Luke Scull - The Grim Company

Cole gritted his teeth and ran on. They’re just nobles. They never gave a damn for anyone else. They’re just nobles …

He was almost at the exit now. An estate burned just to the right of him, roaring and crackling as it was consumed by flame. He was sprinting by the blaze when a sudden scream slowed him a fraction. He glanced over and saw a woman being dragged by her hair face-first over the paved veranda. The mercenary grinning over her had a table leg in one hand.

The woman screamed again; her terrified sobs pounded inside Cole’s head like a hammer. Keep running. It’s none of your business. You’re no hero .

The gate was just ahead. The woman cried out one more time, a pitiful sound. His feet suddenly felt like concrete.

You’re no hero .

A loud thud reached his ears. The mercenary had begun to bludgeon the stricken noblewoman with the table leg.

Davarus Cole’s heart thundered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He slowed to a walk, and then to a complete halt. Finally he turned and stared at the mercenary.

‘Leave her alone.’

‘What?’ The Sumnian stared at him in puzzlement. ‘She’s my prize. I can do what I please.’ He raised his club again.

‘I said leave her alone.’

There was anger on the mercenary’s face now. ‘You want her? I don’t share with maggots. But why fight over a woman? Neither of us will have her.’ He gripped the makeshift club with both hands and raised it over the woman’s head.

Cole’s hand was a blur.

The mercenary stared down at the hilt which suddenly quivered from his throat. He gurgled once and then toppled forwards, dead before he hit the ground.

Walking over to retrieve Magebane, Cole was relieved to see the noblewoman was not badly hurt. ‘Can you move?’ he asked. She stirred and then nodded. ‘Take my hand.’ He reached down. After a moment she grasped his arm and he pulled her gently to her feet.

He stared, taken aback by the woman’s beauty. Her eyes were the deepest jade, her hair like spun gold. And around her neck…

‘Where did you get that?’ he gasped.

‘What?’ The woman was distraught. She looked down at the pendant hanging just above her breasts. ‘My husband gave it to me,’ she said.

‘Where is your husband?’

‘He’s… dead.’ Her voice cracked on the word.

Cole closed his eyes for a moment. His grip tightened on Magebane. He raised the glowing dagger — and then placed it back in its sheath. ‘Come with me. I’ll get you out of here.’

A few minutes later they were safely clear of the Noble Quarter and on their way down the Tyrant’s Road towards the Hook. ‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ he asked.

‘I… I have a cousin who lives nearby.’

‘Head straight there.’

She offered him her stumbling thanks and hurried away. Cole watched her go and then resumed his journey back down to the Hook. He needed to find Sasha.

‘Davarus Cole.’

That voice was unmistakable. ‘Master!’ he exclaimed, hurrying over to the Darkson. The Shamaathan was standing on the side of the road. ‘What are you doing here?’

The master assassin appeared troubled. ‘Waiting for you.’

‘Really? Is there something I can help you with? I–I’ve realized that I still have a lot to learn.’

The Darkson looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘I wanted to give you something.’

Cole nodded eagerly. ‘Of course, master. What is it?’

‘This.’

The first thing that registered was the regret in his mentor’s voice.

The second was the white-hot agony in his gut.

Cole stared down at the wicked curved dagger emerging from his stomach. The Darkson jerked the blade free and he staggered, his hands desperately trying to keep the blood from gushing out. It was futile. Warm, sticky liquid ran down his fingers, splattering onto the road below. ‘But… why?’ he managed to gasp.

‘The White Lady does not like loose ends. Or potential threats. Brianna died in battle, leaving you as the only piece left to be removed. I am sorry.’

Cole didn’t reply. He reeled away, horrified at the volume of blood pouring from his body. He was growing weaker by the second. He stumbled off the road, one arm reaching out blindly, seeking something to support himself on. After what seemed like an eternity his bloody palm pressed up against a wall. It was the side of a building. He staggered back against it and sank slowly to the ground.

He was starting to feel numb. It was almost a pleasant sensation. It reminded him of when he was young, when he and Sasha would compete to see who could remain submerged in an ice bath the longest. He smiled suddenly. She usually won, but it had been good practice. Good practice for the day he would be a hero.

His eyes closed.

A familiar face was waiting for Eremul when he finally arrived back at the depository.

‘ Isaac! ’ he spluttered, almost slipping out of his seat in shock. His manservant was as inscrutable as ever, but there was something deeply unsettling about the way he looked in the dim light. It was as if he were seeing Isaac’s face for the first time. It seemed… incomplete, as though a skilled artist had captured an uncanny likeness of his subject but missed out a few essential details.

‘Hello, master.’ The manservant’s voice was more melodic than he remembered. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Who are you?’ Eremul demanded. He glanced left and right, but the streets were dead. Those inclined to celebrate the city’s dubious liberation must have made their way to the centre or to one of the taverns a little to the north. They were completely alone.

‘I don’t suppose you would believe me if I told you I am your trusty manservant.’

‘I had a trusty manservant? I could have sworn he was a bumbling buffoon.’

Isaac smiled faintly. ‘This is why I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Your species may have been found wanting, but there are some among you who are not without merit. A part of me will be sad when you are all gone.’

‘When we are all gone?’ What is he talking about? ‘Enough games, Isaac,’ he said, growing annoyed. ‘I know about the harbourmaster. I know about the Crow. Who are you, really?’ He paused for a moment, staring at that troubling visage. ‘ What are you?’

‘You may call me… an Adjudicator.’

‘An Adjudicator ?’

‘I have spent four years among your kind. Evaluating you. I have made my decision, and so now I return to my homeland to begin the preparations. As to what I am…’

Eremul blinked, astonished by what he was seeing. It wasn’t so much that Isaac was changing appearance as his brain was beginning to fill in the details it had somehow omitted before now.

Humanoid. Ivory skin. Slender, almost delicate limbs. Eyes as black as midnight … Sudden terror gripped him. He had never been subjected to a regard as utterly ruinous as that obsidian stare. Even Salazar had not unmanned him so effortlessly. The being behind that appalling scrutiny was so ancient even a Magelord’s lifespan was but a flicker of a candle in comparison.

Eremul felt warm wetness trickling over the stumps of his legs. He had pissed himself.

Isaac, or the thing that had called itself Isaac, seemed not to notice. It raised one slender hand and said, almost sadly, ‘Enjoy what time you have remaining, Eremul Kaldrian. Regrettably, no exceptions can be made in the coming crusade. Not even for you.’

He took a single step forwards — and disappeared. He fell away into nothingness.

Eremul sat motionless for a time. He glanced down at his soiled robes. Then he wheeled himself down to the docks, too terrified to even think about going back inside the depository alone. He sat there, staring out over the harbour, the sound of the lapping water below helping to calm his shredded nerves.