Masked Lodge.”
“You did well.”
“Thank you, master.”
Footsteps approached, shadows moving in front of the torch.
“How thin you are, boy.” A man’s voice, deep and coarse. The cord was loosened and the bag pulled off. Birdie looked up into the dark face. One side was visible, covered in scars, the other hidden behind long, thick black hair. One pale green eye watched her, the other also hidden. “If you answer my questions truthfully, you’ll have as much food as you can stomach. No harm will come to you if you are honest, I promise.”
Her surroundings smelled worse now that the bag was off, dank, slimy and putrid. Water dripped down from the ceiling, covering most of the stone walls, scratch marks covered the stones, marks of past inhabitants.
“Look at me, boy.” The man snapped his fingers. Birdie looked back at the scarred man, who’d knelt and was peering into her eyes. “I have no desire to hurt you, but I need to know how you came by these.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out Bella and Ariss’ necklaces. “Did you steal them? Tell me the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Birdie shook her head. She tried to fight the fear, tried to remember some shred of advice from Bella, but the days spent in the safety of familiar woods seemed long, long ago. So Birdie forced down the fear as best she could and stared at the necklace, mind racing, clawing for some story to tell. But no great idea formed, just the same word over and over inside of her mind.
Shit-balls…
The scarred man shook his head, stood up and paced the tiny cell, avoiding the brown slime in the corner. “Right, I gave you a chance. Let’s get it started then.” He turned and watched as the dwarf shuffled towards her. “What’s your name, boy?” the scarred man asked, but Birdie just stared back, her lips moving uselessly like a landed fish. No words came to mind.
What if she told him the truth and he cut her throat anyway?
The small man rushed in, much quicker than anticipated, and slapped her across the face. Birdie had little to no energy and was flung to the ground, the smell of damp and mouldy straw thick in her nose.
“I know you didn’t kill him,” growled the scarred man. “But you need to tell me how you came into possession of these necklaces? Was it on the road? Did you steal it, from a woman perhaps? Or a girl?”
“Please, they’ll kill me!” Birdie touched her lip and saw it was burst, speckling drops of blood onto the straw.
The dwarf picked her up by the collar, shaking her, and Birdie felt the necklace given to her by the travelling woman snap.
“It was given to me by my aunt,” she cried.
“Liar!” the scarred man slammed his fist against the wall.
“It’s true! My aunt Bella gave it to me! Before she died, she told me to come here and find my uncle, Maddox Black. That’s it, that’s why I have it!”
The dwarf raised his fist, to punch her.
“Wait!” The scarred man grabbed the other and pushed him aside. He knelt down and lifted her chin, turning it this way and that. “Get me the torch!” The small man pulled it from its bracket and brought it over. “Birdie?” asked the scarred man, bringing the torch closer to her face. He touched the snapped necklace and frowned. “Enchanted…”
“Who are you?” Birdie mumbled, the feeling still coming back into her mouth.
“Get those chains off of her, now!” Once the shackles were opened the scarred man helped Birdie to her feet. “Leave us!”
“Yes, master.” The door closed behind him.
“I thought you were dead.” The man shook his head. “You’ve changed so much. And the charm was strong… Where did you get it?”
“Who are you?” Birdie had never laid eyes on this man before.
The man reached up, feeling his scarred face. “It’s me, Birdie. Maddox. I know I look different from when we last met, many years ago.” He pulled up his left sleeve, brandishing a tattoo on his wrist of a blackbird. “See?”
A buzzing sound filled her head then. She stood, swayed on weak legs and looked at him closely. “Uncle?” she heard herself say, before collapsing into his arms.
* * *
Birdie stood in the abyss, surrounded by an endless rift of nothingness. Time passed her by, and she tried to focus on her surroundings. There were footsteps, somewhere far away. Black rifts turned to grey swirls as they rushed by at speed, flying through the air. The wind blew through her wings.
Hold on. I don’t have...
Looking behind her, there were two great black wings fluttering through the grey swirling rifts—she could fly, she could actually fly!
She flew past a towering torch, almost burning her wings. Maddox swept by her, striding into a room and laid Birdie onto a bed.
No!
Flying closer, she couldn’t believe she was staring at herself.
Uncle?
Birdie called out to him. He stopped, glancing around the room momentarily, but then shook his head and picked up a small blue vial from the desk.
How thin and sickly looking I’ve gotten, no wonder I passed for a boy!
Maddox popped the lid of the vial open, pouring some into her mouth. He picked up a wet cloth and dampened her forehead. “Birdie, can you hear me?” His voice boomed through the room. “If only your mother could see you now, she would be proud. You’ve grown into a strong young-woman, Blackbird.” He put his hand to her forehead. “I’m proud of you, too. No matter what happens, know that I am.” Pulling the blanket up over her, he kissed her forehead. “Sleep well now. I’ve business to take care of.”
Standing up, he put on a black mask and left the room. Birdie soared out after him before he locked the door. He gave a group of men instructions to wait by the door and not let anyone in.
“Yes, master,” they spoke in unison. Maddox strode through dark, narrow passages, finally coming to a door. A masked man pulled open the locks and Maddox stepped out into the night. He took a left, turning down a narrow laneway, and then another, constantly avoiding detection and the light. Most of the houses were dark and streets empty, except for the odd patrolman.
