I took deep, steadyin’ breath that tasted of rot and ruin. Helped center me for what must be done.

  I cracked open the crate with the pry bar.

  It took some work, and by the end of it I was bleeding again.

  Worth it though.

  An ash skinned girl with sharp ears and pink eyes was folded like a godsdamned dishtowel in that box. Stared up at me with a look that was wide, terrified, and far too old for her face young face.

  What evil had been done...

  She chattered something in language I didn't know.

  One of the locals I guess.

  "You're free," I said jerking a thumb to the door.

  She didn't seem to get it.

  Whatever. Maybe the next one would.

  I broke open another and another, letting children and young women out of the cages. All of them were the same breed of fairfolk. A bit like the elves from the islands off Kairnwoad's coast, but a little different.

  Smaller and softer. Their eyes were large and their features a touch less fine.

  I had bled through my shirt, scale vest and overcoat. Wasn't a deep wound, thanks in part to the armor, but it sure hurt.

  Opened and closed as my Ability warred with stubborn work.

  I was panting when I broke open the last box.

  A surprise this time. A young olive skinned man.

  My age, or just touch younger. One eye was swollen shut, the other big as a dime.

  Must'a beat his head in first.

  "Hey, you speak Common?" I asked, offering the kid a hand. His fingers were long and delicate, like a piano player, but his grip was strong and sure. He was a tall feller, easily down on me even as he stood.

  "Uh wha-" he wretched as he took in the light and spat sick on my boots, "what? Where am I? Oh gods... Those men."

  "Are all dead." I promised him, "Well, I think maybe the last one is just wishing he was. Moxie eats slow."

  "Moxie? Wait, where am I? Who are you?" He asked, suddenly alert.

  I gestured broadly, all around. The group of children and girls had gathered to huddle near the dock house. Out of reach of me, but not far enough away that they couldn't watch.

  "Coast. Half day up from Augustus' Hope. Seems you were taken by these bandits, what used to own the cove."

  He was quiet then, for long while as he took it all in. I sat on an empty crate. When I reached for a cigarette, the girls behind me startled a bit. A little tension eased as they saw I was just havin' a smoke.

  "You're... From the Guild then?" He finally asked, some sense and memory coming back, "My father must have put in a quest. Thank gods. You saved us."

  "Uh... Sorry kid. I am from the Guild, but I wasn't here on a real job. Just was helping out some folks I knew. Gettin' some revenge for a man who didn't deserve to die."

  I shrugged a little.

  "But hey, I'm glad to help out. I'll take any pay your dad can offer. And if not, I'll still take y'all home."

  The man looked around, and frowned.

  "How? We can't cross the desert, not with women and children in tow."

  I flicked ash toward the old boat and it's torn sail.

  "Anyone here can sow? Pilot a sloop?"

  A little girl raised her hand and spoke in a quick, high, voice.

  "Can sow! Mama knows ship." Her accent was musical, strange. Her words interspersed with her native tongue in a kind of pigeon speech. It reminded me a bit of the way the Northman from the tiaga spoke. Half Common, half in the old tongue.

  "Then you're my seamstress sweet heart. Which un's your mama?" I asked turning to the group.

  Another woman stepped forward. She was pretty, but hard and scarred.

  "Am me." She drew a finger from her forehead to her chin.

  I nodded.

  "Well alright then. Let's get this ship fixed and then we'll get all y'all to a safe place," I stood up and flicked my smoke, "and hurry, if you can. I got a job to finish in a couple of days. The longer I wait, the less bread in my hands."

  "Gold, Mister. Gold. My father will reward you as is your due. I am Ernesto Della Luna, my family is wealthy, and we do not forget our debts. You can be sure of that."

  He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned.

  "And uh, say, do anything to eat?"

  I laughed and pointed to the boat, "Some salt pork in the hold I'd wager. Got any insight as to where these ladies come from? Are they going to want to go back to the city, or is there a better place to take 'em?"

