Unforgivable Page 14

  “We have a problem, come with me.” His tone was hard.

  Sofia’s unease redoubled at his dark look and tone, but she quickly dismissed the idea that she had been figured out. If they had, Talamar would have killed her in her sleep. She followed him out into the den of the worn-down house where Zindelo, Harman, the large gypsy from Fiddler’s Market and a few others were in the midst of a deep discussion.

  “So this is the outsider bitch.” The bulky gypsy grinned, looking up. “She’s cute - almost cute enough to forget she isn’t one of us.” He winked her way. “Bet I could make her one of us.”

  “Shut your mouth, Malrik.” Harman snapped. “We have a serious problem on our hands.”

  “What is going on?” Sofia asked, the growing tension in the room making her uneasy.

  “Our little display in the market has caught the attention of the King Delafon himself, it would seem.” One of the other long braided haired gypsies said.

  “Horseshit!” Herman growled in protest. “It is because of you two,” his eyes shifted sharply from Zindelo to Sofia. “It is because of your stupidity - going after the guards…That drew the King’s attention.”

  “The guards that killed my brother, you mean!” Zindelo snapped back in defence.

  “Your head is thick you daft fool. Their time would have come and revenge would have been realised for your brother. We would not have let such a thing go - you should know this.” Herman muttered. “But you acted like a child and now...” He threw his hands up in aggravation.

  “We do not have time for this squabble. What’s done is done.” Talamar interjected. “I fear this will not be something that just goes away. Not without serious repercussions.”

  “Aye, the King would not have sealed the gates and halted all comings and goings of the city for something he didn’t plan on dealing with strictly.” An older gypsy added, from his position against one wall.

  “Seems a drastic move over what happened.” Sofia cut in, “there may be ulterior motives and events you know nothing of...”

  “Maybe it has nothing to do with us?” Malrik added hopefully.

  “Wishful thinking boy.” Herman snorted, almost with amusement.

  Talamar stepped into the centre of room. “We already know it has to do with us. Word is spreading that the King seeks information on those who were involved, and anyone suspected of withholding information is to be sent to the gallows for treason. Four men were already hanged this morning for public spectacle.” He sighed. “It won’t be long until someone talks - we don’t have enough coin to bribe everyone to keep silent. Not when death is looming at their doors.”

  “Why did those bastards have to kill Boldo?” Zindelo muttered.

  “Talamar! Talamar!” Spitz bellowed out, as he ran through the group to stand in front of Talamar.

  “What is it?” All eyes were upon the boy.

  “Soldiers...” the boy wheezed out trying to catch his breath, “soldiers found me... gave me this.” He held out a roll of parchment, “told me to give it to you.”

  Talamar snatched the parchment from the boy and unrolled it, his sandy grey eyes scanning its contents.

  “What does it say?” Herman asked.

  “It says we have two days to turn those responsible for what took place in Fiddler’s Market.” Talamar dropped the note to the floor. “Or else the King’s soldiers are coming in to take them…and anyone helping them, by any means necessary.” Curses and murmurs spread through the room.

  “Well, this is just wonderful.” Herman spat, retrieving his pipe from his pocket. “Now we have the King’s guards and the Merchant’s Guild to worry about.”

  Sofia watched the gypsies argue back and forth - none of it of interest to her. She did not care about their problems, she had her own to begin to solve. Foremost, she was going to get close enough to King Delafon, to end his wretched life. She fingered her purse of Valerian - she had enough for two more nights. She wondered if Zindelo would get her more for helping him kill one of the accused guards. Even if he didn’t honour that, she was sure she could convince him. She had caught him eyeing her several times as a man would eye a woman he fancied. If she needed to, she would use that attraction to her advantage.

  Sofia slowly began to step backwards, making her way around the corner to the hallway. She would slip out and begin her own hunt, finally. With the city locked down and the royal guards patrolling the streets for those involved in yesterday’s massacre that would mean less guards within the castle itself. She smiled to herself as she slipped out the side door into the street, she may be able to use that to her advantage.

