Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six.

Whatever the girl it had put in his drink it had worked a charm, for about an hour. It was long enough to watch the others at his table slump their heads down and fall asleep. His final challenge the old mercenary looked around the table his words slurring and saw it was only them left. The booze had finally caught Goldie and he could barely focus on the mug in front of him.

The man looked at him and smiled.

“I want you to win. I just wanted to be the second,” he said and with a wink he placed his head down on the table and let himself sleep. The crowd who had wandered back and forth and had many drinks themselves slowly relished he was the last man standing. The priest looked beyond bored and simple raised Goldie’s drunken arm, which was like a lead weight and said ‘Winner’.

The crowd clapped and cheered for him. Goldie let his own head hit the table then. His eyes so peacefully closed for just a moment when he was shaken awake again. It was the boy. He had a mug of something in front of him.

“No I can’t drink anymore” Goldie slurred.

“This is from the girl, you’ll need it the sword fight is in just moments, you’ve been given another pass and just get to fight the winner, but it’s already been going on for a half hour and the winner will be decided soon. Drink.” The boy said.

Goldie looked at the brew and taking the rough mug to his lips drank it down like the nectar of the gods. It tasted different, dirty and foul. It didn’t burn his throat but stuck in his mouth and tasted like rotten fish.

“I’m really sorry,” the boy said and then stepped back.

Goldie felt it. A rising tide of sickness that he couldn’t fight. He managed to push himself back from the table. He crawled the short distance in the mud to the side of the street and began to vomit. The crowd laughed and laughed as he was sicker than he’d ever been in his life, whatever they had given him brought it all up. He almost cried it was so awful. As he finished for the fourth time, he realized his head was much clearer, he still felt drunk but a lot better. He stood to see the boy near him. Goldie took a swing at him. It missed, but was close.

The boy laughed and passed him another mug. “Water, I promise.”

Goldie washed his mouth out and spat it out, drinking the rest.

“With friends like you kid I don’t need enemies,” he said.

“Come on, that just saved your life. How do you feel now?” he said.

Truly he did feel better, almost all the booze was out of him but he felt weak and wretched. He needed to gather himself for one last push. He knew this was the last challenge and would be the hardest. Whoever was the winner of the sword fighting would be full of energy and pride of winning, not half asleep and falling over. Still Goldie would trust the Lady could help him one more time and claim him as her disgusting vomit smelling champion, he needed a bath.

Goldie walked with the boy to the small arena they had set up for the sword fighting. He was in time to catch the tail end of the match which would decide who he was fighting. As he pushed through the crowd, many of the people patted him on the back and praised him.

“The lady is with you,” one lady said, it was the woman who had been pickpocketed.

“I have been slack with my prayers and visits to the temple but now I see she still has the power to help. I’ll say a prayer for you.” She said.

“Thanks” he muttered and found his way to the wooden barrier that held the crowd safely back. Goldie leaned hard against it, letting it take his weight and watched the fight.

It was a strange battle and one that would only occur in a place like this. The two men facing each other were as different as night and day. One was a dark skinned wild man. He’d seen them in the Cold Death. His hair was matt of tangled locks with bones and pieces woven in it. In his hand, he held a huge hooked blade which he swung wildly as he shrieked at his opponent. The man he faced was typical noble. He wore clean refined clothes, light leather armor and held a rapier and dagger. It was always good to see fights like this, a man with a rapier sometimes only fought others with the same weapons and did badly against a sword like that. Not that he tried to block it.

The wild desert man swung his sword at him in a series of cuts from the shoulder downwards, again and again, driving him back. The man had great footwork and dodged every attack hitting again and again at the man’s wrists and hands. Goldie saw there was blood pouring from them. As the wild man swung downwards, he literally drove forward and rolling up brought his blade underneath the man’s throat. He stopped the blade so that it pointed there, showing he could kill him. They could draw blood but not kill, they weren’t savages.

The crowd cheered and the winner was hailed.

The fat sweating priest walked to the center of the wooden ring.

