They could be on their way east to one of the Free Cities by now. He doubted any of them could compare to this sprawling, stinking place – but they were well within the Unclaimed Lands, where no Magelord held sway and magic wasn’t contraband as it was in the Trine. The dagger at his belt would fetch a chieftain’s ransom from the right people.
But no. Instead he’d been unmanned by the bloody fool who was now writhing around at his feet.
Jerek had spotted him. He was sitting in the dingiest corner of the tavern, hunched over his beer, casting dark scowls at anyone foolish enough to meet his gaze. His bald head reflected the torchlight, giving him an angry red glow. His eyes narrowed further as Kayne stalked over.
‘Time to go, Wolf. I had a run-in with the local authorities. They’ll be all over this place like a rash within the hour.’ He waited expectantly as his friend slowly drained his cup and refilled it from the pitcher in the centre of the table.
Jerek looked up at him briefly. Then he raised his cup and drained it again. ‘Who the fuck’s that?’ he asked in his gruff, rasping voice, slamming the cup down and nodding at the youth across the tavern. His tone was almost conversational. An ominous sign.
Kayne sighed. Might as well get this over with. ‘The lad? He was about to be murdered by a couple of those bastards with the red cloaks. They told me to step aside. I weren’t that way inclined.’ He waited patiently for the outburst he knew was coming.
Jerek stood up suddenly. He wasn’t a tall man by Highlander standards, though he was plenty broad. Fire danced in his dark eyes as he stared at the boy. He stroked his short beard, which was black and shot through with grey. The stroking became a tug. His mouth began to twitch. Here it comes, Kayne thought.
‘Fucking unbelievable!’ the Wolf growled. He slammed his fists down on the table, upsetting the pitcher, which tumbled off the edge and spilled its contents on the floor. He reached behind him and drew his twin hand axes.
The Wolf gestured at the boy with a shake of his left axe. ‘That cunt? Who’s he? Nobody. Let him die. Makes no difference to us. You had to go and get involved, didn’t you? Thought we’d done well. Made it here alive. Looked forward to a night of drinking. Well deserved. Can’t say it ain’t, all the shit we’ve been through. Planned to get myself some pussy tonight, did you know that? Don’t look that way now, does it? Always the hero, that’s you. I’ve had it with this shit. I’m fucking tired.’
Kayne waited patiently for Jerek to finish his rant. The Wolf might be the angriest person he’d ever met in a world full of angry men, and he might be quick to draw blood when a calm word was all that was needed to defuse a situation, and he might have a tendency to alienate just about anyone who spent more than five minutes in his company, but at the end of the day he was the closest friend he had ever had. You take the rough with the smooth, as his father always used to say.
Jerek had stopped to draw breath for a moment. The old Highlander seized his chance. ‘Calm, Wolf. We’ll steal a couple of horses and ride east to the Unclaimed Lands. We’ll be there inside a couple of days. See this?’ He drew the glowing dagger from his belt and held it up. ‘Magic. Belonged to our friend over there. I reckon it will fetch us thirty gold spires. Maybe more.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Didn’t you say you were desperate for female company? You’ve been drinking for the past three hours. Plenty of whores over in the corner there.’ He pointed to the opposite end of the tavern where a small group of scantily dressed women were attempting to solicit business.
Jerek scowled. ‘Fancied a drink first. Can’t a man wet his whistle? I’d empty this tavern’s cellar and still do ’em all raw and you fucking know it, Kayne. Impugning my manhood. The front on you.’ The Wolf’s grip on his axes tightened and his knuckles turned white.
‘Nothing meant,’ said Brodar Kayne hurriedly. ‘Just an observation. Let me have a quick word with the owner of this joint and then we’ll be out of here.’
He moved over to the bar, where