  Sofia knew her absence would not go unnoticed for long, so she made her way through Gypsy Alley quickly. She was well aware that the King seldom left the protective comforts of his stone fortress, so she would have to go to him. She needed to get near the castle so she could watch the comings and goings and begin planning to infiltrate the walls.

  Sofia was nearing the end of gypsy territory when she noticed three men stepping out to block her path. Footsteps behind her alerted her that she was surrounded already. The sound of her blades clearing their sheaths rang out.

  “I am in no mood for this.” She called to the three men in front of her, pretending to not notice the two behind. “Step aside and let me pass or your blood will stain these streets.”

  The tall, broad-shouldered man in the middle took two steps forward, his sword already in hand. “There needn’t be bloodshed my dear. All you need do is come with us, until a little situation is resolved.”

  “Somehow I doubt it is that easy.” Sofia replied snidely, her ears picking up the swift movements behind her. She spun to the side as a thick club came down - she was not fast enough and the club clipped her right shoulder. Pain and numbness spread through her arm to her fingers, like molten fire. She nearly lost hold of her blade. Her left blade came down for her attacker’s neck, but her attack fell short, as the ring of steel upon steel stung her ears.

  “I told you it did not have to be like this.” The man said his sword blocking her curved knife.

  Sofia growled her right blade stabbed out, scoring a minor hit upon the cocky man’s midsection - he barely avoided being run through. She heard the grunt of the club being lifted for another strike. Sofia dropped low and turned, her curved blades slipped behind. There was a breathless pause and then her attacker’s sudden wail of agony rang out as he fell backwards. She had hamstringed him.

  She came up and parried aside a newcomer’s swing of his club. She stepped forward to finish the bastard by opening his midsection, when once more her blade was met with interference. A sharp pain exploded through her leg as it buckled from a viscous blow from behind. Another sharp blow struck her side and she felt ribs crack as her breath was taken from her and she doubled over.

  “Stop!” The man called out and the four men still standing backed off. He crouched down low and looked at Sofia’s defeated form. “Submit calmly now and come with us - there need be no more pain.”

  Sofia wheezed - the burning pain in her side made it hard to catch her lost breath. She glared across at the cocky bastard in front of her - how she wished she could cut the smirk from his face. “Fine, I submit.” She coughed.

  His grin grew even larger. “See, now how hard was that?”

  Sofia threw herself into a sideways roll, coming up in front of one of her attackers. Her left blade disappeared up into his groin with a twist, before he could release any sound, her other tore open his throat in a spray of blood.

  “You stupid bitch!” The leader barked as he came forward.

  Sofia kicked back, the heel of her boot landed deep into his gut and he lurched forward. His sword clattered to the cobble, lost to him. Her blade hissed round, cleaving his ear from his head before he threw himself clear of her wrath.

  A well place blow across her back dropped her to all fours, another laid her low. Several more brutal blows found her, before unconsciousness did.

>   Unforgivable II

  Part Nine

  A Picture’s Worth

  Sofia opened her eyes - slowly they came into focus, her blades were slashing down wildly and she could feel the warm splatter of blood across her arms and face, yet the movements were not of her control. When her blades finally came to rest at her side, the butchered corpse of an older man with a tangle of long white hair framing his face was all she saw. His grey, lifeless eyes stared up at her in bewildered questioning. She could not place his face, yet knew she had saw him before. She turned and opened the door behind her and walked into the black void beyond.

  She woke with a gasp and tried to move but found herself tightly bound upright, to a post within what looked to be a small dusty warehouse. Panic flooded through her as she remembered what had transpired. She wiggled her arms and legs, hoping her captors left enough give in the rope for her to slip out, they hadn’t.

  “Good you finally woke up - I was beginning to grow impatient.” A stern unpleasant voice said.

  Sofia tried to turn her head to where the voice had come from, but discovered a hemp rope secured her neck tightly to the post. “What do you want?” Her tone was dangerous.

