-From Canticles: 4:4-5
“So who the hells are you?” The Dwarf demanded.
Ironmantle let out a soft sigh, acknowledging his impatience with the dwarf, letting it wash over him, and forcing it to dissipate as he breathed out.
“An interested party, as I have said. I will explain when we rejoin your organization.”
He couldn’t wait for that to occur, the Dvundae woman was straining his patience. They were moving quickly enough, he supposed, even though it would have been so much faster to move through the Dark with the rest of his Fist. His nose crinkled as the flow beside them became thicker for a few yards, bubbles bursting lazily. Not to mention, less wretched.
It gives me time to plan, I suppose.
“So, you just watched as we died and chose to come in as soon as you could?” The dwarven woman asked, not hiding her distrust in the slightest.
Or it would… He sighed again.
“I wasn’t just watching. I arrived as fast as I could and helped as soon as I did.”
“Liar.” The dwarf grumbled, her boots loud on the damp stone.
“Believe what you will, I speak the truth.” He lied. This one will be a problem.
Unfortunately, he wanted her ability to make runed items, which were key to his plans moving forward. Not just his personal endeavor, but for the growth of the Estuary as a whole.
He’d have to convince the whole gaggle of children that his offer was a sound one. It would require subtlety, and a facade of transparency, and swaying the mob over the choice of their leaders. In that final regard, was sure that he was up to the challenge.
Fools and children.
Especially if he could isolate the leader, the youngest daughter and last of the Delmarva family, Rose.
Vengeance is such a lovely motivator. He knew just what information to pass on to her to get her to align with his own schemes.
They charged through one of the processing stations, slowly churning paddles and machinery lit dimly with aetherstones held in dirty lanterns. A few were missing, but with a gang of sneakthieves passing by, that was unsurprising.
Could have left less of a trace. He eyed the broken glass of two of the empty lanterns.
As was usual, the worker paid to monitor the space was out, most likely fortifying themselves with drink. A miserable job most often given to old soaks.
The dwarf stopped, and Ironmantle jogged a few more paces before he slowed as well, looking at the dwarf. She looked tense, pressing an armored finger to her lips. He examined the space. Everything seemed correct… but… wait, no…
Chair knocked over, clothesline not taken down, but snapped. And now that he thought of it, the lantern’s shouldn’t have been smashed. Not with these kids living by the skill of their trade, theft, for so long. He drew on the Dark even further, focusing on his vision and hearing. Something scraped against stone…
He spun, launching the height-rope out from under his sleeve behind them as a shambler pulled itself up and out of the inspection grate. It howled as the rope-wrapped steel ball shot through its chest. It kept coming, the grate clanging loudly in the gloom of the sewer as it fell backwards.
“Tydrik.” The Dvundae woman blasphemed, grabbing the chair and tearing off one of the long legs with brute force.
The thing resembled a person, because it had once been one. Each of the shamblers looked different, something about the specific waste products of aethereal experimentation causing the difference. This one looked like a wax figurine that had sat a little too close to a flame, hanging drips of skin jiggled as it stood tall, still howling.
It’s eyes glowing pale blue-green, and motes of weird light gathering inside it’s open maw.
Ironmantle yanked the height-rope free, and lifted his hand, ready to signal the Fist to assist them. That light was concerning. If it is one of the ones that can use magic-
CRUNCH! Delre smashed the inhuman creature to the bricks with her hunk of chair, breaking its spine with the force of it.
Ironmantle allowed for a rare smile as he spun the height-rope, twisting and letting the length slide out through his fingers so it built more momentum before stepping on the cord, smashing the weighted end into the mutant’s skull and shattering it.
Grimly the dwarf pulled out her hatchet and hacked the head clean off for good measure, tossing it into the machinery filtering the water to be ground up into paste. She left the rest of the corpse where it was. An inspection team would find it and search for how it got in, plug it up.
They looked at each other, Ironmantle spinning the height-rope and flinging it back the way they came. He didn’t care to clean it, and it wasn’t like it was expensive to make. The dwarf wiped the blade of her weapon on a shredded shirt from the clothesline, scrubbing thoroughly until it gleamed once more.
