Strike!

Two Months Ago

To put it lightly, Ulric scared the shit out of Levi, and it had nothing to do with the gleam he got in his eyes or the ear-splitting laugh he bellowed with glee when he killed someone dead. Okay, maybe that had a little to do with it. No, that actually had a lot to do with it, but it wasn’t what struck Levi as Ulric’s worst quality. That award went to his new favorite toy, the arquebus.

When that thing went off, boy did it go off. The racket it made rivaled that of thunder, and the effect was compounded indoors. It was accompanied by a bright flash, a puff of acrid smoke, and, usually, blood.

Levi wanted to cover his ears, but his arms were occupied, so instead he squeezed the sack of money all the harder as Ulric took aim and fired it at the Hound, turning his midsection to red pulp.

“You monster! You already have the money,” the other Hound cried.

“You think all I care about is money? If only! Then I wouldn’t have to waste time with dreck like you. No, we’re not here to take your money. We’re here to take everything you own, and that includes your life.”

He loosed another deafening shot and set about reloading. When he was done, they made their way to the first floor to make a quick exit. There was no telling what kind of attention the racket they had just caused would draw.

Levi still had a hard time believing everything would go as Noelle said it would. The building she had directed them to had indeed been a Hounds safehouse, and inside were two couriers getting ready to leave with a shitload of money.

Levi stumbled as he reached the bottom step. Ulric cursed as he regained his balance.

“Will you hurry up?” he demanded. He gestured at Levi with the arquebus.

“Watch where you point that thing! I don’t wanna end up with a hole through me.”

“Then pick up the pace.”

Levi didn’t need to be told twice. He and Ulric stepped into the alleyway adjacent to the safehouse.

There’s nothing to worry about, he told himself for the tenth time.

But before they could advance much further, someone called out from behind. “Hey!”

They both turned to find someone who was covered in . . . blood? No, that couldn’t be it. Who was he? A beggar? Levi fought for control of his nerves. He could handle a beggar.

“If you value your life, you’ll turn away and walk right now,” Ulric said. The beggar made no move. “No? Then die!”

Ulric collapsed at the same time the arquebus went off. Levi stared at his comrade in confusion until he noticed the knife sticking out between his eyes.

How . . . how is that possible?!

That was no beggar. It couldn’t even be human. The sack slipped from Levi’s hands, forgotten as the monster stepped forward.

“Ravelon take you it was all him I didn’t do anything I swear on my mother!”

It took another step.

Levi did the only thing he had ever been good at. He fled.

. . .

The Sabers’ base of operations was an old, decrepit building that had been vacated since the riots. Not even vagrants had been living in it when Anselm moved his gang in, and that was saying something. Needless to say, it left a lot to be desired and was definitely temporary.

Noelle sat by the hearth to ward off the chill of the night. Anselm strutted past the men on guard duty and took the seat next to her. She didn’t remove her eyes from the fire, even as he took her hand in his.

“Remember the day we first met?” she asked. Her voice was still horse from earlier.

Anselm nodded. How could he forget?

“And after that. Remember how happy we made each other even though we were flat broke?”

Anselm sighed. “Not this again. Just do your thing, and I’ll handle the rest. We can’t lose.”

“You don’t understand! The outcome never changes, only the path. If one is destined to fail, they will fail no matter how much of a struggle they put up.”

Anselm squeezed her hand, causing her to flinch. “So you’re saying we’re going to fail now, is that it?”

“That’s not what I’m--”

“Levi’s back,” one of the guards announced.

Levi trudged up sweaty and out of breath. He kept his distance from Anselm. “Where’s the money?”

“I . . . I dropped it,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“They got Ulric the money and there was nothing I could do!”

Anselm stood up and grabbed him by the shoulders. He slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. “Calm down, and tell me what happened.”

Levi nodded frantically. “The couriers were right where Noelle said they were gonna be. Ulric blew †˜em both away, and we were almost out of there when a monster showed up. It killed Ulric in the blink of an eye, and it’d have got me too if I stayed. There was nothing I could have done!”

“A monster?” Anselm knew Levi was superstitious and a coward to boot, but this was pushing it. “Tell me. What did this monster look like?”

“Li--like a man . . .”

“And why do you think that is?”

Levi gulped. “I’m telling you the truth, I swear!”

Anselm brought his hand up to slap him again only for Noelle to grab it. “That’s enough, Anselm. This isn’t his fault.”

“Oh yes it is. If this bastard had done his job--”

“Levi did the best that he could. I could have seen the most minute details of what would transpire tonight, and it wouldn’t have changed the fact that he and Ulric would stand no chance if the Hounds sent someone stronger than them. What more will it take to convince you of this?”

Her eyes welled up with tears. Anselm pulled his hand free and stalked away. So they fucked up one night. That didn’t mean they couldn’t get back at the Hounds later.

He loved Noelle. He really did, but that didn’t mean all the worrying wasn’t getting on his nerves. He would show her how wrong she was, and when he did, they would laugh about it.

. . .

As it turned out, the laughter was a long time coming. Anselm’s Sabers made two more successful strikes after the night Ulric was killed, but it was all downhill after that. The Sabers lost men left and right. Slowly but surely, all the territory they worked so hard to take from the Hounds was lost back to them.