  Ernesto frowned, "I'm not sure, but I can try to find out. Let deal with this. I am an honorable man. If they can be sent back to the Outcast villages, I will see it done. If not, I will see them sheltered and well kept."

  "Good. Hold you too that, mister. If find one of them kids in chains, it'll make me real sad and angry like. And you don't want to see that. Now I'm going to get me some loot."

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  I turned to climb up the stairs but the young man stopped me.

  "May I have your name. It is not every day one meets a true caballero in the sands."

  I sucked my teeth and spat.

  "I'm just Roche. Don't call me a good man, I ain't that," then I turned, and climbed the stairs.

  While they freed slave set about fixin' their own way home, I filled my pockets with good gold and bank notes. Hartwell and his crew did something like legitimate business in the city, likely most of their wealth was in a bank, safe and sound. Still, they kept nearly fifty gold on hand. Likely for transactions better left off any honest book.

  While ransacking the boat house I also availed myself of the various affects left behind by the slaver's leader.

  He was a bit too tall and broad for most of it to fit, but the man had taste, that was for sure. I came out in a new coat. This one was double breasted and a deep, dark green.

  Monster hide.

  The hat I selected was just normal straw, but died a deep green to match.

  A fine pair of boots, just barely to big for my size. I stuffed a few paper bills to fill them out, and walked down with swagger, and pride.

  "Mama, green man!" shouted a young boy, jabbing a bony finger at my direction.

  The seamstress and her girl stopped their work on the sail, just long enough to look me over and nod. The woman rattled something off in the Outcast tongue. I think Outcast was the polite word, Unwanted was just more common, and more cruel.

  She gave a toothy grin as the boy scampered back.

  "You look a bit like the-" she tossed her messy dark hair, searching for a word, "the green man. Father of the forest. Our protector. He is a god to the tribes."

  I tipped my brim, "an honor then. You lot going to be able to set out? I need to fetch my pig and move along."

  She shook her head, "Not yet. By morning."

  "She's right, caballero Roche. We will be fine I think. This sloop is in better repair than it looks. Minus the man-shaped hole," Said Ernesto, his teeth to white, too straight for someone born in the dune sea, "and I've spoken to the women. Most of them will take jobs in my home, for the rest, well, I'll do what I can."

  I nodded, "Good. Then I wash my hands of it. I'll be riding out for a dig site up North. You can talk to Tawny at the Guild if you really mean to say your thanks."

  I wasn't cut out to play triumphant hero, to linger in the sun.

  So I wouldn't.

  "Then I wish you luck, and hope the Gods smile on your path," he said with a short bow, "farewell Mister Roche. Know that you will have a grateful friend in the city when you return."

  I hid my sneer. You barely knew who I was. I'd put a bullet in your head too, if I had the right reason.

  "See you 'round." I gave a wave to the children. Then I just left.

  I found my Moxie, snout deep in what vaguely resembled the lower half of a man. Blood and char was caught in her bristles, ivory tusks dyed ugly red.

  Judging by the dirt worked into cooked muscle and the long dark streak in the sand behind her, Moxie had done just as told.

  "Good girl, now leave the rest of that for the gulls," I said, and began to pull her away from the meal.

  As I was tying on my saddlebags, I took note of the way she kept making a deep, rumbling sound. Like the purring of a cat. That wasn't normal behavior for a hog, but then, I guess my monstrous mount merely mimicked one.

  By the time the sun was low, were had run halfway to the site. Or so I reckoned by my soggy map and rusty compass.

  Nothin' but the dunes and wind, and the faint pull of mana.

  As I lit a low fire and sat up against a tall rock, I watched the spirits come to visit. They spoke and they chattered. They laughed and cried. All manner, all shapes, all wandering far and wide.

  A few reminded me of the Outcast folk, short, dark, ears tapered to a point. Others were pale, like northern men. They seemed to find me, or at least, the strange mana that was now a part of me, enticing. They sat at the edge of my blessed fire. Warmed spectral hands and muttered inaudible thanks.

