Bard: Chapter 3

“Welcome to Ford,” Laura said dryly, spreading her arms wide over the muddy streets and weather-beaten buildings of the river town. It was a big place, but not well kept. There were cleaner areas to the north where wealthy merchants and travelers booked passage on ferries, but more often a person found space on a barge near the warehouse district, which is where they had led Trista. “Best of luck to you. Goodbye.”

Grabbing Liam by the arm, she strode away from Trista, putting as much space between them as possible. Just because the girl hadn’t killed them in their sleep didn’t mean they weren’t in danger every second she was near. Laura was glad to be rid of her, even if they were walking away without getting paid.

“We could at least see her to a barge,” Liam protested.

“She can see herself to a barge,” Laura snapped, “and talk her way onto one, I imagine.”

“She helped us.”

“And we helped her, without getting paid,” Laura pointed out. “We took her as far as we said we would, and now we’re done.” She turned to meet his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest again, but didn’t. “Thank you,” she said.

Liam didn’t respond, he was staring into space over her shoulder, jaw clenched.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to see what he was looking at, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and started leading her down a different street.

“We need to leave,” he said urgently, tugging his hood up.

“Leave Ford?” Laura asked, craning to see over her shoulder. Nothing stood out behind them that she could see, but that didn’t mean anything. She could feel the tension in her brother’s arm, and it rattled her. In the two years since they’d found each other again, and traveled together, she had never seen him afraid. There were places he preferred to avoid, and she assumed it had something to do with what had happened during their time apart, but he had never elaborated. The look in his eyes now, as he led her through the streets and alleys of Ford, taking turn after turn like he was trying to shake a tail, made him look all too much like prey.

“Who are we running from?” she asked.

“Some people I used to work with,” he replied tersely. He looked back over his shoulder, and Laura turned with him. They nearly walked headlong into a pair of sell-swords coming out of a tavern.

“Well now, look here!” one exclaimed, and the other grinned.

“Hello Liam.”

Liam shifted his hand from Laura’s shoulder to her wrist and took off running the other direction, skidding to a halt almost immediately as three more men appeared just ahead of them. Now that she as looking, Laura could see a number of armed men who had their eyes trained on the two of them. She saw Liam reach for his swords, but of course the bandits had taken them. He turned them down an alley, building up to a dead sprint, only to be blocked at the other side by a man with a club who towered over both of them.

“None of this fuss,” he said blandly, tapping the club against his hand. “No one wants a fight.”

They turned back, but the other men had filled the alley behind them. Liam’s breathing was quick and uneven. Laura drew her knives.

“No,” Liam grabbed her wrist again. “Just run.” He leapt at the big man with the club, grappling him around the waist and driving him to one side. Laura bolted out of the alleyway, but it didn’t take a moment to realize that Liam wasn’t behind her. The big man him pinned to the wall by the throat, his feet just barely touching the ground.

“Here we are, out fishing, and we find something we weren’t even looking for!” one of the other thugs stepped forward, grinning widely as he wound a rope around Liam’s wrists. “The boss is going to be very happy.”

Laura threw one of her smaller daggers at him, catching him in the shoulder. He fell back, cursing and she flew at the big man, he barely flinched.

“Run!” Liam grunted, straining at the rope against his wrists. Laura ignored him.

“Get off him!” she shouted, her heart pounding. She delivered a kick to the big man’s groin, but he only let out a sound like a bark and doubled over, he did not let go of Liam.

Others lunged for her, grabbing her by the wrists and elbows and lifting her off her feet. Liam howled.

“Leave her!”

“Looks like we’ve got an extra catch!” one of the men cheered. Someone pulled a bag over Laura’s head and they were dragged through the streets towards the water. She kicked and shouted, but was only met with laughter and the occasional jab to her ribs. She heard the river, sounds like the inside of a warehouse, boots stomping on wood, then her arms were pinned into cuffs above her head, and the sack was pulled away.

It looked like an office, with a desk, a coal stove in the corner, and a table in the middle of the room that had a disturbing number of straps and chains on it. Several of the men were wrestling Liam to the table. He fought like a wildcat, but there were too many thugs on him. They made short work of stripping him right down to his smallclothes and strapping him, facedown, to the table.

