The Twilight City Read online

  “You keep safe there, Nera,” Zita murmured. “The foundry is a dangerous place. Lives are as cheap there as in the slums, perhaps more so.”

  Nera nodded, and before she could reply, the boy arrived, carrying three tankards of dark ale and a block laden with smoked sausage, a loaf of bread, and a wheel of cheese. Rollo dove in, greedily grabbing up a sausage before the boy could even set the food down on the table. Even though Nera had eaten well earlier that day, she nibbled on a slice of cheese and a link of sausage while sipping some ale. A life on the streets had taught her to eat up when she could, for she might not get another meal for days.

  “All right, lass, so what is it you’re needin’ from us?” Rollo squinted at her over the top of his tankard.

  “First of all, I need my equipment returned to me—daggers, knives, tools. All of it. I’ll need Arron’s armor, sword, and bow as well.”

  “Have you gone mad? Won’t they add on to your sentences if they catch you two with weapons?” Zita stared at her, eyes wide. “Besides, I thought those collars zapped you or something if you even touched a weapon.”

  Nera winked at her, aware of Rollo’s penetrating gaze. “Let’s just say we’ve earned some leeway for good behavior.”

  “I highly doubt their hearts softened after Arron nearly got burned to a crisp,” Rollo said sarcastically. “There are likely dozens more to take his place.”

  “A girl has her charms, old man.” She batted her eyes at Rollo. “Are ya gonna give me our gear, or am I gonna have to go find it myself?”

  The guildmaster snorted and popped another sausage in his mouth. “Go speak to Kater. He’s got your stuff safe and sound in the vault. But that’s not all you’re here looking for, is it?”

  “Aye, right you are. I’m gonna need to use one of the safe houses for a few days, maybe a week.”

  Rollo just stared at her with raised eyebrows.

  “I got into a spot of trouble with the Watch last night…”

  The guildmaster held up his hands. “I don’t want to know. You’ve been a princess, keeping your mouth shut since your arrest, so I figure we owe you for that. Zita, will you get her sorted?”

  The half-orc nodded. “I know just the place.”

  “Whatever you’re up to, I trust you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see your pretty head roll across the cobblestones of Executioner’s Square if you get caught.”

  “Aye, I’d hate to see that even more,” Nera said grimly. I wish I did know what in the Abyss I’m doing.

  Chapter 17

  Waresh wiped the ale foam from his beard and stood up from his seat at the bar. The room tilted and spun pleasantly, and his head felt stuffed with wool. He waved farewell to the barkeep and walked outside. The chill air served to clear his head a bit as he started out in the direction of the inn he was staying at.

  Although his coin purse was empty, the ale had the intended effect. It had helped him forget, for a few hours, how earlier that day, he had killed a woman who was only protecting her son. Unfortunately, as his steps took him toward home and the effects of the ale wore off, the memories came clawing back.

  She should’ve gotten out o’ the damn way and not interfered, he tried telling himself. Everything would’ve turned out fine then. Despite trying to convince himself his actions were justified, his conscience told a different story.

  An old woman with a filleting knife—surely I could have disarmed her with barely a second thought? That family was poor as dirt, and the lad was merely trying to put food in their bellies.

  The family was clearly impoverished, as evidenced by the tiny hovel they shared in the slums, yet their home was clean and cheerful, with a woman’s touch obvious. The young father and husband had been working as a laborer with a caravan importing fruits and vegetables from off plane when a sharp-eyed bureaucrat had spotted the undeclared food and issued a summons to appear before the magistrate. Foolishly, the man had neglected to do so, leading to a retrieval order being issued.

  Now a family is broken up and an old woman dead over some damned vegetables.

  When Waresh had kicked the flimsy door open, the family watched in shock as he stepped into their home, Heartsbane in hand. The wicked axe and his rough appearance probably caused them to think he was a robber. He introduced himself as a retrieval officer enforcing the edicts of the city. Everyone remained calm until he forcibly dragged the unresisting man from his chair at the dinner table. The man’s wife and two young children cried out in shock, but the man told them everything was going to be okay.

