Page 13 of Stolen Fates
The third one, the tallest of the three with a mass of black curls, spat on the floor. “Like we care. You have a problem, asshole? Wanna take it outside?” His show of confidence suggested he was the leader of the group.
The entire tavern seemed to pause, anticipating Nik’s reaction.
Nik’s grin broadened, and he gestured towards the tavern entrance. “Lead the way.”
The unexpected response unsettled the leader. He exchanged fleeting glances with his two companions before answering with a sneer. “Fine. But you asked for it.”
In the next beat, Nik seized the thug’s wrist still holding the maid and squeezed. With a hiss, the bald idiot released her, then backed away, rubbing his sore wrist while glaring at Nik.
Turning to the maid, Nik offered her a reassuring smile. “This will only take a moment.”
She gave a grateful nod, her expression still caught in shock, and he winked at her. He then followed the three men out into the street, the tavern’s lively chatter resuming and then fading behind as they headed down a darker alleyway.
Once they were away from any prying eyes and the city guards, the three men drew out their blades and snickered, convinced they’d already won. Nik squared his shoulders and locked eyes with all three in a silent challenge.
Despite being a sellsword who guarded people’s lives or their goods on the road and often found himself fighting off bandits, Nik found little pleasure in ending lives. There was nothing honourable about wielding his magic to slay others. It was a grim and messy affair that weighed on his already guilty conscience, and he couldn’t ignore how frighteningly easy it could be at times.
But once the three men saw his Gift, word would spread, attracting unnecessary attention to Nik. Attention he’d rather avoid until he was back on the road again. Too many Achaeans lived in Bruna and if they recognised him, it could spell trouble.
Still, Nik decided to give the thugs a choice. “I’ll only say this once.” He unsheathed the dagger from his belt and proceeded to flip it in the air, catching the hilt every time. “Piss off now if you value your lives, otherwise you’ll find yourselves waiting for me in Tartaros.”
Nik’s mention of the Achaean infernal underworld drew a sharp look from the leader. “You’re from Achaea.”
Keeping his emotions in check, Nik deftly flipped the dagger in his hand. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re a long way from home, asshole.” The tall thug brandished his weapon—a double-edged Rasennan legion blade. Nik would bet every last coin in his pocket that all three thugs were army deserters. “But fear not, I heard Bruna has an Achaean necropolis. I’m sure the city guards can bury you there once we’re done with you.”
In the next moment, he charged, his friends shadowing his steps.
Nik sent the dagger flying towards them and then used his Gift. Magic thrummed in the air, and he shot forward, disappearing from the view of any normal person. Nik side-stepped the leader and grabbed his Rasennan sword, thrusting it into the thug’s broad chest before his foot even hit the ground.
With his Gift of speed, the whole world seemed at a standstill. Nik zigzagged past the other two thugs, cutting them down with his own sword in quick succession.
Once he stopped running, his surroundings reverted to normal, and he caught his dagger—still in mid-air—before sheathing it again. The three thugs lifeless bodies dropped to the ground, eyes open and unseeing.
Someone gasped, drawing his attention. The tavern maid stood frozen at the entrance of the alleyway, one hand covering her mouth as she took in the scene.
Nik cursed under his breath. He’d hoped not to expose his magic to anyone besides the three thugs, but it was too late now. With a sigh, he wiped his blade on the bald one’s tunic and proceeded towards the maid.
Her wide eyes watched him approach. “The way you moved…” She swallowed, her gaze flicking over his exposed arms as if searching for a tell-tale mark etched into his skin. “Was that your Gift?”
If she’d seen him then there was no need to deny it. “Yes.”
“And you—you killed all three of them?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder at the three bodies. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”
She shook her head. “No—they deserved it. They’d been a nuisance to our customers for far too long.” She bit her lip, seeming to hesitate. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with them.”
Nik nodded, suddenly feeling justified in ridding the world of three thugs who’d preyed on defenceless women.
“Come.” He grasped her elbow, leading her away from the alley and circling back to the tavern. “We shouldn’t stick around. If the city guards find us, there’ll be trouble.”
Avoiding the crowd of late-night drunks and prostitutes hanging around the main street, Nik headed for a small courtyard adjacent to the maid’s tavern. The warm glow cast by the street torches barely touched the cobbled ground, but the full moon offered enough visibility to navigate the night’s shadows.
The woman halted by the tavern and pressed her back to the wall. Beside her, two candles flickered within a small alcove, revealing a wooden statuette and an array of dried herbs. Nik expected the alcove to be dedicated to Laran, the Rasennan god of war, who’d been everywhere in the city, but scowled when he recognised the Emperor with a laurel wreath atop his head.
Emperor Caius Tarquinius—the man responsible for all the death and destruction Nik had witnessed in Achaea as a child, and then throughout his travels. Nik had seen more statues of the Rasennan ruler in the past year than any of the gods—a blatant display of the Emperor’s excessive pride and vanity.