  I set up a pot, and shooed away the ghost of small, jumping rats. After a missed breakfast and a hard fight, I was hungry for something hearty and good. Proper nutrition would be important if I wanted my leg to fully heal.

  Over the course of the ride the bone seemed to have mended well, but I also noticed the scarce fat on my frame was a good bit less.

  The bullet hole meanwhile had simply disappeared.

  Power had a cost, and i had to make sure I could pay.

  Oil started to smoke and Moxie snorted the scent in. When two strips of salted pork hit the pan along with some rough cut vegetables, the smell became heavenly and my friend looked on in open gluttony.

  "You ate half a man for lunch, you greedy pig. This is my dinner," I chided as I added some mashed beans and spices to the pan. I let it all fry together in the rich fat and ate it, still steaming hot, off the end of a wooden spoon.

  Almost like mama used to make. Just missing a touch of devil peppers and a fistful of garlic.

  Still, it was the best thing I'd eaten in a while.

  Before sleep, I checked my book.

  Name: Lorcan Roche

  Patron: Kraken

  Path: Desperado

  Stage: 1 (91%)

  A big jump in progress. Some that must have come from more than killing Hartwell. The Bastard in the dream was always cryptic and vague, but his words had hinted that more than violence would bring rewards.

  Speaking of which...

  Task Available

  Customer: Divine

  Description: Kill Thomas Hartwell and his gang.

  Reward: Luck, in whatever you do next.

  Status: Complete. Reward has been dispensed. A bonus has been allocated for your cruelty, Desperado.

  Wonder if the reward was the coin I'd found, or my meeting with young master Ernesto? I could see either, but in future I'd prefer more discrete payment from begging Gods.

  And that second line?

  Ominous.

  To say the least. What would a god who praised brutality see as a 'bonus' for a man like me?

  There were plenty of stories of Divine and Entropic gifts manifesting in unexpected, and unwanted ways. To some beings, immortality or boundless knowledge was equally a curse, or a blessing.

  Guess I'd find out soon enough.

  With that worry in mind, I set my head to a makeshift pillow. My coat stuffed with a spare shirt and the paper money of the dead slaver boss.

  Felt like a cloud, after the day I'd had.

  I didn't sleep a goddamn wink.

  I was still thinkin' about them cages. Of all the ghosts of what had been. I couldn't get it out of my head that anyone could do that. It was easy to pretend it weren't nothing with all them folk around. But out here in the dark?

  Just me, in my head? It was a non-stop train of thought. A circle of anger, fear, and dread. I knew the slavers deserved to die, that was the easy part to reckon. I was just so damn pissed they'd all passed so easy. I should draw it out next time, just like I did with the boss. I peel 'em, salt 'em, and set 'em to burn.

  I should make life a little piece of hell, just as they had done...

  Moxie snorted and huffed. She pawed the ground next to me, snout and tusks poking into my face, trying to wake me from the dark thoughts.

  "Wha- Stop! Hey, hey, I'm up!" I slapped her away and she grunted, "never even got to sleep thanks to all your fartin' and snorin'. You got a sleep problem, pig..."

  Even though I complained, it felt like I'd been plucked from icy water. Saved from drowning in my own thoughts of mortal sin.

  Thanks, Moxie. Maybe you'll keep me sane, or at least a little less mad.

  Eggs. Dirt and honey I called coffee.

  The open road, well, open dunes.

  I was riding into the dawn. A cold breeze on my back. A pack full of gold in my bags, and a hungry hog on the road ahead. When kicked up a storm, going east around a high mound, into the rising sun.

  I tried to leave a little of that darkness I still felt behind. To let blow away like the ashes of my camp.

  I had to focus on the moment. On what I needed to do next.

  And that next?

  Well it nearly hit me full in the face.

  A single comment will put me in freeze dried chicken just long enough to write the next chapter.

  And you want that, right?