The words had barely left his lips when fear bloomed wildly inside him.

The box.

He could see it in his mind.

Big enough to fit snugly in the palm of his hand. Seamless, and with no visible lock. Dark wood gripped by thick metal claws. What it contained was a mystery his family had protected for generations.

His father told him many stories when he was a child. Family legends guessing at the box's contents.

The key to a city of gold.

The cremated finger of a Vampire Queen.

The last breath of a dying god.

Many nights he sat with his father around the family hearth, staring at the box. Mesmerized by the alien runes scorched into the wood. What did they mean?

When he was young, he'd been desperate to understand them. But now he was older, it didn't matter. Whatever lay inside wasn't something he needed to know. All that mattered was it should be kept safe.

It must never be opened, his father told him.

Over and over.

Earnestly repeating what had been passed down from father to son for centuries.

Never open it.

Keep it hidden.

He looked into Raste's burning eyes and believed in nothing else. “It ain't here.”

“It better be,” Raste said. “Or you're a dead man.”

Talek laughed. And was momentarily pleased to see it rattled them. The young one, Doket, shuffled on his feet. He'd be easy to rile, Talek thought absently.

“Dead man?” he held up a twisted hand, wriggling the nubs of his fingers. “Open your eyes, you stupid son of a bitch. I'm already deader than a fucking three-day corpse. Just ain't fallen over yet.”

“We can do worse than kill you,” one of the others said coolly. He slid an ugly hooked knife from its sheath and held it up. The blade glinted. “Get my meaning?”

Despite fear peeling apart his insides, Talek grinned. “Boy, you ever tried to piss through a cock that's been burnt to a little fucking stump? It ain't easy. And it hurts more than anything you can do to me. Every fucking day.”

“Figure I like that challenge. Bet I can make you scream louder than you ever screamed before.”

“I doubt that,” the elf drawled. “But stick around 'til my wife gets home. She'll teach you all about screaming.”

“Enough!” Raste boomed. He charged onto the porch and grabbed Talek by the shirt. “Tell me where it is! If you tell me, I'll kill you quick. I mean, you’re right. You’re almost dead anyway. I’d be doing you a favour. Come on, Talek. What’s to protect? Jutta? That bastard turned his back on you. With that box, I can make him pay.”

“You think I want revenge?” Talek blinked. “For what?”

“Look at you.”

“I'd rather not. I look like shit.”

“They tossed you aside! You stood in front of a Caspiellan spellslinger as he torched the fucking palace to ashes! You stopped him in front of the King himself. Killed him, too. And what’d you get for it? Nothing. They kicked you out on your ear for offending Jutta with your new good looks.”

“So?” he shrugged. “I'd have done the same. What good am I to him like this? The palace doesn't need doorstops.”

“You're lying.”

And he was. A cold ball of hate rested in his guts. It simmered there every day since he'd left Lostlight.

They'd used him. Used him until he was no good to them anymore. Then, without even a soldier's pension, they pushed him aside. Because his scars made the King feel guilty. Guilty for hiding behind the throne like a frightened child.

Not that Talek blamed him for that. But for afterwards. For avoiding him. For refusing even to look at him.

None in the palace would offer anything more than muttered regrets before distancing themselves from him for fear of offending the King.

Only Nysta had stayed by his side.

Even followed him from the city, forsaking the guild which had given her a life.

Poor girl.

His pity for her could never end.

He sighed. “Maybe. But it ain't for you, kid. That box was meant to be protected from people just like you. And you can cut me up like a fucking jigsaw all day and I won't tell you shit.”

Raste shook his head impatiently. “Stubborn bastard,” he growled. “Fenis. Doket. Get inside. Tear it apart. Find that box. Rest of you start looking around. Torak, you take the barn.”

The handsome blonde elf looked surprised. “The barn?”

“You gone deaf?”

“But, Raste, I-”

“The fucking barn, Torak! Move! Doket! What the fuck are you waiting for? Get inside!”

Talek threw him an offended look. “I look like a dumb fuck? It ain't in there.”

“Raste?” Doket raised an eyebrow.

“Get the fuck inside!” screamed the red-haired elf.

Fenis pushed the younger elf into the house without further argument and all but one of the others wandered off with shrugs and low mutters.

“We can't do much to you,” Raste said calmly, as though the rage had all been an act. “But you think about her, Talek. You think about what we can do to her. Nine of us, Talek. Tubal here, he doesn't know what gentle even means. And the twins? Well, they cum as a pair, if you get me? Know what they call us? They call us the Bloody Nine. We were at Logen's Run. Heard of that?”

Talek's eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Raste said, curling his lips into a sneer. “You heard of it. Think about what you heard, Talek. And think about what we’ll do to her.”