“As we know this man is the champion of the sword but must now face Goldie who has won the right from his previous victories. Master Goldie, you’ve won many hearts today but given your performance at the drinking tables I don’t like your chances here.”

The crowd of people laughed as he staggered into the ring.

Goldie’s own fighting prowess had always been brawling. He’d been in plenty of fist fights and against men as big as Flint and Stone. He’d taken a lot of knocks but always held his own. Growing up as he had fighting was a normal daily event. But the sword had never been a part of him like it was to Seth. He’d trained with the broadsword and his stolen memories from the brigands was a mishmash of various lives of robbing and killing nothing like the daily training in an actual style like his friend here must have had. He looked like some rich merchants son. He’d trained a bit with Farirkar but that wouldn’t help him now. He needed to be creative if he was going to beat this man, he needed to do something he’d never expect.

Goldie walked to the center of the ring, his head was clearing at the thought of the coming fight, but his legs still felt weak and his stomach was hurting.

“Have you got a sword?” the priest asked him. He’d lost it gambling.

“I lost it gambling,” he said, the crowd laughed.

“A true son of the Lady has anyone got a weapon for this man.”

The old mercenary man was standing by the side of the ring and called out to Goldie. Goldie staggered over to him.

“Your fucked lad, this pretty boy is way better than you but I have an idea, he reached into a huge bag that hung over his shoulder and started pulling out various weapons. A short mace, axe, two daggers and then a pair of very heavy mailed gauntlets.

“Wear these and use the daggers, he’s a little hand cutting sneak.”

Goldie put on the steel plated gauntlets which were a good fit and held the dagger, then thinking changed his grip on one. He held one point forward and the other backwards.

Walking again to the center the man looked him over.

“Daggers? Are you sure? It’s not really fair. I mean you’ll lose to quickly and we do need to put on a bit of a show.” Goldie just grinned stupidly at him. He felt strange, the weapons seemed like a good choice, at least, his hands wouldn’t get all cut up.

A bell rang and the man lunged hard at Goldie with his rapier. Goldie barely managed to sidestep the attack. The thin blade went through the loose material of his clothes. He wasn’t messing around. The man thrust again and again with Goldie avoiding and then remembering his weapons, slashed with his backhand. He felt something as he did. That felt good. He let the first blade also fall into a backhanded grip.

He dodged a thrust catching it on his left blade and slashed with the right making the man jump back and then it came. A flood of knife fights, of killing people for money and more than a few deep cuts and damage. One of the brigands they had taken was a knife fighter. Bless him and his black heart.

The man thrust forward and brought his own dagger point forward, Goldie blocked both on his own weapons and lashed out with his forehead at the man lunging forward. His tough Northern skull caught him right on the point of the nose. It was a move from his own life and one he’d done many times.

The crowd gasped as the man flew back off his feet clutching his face. His blood hitting the polished wooden floor. That changed the mood. Suddenly he could see some hope in the people eyes, he might win. His head was swimming from the move but the booze always helped to do that one.

The man whipped his face and stood, he glowered at Goldie and lunged forward with a series of cuts and slashes that sent him back blocking and dodging fast. The man’s dagger sunk deep into his arm and he dropped the left dagger with a cry. He staggered back as the blood flowed, the man stepped back smiling.

The priest cried stop.

“One mark against Master Jenson, that move was much too bloody, you know the rules no permanent injury, two more like that and you’re out, same for you Goldie, no more head butts.”

The man looked at him and thrust and in a series of cuts. Goldie managed to block but the man’s face got close to him and he heard him whispering to him.

“You’re dead you fuck. I came here for one reason and one reason only.” The man jumped back and slashed again the mark scoring hard across Goldie’s chest, the blood flowing. The priest yelled again.

“Another one for you Jenson, one more mark and you’re out. Calm down.”

The man backed up whispering again. “The king says hello, you piece of shit.”

Goldie knew this was serious now. It wasn’t a game now but an actual fight. He dug deep into the skills of the brigand and brought up the calm. He’d placed his life on the line every time he fought for money and he’d won, Goldie embraced it.

