Furious Scribe
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2. Hull - Big Man
🕑 Added 2023-11-04 16:23:51 +0000 UTC
Chapter 2
Big Man
It wasn’t until I had already started sprinting toward them that I caught a good glimpse of their faces, and that was almost enough to stop me in my tracks. The fat fellow on the right was Skop, and the taller, stronger one was actually a massive freak of a woman named Harker. They were two of Ticosi’s meanest enforcers, and I spent a good chunk of each day avoiding them and the others like them. Charging them was insanity.
But in the grip of the Nether, it felt right. Who were they to keep the whole Lows scared and scrabbling? Sure, they were big, but that just meant they’d hit the ground harder. I was sick of hiding, of giving up the few scraps I found for myself just because Ticosi and his thugs said I had to. I was gonna watch them bleed, and if Big Man Ticosi didn’t like it, I had a fistful of glass for him too. A ragged laugh burst out of me as I dashed toward them. I sounded completely barkers, and I liked it.
Skop’s mouth dropped open. “What you on about, squirt?” he bayed. “Gonna hurt yourself.”
Harker just settled into her knees, keeping her arms loose and free. “Come get it, little man,” she said quietly. Skop made a lot of noise, but she was the one that got things done. I’d have to hit her first. She was ready, though. I saw a white sphere spin into existence over her head and knew I was running out of time. I angled toward her and put on more speed, my last few strides more like leaps than steps.
I had two Nether overhead already, and I drew on them both as hard as I could, pulling the source directly into myself. Even without any cards to Summon, a person could still put their source to use. Each source had a different effect when channeled through the body instead of being used to summon Soul, Relics, or spells. Water let a fellow heal, Fire let him do extra damage, and Order let him pull his cards more quickly. Nether filled me with a shaking rage and made me incredibly strong. It was the only way I’d survived all these years on my own. Pulling this hard on both the sources I had out was enough to let me break bones if I hit right, even though the sources would be exhausted for a while after. Hit fast, hit hard, and get away. That was life in the Lows, and I was good at it.
The air beside Harker shimmered and misted, and then the haze contracted into a solid form. A Soldier appeared, standing out from everything around him, colors vibrant and deep like all summoned Souls.
It flexed its fists dully and stood there like a human wall, ready to do whatever it was commanded but taking no initiative – it must have been a Common. They weren’t very smart. Harker obviously didn’t think I could deal out much hurt up front, because she let the Soul stand idle and stepped forward to take me on herself. If I sidestepped her and attacked the Soldier before she gave it any direction, it’d puff into aether and be gone before it could stick that sword into me. That was the smart move, but summons don’t bleed, and with the Nether thundering in my veins, I only had eyes for Harker with her square jaw, bristling short hair, and that nasty mole under her eyebrow. She looked smug, expectant, and I wanted to see her brutish face go wide in panic and pain.
Skop, meanwhile, was still trying to wrap his idiot mind around the fact that someone was running toward them instead of away. He was stumbling back, his first Order source flickering into being overhead. I had time before he was a problem.
I ignored the Soldier summons and dove toward Harker. She grinned her mouthful of decaying teeth and opened her arms wide like she wanted a hug. Through my berserker haze I almost had to respect the crazy bitch. The tip of my broken glass bottle dug into her ribs, and it felt like digging into sandy soil with a spade. The glass tips caught, dragged, broke, and kept scraping.
Shredded cards sprayed out as my deadly bottle weapon swept past her, confetti swirling in all directions like a rich kid’s birthday celebration. I blinked, shocked at the number of cards I’d just torn out of her. I’d thought she’d have three or four at the most, but that had to be the remains of six cards at least. I hadn’t destroyed them for good – Fate in her wisdom had decreed from the beginning that a person’s cards shielded their soul, absorbing any damage the person took until they were all gone and then reappearing in their Mind Home later. A quick glance back at Harker showed her clutching at her side. I’d torn through her leather vest and dirty shirt, and a bit of blood dribbed from between her fingers…but not much. That hit should have taken her down, maybe even killed her, but I’d misjudged how many cards she had to lose, and they’d taken the lion’s share of my blow.
“Ah, shit,” I had time to say, and then I was eating her big, dirty fist. The last of the Nether I’d consumed guttered out, and I felt every last inch of the pain as my nose broke and I went skidding to the cobbles. Her Soldier Soul got in on the fun, booting me in the ribs.
“Stupid, kid,” Skop said, standing off to one side, his Order source dismissed. “You’re, uh…one a them Hook Street kids, right? Hull, ain’t it? I mean, I knew all you little shits was dumb, but that was some hash-smoker kind of stupid. What’s wrong with you?”
