Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 31

Tyfus slept in nothing but his loincloth on the top of the stairs. A snot bubble rose and fell as he snored away. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, stretched, and took in a deep breath to take it all in. It had been a while since I slept last time in my own room, especially having gone through most of the morning and day. Dusk was already approaching.

I nudged him with my foot.

“What are you doing here, gnome?”

He opened one crusty eye.

“Tarnia kicked me out of my room,” he mumbled, turned over and edged closer to the wall so I could pass.

“Why didn’t you go down to one of the lounges?”

“I was too spent,” he said, facing away from me.

I stepped over the gnome and walked down into the club where Ragul was already at the bar getting ready for business, polishing glasses and the counter. I didn’t want to get into the gnome’s relationship, let alone ask why his torturer suddenly had a right to his room.

The only other person in the whole place was Hezzak for some reason, sitting at the bar in his bone armor.

“Everyone still asleep?” I asked, taking a seat next to the hobgoblin.

“We haven’t worked in weeks, sir. The staff has lost its edge. I’m sure they’ll get back to their usual tempo in no time. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m sure you will,” I said.

I had a glass of water in silence. As the cold liquid poured down my throat I winced. My chest was still hurting from Castelian’s mace. That was new. I usually recovered from most wounds with a good night’s sleep. Especially after I’d become a spellmonger.

Since we were alone, I used the opportunity to squeeze the hobgoblin for some answers.

“Hezzak,” I began.

“Frank, we need to talk,” the hobgoblin said at the same time as me.

“Talk,” I said.

The berserker tapped his fingers on the bar, grinded his sharp teeth for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

“That it?”

“What else do you want? This isn’t easy for me.”

I sighed.

“Fine, make nothing of it.”

The hob nodded.

“Alright, now me. Why were you in chains, Hezzak?”

“Because I spoke the truth.”

“Nergat said you were insubordinate,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “And that’s not the first time he’s been pissed with you.”

“Nergat,” Hezzak hissed. “I told him what his commanders are too chickenshit to say.”

“And that was?”

He looked over his shoulder then at me and finally at Ragul.

“Whatever you’re ready to say to me, you can say in front of Ragul. The man knows how to keep a secret.”

“This whole war with the King,” Hezzak began. “When he announced it, I thought it was a good thing. But the longer I listened to his plans, the more I realized it wasn’t really about us, orcs, goblins, hobs…it was just about him.”

“Have you ever doubted that?” I asked.

Even the sewer rats of Sankta Varath knew Nergat was a self-aggrandizing asshole first, and an orc second. Sure the green bastards liked his ideas because they involved plenty of war, but in the end all they ever achieved were piles of dead people, and even more piles of dead orcs.

“That’s not the thing. Nergat doesn’t just want to defend against the Quinta, he wants to take Sankta Varath and rule it. Drive everyone but his own people out the city walls. And I’m telling you, Frank, that’s not where he’d stop. That would just be the beginning. I said it. All of that in front of his commanders.”

“You’re an idiot, Hezzak,” I said and he shot me an angry look. “An honest one, but that doesn’t make it better.”

The hob shifted uncomfortably and turned to face me better.

“So you’re alright with that?”

“No, I’m not. That’s why I’m going to see the King first. I’ll try and broker a ceasefire until the quinta are gone. We need the orcs, we can’t do it without them. Once the holy idiots are defeated…well, I can worry about that next. We need to take things one at a time.”

“You think Nergat will honor—”

“No, I don’t, Hezzak. I just told you, one thing at a time.”

“He already made plans.”

“And I’ll shit on his plans.”

“You underestimate him,” the hob said, grinding his teeth.

I looked up at Ragul who only offered a flat stare.

“We need to defend the city, Hezzak. That comes first.”

“You’re as blind as the rest of them,” he hissed.

“What would you have me do? Kill him now? Cause the orcs to war among themselves for a new warlord, or even attack me and our family? I can’t risk that. Not now. Besides, you have no proof of any of it,” I said, fully aware how naïve I sounded.

I knew Nergat’s goal wasn’t to just defeat the Quinta and then leave in peace with everyone else. He always had greater ambitions than that.

“So you’ll do as he asks?”

I shook my head and lit my cigar, letting the hob stew. After Hell, something had changed in me. All these squabbles and petty arguments among wannabe rulers seemed so meaningless and small. Perhaps Hezzak was right, and I was underestimating Nergat, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what happened next, I’d be able to deal with it one way or another.

I looked into the hob’s glowing yellow eyes for a long time.

“I’m going to talk to the King today. Force him to ally with Nergat and drive out the Quinta. The city is on fire and this war has to stop.”

“He’ll use you,” the hob said angrily.

“I will, won’t I, Hezzak?” Nergat said, entering the club with three of his commanders, Targa among them. The hobgoblin got off his chair and bowed his head as the warlord stomped his big feet towards us.

I kept sitting, of course.

