by J. VanZile
in Issue 142, November 2023
Kameron Black-Eye had seen some seedy pubs in his line of work, but this one sat below them all. Under the stars, for there was no roof, drunkards, derelicts, and ne’er-do-wells circulated like bats spiraling a belfry at dusk. It was an orchestrated dance of villainy. Quick hands exchanged money and goods, whispers fluttered from one ear to the next, and more than once the glint of a knife broke the dirt stained darkness. There was no floor to speak of, chairs and tables sat on mud, the same mud that caked the furniture and bar with spattering stains to ankle height. Stroking his scraggly chin, the more Kameron thought about it, sleazy seemed to be the apt word to describe the place.
“You eatin, drinkin, or just thinkin?”
The harshness of the words broke Kameron’s train of thought. He shifted off his elbow at the end of the roughhewn bar and cleared his throat as he found the barkeep staring daggers at him. “Just thinking for now.” he answered softly.
“Thinkin costs the same as drinkin or eatin round here.” The barkeep extended a pudgy hand with greedy fingers curling inward.
Kameron stole a glance at a patron’s plate further down the bar. The gray pile excuse for food sloshed from spoon to mouth, black bits that looked suspiciously like roach legs plastered through the mush. Kameron held a hand to his mouth to stifle a gag. “I guess I’ll have a drink then.” Kameron fought through the bile building in his mouth and stuffed a coin into the barkeep’s greasy paw.
The barkeep rubbed his sweaty bald head with a cloth, then tossed the dingy rag over his shoulder. He poured a half full mug of beer and slapped it down hard enough to fill the empty half with frothy rising foam. Kameron pulled the mug to his mouth but stopped short as the foam touched his lips. A rancid smell shot up his nose that sent a shiver down his spine and curled his toes. He nearly set the mug down with a slam, but caught the barkeep staring at him, arms folded over his chest. Kameron slurped a bit of the rancid foam, as much as he dared, set the mug down and forced a smile, a bitter, rancid smile, on his face. “Thank you.” he muttered with hoarseness.
“Is that all?” the barkeep demanded.
Kameron Black-Eye gritted his teeth and did his best not to plant his fist in the barkeep’s face. “Well now that you mention it…I am looking for someone. A man by the name of Eight Lives Tozir? I have word that he has come through here recently.”
The barkeep waved his fat fingers dismissively to a group of three men seated two tables away. “Talk to them, those three there. They been talkin about him all night.” The barkeep continued to stare at Kameron to the point Kameron shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes?” Kameron asked expectantly.
“What’s wrong with your eye?” the barkeep spat through his grubby lips.
Kameron sighed to himself. He should be used to the question, but he never quite was. A remnant of an old fight, a blow to his head had cracked his orbital bone, leaving his left pupil and iris black with dark circles around it that stretched from brow to cheek. It was a stark contrast from the brilliant green eye on his right. “It’s from a blow to my head. I see out of it quite fine. It’s just an old injury.”
The barkeep frowned. “Sure you ain’t cursed?”
Kameron drew a long breath loud enough to be heard on purpose. They always thought he was cursed or a bad omen, never anything different. “I am sure.” he said at length. He rubbed his eye as it began to itch, as it often did.
“Whatever. If you say so.” The barkeep rolled his eyes and wrung his hands through his soiled dish towel.
Kameron grabbed his beer, he wasn’t quite sure why, he had no intention of drinking it. With a bit of exasperation to his step he found his way to the table the barkeep had pointed out. The three men sat on one side of the table like they were expecting company to sit on the other. They were dressed for travel, the kind of gear one would wear for weeks of walking. Weapons adorned one hip, iron chains on the other, Kameron recognized them for what they were immediately because they shared a like profession; bounty hunter.
“Hello gentlemen…”
“Whoa! What is wrong with your eye?” a short man with hair only around the side of his head exclaimed.
“You made a deal with a devil? Does that thing have supernatural powers?” another spouted, flecks of spit dotting his lip and his rolls of belly fat sloshing about as he shifted.
The man who sat in the middle wore a wide brimmed hat and a dark cloak that billowed about his seat. He extended his arms out wide with a grin. “Now boys, let’s at least exchange pleasantries before insults.” He lowered his hands and shrugged unconvincingly. “Sorry bout that. My name is Jerr Jethon and these are my cohorts.”
Kameron nodded as he set his beer down on the table. He had heard the name before. “I have heard of you. Well met, I’m Kameron Black-Eye.”
Jerr Jethon extended a wagging finger and a sly smile. “Ah yes, of course you are. No real mistaking that is there?”
“I thought the black-eye bit was just a jest. Like a way to scare people.” the bald bounty hunter seated to the left interjected.
“He’s scaring me alright.” the fat one chortled to his own delight.
“The barkeep tells me you have info on Eight Lives Tozir.” Kameron cut to the chase. He wasn’t much interested in further conversation about his eye.