  “What do I want?” The man’s voice was patronizing as he slowly came into view and Sofia cursed under her breath. “At first, I simply wanted revenge for what you did to my hand you little wretch!” Morris held up his cotton wrapped hand. “But your face really got to me, because I have seen it before but I could not place where. So I did some looking and you know what I found out?” He pulled a small old tattered picture from his belt and held it up for her to see. “I know who you really are Sofia Willms!”

  She could feel her face turn ashen - she hadn’t seen a wanted poster of her and her father in years and had almost forgotten about them. Sofia tried to lunge for him, but her leather bindings held her firmly in place. He looked at her, and giggled - his laugh was demeaning. “So what are you going to do with me?”Morris rubbed his wounded hand as he paced in front of her, two of his henchmen just within her view. She knew one of them to be the arrogant man who had led the attack on her near Gypsy Alley. “I am truly torn between choices. One, I know King Delafon would be very happy to know the wanted daughter of the infamous Jamus Willms - or as I like to remember him, ‘The Demon of Ever-Dale’ is within his city walls. I can only imagine it is for some foolish quest to avenge your father, whom rumour has it, was finally killed.” Sofia knew the look on her face confirmed it for Morris. “I thought so. I know the King would pay very handsomely to have you at last. Yet after recent events within Fiddler’s Market - where you were seen at large participating with my gypsy adversaries - I am conflicted.”

  “I had no doings with what happened in Fiddler’s Market. I merely helped kill a guard that killed one of theirs, in exchange for Valerian.” Sofia countered coldly. “I am here for one reason and you already know it - I have no care what happens between the Merchant’s Guild and the Gypsies.”

  Morris’ smile was sinister. “That is what I was hoping you’d say. See we have something that belongs to Talamar.” He waved over his two men and between them, they dragged Zindelo’s limp body. “Don’t worry, he is not dead…yet. Though I do not envy him the headache he will have when he comes around. I think this one has taken a fancy to you, seeing as how he risked his life to try and rescue you moments after you were subdued.”

  “What do you want from me?” Sofia asked resentfully. She subdued a pang of regret for Zindelo.

  “Very good - you’re at the heart of the matter,” Morris mused, “I like that, though I should expect no less from the daughter of the Demon of Ever-Dale.”

  Sofia limped through the tavern and up the stairs, leading to her shanty room. Morris had taken her pouch of Valerian, knowing she would come back for it but had allowed her to take her blades- after all, she might need them for her task. She had left a small amount of the herb within her room in case of emergency - it was not a lot but enough to allow her a few hours of peaceful sleep, she prayed.

  There was commotion on the landing near her door - her hands instinctively touched her hilts as she crested the staircase. Two men stood near the door, next to hers. It was the room of the tavern owner whose she forgot his name. Quickly, she noticed all doors on the floor were wide open and her heart nearly skipped a beat.

  “By the Gods there ye be.” The owner beamed almost excitedly. “Haven’t seen ya in a while and feared the worst for ye.” He stopped and looked her up and down at the cuts and bruises that riddled her exposed skin. “Seems maybe the worst found ye after all. Ye be alright?”

  “The worst found me, but bit off more than it could handle.” She replied with a hint of humour, as she eyed within her room and was relieved to see nothing had been touched.

  “Well may the gods be praised for that much. Sadly the same can’t be said for poor Henry here.” The tavern owner’s eyes looked back into the room beside hers.

  Sofia moved closer and looked within the room - a bloodied body of an older man laid across the bed. Deep, vicious lacerations crisscrossed his body in a wild manor of savagery.

  “When I came to collect more coin from him I found him long dead, so I had to check all the rooms. I touched nothing in yer room, ye have my word, just had to make sure ye weren’t rotting in there as well.”

  Sofia nodded her understanding and stepped back as two men carried the body out of the room the bloodied sheet he had died upon wrapped around him. As they passed by the sheet slipped revealing a set of milky, grey eyes enshrouded by a tangle of white hair. A violent image of that very man flashed through her mind and she stumbled back against the wall.