“You struck before you saw it…” Delre said.
“Didn’t like the idea of not getting a hit in.” He said, for once honestly.
“Could have been one of the others.”
“Now, now, you knew it wasn’t when you stopped. Come, before more arrive.” That howl probably carried into whatever crumbling section of the undercity that thing had crawled from.
The dwarf glared at him, but followed all the same.
At least she is capable.
Ironmantle looked at the rune inscribed bricks, feeling the warmth of them beneath his feet. The tracks of the others were easy to spot in the grime, so it was no surprise to him when they took the right fork of the Y-junction.
It wasn’t too long before they could see the lights of torches and he slowed even more, letting the dwarf get into sight first before he prowled out of the gloom, seeing that the howl of the shambler had put them all on alert.
The assassin spotted Rose instantly, she looked like her mother had, if younger.
No… She has more sharp edges than Amelia ever did. He could see it in her stance, her expression. A readiness to leap into action if needed.
That was more like her father Kilik, who had passed his freckles down to her as well.
“Del! Thank the Gods! Come on, we need to-” Rose noticed Ironmantle then and squared up to face him, hands drifting to her bow and quiver as she did.
Three arrows left. He counted the arrows out of habit, and he crossed his arms behind his back, waiting.
“Who is that?” Rose whispered, though Ironmantle was already close enough to hear with his heightened senses.
Time to plant the seed. Ironmantle gave a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” He said, then added in a lower tone just for the gang’s leader, “Duchess.”
He felt grim amusement as the dwarf pivoted on one foot, a hand resting on her weapon. As if any of these could challenge him. Rose, the last scion of her house, narrowed her eyes, some remnant of that noble’s haughty tilt to the head settling about her.
It was understandable. Many thought the gangs name came from Delmarva Lane. They had tried to change the gang’s name a few times, to obscure who they were, but it was the street name, named after her family, that stuck.
He had always thought that there was more to it for a long time, especially when Klein reported that the leader was a young woman of around twenty years with a darker complexion, amber eyes, and freckles. Ironmantle had the advantage of having seen both parents alive and well several times when he was younger, tracking other targets.
He had always wondered about the missing corpse of the youngest child. A professional curiosity as he had not been contracted for that particular job.
And now she is right here in front of me.
“Who are you, baldie?” Delre snarled, again. She had asked that question far to many times on their way here. I guess it is time to answer.
“I am known as Ironmantle.” He bowed his head again, “A tradesman of unique services.”
Rose stormed forward, getting right up into his face, fingers twitching as if she wanted to grab his collar. He didn’t flinch away from the young woman. He could see the trauma through the thin veil of her anger. And that delightful fear.
“How do you know..?” she hissed.
“Ironmantle? You!” The dwarf knew of him, good.
Rose's eyes went wide and she did pull her knife. Good technique, going for his gut rather than trying for his lungs or heart. He caught her wrist anyway, and tried his best not to bruise her as he did.
Just a touch of melodrama… but not much. She was the most important one to win over. With her, he could claim the whole group.
He looked at the group, and most were staring at them now, some of the older members coming over. He looked back down at her.
“I knew of your mother and father, and you look just like her. I knew that they had enemies, but it surprised even me when they were killed off.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
It hadn’t, and if he had been contacted for the job, she would be dead too.
“I know it is more than ten years late, Lady, but my deepest condolences for their deaths.” Ironmantle bowed slightly again, free hand to chest. He looked at the children, the urchins and pickpockets. Street rats in need of a new home, blades yet to be sharpened for his use. “They would be proud of what you have done to help those in need.”
“You killed them! You didn’t know them!” She snarled, pulling back, seeming to realize using a bow this close was foolish as her hand moved instead to a knife at her belt.
“I didn’t say I knew them child, I knew of them. Their kindness, their generosity. Even a hired killer has respect for such things.” They were fools, rocking the boat, trying to help in a world that did not reward kindness. “I assure you, it was not I who killed them. But perhaps this is a conversation for another time?” He glanced at the rest of the group significantly, feeling smug that he could again tell the truth to get what he wanted.