“Ah he’s a mouthy one, but right he is.” Jerr declared, a bit loud for Kameron’s taste. “Are you out for his bounty as well?”
Kameron hung his head and pursed his lips. “I was, but if you are on the job…well I suppose you were here first.” Kameron meant it. There was a code among bounty hunters and he had no interest in breaking it.
Jerr glanced sharply at his friends. There was an icy stare between them that set Kameron on edge. Jerr cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll tell you we tracked him about two days north of here, but it ain’t that simple. He’s been taken by dirt mages and we wanted nothin to do with that.”
“I hate dirt mages! Practicing their strange magic out in the sticks.” the bald one exclaimed.
Kameron sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. He had to agree with the bald man, dirt mages were the worst. Exiled from towns for misdeeds, they would band together and practice their dark arts on the outskirts of civilization, just close enough to be a nuisance and just far enough away to be an afterthought. While not the most powerful of magic users they were crafty, demented, and dirty.
Jerr Jethon threw his hands up and tipped his wide brimmed cap. “We were not messin with dirt mages, so if you wanna try and claim that bounty, be our guest. We’ll even tell ya where we found them.”
Kameron thought for a moment then slowly nodded. It was a good bounty on this Tozir and his coin purse was getting empty. He figured no harm could come from at least having a look. He took in the info silently, politely thanked Jerr, then excused himself from the table.
“You gonna finish that beer?” the fat bounty hunter asked.
Kameron had forgotten all about the revolting beer. “Your’s now. Fair trade for the info.”
The beer was in the man’s mouth before Kameron had barely finished his sentence. The crew made one more jest at his eye, but it did not bother Kameron. He had heard it all before.
Making his way through the filthy town streets, Kameron hung his head to better hide his eye as he passed the townsfolk. Muddled whispers and pointed fingers followed anyway. It did not bother him, not really. People were superstitious these days and anything different could draw their ire. He could not blame them. Times were strange. Dressed in his worn boots and tattered cloak, half of them probably thought he was a dirt mage himself. He hustled through the streets as fast as he could without looking like he was trying. From experience, he knew it was best he sleep outside the town. He could in fact not remember the last time he had spent more than a few minutes around people unless they were his prisoner.
Kameron found a quiet ridge overlooking the town. He built a small fire, rolled out his blanket, and inspected his gear. He oiled his crossbow and gave his sword a scrape with the whetstone, all while gazing out longingly over the flickering torch light of the tiny town below.
He found the dirt mages much where Jerr Jethon had described. He smelled them more than spotted them, the foul odor of their unwashed filth a stench that could not be missed. Five of them danced about a roaring bonfire, flasks of liquor in their hands as they caroused and laughed amidst the flames. The mages wore heavy dark robes, some with the cowl up, others down revealing their unkempt hair. A small animal turned on a spit over the fire. They had not bothered to skin the fur and the foul scent of burning hair filled the air with a pungent musk. A pile of deceased rodents lay next to the fire in different states of decay and rot, the dirt mages future meals.
On the outskirts of the camp, just past the ramshackle tents and near the tree line, a bound man lay tied to a stake. The prisoner hung his head, unmoving and unresponsive, not much more than a pile of rags and bones. Kameron was too far to make out a face and he dared get no closer until the mages fell asleep, or more likely given their state of overindulgence, passed out. Kameron slipped back into cover and waited patiently, pinching his nose to relieve the nasty camp aroma.
The moon moved through the sky and the carousing dulled to a titter then faded into snores. The bounty hunter deftly made his way around the edge of the camp site, his seasoned footfalls silent even to his own ears. He crab-walked, squat and low to the ground, until he was behind the prisoner. He slipped a hand over the man’s mouth and whispered, “Stay quiet. I’m going to get you out.” Kameron Black-Eye felt the man nod more than he saw it. He carefully slipped his hand away then went to work on the bonds that tied the man’s hands, legs, and shoulders.
“I heard you coming from back in the woods.” the man whispered.
“Shhh!” Kameron hissed with a nervous glance at the nearest derelict tent. “Answer me only one thing. Are you Eight Lives Tozir?”
“Oh yes indeed. Are you here to collect a bounty on me?” Tozir asked almost cheerily.
Kameron Black-Eye was taken a bit back by the bluntness. He thought for a moment while he finished untying the bonds around Tozir’s feet and could only think of one thing in response. “Shhh!” The bonds broke free and Eight Lives Tozir rubbed his wrists and flexed his arms. Kameron waved a hand, indicating Tozir to stay low. Tozir nodded then did something Kameron could not predict, he began crawling back towards the camp, right at the mage’s tents. “What are you doing?” Kameron hissed.
