13

Rufi stalked towards the rundown tenement, his heels clicking on the rain slick cobbles. He flicked his smoke and kicked open the door. Six oneshots suddenly swivelled towards him, with six scared Humans holding them and two of his Goblins standing sheepishly to one side with their hands raised.

“Fuck sake, Mik, was it this?” Rufi growled at Mikkel, who shrugged and pulled a slightly embarrassed face.

“Hands up!” one of the Humans barked at him. He had a shaved head and too many gold rings to be tasteful.

“Oh fuck off,” Rufi snarled at him, shaking rainwater from his long black coat.

“I’m serious, I’ll put a hole in you!” the Human said.

Mikkel sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Do you know who this is?” Mikkel asked him.

“I don’t give a shit who ‘e is!”

“Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak.”

The Human blanched for a minute, and Rufi looked at him with a bored expression.

“Listen, I’m very busy right now. I don’t have time for this. Hand over the Burn and we’ll be on our way.”

“Why you robbin’ us for!” Another grubby Human with a thick gold chain said. “Yore sposed to be a proper Villain, why you rippin’ us off for!”

“Yeah, we pay our taxes to the Weasel!”

Rufi took a deep breath and then shook his head.

“Mik, did you explain?”

“I tried to. But these fucking snorters are so wired they pulled the oneshots before I had a chance,” Mikkel said.

“‘E said ‘e was taking all our Burn and we should be lucky ‘e ain’t taking our gold too,” the Human with the gold rings said.

“Which is true,” Mikkel said to him.

“Listen, we’re not here to rob you,” Rufi said.

“No, we’re just taking your Burn,” Mikkel said.

“Unless you’re payin’ for it, that is robbin’ us!” the man with the gold chain said.

“We’re recalling a dodgy product, that’s all.” Rufi said.

“Wot?”

“You’re selling bad fucking Burn you moron!” Rufi snarled at him.

“No we ain’t!” the Human with the gold rings said. “None of our Burners have dropped out!”

“What, you keep tabs on ‘em?” Mikkel asked, rolling his eyes.

“Naa… but we would ‘ave ‘eard if they was.”

“Six OD’s have been reported in this area in the last week. You clowns are the ones pushing product around here. You do that maths,” Rufi said impatiently.

“Well so wot?” the Human with the gold necklace said. “They’re only fuckin’ junkies. Who cares?”

“I care, and furthermore, I don’t need to justify anything to you pricks. Hand over the Burn or I’m gonna lose my patience.”

“This ain’t right! We pay the Firm! We just paid our tax last week!”

“Take it up with them. Maybe you’ll get your money back.”

The Humans looked at each other, and Rufi could see them steeling themselves, trying to suck up every ounce of courage the Slug coursing through their veins gave them.

“Now boys,” Rufi warned. “Don’t do anything you won’t live to regret.”

“Fuck you!”

The oneshots fired as if on some silent signal.

Two misfired immediately going well wide of Rufi as he threw himself to the floor. Another bolt thudded into his chest, hitting the thick protective jerkin he wore, another backfired, the bolt twanging wildly and shooting the man next to it in the neck. Mikkel was across the room in a flash. He sliced the man with the golden chain across the face with a flick knife. The Goblin by his side speared another, slamming him through the wall behind him. Rufi leapt to his feet, hatchet in hand, as he began to lay about left and right, hacking at the Humans. They wailed and fought weakly.

After only a few seconds of mayhem, the room fell still. Two men were unconscious. Another two rolled around on the floor clutching at their sliced faces. The one who was put through the wall made a strangled groaning sound. And the unfortunate man who was shot in the throat gurgled and bled out on the floor. The only one left was the Human with the golden rings. Mikkel was behind him, his thick forearm wrapped around his throat, holding him up on his tiptoes. He choked and rasped, his face turning purple. Rufi wiped his hatchet on one of the downed men's shirts and tucked it away. He swore when he saw the hole in his shirt from the oneshot bolt. He yanked out the bolt and threw it to the floor. Rufi surveyed the scene and shook his head.