  But then the old woman picked up the filleting knife and attacked Waresh.

  He reacted by planting Heartsbane in her chest. The frail old woman crumpled instantly at his feet. A lengthy moment of shocked silence stretched uncomfortably before the family broke down into horrified screams and weeping.

  “The old woman was deaf, you monster! May Shaol drag your black soul to the Abyss!” the young mother yelled at him.

  Aye, I reckon I deserve such a fate, he later thought. Now this family has lost their husband and father along with their grandmother. Although the Special Judiciary was infamously known for its lack of compassion, Waresh hoped an exception could be made in that case. He asked Edmond to be lenient, but the clerk had ignored him, as they tended to do.

  Monster… Perhaps that term is as suitable as any.

  Waresh reached back and grasped the haft of Heartsbane upon his back, and the troublesome thoughts quickly faded. He found himself wishing someone would attack him so he could take out his anger and frustration, drowning them in blood.

  A commotion ahead drew his attention, and he released the haft of the axe. Thoughts of violence disappeared when he realized a crowd had formed just ahead in the Magelight Market. Curiosity, along with the need to focus on something other than his tormented thoughts, made him push his way through the crowd, which had formed a semicircle. In the open square in front of them, the air shimmered and distorted before solidifying into the black void of a portal, limned in a magical purple light.

  “What in the Abyss is happening?” a man asked fearfully nearby.

  “The city should isolate that portal,” another voice added. “Why is it not so?”

  Waresh frowned. Indeed, the city of Nexus always reoriented itself to prevent rogue portals from opening throughout the city, yet there one stood. He could not remember that ever having happened before.

  “Where does it lead?” asked a young woman standing beside Waresh.

  “The gods only know,” he replied. “If it’s somewhere dangerous, ye don’t want to be standing here, I can tell ye that.”

  “He’s right. Everyone back up!” another man called.

  No sooner had the man shouted the warning than the black void distorted for a brief instant and resolved itself into a monstrous tentacle. The black appendage, as thick as an ale keg at its widest point and nearly ten paces long, shot through the portal and flopped heavily on the ground. The crowd gasped, and screams rang out as people tripped over each other in their desperate attempt to escape.

  The tentacle lashed around, seemingly at random, knocking a few people off their feet, and then surged toward Waresh. He stumbled backward with a curse, unslinging Heartsbane from his back. His elbow connected with a young boy, knocking him to the ground. The woman beside him screamed, and the tentacle wrapped around her like some great serpent. It yanked her off her feet and dragged her toward the yawning portal.

  At once, Waresh sobered up at the woman’s shrill wails of terror. He dashed forward and swung Heartsbane in a mighty, two-handed overhead swing, as a lumberjack might use to split a log. The enchanted axe cleaved through the rubbery tentacle with ease. Green ichor spewed from the severed appendage as it flopped around on the ground, the rest of it disappearing back through the portal. The woman’s screams faded as the severed tentacle loosened and she squirmed free, slipping on the mess of slimy fluid covering the cobblestones.

  Waresh pulled her to her
feet and sent her on her way. The crowd had disappeared, people screaming for the Watch in the distance. Only a couple curious onlookers remained, albeit at a great distance. He spotted the boy he had knocked down sitting on the ground, stunned from the blow to his head.

  “Get outta here, lad! It’s not safe.” Waresh reached to assist the boy to his feet when something powerful slammed him from behind, lifting him off his feet and launching him into the canvas side of a food stall five paces away. He tore through the fabric and tumbled to the ground amongst baskets of fruits and vegetables. Rolling over, he saw a horror pushing through the portal.

  Half a dozen tentacles lashed around the square, including the shortened one Waresh had severed. A huge beast that appeared to be all tooth-lined maw and tentacles was trying to squeeze its bulk through the portal.

  The boy screamed as he watched the monster, too afraid to move.

  “Reiktir’s bloody beard! What the hell are ye, ye ugly bastard?” Waresh regained his feet and charged forward, determined not to let the boy get eaten.