  “Damn it, ye two be more careful!” The tavern owner barked out grabbing the sheet and pulling it back over the Henry’s body. “Sorry about that, gruesome sight for a woman to be witnessing.” He gave her a sympathetic look, such as one a father would give a daughter, and then quickly followed the two men down the stairs to ensure his other patrons were not subjected to the same fate.

  Sofia shifted uneasily into her room, closed the door and quickly locked it. She rested herself against the wall, her legs were trembling - she feared they would give out. She saw that man die in her dreams - by her own hands - yet she had done no such thing. She pulled her curved, bone hilted daggers from their leather sheaths and held them in front of her. The blades on them were becoming worn and in several places small nicks marred the edges, testament to their use. Another vivid flash assaulted her memories and her arms instinctively slashed her blades down as if he had been lying in front of her. Both blades slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor her hands shaking to furiously to hold them any longer. Had I truly killed Henry, or was it just coincidence? She slumped to the floor, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.

  Sofia crawled across the floor and hauled herself onto the bed; her eyes instinctively went to the small amount of Valerian she had left on the tabletop. She had no time to worry about what really happened to Henry - she had her hands full and needed to stay focused. Zindelo was in the hands of the Merchant’s Guild and they were going to turn him in to the King, as one of the perpetrators of Fiddler’s Market.

  She had no intention of going to Talamar yet. She would wait until morning when he would have no time to think. He would simply have to act, and that would work in her favour. She felt a pang of guilt for Zindelo, but his sacrifice was his own and she would use it to her advantage to get to King Delafon.

  Sofia lit the candle and began brew the small amount of Valerian she had left, she would need her wits about her fully tomorrow if she was to make this work.

  “My King,” Montagu said standing within the doorway of Delafon’s private entertainment chamber. His eyes could not help but take in the twisted and licentious scene before him. He wondered who the poor girl was - likely one of the cities upper-class whores, as she looked clean and well kept.

  Delafon pulled his eyes away from the erotic display of fle
sh and blood and glared angrily at Montagu. “It is late and you know I do not like being disturbed while I am in here, Montagu.”

  Montagu tore his eyes away as another strip of flesh was cut from the unfortunate girl, her screams muffled by the wad of silk, stuffed in her mouth. “I know my King and you know I would not disrupt you if it was not of the highest importance.”

  “Then speak quickly.” Delafon turned back to the sexual exhibit, his arousal increasing. He pushed down on the male servants head, pushing him further down on his cock as he watched the masked man thrust wildly into the bloodied victim.

  “Master Morris is here to see you...”

  Delafon held up his hand, silencing Montagu sternly. “Pull her hair so she arches her back, and then start cutting that pretty little face of hers.” Delafon grabbed a thick handful of the male servant’s long hair and force him up and down, quickly gagging him. “I care little for whatever it is Morris wants of me right now.”

  “Morris claims to have Sofia Willms…the notorious daughter of the Demon Of Ever-Dale, within his grasp.”

  Delafon stood up abruptly throwing the servant aside, as he hastily restrung his leggings. “Kill the bitch and clean up the mess.” He turned back to Montagu. “Take me to him now!”

  Unforgivable II

  Part Ten

  Delicate Things

  Sofia limped up the stairs and into the house behind the two armed gypsies, who were escorting her to Talamar. Even in the middle of the night, she had not made it far into Gypsy Alley, before they were upon her. With the threat of the King’s men they were watching their borders very closely.

  “So, look who decided to come back.” Talamar commented, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  “Not much by choice.” Sofia replied, rubbing her swollen leg as she fought with which words to use…how to tell him what had occurred. The knife wound Boldo inflicted seemed nothing in compared to what Morris’ men had done with their clubs, she had truly been surprised that it had not been broken. Her ribs also ached - she was sure they were broken, but bindings seemed to be helping.