Luke Scull - The Grim Company

And what right did an over-the-hill barbarian have to even borrow a weapon such as Magebane? He was no hero, unlike Davarus Cole, whose own legendary father had passed it to him on his deathbed.

The young Shard smiled sadly, as he often did when remembering his father’s tragic death. Illarius Cole had been a great rebel leader, and it had taken three of the Magelord’s best Augmentors to best him during a vicious and lengthy battle. Illarius had killed two of them before escaping, mortally wounded, to find young Davarus and deliver his final words.

‘ Take this weapon, son ,’ his father had said, choking back blood. ‘ One day you will lead the city to freedom. I have seen the spark in you. Listen to Garrett and try to be a better man -’

Illarius had died before finishing his sentence, but he hadn’t needed to hear the rest. He knew Garrett’s limitations. While he loved and respected his mentor, he could not deny that his father’s wish for him to be a better man than Garrett was wise. For all his resourcefulness and organizational skills, the merchant lacked the ambition to ever achieve a truly significant victory for the Shards.

Cole tried not to blame his foster father. Greatness was a gift bestowed upon few, after all, and Garrett had done the best he could. It was up to Davarus Cole to lead the Shards to new heights when the time was right.

He heard his stomach growl and sudden hunger overwhelmed his ruminations on future glory. A food vendor was hawking his wares just ahead. Cole handed over four copper crowns for a chunk of pale goat’s cheese, a crust of hard bread and an overripe pear. He bit into the fruit and almost gagged when he saw the trio of tiny white worms twitching around inside.

He hurled the spoiled pear to the ground in front of the vendor’s stall and crushed it with his boot; then, on an impulse, he grabbed hold of the large basket in which all of the seller’s fruit was presented and upended it on the street. Let that be a lesson to you , he thought. Satisfied he had made his point, he strolled away from the stall, the outraged merchant’s curses following him down the narrow aisle.

He was feeling in better spirits now. The clouds that had blanketed Dorminia for the past week had finally dispersed and the sun was shining. In fact, it was unusually warm for a late spring morning. The pear aside, the hasty breakfast he’d just eaten had settled his stomach. Most important of all, he had a purpose.

That was the thing about being a hero. When you took a knock, you got right back up and came back stronger.

A bellman’s cry abruptly split the air, coming from somewhere on the other side of the Bazaar.

‘ Attention, good people of Dorminia. Your glorious master has cast down the treacherous Marius and cleansed his city of sin with the very waters of the Broken Sea. The war is over. All praise Lord Salazar! ’

It took a moment for the crier’s words to sink in. When they did, Cole hurried as fast as he could towards the man. A crowd was already forming around the crier, who repeated the announcement and ignored the flurry of questions darting at him from every angle.

‘This can’t be true,’ a gap-toothed farmer said numbly as Cole drew closer. ‘I got a daughter in the City of Shades. What does he mean by “cleansed”? I wish this bloody lockdown would end.’

Cole didn’t bother to reply. He shouldered the man aside and pushed deeper into the unwashed mass of citizenry chattering in alarm over the news. One woman in particular seemed anxious to air her views to as many folk as possible. He watched her for a time. Eventually her eyes met his and she wandered towards him. He was about to turn his back and pretend to have pressing business elsewhere when he noticed her swaying hips. Although she wore the drab clothes of a goodwife, her bosom, too, was impressive.

As she approached, Cole saw that she wasn’t as old as he’d initially thought. Her strawberry-blond hair caught the sun and glimmered prettily. All in all she was quite pleasant to look at. Worth a minute of his time, he supposed, though he couldn’t help feeling a bit self-conscious about his bruises.

‘I take it you’ve heard,’ she said, standing in such a way that her cleavage seemed to drag his eyes downwards with irresistible force. ‘Shadowport’s no more. The City of Shades has been destroyed by Salazar himself.’ The tone of her voice changed slightly, a hint of sarcasm creeping in. ‘Strange that he waited to act until after our navy was crushed.’

Cole said nothing, settling instead on a non-committal shrug. He wasn’t about to voice treason against the Tyrant of Dorminia in the middle of a crowded market. He wasn’t stupid.

The woman leaned in close to him and her voice became a whisper. ‘I lost my husband to the Black Lottery four years ago, you know. He was a brave man.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘There aren’t many like him around these days. Men prepared to take a stand.’

Cole puffed out his chest and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. If only you knew , he thought. If only you knew .

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he lied. ‘I’m sure your husband and I would have had much in common.’ He gave her a winsome grin, and was rewarded with a shy smile in response.

‘How did you come by those bruises?’ she asked, placing a gentle hand to his face. He felt his body respond and shifted uncomfortably.

‘Let’s just say the Watch and I don’t always see eye to eye,’ he replied. He couldn’t resist giving her a conspiratorial wink. She looked thoughtful and bowed her head.

He noticed abrupt movement in the corner of his vision. One of the tradesmen the woman had been speaking with was suddenly grabbed from the back. His surprised face was visible for a split second before he disappeared behind the mass of humanity. There was a yelp, cut off as suddenly as it had begun, and then a young woman was also forcibly removed from the throng, her arms flailing before she faded from view.

A worried murmuring spread. Faces glanced left and right and behind them. Two more people were suddenly pulled from the crowd: an old woman and a man of middling years.

A dark foreboding seized Cole. He stared at the woman opposite him. She frowned as if trying to figure out some puzzle. Her eyes had changed. The wetness was gone. There was no tender recollection there, no earnest longing. They were as hard as stone.

‘I can’t work this one out,’ she said, and it took Cole a second to realize her words had been directed at someone behind him. He spun around to find a large man dressed in commoner’s garb looming over him, preparing to grab his arms. He was about to go for the dagger concealed in his sleeve when he felt a prick on the back of his neck and suddenly his body refused to listen to his brain. He was completely paralysed. Even his chest protested at drawing breath.

Cole listened to the sound of air whistling through his nose as the woman moved to stand in front of him. She held a hairpin in one hand, its pointed tip glistening red. With her other hand she removed a stud from her right ear, which had been hidden underneath her hair. Both adornments glowed softly.

‘Magic!’ he tried to exclaim, but nothing issued from his frozen mouth save for an unintelligible moan.

‘What shall we do with him, Goodlady Cyreena?’ the burly male asked.

The woman stared at Cole as she might an insect that had performed an interesting trick. ‘My earring could not read his thoughts,’ she said. ‘This has never happened before. Carry him to the safehouse on Kraken Street. I would experiment.’

Davarus Cole struggled with all his strength, but the best he could manage was to close his eyes. The day had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.