The man lunged again and slashed at Goldie. He then kicked him in the leg. Goldie toppled over him and the man ran in. Goldie got his blade pointing upwards expecting the man to be on top of him but looked back at him and saw he’d slipped in his own blood and getting to his feet again.

Goldie took the time to stand. The man thrust hard at his chest, straight at his heart as he stood, everyone saw it and gasped. Goldie grabbed the blade in his weaponless hand. The gauntlet taking the sharpness. He swung wide with the dagger but too slow, Goldie’s rough mailed fist with the dagger hilt in it and smashed him hard in the already broken nose.

The man staggered back, as his feet hit his own blood his feet slipped out from him again. He fell forward with a thump and groan. The crowd looked in stunned silence.

“Clearly we have our winner” the priest cried. “This rabble would have been out anyway. You ok son?” he asked.

The priest rolled the man over, his own dagger was deep in his chest and a look of surprise on his face. The crowd gasped again.

“Fucking hell, why does this always happen around you. Once again anyone know this man?” cried the priest.

“Check his pockets” a voice cried.

“See who the lady wants dead,” cried the boy to laughter.

The priest pulled a piece of paper and a few coins from the man’s pocket, he opened the paper read it looking shocked, then looking at all the people read it a aloud.

“Kill the one known as Goldie, we’ll be there sunset on Ladies day, have the gates open”

Goldie smiled to himself, now they would believe.

Chapter Thirty Six

Grimm almost laughed to himself as sat cross-legged in the sand staring out into the desert. His whole life had been a simple one, if hard, but easy enough to map and plan. He’d been a fisherman in the north, a sailor, and smuggler in Pelloss and now he was fighting in an epic battle against forces that wanted to destroy pretty much everything.

He’d always been a man to believe in things. Growing up back home, people believed in the old stories and one of the highest positions someone could have was being a wise woman. They had two in his little town. One lived in the township, she helped with childbirths and injuries, sick people went to her for remedies of local plants and teas. The other was more of a seer. She lived away from the town but was not shunned, the people would bring her food every week and seek her for advice on their lives. Now he was having visions like that and had taken so much power. He didn’t feel it in him like a force wanting more, he was simply happy he was equal to the task ahead of him.

He had helped the desert people and then said his goodbyes to White Eyes. She embraced him as he left. He knew that they couldn’t have killed that man. He was strong in the service of fear. Grimm could feel it radiating from him. He was like a sickness that was ready to set out across the desert and infect the people there. White eyes was traveling on with her dozen or so survivors to the main desert camps. She had asked him to come but he knew it wasn’t his battle. Some instinct was telling him he needed to be somewhere else now.

He needed guidance, from a source he trusted.

Grimm stood up and snapped a small branch off a nearby tree. He drew a small circle in the sand and stood within it. He began to think of the Wolvern, last time he’d called it, he’d gotten it wrong but this time, he had the memories of a hundred summonings at his command. He had the power to pull Seth back now if he wanted to. He thought of the creature and thought he wanted, not to call it forth but simply see it and talk to it. As he chanted the words in his mind a white fog bank appeared. It slowly faded away and showed him the Wolvern.

It stood in a huge glass plain and it was fighting. He watched as it tore into one of those black dog creatures he’d seen in that room with Seth so long ago. It ripped the dog creature’s throat out and flung its body to the side, but seemed injured, it was covered with blood and some of it looked like it was its own. Next to the Wolvern stood the most incredible creature he’d ever seen. It was like a woman or rather a goddess. She was barely covered in clothes and carried a huge black sword, she moved like a flash of white and her hair which was silver-like. A well-polished sword flew behind her. She grinned as she killed one of the beasts. His heart beat faster on seeing her, he’d never felt such lust and want in his life.

Once they had killed the creatures the Wolvern looked up. Grimm had no idea what they would be seeing. It walked so its head was near him.

Angry one is that you?
words sounded in his mind but they were faint, a bare whisper.

Grimm resigned himself and thinking on the Wolvern hard and the woman, ripped open the veil, soon they stood in the desert with him the circle.

She pointed her sword at him looking around.