The Musa'Jadean were mostly a proud and elite guild. They specialized in moving behind enemy lines. Their mobility was legendary, and few guilds could claim to be more expert in the art of killing.

The fact they were trained by the shadowy assassins of the Jukkala'Jadean guaranteed them a reputation for ruthlessness and efficiency.

A reputation which was exceeded at Logen's Run, where stories of a rogue squad of Musa'Jadean had surfaced. Hideous stories of torture and depravity fueled the horror tales and while many grubby thugs in the Deadlands claimed some kind of tie to the infamous squad and its mysterious leader, Talek had no doubts Raste spoke the truth.

He'd been there.

“Shame she ain't here now,” Tubal said softly.

Talek liked this one even less than the others. In his years as a soldier, he'd met all kinds. Tubal’s kind were the worst. They didn't so much love the killing as the pain they caused.

They lived to hear the screams which were music to their crazed minds.

Broad shouldered and taller than Raste, he carried an evil-looking axe like it weighed nothing. He dragged his forearm across his greasy lips and spat in direction of the cat as it crept off the porch to stand looking up at him.

It watched the spit fall short.

The soldier's grin was like cracked glass. “I could do with a whole different kind of pussy.”

“Try over there,” Talek jerked his head toward the goats. “They look more your type.”

“Think you're a funny cunt, don't you?”

Talek shrugged.

The axe flashed as it cleaved the little ginger cat in half before burying itself in the hard earth. Tubal jerked the massive axe free and gave it a shake to clean the blade of gore.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Hate drilled through Talek's chest and exploded behind his eyes, but though he could see the sword leaning unnoticed against the rail, he knew he'd have no chance to grab it. Knew he couldn't move fast enough to catch a snail let alone take two professional soldiers by surprise.

So, he glared at the large elf and buried hate inside. “Didn't have to do that.”

“What it gets for getting too close,” the large elf smirked. “You know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat, yeah?”

“Quit fucking around,” the red-haired elf said. “Go look out back. Check on the others. Make sure they're lifting every fucking stone.”

“We're wasting our time. We should be heading south already. Not pissing about over some fucking fairytale trinket.”

“It ain't a fairytale!” Raste hissed. “It's real. Just do it, Tubal!”

“He probably buried it. It's what I'd do. We could dig up this whole fucking valley and still won't find shit. They won't wait for us, Raste. And if we're late, it won't matter what information we've got, we'll never be Accepted. We don't have time for this.”

“Make time!”

Doket emerged from the house, a disgusted expression on his face. “There ain't shit in there. It's fucking empty. Hardly even a fucking spoon. Place reminds me of a cell.”

“Like the goatfucker said,” Talek grinned. “You're wasting your time.”

“Let me cut him,” Fenis lifted the hooked knife.

Raste grabbed hold of Talek's matted hair and jerked hard. “Where. Is. It?”

Talek forced a grin and matched Raste’s tone. “Up. Your. Ass.”

Raste held the scarred elf's gaze tightly for a moment before shoving him back. “Fuck!” He spun away, bounding off the porch and kicking a few stones. Grunted as he nearly trod in the cat's remains. “Fuck!”

“Didn't think this through, did you?” Talek asked gently. “Ain't much you can threaten a cripple like me with.”

Fenis's tongue flicked out. “Raste?”

“Yeah?” he glanced over his shoulder. Caught Fenis's questioning look. “Yeah. Go on. Whatever. But don't kill him. I want him to talk first.”

Smirking, the elf pressed his hook blade against Talek's cheek. “Want you to know something,” he breathed. “I ain't feeling sorry for you. All burned up to a crisp like that. Means you weren't good enough. You don't deserve pity. You're a loser, Talek. Ain't worth shit in my book. So, I won't be gentle on you just because a few peasants in Lostlight think you're some kind of hero.”

The scarred elf held Fenis's gaze. “Oh, I don't mind, lad.” Jerked his head toward Doket. “I can take it. Besides, I reckon you save being gentle for the kid on those cold nights out under the stars.”

“What he say?” Doket frowned.

The hook knife pressed against Talek's cheek, drawing a slick ribbon of blood. “Say it again.”

“No need to get all excited. Maybe my first impression was wrong. But you both look like more than just friends, you know? And there ain't nothing wrong with that. Out here, it's only natural to feel lonely,” Talek's grin made his scarred face look even more monstrous despite the cheerfulness of his words. “Don't be ashamed about it, fellers. Each to their own. Free world and all that. Be all you can be, right?”

Fenis struggled with Talek's seeming lack of fear. “We ain't-”

“Piece of fucking shit! What you say? Say it again! Say it a-fucking-gain! I'll pull that fucking tongue out your fucking head!” Doket lashed out with his boot at Talek's knee. The impact made him groan, but he grinned through the pain.