“Frank,” Nergat said as the other three commanders flanked him. Targa was almost as tall and deadly as his warlord though he had none of the arrogance. I recognized Murgar from the Liver Eater clan. He had those white tattoos beneath the thick furs, around his broad shoulders. Not the biggest of orc specimen by any means but his eyes betrayed a quick and sharp mind. He recognized me too, smiling through his large white tusks. The third one was unmistakably the leader of the Morkin’s Watch Clan because he had that duergar-dark skin, and menacing look, but I didn’t know his name. Except for Targa, neither of the two had attended the previous meeting held in the Midnight Bounties.

“I hear you fought Castelian.”

“You heard wrong, Nergat. I killed Castelian.”

Nergat scoffed as if I had personally offended him, though his commanders seemed fairly impressed. Targa thumped his chest and Murgar grunted loudly in a sign of respect.

“Want something to drink, boys?” Before they answered, I turned to Ragul. “Moonshine on the house for all of them. Wine for the big man.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Ragul nodded and began pouring the drinks.

“That wasn’t the plan, Frank. You were supposed to give the King a visit. I’ve established a new command center outside, but you, you didn’t hold up to your side of the deal.”

“You want to hear how I did it?” I said, ignoring his remark.

“Did you tear his head off?” Targa blurted out, his eyes going wide.

“No, but I sliced him from throat to crotch and impaled him on top of the armory. Left him hanging there with his insides spilling onto the rooftops.”

Targa thumped his chest three times in quick succession.

“Show wounds!” the leader of the Morkin’s Watch said.

“Here,” I said, pointing at the big blue bruise on my chest. “Ate Kagon’s Wrath straight to the stomach. He tore my breastplate to pieces.”

“Beautiful!” the dark orc said, smiling and turning to Nergat.

The warlord’s face remained flat. He knew what I was doing and it pissed him off endlessly. I couldn’t go too far, though.

“Regarding the King,” I said seriously. “I was just about to go there. If it wasn’t for the Dreadweaver I would have done it last night, Nergat.”

The warlord nodded.

“Be that as is. Until you do, Hezzak stays with me.”

Our eyes met for a tense moment. Gods was I sick of this dick measuring, but it had to be done.

“Fine, but no iron chains.”

“Hezzak,” Nergat said and pointed to his side. The hobgoblin walked up to the warlord without a word.

“There, settled,” I said casually.

“You’re testing my patience, human. God slayer or not, you are one man and these things are bigger than you. Talk to the King and get back to me immediately.”

He turned away and started for the door.

“Of course, Warlord. One more thing, though,” I said. “Hold up.”

I stood and walked into the storeroom, rummaged through one of my Vaultpacks, then pulled out a package and carried it back into the club.

I undid the leather string and pulled out one of the three Jaggadar teeth I had torn from the beast in Morgefah’s prison. The orcs and the hob all took a step back as if I was about to attack them or something. There was such awe in their faces, even Nergat seemed entirely beside himself.

“Jaggadar tooth!” Targa cried out and fell to a knee. The others did the same, all except Nergat.

“Jaggadar slayer!” Murgar said in hushed words.

“This is for you,” I said, making my way over to them.

Nergat’s eyes were entirely glued to me, his hand twitched when I came closer, but I had no intention of giving him anything. I grabbed Hezzak’s hand and pushed the tooth into it. He looked up at me with utter shock.

“No,” he muttered. “This is…I can’t!”

“This is my gift to the Green Tide,” I said, unpacking the second tooth and giving it to Murgar, and then I gave the third to the leader of the Morkin’s Watch. Nergat watched me carefully, but he didn’t say a word. He was smart enough not to react though he knew full well how it all looked. I truly savored every moment of his simmering anger.

“And finally,” I said, unsheathing the Star Wraith. Nergat’s hand twitched again as I spun it in my palm then pushed the handle of the ritual dagger into Targa’s chest.

“For my friend and brother. May the Green Tide prosper, and you prosper within it, berserker.”

“Frank boss, I can’t…I haven’t deserved it.”

“This Star Wraith was a gift from your father Sharka. I have washed its blade in the blood of a Jaggadar. Without it I would have been lost. It is time it returns to the Loco Bruego Clan.”

Targa opened his mouth to say something but I continued,

“Thank you, Targa of the Loco Bruego. Thank you and your clan for all you have done for me and my family.”

Tears welled up in Targa’s eyes, which was rather unusual to an orc.

“Honor,” he said with a deep gravely voice that cracked midway.

“Honor,” the other orcs said.

Nergat smacked his lips trying to keep a neutral expression.

“And no gifts for your warlord, is it?” he said, trying to sound dignified.

“I’m sure the Warlord of the Green Tide can slay his own Jaggadar beast.”

Nergat swallowed whatever curse he had ready for me.

“Out, all of you. I need to talk to the god slayer,” he barked and the orcs bowed quickly, then made their way outside in hurried steps. As the door closed, Nergat leaned over me, his eyes seething with rage.