“What power is this? Where the hell are we?” she said in a refined voice that spoke a strange old version of Northern.

Grimm knelt before them and putting his head up.

“I need your guidance,” he said simply, trying not to stare at her.

“You know him?” the silver woman asked the Wolvern. It paced back and forth and looked on the vast plain. It was not contained and could have run if had wanted to.

You’ve built you circle the wrong way?
It said.

“Last time I called the wrong thing. I don’t wish to trap you, just talk,” he said.

The Wolvern laughed in his mind,
Guidance, you need no guidance. I feel the power from you like a pounding heat, you’ve done something, even Seth didn’t have this power of the calling.

Grimm just nodded. “I may have taken some of the Guild and Gatherer secrets but now I’m lost. I know we’re in a war but I have no idea where I best I need to be. They say I should go to the desert and help bring their people back to the fold but I don’t know.”

The Wolvern paced and thought, Grimm could see it communing with the woman and the creature looked at itself and its damaged leg.

“Are you friends with Seth, Northman,” she asked.

He looked at her again and couldn’t help but smile, she was incredible. “I am. I need to help him that is all and seek the best way to do it.”

The Wolvern communed with him again
the desert people are fine, they still call to their dead and follow the old ways, they are not so confused as some might think, but help is needed, did you just see that?”

“The black dogs seem to be giving you some trouble,” he said simply.

She laughed for the first time. “Just a little bit, my arms are getting sore from how many of them I need to kill, we journey to find their source,” she said.

“What should I do?” he asked simply to the Wolvern.

I would say help us, you are strong and we could use you, but you might not be able to return
it said.

Grimm thought of it. He wanted to be near this woman and help Seth and he knew this was a battle he could help in. Besides he was becoming too much for this world, his power and skills were exceeding any of any living person. He thought he might be able to come back. He smiled. slightly to himself imagining the men chasing him finding he was simply gone.

Grimm stood and smiled.

“I’ll come,” he said and stepped from the circle.

He walked to the lady and held out his hand, taking her wrist like a warrior, he didn’t want to admit how much of his decision was her.

“I’m Grimm,” he said.

“Grimm, I’m Silver and stop staring at me. I know what you’re thinking,” she said with a laugh and led him through the void in the sunshine of the land of the dead.

***

She whipped the blood from her face with the back of her hand and looked at her fallen, once friend, Angelina. The woman lay dead, ripped-out throat and blood still pumped from the wound onto the floor. She felt so much better, it had been an age since she’d feed and felt the life infuse her body. She was going to have to do something about this. Clearly this wasn’t something she could keep doing.

Minsetta looked around the room. There was a small tray of tools on a nearby counter. She looked over them and took up a small dagger with a very sharp edge, clearly for taking the skin off people. She didn’t feel guilty about the women, she’d have surely killed her, yet she was just lost and weak. So many of the women here had been manipulated but were so far gone now she would have no choice. She heard the sounds of yelling and feet coming down the wooden stairs. Angelina had been less than quiet and had screamed her last bit of life away. The whole house would be awake by now.

She ran from the room, barefoot and bareback. She snuck through a side door and made her way to the nearest exit. There was a small reading room and she crept into it closing the door. She heard the sounds of yelling and pounding booted feet pass. She needed to get the hell out of here. There was a large opening in the stone, which was blocked by a wooden shutter. She opened it easily and let the night air in. Her senses were so heightened and she heard them trying the door. Minsetta dove through the archway. She hit the hard ground, a few feet below, and rolled. She came up running, her long dress flowing behind her. She needed to start dressing more appropriately.

She raced across the grass of the compound and made her way to the wall. Lucky it was unmanned, just another side of the compound which looked out onto the sparse landscape beyond. She ran at the stone wall and jumping with her foot hitting it she grabbed the top, barely. She pulled herself over the wall with a slight grunt and lowered herself down onto the other side. She gave herself a moment with her back against the wall and then pushed on.

She had to find her way back to Josette and the Bastards. She felt more than ever they needed to take these women down. They had become so much more dangerous than they were before. When she had come to them as a broken and scared thing, on the run and terrified. They had a different home then, hadn't taken this one yet, she knew not what they had done with the actual sisters of the divine child.