“Doket!” Raste warned. “Back down. I want him alive.”

Scowling down at Talek, Fenis reached an arm out to grab the little elf's elbow. “He's just trying to get to you, Doket. Don't let him.”

Talek let the smirk grease his face. “Take his advice, kid,” he wheezed. “Should always listen to your husband.”

“You-” Doket roared, his fist slamming hard into Talek's jaw.

The damaged elf felt his head crack hard against the chimney. Stars shattered behind his eyes. He arms came up, his body twitching as reflex tried to dominate his actions and shield him from the next blow.

The second fist exploded into his temple.

He tasted iron.

“-Fucker!”

“Doket!” Raste leapt up the stairs and threw the little elf away, tossing him down the stairs. Doket landed badly and rolled across the ground before scrambling to his feet in an enraged tangle of limbs. Raste followed fast, stabbing a finger at Doket's chest. “When I fucking tell you to back down, you back the fuck down! You got me?”

Fenis leaned in close. “You're gonna pay for what you said.”

“I get it wrong again?” he said, blood bubbling over his lips. His voice barely scraped above the sound of the frozen wind curling around the house. “Sorry. I never was a good judge of character. Didn't mean to offend. Just. He's just a kid, you know? A little boy. Barely out of his mama's apron. Must be hardly fifteen. Figured you were the man, Fenis. Thought it was you ramming your dick up his ass. But you the bitch, right? You like the taste of that little boy's cock? Like it when he slides it into your mouth? Yeah. You look the type. Can see you love the taste of a little boy's cum on your t-”

The hook knife thudded into his chest.

Talek grinned in triumph as blood flowered outward over Fenis's hand. Saw the horrified expression grow in the other elf's eyes.

Raste powered up the stairs. “Fenis! What the fuck! What the fuck did you do?”

“Oh shit,” Fenis croaked. “I didn't mean it, Raste. I didn't! I couldn't help it. He just said-”

“Fuck! I expect it from Doket! But, you? I thought you had some fucking control. What the fuck've you done?” He shoved Fenis aside and grabbed hold of Talek's drooping head. Pulled him close. Pressed at the wound as though trying to push the blood back inside the dying elf. “Talek! Listen to me. Tell me where it is. Where's the box, Talek? Where is it?”

Feeling his life moving slowly out of his body, he was grateful for the knife still jammed into his chest. A sea of numbness spread outward from the wound. All the pain he'd felt this past year was melting away like melting snow. It seeped outward on thick rivers down his legs and pooled at his feet.

All that pain, he thought.

Going away.

His smile was soft as he thought of Nysta.

At least she'd be free to move on. She could start again.

Tears shivered in the corner of his eyes as his mind filled with an image of her. She'd never been very pretty, he allowed, but right then she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He saw her in his mind as he'd seen her the first time.

Holding some shiv she'd made for herself out of an old spoon. Sharpened on the cobblestones for days on end.

She'd never lost that relentless streak of ruthlessness. Blood on her hands and a look of such intense sorrow that everything inside him had thawed and never froze again.

Her eyes.

Yeah, his fragmenting mind thought. Her eyes were glorious.

And the way she moved…

Like a river.

A mountain stream.

Beautiful.

His head rolled. Blood speckled his lips.

He wished the arms around him were hers and not this red-haired bastard's.

“Called him a faggot,” he breathed wetly. “Hardly an insult these days, is it, Raste? Kids, huh? No fucking discipline. I remember when the Musa were tough. Not so easy to rile. Not with words, anyway. Grim's eyes, Raste. It was hardly a fucking challenge. Gone soft since the Jukkala turned their back on you, eh?”

“Where's the box, Talek? The box. Where is it?” Raste pleaded frantically. “Come on, Talek. Don't you die. Not yet. You hear me? Not until I fucking say. Tell me, please. Tell me where it is! Tell me where it is, and I'll make sure she won't get hurt! I promise, Talek. I'll do anything. Just tell me!”

“Gonna need help,” he murmured, feeling lighter every second. Feeling as though he was being pulled out of his body on a slick elastic line. As the pain pulled away, he felt his mind clear. Memories trickled in like the last drops of water from a canteen. “Gonna need them cold. And hard. Better than this lot. More of them, too. If you want to survive.”

“Survive what?”

“Reckon I know you now, Raste. She won't spare you. Never talked about you, but she hates you. And there ain't no room in her heart for forgiveness.”

“Nysta?” The red-haired elf set his jaw. “She'd be stupid to come after me. And if she does, I'll kill her,” he snapped his fingers under Talek's nose. “Easy as that.”