“Look at this fucking mess!”

The Human had now turned blue and was starting to go limp.

“Drop him, Mik!”

Mikkel let the man go. He flopped lifelessly to the floor and then began coughing and gasping for air.

“This shirt’s ruined now,” Rufi said to Mikkel.

“Sorry Ruf, how was I supposed to know they would pull this?”

“What did you say to them?”

“I told ‘em I was here to take their Burn, or words to that effect.”

The second Goblin walked back into the room, dragging the unconscious Human behind him. Rufi looked at him and shook his head.

“You alright Kal?”

“Yes Shoya.”

“Grab that idiot up.”

Kal lifted the wheezing man like he was a bag of groceries. Rufi grabbed him by the face and shook him awake.

“Where’s the Burn?”

The man gurgled, and Rufi slapped him hard enough to knock snot out of his nose.

“In the kitchen!” the man cried out. “Under the sink!”

Rufi nodded to Kal who walked back through the hole and retrieved two blocks of Burn.

“Is that all of it?” Rufi growled.

“Yes! I swear!”

Rufi looked at the block of Burn and his stomach churned. It was wrapped in that same red string. He motioned for Kal to open it. He took a pinch in his finger and immediately felt how sticky it was. He held it up to the light and could see the little orange hairs.

“That it?” Mikkel asked.

“Yeah, this is the Bad Batch,” Rufi growled. “Who did you get it from?”

“I ain’t no snitc…” Kal gut punched him in the gut before he could finish the sentence.

The man crumpled to his knees and then vomited.

“Oh fucks sake,” Rufi said, dancing back to avoid getting splashes of puke on his shoes.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Disgusting,” Mikkel said, pulling a face while he lit a smoke.

The man wheezed and was dragged back up to his feet by Kal.

“Where did you get it from?” Rufi repeated.

“C-C-Cameron,” the man gasped, a string of saliva and puke dribbling down his chin.

“Cameron?” Rufi repeated, looking at Mikkel.

“Cameron Haney?” Mikkel asked, and the man nodded. “He’s a small time fish from over by the Dowry Manor. I didn’t think he stepped up to wholesaling,” he told Rufi.

“Find out if he’s still holding, we’ll have to pay him a visit too.” Then Rufi eyed the broken man. “You put a hole in my shirt and got puke on my shoes. If I ever see your face again, I will rip your throat out with my tusks. Do you understand me?” The man whimpered and nodded. Rufi looked down at the man with the bolt through his neck. He had gone completely still, a pool of blood oozing around him. “Make sure he disappears.”

The man nodded fervently, and Kal let him fall to the floor. The three Goblins walked out of the abandoned tenement and back into the storming rain.

“Kal, take one of those bricks back to the pool hall and give me the other one. Mik, you’re with me.” Rufi said.

Kal nodded and tossed him the block of Burn before getting into a waiting carriage and leaving. Rufi hopped into his own carriage, where Pauli was sitting reading through his notepad. He looked up and saw the expression on Rufi’s face, then the hole in his shirt, and then the blood on both him and Mikkel.

“Diplomacy didn’t work?” Pauli asked.

“When the fuck does it ever? Rufi growled. “Take us North! To the Foundries!” he barked at the soaking wet driver.

“Why we going up there?” Mikkel asked as he tried to scrub blood from his shirt sleeve.

“I wanna confirm this is the Bad Batch and maybe even find out what it is,” Rufi said. “We still got that Warlock up there?”

“The little Gnome with the funny eye?” Pauli asked.

“Yeah wotsisname?”

“Shabaaz.”

“That’s the one. Let’s pay him a visit.” Rufi said, sitting back and scowling.