He slowly loosened his grip on her wrist, and she stepped two paces back, staring at him with hard eyes. Good! Might be worth keeping as a blade herself. She could infiltrate the upper echelons, work with Klein perhaps. Rein him in, or tie off that loose end as needed.
“Rose!”
They all turned to the voice. It was a young boy, probably close to thirteen years old, with sickly pale skin and curly brown hair that was in large ringlets. “Who the fuck is that?” The boy was clearly drunk, swaying slightly, blue eyes just a bit out of focus, slurring his words.
“Dammit Tim…” The dwarf muttered.
“My name is Ironmantle.” The assassin said smoothly, lifting an eyebrow, taking the boy in. He was little more than a scarecrow, and a thoroughly marinated one at that.
“Yeah? What are you, then?” The boy asked, confident in the crowd with a belly full of drink, hiccupping loudly.
Delre grumbled in Dvundae, something about skunks and intoxication if Ironmantle remembered correctly.
“I am the man responsible for the Delmarva gang’s escape.” He continued, making it clear he was unimpressed with the boy.
For a long moment the only sounds were the moving water and the dripping ceilings. Ironmantle was glad that they were actually in a part of the storm drains rather than the sewer proper.
“I represent one of the oldest organizations in the capital. One of the oldest ones in the empire.” He continued, walking forward, looking around him at the gathered adolescents. “We have had our own enterprises interrupted by the new… management… of the Bookkeepers.”
He shifted to look to each of them in turn, spreading his hands slightly to include the whole of the group, “We have been impressed with what you all have done. Young as you are, you have maintained your own enterprise quite well.” The Delmarva’s seemed to take heart at that, though the older members all still looked suspicious.
He turned to face Rose, who was still staring at him with suspicion. “Here is my offer. A safe space for you all to set up a new headquarters, deep in the territory of the Syndicate. So long as you do not encroach on their business, they have agreed to let you in.”
They hadn’t yet, but it would be easy enough to make them.
“Yeah, and what is our end of this lovely bargain? Hmm? What if we just want to find our own space.” Delre asked.
“Oh, you are free to try to find somewhere on your own. And hope it isn’t infested with shamblers.” He said casually.
There was a soft echoing howl from the way he and Delre had arrived, and one of the youngest children started to sob.
Ignoring the annoyance, Ironmantle continued. “Insofar as what your organization will have to do, that is simple. Keep your ears open for anything of note and report it back to a dead drop location. Easy as that. Won’t even have to steal anything, just hear it.”
There was more murmuring. Good, they are considering it. Now to set the hook. “Now, for full transparency, my organization does have a name. We are the Dark Estuary.”
Water dripped loudly somewhere, and some rats squealed.
He could tell some of the younger children didn’t know what that was.
“Assassins?” One kid said. “Like the ones from the stories? The endless tower and killing off the Ogre King?”
“It was my master who killed The Mighty Grung, yes.” He answered truthfully, speaking before the elder members of the gang could cut in. That opened the floodgates, each of the children talking over each other.
“The ones that can slip under doors!”
“Armor can’t stop them!”
“Can run on walls!”
“No, it’s run through walls!”
“On!”
“I heard each one of them can take on a whole squad of guards!”
“Through!”
“Chains and bars can’t hold them!”
Finally, a young gnome shouted above the rest, echoing slightly “Prove it!”
The Fist took their cue spectacularly.
Each member stepped out of the shadows of the children, sliding up and out of them surrounding the boy. Their weapons gleamed in their hands as the points pressed against the young Nissar’s throat, looming as they did, making him gulp.
The others leaped back, some almost falling in the river of effluent in their haste to abandon their fellow.
In the following quiet, Ironmantle could hear the grinding of the dwarf’s teeth.
“Are you familiar with the phrase, “Careful what you wish for”, young man?” he asked, clapping his hands once. His four best blades stepped forward.
The young Nissar yelled and crouched down, covering his head with his arms.
The killers didn’t strike though, instead, they all slid into the shadow of the child they had encased in a ring of steel, vanishing back into the dark.
“I know not why the red-robes are different. I know not why they have targeted you all.” He said, walking over and gently lifting the Nissar back to his full height. Brushing imagined dust off of his shoulders. Terror filled eyes stared at Ironmantle.
