Burning Today Options

[Olen]

Some of you probably remember my last piece, Yesterday's Shadow and that it had a rather unsatisfying ending. I spent the summer rectifying this and now have a sizeable sequel/ completion to it which is itself now finished. It would probably be better to read Yesterday's Shadow before this as it would make more sense, however you should get by without it. If anyone wants I'll put a synopsis here, though Yesterday's Shadow isn't very long so you could just read it here (enough plugs yet?)

Anyway without further ado:

Burning Today

Prologue

Dervas wore boots while he worked. Shoes didn't last long in the decaying mixture of blood, vomit, drink and drugs which floored The Black Guar. The dark man had finally passed out and for the first time Dervas dared look at him. A worn man with a broken soul. Who are you? The Black Guar didn't get passing trade – the mixture of pushers, heavies and racketeers who made up most of his patronage didn't appreciate strangers. In the first hour the man, who now lay face down on the table, had knocked two out cold and broken another's arm. They left him alone after that and he them. Dervas wiped the remains of a line of sugar off the bar and nodded to the bouncer who went to move the man to his room.

Someone knocked at the door. Dervas ignored it. They knocked again, for longer this time. He cursed and went to tell whoever it was where to go. It was late an he didn't need any more trade. He pushed open the door, a curse dancing on his tongue. A sack crashed to the ground, gold clinked within. A Breton in black clothes stood in the doorway.

“What's his tab?” There was no need to ask whose.

“Sixty.”

The Breton showed no surprise, and counted out the gold. “Listen,” his tone offered pain if Dervas didn't, “You keep giving that guy drinks, drugs, whores, whatever he asks for okay? For him happy hour doesn't end, tabs never have to be paid. Push as much as you can into him. Don't worry - I'll be round a couple of nights a week to pay you. That sack,” he kicked disdainfully at the one he'd just dropped, “Contains a thousand drakes, payment enough I'd say. If he asks don't tell him, just give him more drink. Understand?”

Dervas nodded, his mouth was dry.

The man disappeared into the night.

Dervas walked back into the bar. He looked towards the dark man's room. Who are you? he thought again, And what have I gotten into?

[Olen]

16. The Fire of the Moment

On my way to the tavern I realised just how badly I needed skooma. I'd put the shaking down to tiredness and the pace I'd held but if anything it got worse as I walked across town. My arms itched furiously too. I ignored the first, more upmarket, tavern I passed and walked down towards the docks. I tried to look for anything amiss, any sign of Renera. I could barely concentrate for the mere thought of skooma had me squirming for a fix. I cursed myself and my addiction; not for the first time, but with unusual vehemence. Near the harbour there was a rough looking establishment, the red lantern by the door promising more than just drink. I entered, hoping for information, looking for skooma.

Inside was the same as a thousand other dockside taverns: dull, dank and dilapidated with an overgrown sense of its own importance which, doubtless, only exacerbated the locals own inflated egos. Before I had a chance to enter the main bar I heard shouting from a back lounge. I went to investigate and found a small reading room, a couple of bookcases sat by the walls. A half played game of cards lay abandoned on a table, several people stood in the room arguing over a number of vials on the table. There were three pushers, easy to spot in their affected finery. Four dunmer surrounded them.

"You owe us three thousand," one growled. I assumed he was a smuggler.

"We paid in advance."

"Only two thirds. And there's transport-"

"Get lost s'wit."

"The house will not be pleased..." said a smuggler, he was clearly in charge. His clothes were better and his hair was oiled back. He also looked more intelligent than his larger cronies.

"What house? It's dead, just a group of jumped up smugglers-"

"N'wah. Four thousand or you might meet with a little accident."

There was a pause. I stepped forward, "Is there a problem here?"

"Piss off outlander before I gut you," said the lead smuggler. I met a pusher's eye. He gave the slightest nod.

I stepped forward and before anyone reacted punched the nearest smuggler in the side of the head. The punch was a thing of beauty, a flash of fist which caught him right in the temple. He fell forwards, out before he hit the ground. The lead smuggler's expression went from anger to shock to pain as I drove my knee into his crotch. He folded, hitting the table and sending cards flying.