*

The Foundries were the economic powerhouse of Valderia. They were a belching, smog stained, bone crunching, endless series of monolithic factories the size of small towns, producing everything that could be made from metal or wood. The Foundries churned through 200,000 trees a year, turning them into furniture, planks, art pieces, weapons, and more. They never stopped. Like a cancerous tumour, the factories grew and grew and belched noxious gas every minute of every day. The Foundries had fallen under Goblin control once Sam’Sun unionised the Goblin workforce. Goblins were, by far, the most skilled tradesmen in the Great Forests. They were monstrously strong yet could work such delicate feats of engineering and craft that it was almost a magic unto itself. As such, every factory was crying out for skilled Goblin foremen and tradesmen. By unionising, Sam’Sun held Valderia’s economy in the palm of his hand, and at his word, he could bring it screeching to a halt. Of course, Sam’Sun was wise enough to know that particular stick must be wielded sparingly. As was the. waywith Valderia, once the Goblins took control of the legitimate business, the illigimate followed. Kith ruled the illicit black markets of the Foundries and even though Sam'Sun allowed the other gangs to earn, it all was done under the supervision of the Kith.

They pulled up to the edge of the Foundries, and even the constant downpour couldn’t stop the ceaseless production of the place. It did however take the ash out of the air, making it almost breathable for a change. The three Goblins scurried through the rain, bypassing the usual security checks once the Troll guards saw who they were. They made their way into the Fourth Quadrant Market, which was unusually empty, thanks to the rain, and into one of the labyrinthine back alleys. It took a few minutes before they figured out where they were going, and they finally arrived at an apothecary. Mikkel pushed the door open, and the Goblins rushed in, glad to be out of the rain.

An ancient Gnome sat behind the counter. She looked up and peered at them.

“Good eeevening gentlemans,” she crooned, putting down the hefty book she had been reading. “Welcome to Madame Malka’s Medicinial Menagerie. What ails you today?”

“A case of stupid,” Rufi said. “My friend here suffers badly from it.”

Mikkel grunted a curse in Kittei, the Goblin tongue.

“We’re looking for Shabaaz,” Pauli said to her.

The little Gnome didn’t react: she had a great poker face.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that name.”

“Chaw’Drak,” Rufi growled at her, slamming his massive hand on the desk and leaning over it so she could get a good look at his face. “You know that name, don’t you?”

Madame Malka blinked and then nodded in understanding.

“He is just down those stairs.”

“Thank you,” Rufi said, brushing past her and walking through the shop.

The little apothecary was so cramped, the hulking Goblins struggled to get through it without knocking everything over. They lumbered down the narrow stairs and into a basement garden. Rufi was taken by surprise for a moment. It was like a wild jungle down here. The smells were fantastic. The scent of sharp fruit, exotic flowers, and wild herbs created a heady and intoxicating aroma. The lights were a pulsating mix of red and bright yellow Glowstones, mimicking natural light, and added to the ephemeral beauty of the place. Rufi peered through the vines and flowers, picking his way through with care.

“Is this a fuckin’ jungle?” Mikkle asked as he walked in. “I hope there ain’t no snakes.”

“Why would there be snakes?” Pauli asked.

“What, you’d be surprised to see a snake in all this?”

“I suppose not.”

“Hush,” Rufi snapped at them. “Hello? Shabaaz?”

“Who calls my name with such an ugly tongue?” They heard a weedy voice rasp from somewhere in the dense foliage.

“Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak!” Rufi shouted back.

“Ohh… come to me then.” The voice called back.

“I’m trying,” Rufi muttered, almost tripping over a thick knot of vine only to walk into a stunning row of blue headed sun flowers that were almost as tall as him.

He navigated these and ducked under a thick knot of slimy vines that hung from the ceiling into a clearing in the middle of the basement. There was a circle of low wooden tables in the middle of the basement with a Gnome in a heavy brown cloak working diligently at one of them. He was pruning a little tree with immense care. Collecting every leaf and twig he pruned and laying them gently on a cloth by his side.

“Shabaaz?” Rufi asked.

“Yes, that is me.” Shabaaz turned to them.

He was ancient, even by Gnome standards, his face was so shrivelled and lined it was difficult to make out any features other than his beak-like nose and the hole where his missing eye was. His good eye looked the Goblins up and down.