By the time Anselm realized that just maybe there was something to what Noelle was saying after all, it was too late. The Hounds had them in their sights and had no intention of losing them.

Noelle’s eyes twitched beneath her eyelids as she put her power to work. When they snapped open, all color drained from her face.

“They know where we are. Tonight, you will be captured and tortured, but no matter what they do to you, they will not break you.”

They sat in silence for a time. “And you?”

She wavered in giving her reply. “You’re the one they want. If I slip away, I can make it.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Do it.”

“Anselm!” She threw herself in his arms. “You’re not leaving me, you bastard,” she muttered into his shoulder.

Anselm stroked her flowing, silver hair. “You were right,” he whispered. “We can’t escape whatever fates the gods have thrown us, but the least we can do is meet them head on.”

He glanced up at Garret. Their eyes met, and Garret nodded.

. . .

Present Day

It’s all my fault, Anselm thought. If only I’d listened.

Lexine picked the lock with ease. It didn’t occur to him until after she was done that it would have been the perfect opportunity to off her.

She held the door open and gestured him onward. “This way,” she said with the smile that seemed to be plastered to her face. She still wore her apron, and if Anselm wasn’t mistaken, it was still splattered with his blood.

“How can you be so happy all the time?” he asked as he stepped inside the house. Anselm’s life, he had been surrounded by death and heartbreak, and when things finally looked like they were going his way, the gods reared their ugly heads in his business and ruined it all.

“How can I not be?” She followed after him. “Wait juuuuust a moment.”

She stopped before the back wall, tapped it a couple places, and shrugged before punching in a board. She stuck her hand in the hole she had created and reached around. “There it is,” she exclaimed.

She withdrew her hand with a coin purse stuffed full to bursting. Now how as he going to get his hands on it?

“Is this your place?” Anselm asked. He looked around, but there was only one bed.

“Oh, no. Just a guy I know. He totally won’t mind if we borrow some money. Don’t give me that look! It’s not stealing if you give it back. Daddy told me so!”

Anselm shrugged. He was in no condition to criticize her. “Works for me.”

“Now where we off to?”

“The clock tower.”

“Alrighty then. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Lexine didn’t bother to close the door. They turned right, and then took a left. They passed by a wretched beggar, though truth be told Anselm didn’t look much better. Lexine stopped, walked backward until she stood before the beggar, and opened up the coin purse. She dug around and withdrew a couple of copper pieces and handed them to him.

The beggar nodded. “May the Five watch over you.”

“Right back at you,” she said.

. . .

“And what did these two look like?” Garm asked.

He wasn’t about to hand most of his money over to Viktor, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his friend hanging. He accompanied him back to his house and did what Viktor should have done to begin with. They searched for anything the crooks may have left behind. There wasn’t much beyond a pair of scratch marks around the keyhole from the lock being picked and the empty whole where Viktor used to keep his money stashed. Their next best bet was to look for witnesses, and that brought them to the beggar.

He stared up at them in thought. “One †˜o them was a little girl wearing a smock, the other a fellow missing an eye.”

“Wow,” Garm said to Viktor. “You got robbed by the two saddest sounding thieves in history.”

“You don’t have to rub it in. Any idea where they were headed?”

“They did mention the clock tower,” the beggar said.

Garm flipped him a copper. “A little something for you trouble.”

“Much obliged, sir. May the Five watch over you.”

“This day just keeps getting longer and longer,” Viktor breathed when they were halfway down the street. “What’s the world coming to when a respectable man such as myself can’t leave his own home without fear for his possessions?”

“It’s been like that for as far back as I can remember,” Garm said. “Where have you been?”

“Well before I came to this ass end of the world, I lived in a mansion protected by the finest Gruvantian soldiers, but woe is me! We aren’t in Gruvantia, and there are no soldiers, only cruel thugs without a shred of honor.”

“Are you done yet?”

“I can assure you old friend, for a loss as a great as mine, you could not possibly put a limit on the grief.”

“Are . . . are we still talking about your money?”

“Why of course, you dullard! What did you think we were talking about?”

“I have no idea.” Should have stayed back at the tavern.

As they pressed on, the streets grew less dirty and the buildings less ramshackle. Their goal protruded far above the rooftops, silhouetted against the sky. The first of its kind, the tower’s faces were decorated with numerals marking off the hours. A hand guided by cutting edge mechanics pointed at the current time. At the moment, it was just shy of the fourth hour.

Even now, three years after its completion, Garm couldn’t help but look up at it in awe. Only the emperor’s fortress and the temple devoted to Balahur rivaled it in scale.

“Stop.”

“Did you say something?” Garm asked.

Viktor shook his head.

“Return to the place where you found Anselm Strange.”

Garm whirled around, dagger sliding into his hand, but there was no one there. He definitely heard something that time, and he could have sworn he felt someone’s presence, as if they were breathing down his neck.

“Garm?”

“You have been misdirected. Return to the location where you captured the leader of the Sabers.”

In my head? I must be losing it.

