Hugh Cook - The Wordsmiths and the Warguild

Cromarty drew to meet his challenge.

"This is the end, methinks methinks," said Cromarty, closing with him. "So it's goodbye little Tog-Tog."

Steel against steel, they clashed, slashed, lunged, parried. Panting, they thrust and counterthrust, dared for a blink, hacked, countered, feinted, tried for a scalp.

"Blood his eyeballs, Crom!" screamed one of the mobsters.

"Bollock him!"

"Rivet him!"

"Into him, Crom!"

"A throat tattoo! Teach him!"

Then Cromarty slipped. Togura put in the boot. Cromarty went backwards. Togura stamped all the wind out of him, then grabbed him, knife to throat.

"Yield!" hissed Togura, digging his steel in just a little deepr than a tickle. "Yield!"

Cromarty slowly got his breath back. He croaked:

"I yield."

"Good," said Togura.

And stood, and sheathed his knife. Cromarty's sidekicks promptly grabbed him.

"Let go!" shouted Togura, kicking, punching, wriggling, scratching, biting – all to no avail.

"Good," crooned Cromarty, mustering up a smile. "Very good. What shall we do with him?"

"Throw him over Dead Man's Drop," suggested one.

"An excellent idea!" said Cromarty, beaming.

Togura started to scream with hysterical panic as they carried him through the streets to Dead Man's Drop. Nobody took any notice – private quarrels, after all, were private quarrels.

They reached the Drop.

"Take off his boots, boys," said Cromarty.

They took them off.

"Hold him over the edge," said Cromarty.

Togura was held.

"Watch," said Cromarty, with sweet satisfaction in his voice.

He lofted first one boot then the other into the air. They went sailing down, falling away to the pinnacles far below. Togura, sick with fear, vomited weakly. His whole body was trembling.

"Please don't," he begged. "Please please please don't. I'll do anything!"

Cromarty tore the green bottle from Togura's belt, where it had been tied on with twine. He threw that over too.

"We're brothers!" screamed Togura.

"I'm no brother of yours, son of a whore," said Cromarty pleasantly.

"Don't don't don't do it," said Togura, almost too frightened to speak. "I'll do anything."

"Will you lick my boots?"

"Yes!"

"My arse?"

"Yes!"

"Well," said Cromarty, sweetly, "I don't want any boot-licking arse-lickers in my family. Throw him over, boys!"

They began to swing Togura back and forth.

"One!" they chanted.

"Two!"

Togura moaned with terror.

"Three!"

On the word "three," they tossed Togura into the dizzy gulf. He fell, screaming. His arms flailed. His legs kicked. Down, down, down he went.

And remembered the ring!

The ting on his hand, which, if turned, would get him inside the green bottle!

Desperately, he turned it.

It didn't work!

The earth swept up to meet him.

He turned the ring again.

No good!

He went hurtling toward the slaughtering rocks.

And turned the ring. And -

The rocks came slamming toward him -

But -

"Aaah!" screamed Togura.

And walls of softly glowing green echoed his scream back to him.

He looked around, shivering. He was on his hands and knees in the green bottle. He was alive. Wasn't he? He thumped the floor with his fist. Real solid bottle-rock. He really was alive!

"By my grandfather's sperm," muttered Togura.

Then fainted.

When Togura woke, he found himself in the green bottle. Bit by bit, he remembered – reluctantly – what had happened to him. Presumably, the green bottle was still lying at the foot of Dead Man's Drop. Presumably, if he used the ring again, he would arrive outside the bottle.

And then?

Then he would either have to run away or return to Keep and kill Cromarty. At the moment, the latter course seemed infinitely preferable. He wanted Cromarty dead.

"No mercy!" shouted Togura.

Then wished he hadn't shouted quite so loudly. After all, there were at least two other people in the green bottle – the priate Bluewater Draven and the unknown warrior he had last seen drawing steel, perhaps with murderous intent.

Those two were dangerous.

On the other hand…

They might just possibly prove to be an asset.

If he met them, Togura would have to explain a number of things. First, why he had concealed the ring from Draven. He could say he had swallowed it, and had only recovered it shortly before using it. Second, why he had left Draven in the bottle. He could say he had been captured (and tortured, and cut to pieces and resurrected afterwards) by people on the Lesser Teeth. Third, why they should help him. He could say he could reward them with his inheritance when he became baron, which was true enough.

As plans went, it was a little shaky.

Still, if Draven turned murderous, Togura could always bring him to heel by mentioning the dralkosh Yen Olass Ampadara. That had brought him to order once, and might well do so again.

And, whatever the dangers of seeking out Draven and his sparring partner, it was certainly much safer than trying to take on Cromarty and all his fellow murderers single-handed.

"Anyone home?" cried Togura.

Nobody answered.

"It's me!" he shouted. "Togura Poulaan! Barak the Battleman! Forester! I can explain everything!"

Still no answer.

Togura found a set of stairs and started downwards. Below, he found the remains of a storeroom. From the empty crocks, barrels and wineskins lying about, it seemed there must once have been a considerable supply of food here. Ferreting about, Togura managed to uncover a bit of smoked pork and some wine. Well – not wine exactly, more like vinegar. But it was still drinkable.

He ate.

He drank.

Then, fortified, descended.

He followed a series of stairways downwards from one level to the next, into increasingly larger chambers. After a while, he quite lost count of the number of levels he had descended.

Then, a while later, the chambers started to get smaller. What did that mean? It meant, perhaps, that he was getting near the bottom. And still no sign of the two men he was looking for, or, for that matter, any others.

Perhaps he had better go up.

The stillness and the silence within the green bottle were uncanny. Unnerving.

On the other hand, it was a long, long way up. There was nowhere the two men could have disappeared to. They had to be down below.

"Courage!" said Togura to Togura.

And, though still apprehensive, continued his descent.

He went down one last set of stairs and found himself in a small chamber which seemed to be the bottom, as there was no way out of it. Trapped in a cage built into the wall of the chamber were two men. They seemed to be dead.

"Gods!" said Togura.

At his voice, the men stirred. Snorted. Woke. One was Draven and the other was a burly stranger of middle years.

"Togura!" roared Draven. "Get us the hell out of here!"

From the vigour of the pirate's voice, Togura deduced that he had not been trapped in the cage for very long.

"Who put you in there?" said Togura, glancing about nervously.

"Nobody put us in here, boy," said the second man in the cage. "We stepped in here, and it closed on us. Say… don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I've seen you before, I think," said Togura, puzzled. "But I couldn't say when or where. Why did you get in the cage?"

"There was no cage to start with," said Draven. "Just a hole in the wall. Iwent in. Then he joined me. Then the bars caged us."

"Why did you go in anyway?"

"Oh, pigs buggeration!" said Draven. "Quit the questions and open the cage!"

"I only asked a civil question," said Togura mildly.

"Why you – "

"Silence!"

At a word from the stranger, Draven fell silent. The stranger held up a blue bottle.