“Now, what is all this ruckus?” A new man appeared in the doorway, dressed like a wealthy merchant instead of a thug, all tailored wool, with a ruby pin at his throat. His eyes fell on Liam and he grinned. “Well, well, well…”

Liam blanched, his body going rigid against the table. Laura felt sick, it wasn’t fear on her brother’s face, but despairing, abject horror. The merchant clapped his hands and the men backed away from the table and from Laura.

“Who do we have here?” the merchant asked, gesturing towards Laura with his eyes fixed on Liam. “There is a striking resemblance.”

“Leave her alone,” Liam croaked out.

“Obviously, I’m not in the business of kidnapping,” he chuckled, spreading his hands. “All my property comes to me through honest means.”

“Who the hell are you?” Laura demanded.

“Goodness, we haven’t been introduced, have we?” the man smiled slyly before turning his full attention on Laura. There was something slippery and sinister in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. “I am known as Vultan. A pleasure,” he made a short bow before extending his hand, “and you are?”

“The one who’ll stick a knife in you if you lay a hand on my brother,” Laura spat. Vultan only smirked.

“I see manners run in the family,” he said primly, pressing his palms together as if greatly aggrieved. “You know I do hate these kinds of barbaric practices, but I have a reputation to maintain, you understand. If I don’t enforce my own rules, no one would take them seriously.” He turned to face Liam again, “Your brother broke a very important rule when he ran off.”

“Which one was that, exactly?”

“No one steals my property,” Vultan hissed. He made a jerking motion with his hands and one of the thugs leapt forward to pull an iron from the wall and set it in the coals of the stove. Liam flinched, but said nothing.

Laura seethed, but Vultan wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He circled the table where Liam lie bound, examining him like a buyer looks over a horse. She wanted to be sick, to scream, to drive a knife through the bastard’s throat, but the cuffs around her wrists were tight enough to bite into her skin.

“So, now that I have my property back, I’ll mark it,” he said smiling coldly, stopping to take Liam by the chin and force his gaze up, “so you’ll be easier to catch next time.”

Laura let out a string of curses, hurling herself against the cuffs without success and kicking at Vultan, who remained just out of reach. Vultan took a deep breath in through the nose, as if savoring her fury, and laughed.

“She’s a feisty one, your sister,” he commented. “Are you sure we can’t make some sort of deal? I’ll take her in trade.”

“Leave her, alone,” Liam growled, his voice cracking.

“Boss!” another thug exclaimed from the doorway, pushing past the others and dragging Trista by the arm. “I found the other one he was with!”

Trista’s eyes went wide as she took in the two of them, bound, Laura furious and Liam terrified. Her gaze flicked to Vultan and her shoulders went back. Vultan’s narrowed his eyes, his lips twisting into another slippery smirk.

“My, my,” he said happily. Then, clapping his hands again, “Everyone out. I’ve private business to attend to with this lot.”

The thugs looked confused, but obeyed without question. As the last of them stepped out, Vultan brushed past Trista to bolt the door behind them. Then he turned with a flourish, taking her by the hand and kissing her fingers.

“To which house do I address my regards?” he asked grandly. Laura opened her mouth to call Trista any number of choice expletives, but the girl had already pulled her hand free and stepped back from Vultan. She lowered her hood, and Vultan took a step back as well, his arrogant expression falling away.

“All glory to House Infernal,” he said solemnly, laying a hand over his heart like a knight addressing their king. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“You’ve kidnapped my traveling companions,” Trista said, and the transformation in her demeanor was striking. Laura would have actually believed her to be some sort of haughty rich girl who was accustomed to getting her way without question. “I want them back.”

“With all due respects, my lady, the girl I return gladly, and with gifts!” Vultan said, adding with a tone of deep regret, “but the boy is my property. I paid ten gold pieces for him. I will gladly give you any of my other mercenaries to replace him.”

“No,” Trista said quickly. “I want Liam, not one of your mercenaries.”

“A compromise, perhaps,” Vultan offered plaintively. “The boy must be branded for his theft—I have a reputation to uphold—then I return him to your service, as a gift.”

“I want him unharmed.” Trista’s cold confidence wavered. Vultan looked taken aback.