“Why have you come seeking me, Nephew of Sam’Sun?” he rasped.

“I need some information on some Burn,” Rufi replied, holding out his hand for the block that Mikkel was holding.

Shabaaz tutted and screwed his lined face up in distaste.

“Hateful, evil plant. I do not involve myself in such low uses of the Art.”

“I don’t want you to grow it,” Rufi growled impatiently. “I just need you to look at it.”

Again Shabaaz tutted, but then he motioned for Rufi to put it on his table. Rufi set it down and then watched curiously. The Gnome tucked his sheers away in his robe and pulled on a pair of thick spectacles. He licked his lips with a tongue that rustled like parchment and threw back the cloth wrapping on the Burn.

“What is this?” he asked almost immediately.

“Burn,” Mikkle said. “You sure this guy’s an expert?”

“Ha!” Shabaaz said, pulling a magnifying lens from one of his pockets. He bent down and peered at the Burn. “This is poison.”

“We know,” Mikkle said, rolling his eyes. “We ain’t asking you to do any of it.”

“No fool, I mean it is tainted.”

“It is the Bad Batch then,” Rufi said, not sure if he should be relieved or feel sickened by the knowledge that was his package.

“Oh no,” Shabaaz said.

“What?”

“This isn’t a bad grow, this had been deliberately tainted.”

“What do you mean?”

Shabaaz sighed at their ignorance. He picked up a pair of tweezers and a long thin knife. He cut into the block and began picking thin stems out of it. When he had found one that was right, he placed it down on a white sheet and pulled another, larger magnifying glass on a stand towards himself.

“Look at this,” he said, motioning with a crooked, knobbly finger for Rufi to inspect it.

Rufi rubbed his tired eyes and then leaned forward and looked at the strand of Burn.

“What am I looking at?” Rufi asked.

“Look at those little pustules, you see them?”

“Ermmm…”

“The little round balls.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Those are Camilophy eggs.”

“What’s that?”

Shabaaz snorted and shook his head again.

“Camilophy are a pest that nests in certain crops. Their eggs are particularly toxic if ingested. They feed off the plant, stripping it of its nutrients until they are ready to hatch. This is why some of these strands have discoloured.”

“A bug infestation in the crop is causing all these deaths?”

“Yes. If they enter the body, they cause fatal heart attacks, strokes, aneurysms, and a great deal of pain to the host before that,” Shabaaz explained.

“But that always happens, right? Pest spoil crops that doesn’t mean it was deliberate.” Rufi said.

Shabaaz sighed.

“You know nothing, do you? Camilophy infests wet crops, crops that must be submerged in water whilst growing, like rice. We Gnomes have many cures and tricks to prevent the Camilophy from nesting in our crops. But this, what you call Burn, is a dry crop. It grows in beds of soil, not water. No, someone has introduced Camilophy to these crops and kept them deliberately moist until the eggs were laid, this is why the plant is so sticky now. Then they were cut and dried with the eggs still attached. No self respecting Gnome Warlock would ever miss an entire crop infested with Camilophy. This is deliberate I suspect.

"Why?" Rufi said, feeling sweat tickle down his temple.

"It is an old Gnommish warfare tactic used to poison unsuspecting villages and settlements in the old times," the Warlock explained.

“So someone has deliberately tainted this Burn?” Rufi asked him, his heart thudding in his chest.

“I would bet my one remaining eye on it,” Shabaaz gave him a toothless grin.

“Could anyone else have done this? Or does it have to be a Gnome Warlock?” Rufi asked.

“This plant is only found in the heartlands of the Empire, as is the Camilophy. Only Gnomes have the Art to do such a thing.

Rufi straightened up and then looked at Pauli.

“Someone’s deliberately poisoned Burn and then sold it all across the city?” Mikkel said. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Rufi said, his mouth running dry. “But I’m gonna find out, and I’m gonna rip the heart from the fuckers that did this.”