“Less than is gonna be wrong in a second,” Harker grunted, grabbing me by the shirt and hauling me up for another blow. “Little bastard cut me. Went right through my cards.”
Skop’s eyebrows shot up. “Serious? Damn, squirt. You oughtta be in the fighting pits. Don’t break him too bad just yet.”
I pried hopelessly at her fingers. A beating I could handle, but Skop’s words send a thrill of fear through me. Not the fighting pits. I couldn’t quite reach her hand to bite it.
“He cut me,” Harker repeated.
“I’m not telling you to give him a kiss and a cuddle,” Skop said, settling his bulk onto a barrel at the mouth of the alley. “Just make sure he can hit somebody tomorrow.”
“Right,” she said grimly. “Like this.” She opened a meaty hand and slapped me, her paw covering my ear and the whole side of my face. It was like a whole building fetched up against my head and pushed on through. I fell back to the cobbles, tasting blood and hearing colors. Maybe I should summon more Nether and hit her again. I might get lucky and make her kill me. It’d be better than going to the pits. It was an even worse idea than attacking her in the first place, but I couldn’t do it one way or the other – I’d lost hold of my two source when I went down, and if I tried to summon more, she’d just break my fingers. There was no chance.
My ear hurt worse than the rest of me. A shaking hand held to my head came away bloody. She’d done something bad when she hit me like that, but I didn’t know what.
“Now,” Harker said, squatting by me, “how about you tell us why you went and killed someone on my streets, little man?”
“Whose streets?” a quiet voice said from behind her.
My guts froze. I’d thought I was in a bad spot, but it was so much worse than I’d imagined. That was Ticosi’s voice. He was the Big Man of the Lows, and one of my primary goals in life had been to never speak to him face to face. The fighting pits would kill me, sure, but that was the least of my worries at this point. I’d be lucky to be alive in five minutes.
“Boss,” Harker said respectfully, clambering to her feet. “Didn’t know you were around.”
“I’m always around, beautiful,” he said quietly. “Even when I’m not.” Harker stepped back, bowing her head, and I got my first up-close eyeful of the man who’d once killed an entire tavern full of people because the barkeep laughed at him. He was average sized, spare of frame, and well-washed where everyone else was dirty. He looked young but was totally bald, his skin just dark enough that he could have been from east or west or anywhere in between. He wore a long coat of mismatched leather squares year-round, no matter the weather. People said it was made of human skin, and I believed them. His eyes were a pale brown so leached of color they were almost yellow, and the whites were bloodshot. His gaze fell on me, and I froze. It was like locking eyes with a snake, or maybe a vampire.
“We got this handled, Mister Ticosi,” Skop said, standing at attention. “Got us a scrapper for the fighting pits. Hits lots harder than you might think.”
Ticosi’s eyes turned to Skop, and he said nothing. He just looked at the dumpy enforcer, and finally Skop shuffled his feet and muttered an apology. The Big Man zeroed back in on me.
“If I want chaos on my streets, I’ll be the one to make it, boy. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes and hating myself for it. I was a hard man, I was, but it’d be easier to stare at the sun than lock gazes with Ticosi.
“Look at me,” he commanded in his soft, reasonable voice.
His word was every bit as compulsive as having the Nether in me. A second ago I couldn’t bring myself to pull my eyes off the cobbles, but when he said it, I had to. My guts were clenching like I’d drunk sewer water, and my breath was fast. I wanted to say something smart, something tough, but my mouth was dry and my throat hot.
“Hull. I’ve never paid you much heed. You sleep on Hook Street. You have a hidey-hole under one of the cobbles behind the tanner’s shop where you keep whatever you can get your hands on. You bring a shard to one of my men every few weeks to keep them off your back and think you’re pretty smart to hide the rest.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I felt scoured to the bone. How does he know this?
He knelt next to me, moving fluidly to my side, reinforcing the feeling that he could strike like a snake. I couldn’t help it – I shied away from him.
“I know everything in the Lows,” he told me. “But I don’t know who this man is or why you say you killed him, and I don’t like that.”
“He…” I said, and then froze, fearing that he hadn’t actually wanted me to speak.
He gestured impatiently.
I swallowed hard and tried again. “He said his name was Behar something. Taloo, maybe? Old duelist, fell on hard times and got sick.”
“And you waited for him to die.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I don’t have any cards.”
“I know you don’t.” His eyes went right through me, and I wondered how much he knew. Did he know about my mother? Did he know what was wrong with me? “There are worse things than trying to get ahead. But you must know that any cards in the Lows belong to me. What did he have?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and curled my toes inside the rags covering my feet. Steeling my aching face, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the four Basic shards. “He gambled his cards away ages ago and never leveled his own soul. This was it.”