“Unharmed?” His eyes narrowed, then he threw back his head and laughed. Turning away from Trista, he walked to the stove and pulled the poker free, examining the glowing brand at its end. Reaching up with his free hand, he unclasped the ruby at his throat and the illusion masking him fell, revealing a creature with the same horns and scales as Trista, but bone white all over, his eyes black as ink. “I didn’t know your house had a sense of humor, cousin.”

“I mean it!” Trista said, moving between Vultan and Liam. “Leave him be!”

Vultan’s smile vanished. “You can’t be serious,” he said bluntly.

“I am.”

He took a step closer, looking down his nose at her, eyes narrowed and contemplating. Laura felt her blood run cold. All the deference and cautious courtesy he had put on drained from his demeanor.

“No, I think I will brand him, and ship him to the nearest fighting pit to win me as much gold as he can before he dies,” Vultan said, his gaze unwavering. “You can have the girl when I’m done here.” He moved to push past her and Trista forced herself back in front of him.

“Stop!”

“Make me,” Vultan hissed, and Trista blanched. She swallowed hard, and trembled, but did not move out of the way. Vultan chuckled. “You can’t can you? You’re the runt—the runaway.”

When Trista didn’t reply, Vultan turned away from her and reached up the release the cuffs holding Laura. She flew at him, clawing for his unnatural eyes, but he spoke before she could touch him.

“None of that,” he said, his words heavy and present the way Trista’s had been in the woods. “Take this.” He held out the brand and Laura took it from him, her limbs moving against her will. She wanted to throw the brand across the room, to beat him with it, but her body no longer responded to her impulses. She stood, outwardly calm, her arms at her sides, waiting for the next command. Vultan stood aside gesturing to where Liam lie bound. “Brand him for me, somewhere visible.”

“No!” Trista moved between Laura and Liam. Laura took a step forward and Trista grabbed hold of the glowing brand as if it were nothing, pushing back against her.

“Such fuss!” Vultan exclaimed irritably. “Boy, tell them you deserve to be branded.”

“I deserve to be branded,” Liam said, his voice eerily level.

“Tell them you’re a disobedient dog, who needs to be branded.”

“I’m a disobedient—”

“Enough!” Trista snapped, her eyes going black. Liam fell silent, and Laura flung the iron away, lunging for the table and yanking at the straps that held Liam down.

For just a moment, Vultan showed a flicker of fear, but in the next moment Trista squeezed her eyes shut and held her hands to her head. He laughed, pushing her aside and turning back to Laura.

“Girl—” he began, Laura felt her muscles seize, but Trista cut him off

“No!” she shouted. “Leave them alone!”

“You can’t overpower me,” Vultan sneered at her, “and I will have what I paid for. You are only delaying the inevitable.”

Trista shook, then, taking the iron up from the floor, she yanked down the collar of her dress and pressed the still hot brand to her own chest.

At first, nothing happened, and Vultan rolled his eyes.

“Such dramatics!” he declared, turning away and striding over to lean against his desk. “We don’t burn, cousin.”

“I can burn if I want to,” Trista growled, and after a moment she cried out and the smell of burned flesh began to fill the room. Vultan quirked a brow, pushing off the desk and wandering forward to see what she was doing. Laura felt her muscles gradually relax, and as soon as she had them back she went to work on the straps again. By the time Trista let the brand clatter to the floor, she had Liam free.

“And what is this meant to accomplish?” Vultan asked, pointing lazily at the angry mark Trista was covering with her dress again.

“You have a reputation to maintain,” she rasped, grimacing as the cloth rested on the burn. “It won’t mean anything to humans, but a member of House Infernal wearing your mark would be worth ten gold pieces, I expect.”

“I can’t keep you,” Vultan scoffed. “Runt or no, your matron would flay me and devour my remains.”

“Just the same,” Trista said, and he nodded slowly.

“Very well,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Since they mean so much to you.”

Liam tugged his clothes back on, just shy of scrambling, and Laura kept herself between her brother and Vultan, but the creature no longer showed any interest in them. He replaced his ruby, putting on the face of a well-to-do merchant again, and took a seat at his desk, propping his feet up and making a shooing motion with his hands.

“Get out of my sight,” he said irritably, “before I change my mind.”