He stood, stepping back away from the Gnome. “But here is what I do know, you all have stood strong against them for quite some time now. I have need of you all. You are good at moving unnoticed through the city. You hear things. See things. Learn things. Things that would help me better understand how to deal with them.”
He shifted his attention back to Rose, who had her bow in one hand, an arrow knocked. “I propose an alliance. Their actions are making it difficult to do… business… for all of us. Both the Green Skulls and the Syndicate are a part of it.”
Ironmantle looked back to the rest of the group. “Now, if the alliance works out for say… a year… you will all officially be a part of the Dark Estuary, if you so choose. And if any of you display particular talent, I will personally induct you into our ranks.”
“What does that mean?” It was the boy, Tim again, hiccupping.
Fool. He wouldn’t mind that one getting cut from their numbers. He had no use for an insolent drunkard. And he couldn’t even be fifteen yet, either. A waste of time.
“We will teach you how,” He slid through the shadows to stand right behind the boy, “to move unseen.”
Tim jumped, nearly stumbling, reeking of cheap gin. He could see the bottle under his vest, as well as no less than three coin purses. All four things shaping the garment in particular ways.
A lesson…
“But part of that training requires focus, boy.” Quick as lightning he reached in and snatched the bottle, tossing it over to the dwarf.
She caught it, her glare losing some of its heat as she looked at the master assassin. “A year? Why?” Delre growled.
He walked around the glaring Tim, ignoring him even as he spluttered. “Tradition. Something a Dvundae can understand, yes? It isn’t worth doing anything unless you do it properly.” He saw her jaw set, though she didn’t contradict him. “A year of survival in the streets of the old city. Supporting yourselves only with your wits. Just like you have been already, if in a different area.”
“And how do we know you haven’t been paid to kill any of us before?” Rose asked, cutting off Delre’s next question.
He looked at her. “Then you would be dead already. But if we were to ally together, your enemies would become ours.” He held her gaze, letting her mull that over for a moment before adding, “Then, they will fear you, no matter who they are. And that is the most valuable gift of all.”
The group was excited, several already looking envious. One last mark of generosity.
“You will have to pay rent to the Syndicate, the headquarters I have in mind is in their territory after all. But-“
“We just lost everything, and you want us to pay those pimps?” Delre blurted out, furious.
Ironmantle reigned in his temper, forcing himself to take on a thoughtful expression. “Yes, that does seem unfair, though being self sufficient is part of the initial induction process. Here is what I will do. For six months, I will pay the tribute, but after, you all must do it yourselves.”
He wouldn’t have to pay anything, but he would sweeten the deal for Scarlett by saying these brats would pay after getting set up.
More murmuring from the gang.
“And I will pay for information as well. I can discuss the details later. The dead drop locations, what targets, what sorts of info, all of that.”
“And if we don’t want to be inducted?” Rose asked, glaring at him still.
“It is a choice, miss, not a mandate.” He said. I will just make sure there is only one option when the time comes.
“What do we think everyone?” The leader of the Delmarva’s asked, and it was hard for Ironmantle not to smile as the vast majority voted to take his deal, including the Duchess.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Delre snarled under her breath to Rose, still furious, she should have guessed as soon as he popped out of the ground like that.
“He knows something about who killed my family, Del!” Rose whispered back, glaring down at the dwarf, “I can’t just pass that up!”
“I don’t think he knows shit, I think he wants something else entirely.” Del grumbled, glaring at the bald man, the scar on his face traveling across his scalp to his neck.
“Like what? What could he possibly want?”
“Information, clearly. The dwarf was aching for a smoke. She had opened up the bottle of gin instead, sniffing it. She nearly puked. “Fuckin sewer brew! Tim you idiot.” He must have stolen it from Gazuk again. “Tydrik’s bathwater…” she grumbled, dumping the rank liquor into the flow immediately. She continued the conversation with Rose, “He probably also wants more recruits for his stupid group of cowardly fucking murderers. He definitely wants me ‘cause I can make runes.”
“Well, maybe I want to become a murderer, did you ever think of that?”
“Rose don-“
“Stop mothering me!”