“Trust me, friend. Far from it. People will die if you don’t do as I say.”

Garm slowly sheaved his dagger. “What are you?”

“Garm, what are you--who’s there?” So Viktor was hearing it too now. Good to know that at the very least, Garm wasn’t going mad alone.

“Someone who’s seen far too much bloodshed. I can’t explain too much now. Communicating with you takes too great a strain. If you wish to know more and regain your friend’s money, do as I have said.”

Garm waited for more, but it didn’t come. Viktor looked just as confused as Garm felt.

“What the fuck was that?” Viktor asked.

“I wish I knew.” Whoever or whatever it was, Garm was certain of one thing. They were mistaken if they thought he cared if people lived or died.

. . .

Watching Noelle do her stuff always crept Levi out. As her eyes twitched, he imagined a pair of flesh-eating beetles struggling for release beneath her closed eyelids. Sweat condensed on her forehead and rolled down.

Her eyes snapped open. She dry heaved over the side of the bed. The sudden movement caused Levi to jump back. The only other person in the room, Garret, clapped a hand down on his back. “Don’t go pissing yourself, boy.”

Levi shrugged him off and went over to help Noelle. He avoided the vomit and grabbed a mug of water set aside beforehand. She took it and drank greedily. When she was done, she breathed deeply and handed it back to Levi.

“It’s done,” she said.

Levi would have celebrated if that didn’t mean the Hounds knew where they were. He would do his part this time though. He wasn’t going to run away.

“They’ll be here soon. I think it’s time you guys clear out.”

“But Noelle!”

“They have to trust me. That won’t happen if I’m surrounded by people bearing blades and arquebuses.”

“Absolutely not! I’ll . . .” You’ll what? He could barely hold a knife steady, never mind use it. She was giving him an easy out. Why didn’t he just take it?

“I appreciate it, Levi, I really do, but if this doesn’t work, Anselm will die, and if that happens, then I don’t care what the Hounds do with me.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. I’m staying, and that’s that.”

Garret grabbed Levi and hauled him over his shoulder like he was a lightweight dummy.

“Put me down!” Levi pounded away at him. If Garret felt it, he gave no sign. “Don’t this! Noelle? Noelle!”

“Tell the others what I’ve said.” Garret didn’t acknowledge her, but she knew he would do as she said.

She offered a silent prayer after he closed the door behind them. It had gone better than she’d hoped. Dismissing those that remained was one of the hardest calls she’d ever had to make. After the thrashing the Hounds handed them, most who survived had gone their separate ways. Only those like Levi who were truly loyal remained. They had sacrificed so much, each and every one of them, even if personal gain had been at the heart of that sacrifice.
†ƒ
She let her hands rest on her lap, spread her fingers across the fabric of the first dress Anselm had bought her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make them stop trembling.

. . .

The plank of wood that served as an improvised tabletop was rough to the touch. Holland Decker learned that the hard way when he ran his fingers across the surfaces as was his habit and caught a splinter. The other †˜distillery workers’ on break had a laugh at that. Holland shrugged and pulled the splinter out with a grimace.

He kept his hand close to his chest, the cards he’d been dealt memorized after a glance. The dealer, a Hound named Raymund or something like that, had been looking over his for the past minute. He was still as a statue but for the swaying of his pupils.

“Raise,” he said at last, throwing a few more coins into the pot.

It was a bluff, of course. The movement of his eyes was far less exaggerated when he was actually looking at the cards and determining if he had anything worthwhile.

“Shit,” Rhett said. He threw his cards down. “Fold.”

Kyler matched. Holland did as well.

A streak of sweat adorned Raymund’s face.

Holland smiled. Checkmate.

“Reveal.”

Holland spread his hand out and flipped it over with a flick. “Three of a kind.”

Raymund’s free hand curled into a fist. He threw his cards at the pot.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Kyler. He laid his hand out one at a time and sat back, arms crossed when he was done. A pair.

Holland smirked. “And there you have it.” He scooped the pot over the edge, reveling in the ring the brief fall of coins created as they plunged into his coin purse, now significantly heavier than it was before.

“Whoa now, you’re not thinking of leaving so soon, are you?” Raymund asked.

“Believe you me, I’d wipe the floor with you gents all day if I could, but duty calls.”

Anselm was no doubt awake by now if Holland’s dealings with him insofar were any indication. Holland liked to believe he had gotten quite astute at reading people and figuring out what made them tick. It was part of his job. What good would the information he teased out of people be if it was false?

First things first, he had to find Lexine, and if he knew her, she was pestering one of the actual workers.

As it turned out, none of them had any idea where she was. They hadn’t been bothered by her all day long. Holland searched the distillery high and low, but there was not a single trace of her. “Damn it all,” he muttered to himself. “You’re in for a spanking when I get my hands on you.”

It was not unlike her to get distracted easily, but she should have known better than to wander off while there was work to be done.

Holland walked past the rows of casks and grabbed his apron off a peg by the door. “Guess what time it is?” he announced. He produced a key to unlock the door, but as he slid it home, he realized it wasn’t locked. He threw it open to find nothing but a chair, a table containing his tools, and chains dangling from the ceiling.