  Waresh knew he should be terrified though Heartsbane was blocking out those thoughts. He just wanted to destroy the creature and satisfy the axe’s thirst for blood. With the last effort of his free will, he seized the boy by the back of his tunic and dragged him away to safety by the stalls.

  “Run, now!” he bellowed in the kid’s face.

  That seemed to break the boy from his terror, for he got to his feet and swiftly fled across the Magelight Market.

  Then, all that remained was the desire to inflict violence on the horror coming through the portal. Heartsbane reverberated in his head with the pounding rhythm of a dwarven war drum.

  One tentacle flailed wide and knocked over a lamppost. Whatever magic powered the magelights was released into the air, spouting up in a plume of blue fire like a fountain.

  A tentacle lashed at Waresh, forcing him to duck. He swung his axe and took a chunk out of the black appendage. With a roar, he charged.

  Another tentacle shot out straight at him. He chopped it apart with a mighty hack, but the stump continued on, smashing him in the chest and chin. His teeth clacked together as his head was thrown back. Lights flared in his vision before he found himself lying on his backside several paces away, coated in the beast’s foul green ichor.

  Waresh spat out a tooth, trying to wipe the fluid from his face on his sleeve. The cloth came away with a mix of blood and ichor. Cursing at length, he picked himself up from the ground once again. His head and jaw ached, but luckily he was wearing his chain-mail shirt and padded gambeson, which had prevented any more severe damage. He popped his neck by stretching it side to side and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up.

  The monster had shoved what he guessed were its head and shoulders, for lack of a better description, through the portal. It was at least three dwarves high at the spine-covered crown of its head. Waresh upped his estimate to four as it grunted and surged forward again like some great slug, rising even higher. Teeth as long as Waresh’s forearms lined its mouth, which could’ve swallowed him whole. It had pale green orbs as large as shields for eyes. Its tentacles thrashed and tore cobblestones from the ground as it dragged itself forward.

  Somewhere deep inside, Waresh realized he had almost no chance against the monster. This is not my fight. But Heartsbane wouldn’t allow him to stop, quickly smothering his qualms. He had to feed the axe to quench its thirst.

  Just as he was about to charge again, he heard the twang of crossbows. Half a dozen bolts appeared in the creature’s rubbery hide, peppering its face and neck.

  A squad of the Watch stood at the edge of the square, hurriedly reloading their crossbows, faces pale in horror and obviously in no rush to engage the beast with melee weapons. They tumbled backward in a hurried retreat as the beast roared and lashed its tentacles in their direction.

  Sodding cowards. Waresh gave a battle cry and charged forward again. Within a couple strides, the portal flickered and suddenly phased out with a loud whump. The creature suddenly pitched forward, and Waresh just dodged out of the way to avoid being devoured.

  The beast’s face slammed into the street, green ichor spraying everywhere in gooey sheets. It took Waresh a moment to realize the beast had been severed in half by the closing portal. Tentacles twitched on the ground around him. Someone cursed in astonishment from among the Watchmen, and then a half-hearted cheer went up.

  Waresh slumped to the ground, drained. He set Heartsbane down and caught his breath. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat to clear it. The stench of the beast’s ichor crawled up his nostrils and made him want to vomit, for it reeked like decaying swamp matter.

  “Hey there, friend, are you well?” The sergeant of the Watch squad extended a hand to Waresh. “That took some big iron balls to charge that… thing, whatever in the Abyss it was.” When Waresh accepted the man’s hand, the sergeant pulled him to his feet.

  “Aye, it’s lucky that portal closed when it did. Any idea why the portal opened up right here?”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Nay, can’t say I have the faintest idea. I’ll be reporting this up the chain, for sure. Rumors are floating around that something ain’t right about the Machine though, and after this I’m inclined to believe them.”

  Waresh grunted in agreement and retrieved Heartsbane. He bade the sergeant good evening and trudged away, eager to wash himself off and find his bed. Peering into his coin purse, he was disappointed at the reminder of his lack of funds.

