7 - Too Hard

The first instinct is to shield one’s own self – as self-security of the body is the instinct most primal to all creatures. It is a natural reaction. Yet, the suit of towers are poorly suited to the task, for self-preservation is the domain of knaves.

-Lancaster’s Manual of Wills

My door burst open, shocking me awake. My first instinct was that they knocked too hard, but when I saw the knife and the muderous intent on the eyes of the masked drakkyn, I realized they hadn’t knocked at all.

I jumped out of rat-bed as the masked drakkyn rushed me, low and fast with his blade extended. My own knife was on the table, on the other side of the assassin. Desperate, I flooded my will into the deck and called the three of knaves. A shadowy apparition appeared before me, and I saw the tip of the knife slash through its heart as I pushed back, reaching around. The loose brick from the hearth came off in my hand, and I smashed it down on the head of the startled drakkyn. His curved horns caught the worst of it, and he recovered quick. He whipped around, a bronze cuff on his tail catching my wrist. The pain shocked my hand open, and the follow-up back-kick infused with his living lightning sent me blasting through the shutter, breaking my new sign (and possibly a rib). I hit the awning of the moneychanger and rolled off onto the mud, steaming and hurting from every inch of my body. I’d missed bashing my brains out on the cobbles by inches.

Groaning, struggling to control my body from the aftermath of the living lightning, I looked up. The drakkyn had leaned out of the window, and the tower hung inverted over his head. Isolation, enemies from friends. Seeing the result of my fall, he snapped his teeth with another burst of sparks and thought better of following that route. His head disappeared. I pulled myself to my feet and called on the suit of dragons for enough stamina to stand after that fall. Surprisingly, it obliged, and I used that borrowed strength to summon another illusion at the base of the steps while I ducked underneath them. I scooped up a splintered shard of my shutter. And willed the deck to surround the shadow, as though it were the one casting spells. I summoned one card to me.

The drakkyn leapt down the stairs, stumbling through the illusion. Slow learner. I tapped the two of knaves in my hand, and the shadowy edge formed, imperfectly, on the tip of the wooden shard. It wasn’t a knife. Hell, it was barely better than my hand. But the splinter slid home, under the leather shirt, just above the hip. The Drakkyn gasped and fell to his knees. It was a fatal blow—eventually. But he wasn’t out yet, and I was out of tricks. I heard more footfalls, and briefly worried at more assassins as I struggled not to pass out. Using the three of dragons had brought back all my exhaustion and then some. But large grey-green hands wrapped around the drakkyn’s horns, and I heard a crack as the orc headbutted the lizard right in the forehead.

The drakkyn slumped over, revealing the half-orc from the fight pits. He reached over and helped me to my feet. Then he pulled the mask off the drakkyn, revealing the other fighter, Salamaz. The one Jeedle’s brother had been sparring with.

Stolen novel; please report.

I’d suspected, when he fell for the same trick twice. But it was still a shock that he would try to kill me in my bed.

The orc spit on the dying lizard’s body before looking me up and down.

“You survive?” he said in broken common. His accent was heavy Kalash, and he had permanent stone-mottle stains on his shoulders.

“I’ll live,” I confirmed.

He offered his arm. “I am Storm-laden back-breaker. You read cards, yes?” He pointed to the deck scattered on the ground.

I sighed. “Yes,” I said. “I read the cards.”

Storm-laden produced a silver cunning.

“Now?” I looked down at the drakkyn. “What about him?”

“He not need cards. Maybe five minute ago, yes? You do sloppy, but good. First time?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“How feel? Sick?”

“No,” I said. The drakkyn had darkened my doorstep and attacked me. He’d made it him or me, and I wasn’t upset at which one of us was still standing and which stupid lizard was bleeding out in the gutter. “He tried to kill me. I’m more nervous that my landlord is going to see this! This is not a great time for a reading.”

By this time, the scene had started to draw a bit of a crowd. There weren’t many people out in the heat of the day. Not in the stifling slums of Barrowdown. But we were practically on the front step of the money changer.

The orc sighed, as if speaking to a child. He knelt down and hefted the unconscious lizard. “I take him. After. Jeedle make deal. You honor deal. That was deal.”

“Okay, okay! I massaged my temples. Why would the pit fighter attack me? I wondered. The wills vibrated in my mind. But I didn’t really need them to answer. I’d called the drakkyn out, told his boss he was obsolete. Jeedle wasn’t going to be happy with either of us. I held out my hand and called the cards back to me.

Storm-laden followed me upstairs, and I was thankful the wood of the steps was dark enough to hide any blood. The orc lowered my assassin onto the landing before following me inside. He tried to close my door, but the other pit fighter had broken off one of the brass hinges. He shrugged and righted the table with the knife stuck in it.

“Why you no use this?” he asked.

“Because it didn’t tunnel its way to my hand.”

The orc shrugged again and settled his bulk into my one groaning chair. I winced, waiting for it to splinter under his weight. He pulled the knife from the table and handed it to me, hilt first. “I offer you advice, yes? In life or in pit. You don’t think you want. You think what enemy want.” He tapped his temple. “Don’t let them have what they want.”

“I… I’ll consider that.”

Storm-laden nodded and dropped the cunning in the cup, where it rattled with the other coins. Above his head was the Rook, the master of the suit of towers. Expulsion of threats, protection from harm. Just in time, I suppose. Think about what your enemy wants. That idea resonated with something in the deck, but I didn’t have the energy to consider what or why.

I summoned the wills, shuffled, and pulled a single card off the deck. Even that was rough. I flipped the card, only to see... the Rook of towers. Huh. Usually, the reading didn’t exactly match the crown. I looked up at Storm-Laden. “I think you’re going to be fine.

The orc’s eyebrows knit. “Dreedle say you read three cards.”

I tapped the rook. “This one says you don’t need the other two. It’s a card of protection. I think the safest place in Dragonmaw right now would be standing right behind you.”

That seemed to satisfy the orc. “Is good card. Worth three.” True to his word, he got up, picked up the limp lizard on his way out, and nodded my direction. “I tell dwarf you read.”

I collapsed back on the bed as soon as he was gone. My legs gave out, and I let the blackness take me.