“You seen her lately?”

“We met. Long time ago.”

“Reckon that's a maybe. Know what she is?”

“A fucking cock-gobbling whore is all she is!”

Talek let out a small whine as a thin needle of pain slid into his spine. It would be the last pain he'd ever feel. “Then you don't know anything,” he whispered. “You don’t know what she is. Almost pity you. Almost.”

“What is she?” Fenis asked, taking a step back as Raste shot him a venomous look.

Talek's lips cracked into a bloodstained grin.

He wished he had time to tell them how proud he was of her.

His words, when they came, were like thunder a great distance away. “You'll find out.”

And he died.

It was a quiet thing.

His body gave a small shudder and he slumped in Raste's frustrated grip.

The shadows which seemed to swirl along the wall froze in place for a moment. They quickly began to dance again as the creeping clouds splintered beneath the sun. But try as the rays might, they couldn't do much to ease the cold.

The red-haired elf spat a curse and allowed the corpse to slide off the bench and onto the porch. “Well, Fenis. That's really fucking pissed me off.”

“I'm sorry, Raste. I didn't-”

“Get the fuck out of my sight. Now! Before I fucking kill you. Go get the horses. Try not to kill any on the way.”

“But they're miles back!”

“Go fucking get them!” Raste roared as the others slowly drifted back. He didn't have to look at their faces to know he'd failed. The box wouldn't be found today. He wanted to kick the dead body. Kick it until it fell apart.

Instead, he stood as still as stone.

“I'll come with you,” Doket offered, scuttling after Fenis.

Tubal leaned against the rail further up the porch, picking at his teeth with a stick of straw. “Told you this was a waste of time. Even if there was anything to that old story, Raste, it was a fucking waste of time.”

“It's not a story,” Raste insisted. “My father knew Talek's old man. In the old days. They were close. He saw the box with his own eyes. Shit! It’s so fucking close I can smell it.”

“All I can smell is goatshit,” one of the others muttered. A savage scar ripped across his throat, which explained why they called him Neckless.

“Sure, Raste,” Tubal yawned. “What I know is anyone who knew Talek could've told you he wouldn't say shit no matter what you did, yeah? Bastard was tougher than a wyrm. Look at him. Got hit by a fucking fireball. And lived. I don't reckon getting fucked up like that changed him much. If anything, it made him tougher.”

“It has to be here,” Raste spat. “Maybe in the cabin. Doket couldn't find shit if it was pouring out his asshole. Maybe I should look around.”

“Maybe. Won't argue the boy’s next to fucking useless. And you're welcome to stick around and keep looking.” The big elf's eyes were colder than the snow. “But I won't stick around with you. We've been waiting for this moment, Raste. Waiting years. We've trained for it. Bled for it. All that shit we took from the Musa? And the Jukkala? It's time for us to go south. Maybe get us some payback. So, you can stay here and hunt old fairy tales. Me, I'm heading out.”

“Tubal's right,” two of the soldiers said in one voice. It was an eerie sound, but one which Raste was long used to. Their dark eyes eyed him with an impassiveness that bordered on reptilian. He was used to that, too. “We need to leave.”

“See? Even the Twins are with me,” Tubal said. “Your trinket, Raste. It'd make a nice fucking heirloom, but Acceptance is worth a shitload more. Don't reckon I got time to fuck around looking for a needle in a haystack. Not now.”

“Fuck, Tubal,” Raste cast a bitter gaze around the yard with a bitter scowl. “What we could've done with that box! You've no idea what it is. What it could have made us.”

“Yeah, well. That's life, I say. Full of disappointments. Move on,” he pushed from the rail and looked out across the valley. “Nice place, this. Wouldn't mind something like it myself. You said you knew his wife?”

Raste dropped his hand over the hilt of his knife. “Long time ago.”

“She anything he made her out to be?”

“What?”

“Seemed to think she'd come after us. Talek was the King's personal bodyguard. Was Kulsa'Jadean to the bone. They ain't soft. And if she's anything like him...”

“He was just fucking with your head,” Raste scoffed. “She's nothing. Nysta’s just a fucking whore. Grew up in the taverns down by the docks. Rest of the time she was in an alley sleeping it off, or selling her ass. No wonder she stuck to Talek like glue. He was her ticket off the streets. If she was gonna follow us, it'd be to beg for fucking change. And I ain't giving her shit.”

“You sure about that? Doesn't sound like the same bitch he was talking about.”

“Trust me. She's nothing.”

“Hope she does follow, then,” the broad-shouldered elf drawled. Gave a final suck on the straw before flicking to toward the small pen of goats. “Be the first time I'd be happy to come all this way for fucking nothing.”