Birdie had begun to feel dizzy. Her vision kept blurring and shaking. It felt like she was on a wave of water, constantly rolling this way and that. She followed Maddox through the maze-like streets and lanes, and just over there was the Bone-Portcullis, towering above the landscape, walls and buildings alike. Maddox stopped at the entrance to an alleyway. Two guards were at the far end, warming themselves beside a fire pit. They laughed and joked as Maddox crept up the lane, pressed against the wall. A door opened midway. He paused as a guard emerged from the doorway and stumbled past.
What is Maddox doing?
Maddox crept after the guard until they got around the corner, where he took out a knife. He grabbed the guard and held the knife to his neck, his other hand over the guard’s mouth.
“D- Donth,” the guard mumbled through Maddox’s fingers.
“Shhh,” Maddox whispered, as he took his hand away from the guard’s mouth and held his left forearm in front of his face. A yellow glow appeared from Maddox’s arm, where the blackbird tattoo was. The man’s eyes widened and his body went slack.
“Where are the guards?” said Maddox.
“There are four in that ‘ouse there I just come out of, master. Two are in the gate’ouse and three patrolling the wall. Twelve in the barracks, but they won’t be expectin’ to go on duty for hours yet, so will be off-guard.”
“Anything I should know?”
“All ‘eavily set, master. Pressure plates in the barracks by the door and the upper floor. The men in the ‘ouse are drunk. ’Alf the men in the Barracks are off duty, could be asleep or in the mess room. Gate’ouse guards are alert though, armed to the teef.”
Maddox slid his eyes up and looked right at where Birdie was hovering, making her draw back between two dark buildings.
“How many of them witnessed the person with the Black necklace?”
“Who? The boy, master? Only one’s in dare actually seen ‘im was Burke, Ashram and Tim. But they told us all well enough what ‘e looked like. We’s gonna ‘ead down to the docks soon to see where the escort’s ‘as gone.”
“Good, now, here’s what I need you to do…”
* * *
Inside the barracks Maddox avoided the pressure plate, sending the guard he’d brainwashed to take care of any men upstairs in the sleeping quarters. Maddox crept through the armoury. Both daggers tightly gripped in his hands like old lovers as he kicked open the door. Inside the mess room three men sat around the hearth at one end, four were sharing a pipe around a table in the centre. The two men reading documents on a table seemed to be officers. They were closest, and big bastards.
All eyes were on Maddox, who smiled and spun his daggers. “Death beckons.”
“What’s the meaning of this? Who are—” the larger officer’s questions were silenced as the dagger thudded into the man’s forehead, making him fall back out of his chair, both legs flailing wildly. The other officer dumbly looked down at the corpse, fingers twitching over the documents, but Maddox was already on top of the table now and drove his boot into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the floor.
Jumping down, Maddox pulled the dagger out of the officer’s skull and took stance, watching as the soldiers readied their weapons to hand, but one fool by the fire had left his axe resting against the wall, and was sidling closer. Maddox rushed at him, kicking the axe as the man grabbed for it, blocking the man’s punch with his wrist, catching the arm under his, driving the dagger through his heart with one quick thrust, before shouldering him aside, eager for the next man who rushed into the fray.
Two men came at him, not one. These bastards liked to play dirty, but old Maddox could oblige. He ducked the lunge to his head, side-stepped, feeling the air whisk by his scalp, shouldered the bastard into the other, making them shuffle together and topple against the wall. Two quick jabs with the old lovers, one into a lung, and the other into the side of a neck.
They slid against the wall, clasping their wounds. But Maddox was already turning.
He could hear the footsteps, could feel the intent of attack before he even saw it, could smell the fear in the room turn to anger as they inched in, cornering him. Maddox turned just in time to knock the sword away, which caught him in the shoulder, slicing through flesh. He reeled back, taking the man’s weight as he grabbed out, and using it against him, tossing him into the fire headfirst. The flames were large, engulfing the man, filling Maddox’s nose with the stench of burning hair.
Maddox was down for only a moment, but now crouched, slowing the men’s attack just in time. Three men now stood before him, spaced out to take the best advantage they could.
“Get’im Derren!” the smallest squeaked.
“You fuckin’ get’im!” the tallest shouted back.
“It’s the Black Shadow…” the smallest looked sidelong at the other two. “Has t’be.”
The stockiest of the three gripped his sword tighter. “I’ll bloody carve you a new fu—”
His head was lobbed through the air as the sword sliced through his neck. The guard Maddox had claimed brought his weapon back up, ready to attack the next man, his face and arms covered in blood. With the two others now distracted, Maddox moved in, quickly finishing the first, and between them they had the last man down in a heartbeat.
After, he slapped the claimed guard on the shoulder. “Good work. Now, let’s get the rest.”
* * *
The old man clutched the door knob with his bloodied hand. Everything was blurred and he couldn’t remember why he’d gone outside. Maybe to throw up, because he still felt pissed.
He stumbled through the door, closing out the morning cold behind him.
How had it got bright so fast?
The smell of smoke and stale ale greeted him inside, and the aroma drew fresh, horrific images of dead guards on the wall, the barracks strewn with bodies and burning.
Master had told him they were nearly finished. Down the smoky hall he passed, towards the laughter. Four men sat at the table. They glanced up from their cards as he entered, nudging each other.