They had been good at first. They feed her and trained her. They were about women begin strong and protecting themselves but now they were building an army. She had never had much time for cults and worship. Every time she’d come across people who believed in something it always meant death for someone else, she remembered well the mission that had made her never come back to them and seek out the Dark Guild who could, at least, be trusted to just care for their own goals and greed.

She’d been with them for a few years, never doing many missions but, this time, she’d been given a name. She was meant to kill an evil man, who had hurt many women. There was no justice to be had other than a knife.

She’d journeyed into the city and sought the man out. He was easy to find, a traveling priest of some desert tribe. She found him sitting in a local tavern. He’d been in the city for a few weeks and had gathered quite a following. The main city of Pelloss had lots of desert people, most slaves. But they were allowed to worship what they wanted. She found him after a service, he sat along drinking a strange drink of fermented milk and something. It smelled terrible. She sat next to the old man in the tavern and smiled prettily at him.

“I’m not interested,” was the first thing he said to her if he thought she was a whore he was an idiot she looked much too expensive for anyone in that tavern.

She laughed. “In what?” she asked.

“Conversation, lies, tricks, you’re here to kill me and I’d rather just go and get on with it,” he said and smiled with a tired grin. He had cracked broken teeth and kind eyes.

“Am I now?” she said back, surprised. She hardly looked like an assassin. She wore a fine dress and looked like a rich trader’s wife.

“You are and you’ll be the third this week, you Pellosi don’t like me much, so what’s the story. I see that look in your eyes, anger, what have I done to you,” he said.

“You’re a rapist. You preach that women should know their place and you’ve left a trail of bodies in every town you’ve visited,” she said.

He laughed back to her. “Ahhh sister of fury then. Yes, I have left a trail of bodies and many of them women but you try to kill me and I’ll fight back, if it’s a woman it’s a woman, rape not so much given I haven’t had sex in twenty years but enough lies,” he said and stood up. “I’ll meet you out the back of the tavern.”

She finished her small glass of wine and watched him walk out the back. It was a lot harder given he knew she was coming but a job was a job. The problem was he was hardly what she thought. She believed him and they were taking him out for other reasons, she didn’t care she just didn’t like being a tool in someone else hands.

Minsetta stood from her small wooden stool, straightened her dress and walked out after him. She looked and saw no one was paying attention to her and she pulled her dagger out from behind her back as she went, maybe she would just talk to him.

As she stepped through the wooden door that led to the muddy street behind the tavern, she smelled his horrible breath. She spun fast and grabbed his dagger hand as it came down fast at her. He was hiding behind the door. She punched him hard in the face with the hilt of her dagger as she held his hand. She fought against his strength as he pushed the dagger closer and closer to her chest. They were pushed up hard against the wall and her eyes locked with his. She saw he was afraid and not angry.

His dagger came closer and closer but she spun hers in her other hand and brought it into his stomach again and again. She felt the sharp blade plunge into him and felt the hot blood on her hands. His eyes closed and he slumped dead to the muddy street. She wiped the dagger on her dress and calmed her ragged breathing. She looked at the fallen man and felt nothing. Certainly no sense of right or justice. She was done with them. That night she’d gone back, stolen a few of their books and made her way to the Dark Guild who she’d heard of from her first lover. He was happy to have her back and to buy his way higher into the ranks of the Guild with her knowledge as his bargaining tools.

“Where were you?” said a voice that startled her.

Minsetta looked up from the wall where she was still resting and looked at the girl in front of her, Josette.

She had no idea how long she’d be standing there.

“You ok? I thought I’d have to rescue you” Josette said, and they hugged.

Minsetta pushed herself free and started to walk with her away from the Keep. “I’m fine, nothing my new body couldn’t handle,” she said.

“You have blood on your face, you should fix that before we get back”

“You with the Bastards?” she asked.

“Half of them,” Josette said back.

“What happened to the rest?” she asked.

“It’s a long story and we have a few miles to go so let’s get going”