Del flinched away, and Rose whirled, eyes full of fire, voice tight with the desire to scream and the incredible fortitude to hold it back to keep the kids calm.
“I watched my family die, Delre. I was eight. I hid under the bed and my mother and father’s blood rained down on top of me, soaking through the mattress.” Rose stared at the Assassin’s back, eyes harder than water quenched tool steel. “I want to kill them… All of them. Nobody else should ever have that done to them ever again.”
But Del knew that metal like that was brittle, prone to shatter.
“Rose…” Delre placed a hand up on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Don’t. Just-”
“Rose, you can’t stop it all.”
“Look,” Jon said, joining the conversation with Dan, “It’s done, we voted. Though I think we should have all discussed it before putting it out there for all the kids to jump on.”
“Yeah, I’m with Del,” Dan added “That guy was blowing all kinds of smoke.” He still stared, twitching at the slightest noise.
“I don’t trust him either,” Rose said, glaring, “but what choice do we have? Put aside all of my shit, we need to have a safe place to recover from… everything.”
They were all quiet for a long moment, the missing members of their council weighing heavily on them. Another howl off in the depths made them check weapons.
“That’s true…” Del admitted. She’d take those damned cultists apart. She had a lot to learn with the runes first, but by the Pantheon she would have her pound of flesh.
“You know, might be easier down there.” Treyver said, rolling one of his many knives across the fingers of one hand, the blade glinting as it spun, lazy eyes only half open as they walked.
They all jumped and Del nearly clocked him into the flow. “Bastard squatling.” She snarled, glaring down at him.
“Sorry, thought you saw me.” He said, with full sincerity.
They all grumbled at him, and Dan was panting with shock.
Del knew that Treyver meant it, that he couldn’t help how he was, but it pissed her off all the same. And to top it off, for the life of her she couldn’t understand how the idiot could tolerate walking around in the sewers barefoot.
Fucking disgusting.
“Yeah? Easier? How you figure? Being out with those strung out Kiphies, up to our ears in syndicate goons, or working with these killers?” She asked the Tomtar, once they had all calmed down, though she didn’t bother to hide her annoyance.
“Oh chill out, here, saved some of these for you.” The halfling said with a dry cough, pulling a flat box of cigars out of his satchel and proffering it with a box of matches.
She had one before she could stop herself, and he continued, lighting it with a match for her, “More crime down there, so yeah, more competition, but it’d sorta be like hiding a weed in in a field of barley.” He tossed the knife into the air and let the hilt fall into his palm before sheathing it, “Everything’s green until harvest time.”
“Yeah, unless the farmer has to chase a wolf away from the sheep.” Jon muttered, eyeing Ironmantle.
“I didn’t know you had read some Tomtar poetry my friend! Still, we got legs, unlike the weed. Should be fine.”
Del grimaced, the Tomtar was never ruffled by anything, and it was incredibly disconcerting. Something’s always been wrong with him. She puffed on the cigar, blowing the smoke away from the others. Still, he has a point.
“Let’s talk more about it later, when we can bring Lukas in too.” Rose said, jerking her head at the former acolyte. She held up a hand when Del offered it to her.
He was helping to carry one of the injured kids, already praying to the Healer for guidance.
“Fine. Come on, I see a couple others.” Del said, offering the cigar to the others. Dan took it, and coughed for a while after, though he seemed a bit more himself.
“Don’t got anything to drink… ahmm… Instead Trey?” He asked.
“Sure as showers friend.” Treyvor said, glancing at Jon, who’s lips quirked slightly, producing a small glittering crystalline flask. “Just a small one then. Enjoy it.”
“Hmmmm.” Jon hummed, not asking for anything. “Sure as showers and bright flowers.”
“You have read some!” Trey said, sounding delighted.
Jon grinned, taking a small sip of the liquor as well after Dan took a healthy swallow. Del was happy with her cigar, so she let Treyver take it back.
They all spread out, doing what they could to help the kids on their trek all the way to their new home.
PATREON! It is at least 15 chapters ahead, and I am working hard to get it permanently up to 20, with plans to add even more! All money there goes right back into making the series as good as I can, and every cent of it is appreciated more than I can say.