“You overstep, human,” he hissed. “I ought to burn you and your people down for this show of utter disrespect. You think you can turn my own men against me? You think I’m stupid and I don’t know what you’re doing?”

I met his gaze with a flat stare.

“I will hold up my side of the deal, and you better do the same.”

Nergat flung the glass of wine against the staircase and reached for my throat. I grabbed his hand before he did and pressed hard. Despite my power, there was some proper force behind his attack.

“Don’t,” I said calmly. “It won’t end good for you.”

He snapped his hand back and roared. grabbing for one of my chairs, then flung it against the floor shattering it. It was one of my good chairs, too, but I decided the warlord had his fill of insults for today.

“This isn’t over, Frank. There’s ten-thousand orcs under my command. You think they’ll obey a lowly human over a proven orc warlord?”

“I don’t want to command the orcs, Nergat,” I said, never raising my tone. “Hold up to your side of the deal and I’ll do the same. You’ll get what you asked of me.”

Nergat breathed out long and hard, grinding his big teeth. He brushed the drops of wine from his black armor and cleared his throat.

“I always get what I want, human,” he said and walked out, banging the door closed.

“Big fucking crybaby,” I muttered and turned to the bar where Ragul looked at me with a mix of shock and scorn.

“Whiskey, my friend,” I said and sat down at the chair  to light up a cigar. The vampire poured me a drink and I downed it at once.

“That was…interesting,” Ragul said.

“What a fucking morning, huh?”

“Master Frank, I if I may,” Ragul began and I nodded for him to continue. “Your powers, sir. They are greater than anything I have seen, there is no doubt about it.”

“Thanks, and now comes the inevitable ‘but’ doesn’t it?”

“Precisely, sir. But you can’t fight a whole army, can you?”

“Nope, I don’t think I can.”

“Then how is angering the Warlord a prudent action?”

“Prudent,” I asked, grinning.

“Yes, prudent,” Ragul repeated with some annoyance in his tone.

“I didn’t take you for a fearful man, Ragul.”

“Fearful, sir? Not at all. I will find a way to survive this situation, that is almost a certainty. This isn’t my first siege. However, in the interest of the family, I do have to say that you are perhaps overstepping somewhat. It comes with your newfound power, this—”

“Arrogance?”

“I didn’t want to use that word, sir. But sadly, it seems fairly apt now.”

“Pour me another, will you?”

The drow bartender was as quick as a cat filling up my glass and stashing the bottle away.

I took another sip.

“I met an old friend yesterday. Well, friend might be the wrong word. In any case, he had some interesting insight into my situation.”

“Do tell, sir.”

“Well, he figured I should simply kill my way through my problems. What do you make of that?”

Ragul breathed out through his nose.

“Easier said than done, Master Frank.”

“I’m not great at all this political shit, Ragul. And I’m tired of it, too. At least in Hell it was just slashing and killing whatever came at me. It wasn’t easy, but it caused me little headaches. Sankta Varath, however—”

“Is Sankta Varath, you of all people should know that killing isn’t always the best option. And if I may, sir. You’re selling yourself short. You’ve handled plenty of complicated issues with a diplomat’s grace.”

I grinned at that. There was some truth to his words, but also plenty to Papa’s.

“Stop listening to what old men tell you,” a voice said from behind me. It was Pearl. She reared her head from behind the table of one of the lounges, stretched and yawned like a kitten.

“You’re still here? Why aren’t you at your club?”

“Ohh, shush. Listen to yourself, Frank. You’ve been to fucking Hell and back. What do old men like Papa and Ragul have to teach you anymore? Do your own thing for god’s sake.”

I laughed at that though Ragul didn’t appreciate it all.

“The wise man doesn’t ignore the word of his elders.”

“Yeah, but Frank’s not a wise man.”

“That isn’t entirely true, little lady.”

“Alright,” I said, getting up from my chair. “Ragul, thanks for the whiskey and your advice.”

I snapped my fingers and Wolf came barging through the backdoor of the courtyard and into the club, overturning chairs and tables.

“We go somewhere? I wanna run!”

I petted the deviltail on the side, checked my swords, and cracked my neck.

“Ragul, prepare the club for tonight. It might be a rough evening. Wake the others, it’s almost opening time and they aren’t even up yet. Remind Rot to fix my armor, will ye?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Pearl, wash up and go back to your club you lazy drunk.”

“Lazy!” she snapped.

I took Wolf by the reins and led him towards the exit only stopping short next to my Borough’s friend. I tapped her on the shoulder and grinned.

“Wisdom comes in all sizes and ages, eh?”

“You bet it does, Flea.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She smiled and shrugged.

I exited into the Ashpit as dusk was setting in, shedding long shadows of orc tents over the square. Smoke was billowing from the forges and patrols marched between war machines.

“Let’s see what we can do in the White Palace, boy,” I muttered.

“Kill?” Wolf spoke into my mind.

“Eh, maybe. One thing at a time.”