By then the second two smugglers turned on me. They advanced as I fell into a stance, ready to move to the side. There was a flurry of movement behind them and one staggered in an explosion of glass. A pusher jumped back clutching a hand he'd sliced open on the breaking bottle. He turned to face the attacker and I leapt forwards with him between me and his accomplice. I landed a quick cross then a hook from the left but the second cross missed. He swayed but stayed up. I took a step back, he was one hard fetcher. He swung a massive punch but what it had in power it lacked in finesse, I ducked under it and poked him in the throat. He staggered back and into a chair wielded by the pusher with the bleeding hand.

The final smuggler looked at us then drew a heavy mace. I drew my sword, "Try it," I said to him. I didn't try to look menacing, I didn't need to, "There's four of us and one of you. Lets see how it goes."

He took a slow look at us the swore and ran away.

I stepped over the, now vomiting, lead smuggler and turned to the pushers. I waited for them to speak.

"Alright," said the first, "That was pretty good. Callan's the name." He made the Camonna Tong sign that I recognised from a couple of jobs I'd done for the Hlaalu. They probably weren't much worse than the smugglers I'd just kicked around, I comforted myself.

"I'm not a member," I said.

Callan raised an eyebrow, "You aren't now? Then why did you just help us out against those fetchers?"

I looked pointedly at the table with the little vials. Each was marked with the crescent moon of Elswer.

Callan nodded, "I suppose we could cut a deal..."

I cracked my knuckles, "I just saved you some money. And got you a bit more respect - good work with that chair by the way," I nodded to the dunmer with the bleeding hand, "But hold the other end of a bottle - so I was thinking you might give me a cut. Just a small one mind you."

He looked dubious but the third, and as yet silent, dunmer spoke up. "It's a pity to lose a supplier but old Vernil here was getting a bit to big for his own good. Weren't you," he stepped over the lead smuggler who lay in his own vomit and casually put his heel on some outstretched fingers. There was a crack and the prone mer whimpered. "Now piss off." The dunmer half staggered from the room clutching his hand. "So," continued the mer. The lamplight cast shadows off a nose which spoke of violence as did the scars around his cruel mouth, "As head of the Camonna's operations around here I, Golen, would gladly give you two vials for your help in this matter. Perhaps you would consider helping us further? I'm sure we could come to an... arrangement?"

Two vials! I'd expected a fraction of that, still I had no doubt it was to lure me in, and if this was how they recruited... Well I'd crossed paths with the Camonna in the past and had the sense to let them be. This was no exception, "Thank you, but I'm afraid I have urgent business-" I took a vial from the table broke the seal and uncorked it before taking a sip. I blinked, it was strong.

"Careful," warned Golen, "We haven't cut that with anything yet, its still at full purity. Anyway if its trouble with the guards that can be dealt with I assure you."

"No. I'm looking for someone but the guards couldn't help..." I let it hang.

It had the desired effect, Golen laughed, "No surprise there. We have an arrangement, and that involves them doing as close to nothing as possible for a little more... pay," I was starting to hate the greasy pig but if he was who he claimed to be he'd be useful, "Now myself, I know things. And people, it is my business to. Perhaps if we help you..." he tilted his head.

"I'm looking for a woman, human. She'd have arrived here in the last few hours."

His lip curled, "Anyone could walk in or out of this town. What's she like."

Here we go, I thought but I'd wasted enough time getting the skooma. "She's a... witch," the word tasted sour, "She was responsible for Stent, Aldram, Irrith... I think-"

"What's that about Irrith? I've family there," said the mer with the cut hand.

"Not any more you don't," I said, "The towns dead, I saw it. And I followed her here."

"Dead? You're lying," his tone convinced me he wasn't sure.

"She's here now. She needs to be-"

"Here?" said Golen, it just sinking in. "Malacath's balls. Did you tell the guard."

"Yes."

"And they did nothing. They're useless. What do I pay them for? Follow me." He strode out the room, I scooped up another two vials, bringing my total to three and followed. The other two didn't notice.

Outside we had to go a short way up away from the docks to find a guard. When we did Golen strode right up to him. The guard stood to attention, "You. Tell the captain there might be a dangerous witch in town, the one who did Stent and Aldram, or so my friend here says. And have him send a group out to Irrith. Go."

The guard went.

"Are you sure you're right?" he asked, "This is going to be bad for business unless-"

There was an explosion from down by the docks. The harsh yellow light briefly cast Golen's cruel face into brutal relief then faded. I turned. A yellow glow shone over the tangled buildings and clouds of mushroomy smelling smoke rose into the night sky blotting out the stars.

I turned back to Golen but he was already running. I sprinted after him.

This post has been edited by Olen: Mar 21 2010, 02:05 PM