I was careful to only let my eyes touch his for a second and then drift away. If I stared too hard or tried to act too sure of myself, he’d know I was lying. Everyone was scared of Ticosi whether they told the truth or not. I was taking an insane risk, especially with how much he seemed to know, but he’d just admitted he didn’t know everything. He was going to send me to the fighting pits anyway, and handing him the Rare wouldn’t change that.
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth, and a card appeared in his left hand, which he threw up into the air, where it formed a dripping source ball of blood-red. My muscles locked up, and I couldn’t look away. Fate and Fortune save me, he’s using his Chaos. By royal decree, even having an affinity for Chaos source was a hanging offense, but Ticosi ran the Lows. Nobody down here could touch him, and none of the rich folk up the hill seemed in a hurry to step in.
“Let’s see if you’re telling the truth,” he said.
My world exploded into confusion. My vision went jittery and my arms and legs started to quiver and jerk like they had a mind of their own. My back arched, and I bucked wildly on the cobbles. Screaming fear gripped me. I couldn’t control my body at all. I bit down hard one my tongue once, twice, and my breath sounded like a forge bellows. I was making noises, little grunts and cries, and I sounded like a madhouse inmate. My head knocked on the stones, and I saw stars. Everything hurt. Everything moved. I couldn’t think straight. It was like I’d run five miles and fought an army at the end of it. Sweat covered me, and still by body writhed and spasmed. What’s happening to me?
Then it stopped and I was gasping on the ground, bleeding from half a dozen new little cuts and feeling like I’d just survived bonebreak fever. I was exhausted. I had no idea how long it had gone on, but both Harker and Skop were staring at me in horror.
“Let’s start that conversation again,” Ticosi said, leaning close. His eyes were even more bloodshot than before. Whatever card he’d just used on me, it had done something to him, too. “What cards did you take from the old man?”
Part of me quailed, but another, deeper, angrier part of me crowed. He doesn’t know. “No cards,” I gasped. It came out as more of a sob, but that was all to the good. Maybe he’d believe it more.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a monocle. He held it up in front of me. It had green glass filling the frame. “One last chance,” he said. He didn’t change his voice at all, but the menace of what he hadn’t said hung in the air. The monocle was for sure an artifact built by one of the high-priced Artisans of the city. I’d heard the tavern jockeys talk about the Gamemaster Spectacles the referees wore in the high-folk tournaments, and this was a back-alley version of those. They let the wearer see all sorts of things about a person’s cards and magic, like what source a fellow was holding, or how many cards they held inside, or even what the cards were. He was going to peek inside me whether I liked it or not.
I held out my empty hands in a helpless gesture. I’d dropped the Basic shards on the ground. If he wanted them, he could scrabble for them himself. He could peer into my soul with his monocle all day long and see precisely shit. Unless this one showed cards that weren’t in your Mind Home but were hidden nearby. Then he’d probably just kill me.
He put the circle of brass and green glass to his right eye and looked at me hard, scanning my head and chest. Then he let it drop and looked nowhere in particular for a long moment.
“I’m disappointed,” he said quietly. “Capano is going to complain about the mess in the alley, and my sweet girl Harker is going to need bandages. You, Hull, are worth exactly two shits. No one likes you and no one will miss you.”
Some part of me felt I should be offended by that, but after everything else, I couldn’t muster much outrage at a little bald truth-telling.
He skewered me with another bloodshot look. “So I can either let Harker turn you into stew meat and never think about you again… or you can go with Skop to your hidey-hole, give him every last shard and coin you’ve hidden, and then follow him to the arena on Broad Avenue to join our fighters there.”
It was about what I expected. Ticosi didn’t end up as Big Man of the Lows by being easy on little rats like me.
“So tell me, Hull,” he said, seeming mildly curious at best, “are you someone that chooses a hard death or a harder life? Either suits my purposes.”
It took more thought than I’d like to admit, but I turned to Skop and said, “I’ll take you to my spot.”
My life had always been hard. So long as I wasn’t dead, there was still a chance to turn things around. The golden troll card was sitting snug under its cobble no more than ten feet away, undetected. Nobody expected a thief to hide a card anywhere but inside his own Mind Home. Once Ticosi let me up, all I had to do was get away from Skop to come back and fetch it. I couldn’t use Earth cards, but maybe I could trade it and find something to protect myself with.
I didn’t know how I was going to manage yet, but by the Eternal Twins, I would find a way. I was not going to the fighting pits.