  “Reiktir’s beard, but I could use some more ale. What a damned shite day… Sure hope my luck changes tomorrow. A nice lucrative mark would be nice…”

  Chapter 18

  Malek and Arron sat at a table against a wall inside the Zombie. The inn was packed, and the smells from the kitchen were much more appealing than those from the Wet Warrior. The two had polished off a tasty meal of smoked pork with carrots and leeks, a loaf of black bread, and a wedge of sharp white cheese. They were into their second round of wine and ale, respectively.

  Two aging warriors were bragging loudly at the bar of their past heroic deeds and monumental conquests. Malek listened idly for a time as they awaited Nera’s arrival.

  “A mind-bender lass, ya say? Hah, I bet they can do some tricks with their bodies.”

  “Aye, you wouldn’t believe it, Jacor. The shapes she could twist herself into…”

  The two were silent for a moment, reliving their glory days. Jacor took a long swallow of ale and then spoke up again.

  “You ever seen a Warder, Harron?”

  Harron shook his head. The room grew quieter as heads turned to listen to the next tale.

  “Well, be glad you haven’t. Must’ve been thirty years past, now… Me crew was coming back from off plane, and we stepped right into the thick of a battle out on the Ashen Planes. Two nasties from the outer planes—I reckon the Abyss and Anhur knows where else—were mixing it up, just whaling on each other and firing off magic all around. We thought that we might get pulled into the fight and have to unleash some punishment on those unholy bastards ourselves when all of a sudden a pair of Warders appeared. One of them raised its hand and roared at them to stop fighting… Only, the creature couldn’t have spoke, for its mouth was covered.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Well, it’s said the Pale Lord himself speaks and acts through these Warders, like they’re his puppets or something.” Jacor’s voice dropped a notch at the mention of the name of Nexus’s ruler.

  Malek looked around and saw the whole bar was listening. He thought back to the freakish giant that had appeared after he had unleashed his magic inside the prison.

  “Anyway, the voice booms out as cold as anything you’ve heard, like straight from the grave, I reckon. The beasts stopped to regard the Warders then turned on them.” The old warrior took a pull on his ale and wiped the foam off on his sleeve. He shook his head and chuckled nervously. “Worst mistake they ever made. Those Warders just stood s
till as statues as the claws and teeth shredded their skin. I saw chunks of flesh torn off but no blood. In frustration, these creatures hit them with magical attacks—flames and cold—but the Warders didn’t budge. After withstanding the assaults, each just raised a hand at the beasts, coordinated at the same time as if someone was pulling strings, and blasted them into oblivion. Some kind of dark magic that turned them to ash. Just like that.” Jacor snapped his fingers loudly. “That’s why the stories are true—you never want to upset the Lord of Nexus, or he’ll send his Warders to unmake you.”

  The two conversed in quieter tones, and Malek turned back to his companion. Arron was lounging with his chair tilted back against the wall, a thin smile on his face.

  “You ever seen one of these Warders?” he asked the half-elf.

  “Can’t say I have. The thing is, once a person sees one, that’s the last thing they see. I tend to disregard such tales as mere fancy. Clearly the ale talking.” He dismissed the pair of old adventurers with a wave.

  “What are these Warders?” Malek held his tongue from speaking further, deciding not to mention the creature he had seen in the prison.

  “They’re the Pale Lord’s agents. When a situation gets so out of hand that the Nexus Watch and Magehunters can’t handle it, then the Warders appear. Stories have it they are monsters constructed of body parts bonded with iron and given life—like a golem built of flesh and infused with the Pale Lord’s own magic. It is said they can resist any blow from a sword or axe or any spell. The laws of Nexus need to be enforced, even for the outer-planar creatures of great power who could destroy companies of guardsmen singlehandedly, and so powerful enforcers are called for.”

  “I suppose it’s best we don’t come across any, then.”

  Arron laughed. “Mate, if you even come close to having one of those things come after you, I’ll be so far gone you won’t even see my heels. I expect Nera would do the same—she’s no fool.”