Tozir paid him no mind. On hands and knees, he crawled, his bare feet slipping through the muddy camp like a snake. He slithered through rope and tent spikes with ease, leaving not one shaking in his wake. Kameron watched horrified as Eight Lives Tozir took to his side, reached an arm through a tent flap, and began to rummage about. His arm moved up and down vigorously through the flopping gap in the tent, like he was waving to an old friend.
Kameron’s stomach churned. His eyes darted nervously at the other degraded tents. Crawling on his belly he backed away. It was a pricey bounty on this Eight Lives fellow, but not worth dying over. He readied his crossbow anyway, just in case.
With a flourish befitting a circus performer, Tozir ripped his arm out from the tent revealing a long cloak and whirled it about his head like he was signaling for rescue. The bright moon reflected off the enormous grin that smothered his face. Slipping the cape over his shoulders, he began to crawl on all fours, one hand over the other.
That’s when Kameron heard it, the sharp intake of breath and the grunt of confusion. Kameron snapped his head to the disturbance. A dark robed mage stood outside his tent, one hand loosening the rope around his waist that held his outfit together.
“What’s this now?” The dirt mage belted loud enough to rankle Kameron’s nerves.
Without a second thought, Kameron Black-Eye fired his crossbow. There was a twang then a bolt stuck in the face of the dirt mage, through his cheek just to the side of his nose. The stunned wizard’s eyes peered down at the bolt stuck in him before he fell face first in the mud with a wet smack. Kameron held his breath, hoping against hope, the other mages were too drunk to notice.
There was a stir in the camp. Rising, pitched voices of confusion. Kameron cursed under his breath. Shadows moved in the tents, confused and slow, but moving nonetheless.
Tozir was on his feet now, kicking over tent spikes and releasing the collapsible shelters onto themselves. The dirt mages cursed loudly, arms protruding through canvas like men stuck in the innards of a great beast. Tozir scrambled straight towards Kameron and the bounty hunter wasn’t sure if he should aim the next bolt at his would-be prisoner or the swaying tents. He opted for the latter, the bounty strictly wanted Tozir alive, but he kept a keen eye on Eight Lives as the lawbreaker ducked behind him.
Kameron lowered his bow and whirled about ready to run as Tozir passed. He took a single step then pulled up short, the vice-like grip of fear clutching his heart. A dirt mage stood between them and the woods, swaying gently drunkenly as if the breeze had him. Every stain of dirt and blood on his robe was visible in the moonlight. There was a whisper and the mage flung his arm up at them just as Kameron flicked his bow.
There was a shimmer of light before Kameron’s eyes. From the light, there was a burst of movement, furry squirming bodies and bare rippling tails. They were on him, crawling and scratching before he even knew what they were.
“Rats!” Tozir squeamishly yelped.
Rats they were, a dozen of them at least, biting their gnashing teeth into his flesh. Kameron brushed his hands wildly against his clothes, striking yellow toothed rat after rat away. The dirt mage’s hands were moving again, his words carried through the air, deafening in Kameron’s ears. He shot his crossbow. A miss, but it did enough to distract the mage, who flinched as the bolt whistled by.
Kameron whipped his sword at the ready and brandished it at the wizard. He closed the gap between them and through a myriad of sharp rat bites, thrust his sword into the dirt mage with a killing blow. He threw the howling robed assailant to the side and Kameron Black-Eye and Eight Lives Tozir scampered into the woods.
They ran until the breath was sucked out of them and the sun had just risen with its orange warmth. Tozir bent over at the knees, his tongue hung from his mouth yet he was grinning from ear to ear. “You really got me out of a scrape there.” he panted. Suddenly his eyes went wide. He shimmied at the waist violently, stuck his hands wrist deep into his trousers and fumbled about. With a yelp, Tozir ripped a wriggling rat from his pants, biting and rasping with its yellow teeth. He flung it into the woods with gusto, the rat squealing an unnaturally high-pitched wail.
“We should have got away clean fool! Why in the blazes did you go back for that cloak?” Kameron growled.
“Ah.!” Tozir’s face brightened as he held up a finger. He unfurled his cloak and shook it free of wrinkles. It was radiant green and had a sheen as if it had just been pressed and stitched. “This cloak never gets dirty, can’t be stained, and will even keep you completely dry in a rainstorm. It’s my most prized possession.”
“Stolen you mean.”
Tozir shrugged.
Black-Eye lifted his crossbow at Tozir. His arms were still red, stained with dried blood from the rat bites. Kameron held out a pair of shackles and jingled them, the metal clanking like old church bells. “I’m going to need you to put these on.”
Eight Lives Tozir smiled. “Sure friend. Whatever you need.” Tozir held up his hands, approached cautiously and took the shackles. He placed them around his wrists, locked them and held his palms up with a grin.
Kameron was a bit taken aback by the nonchalance. “I don’t think you understand. I mean to take you in for your crimes.”
Tozir smirked. “Oh I get it. I know you’re a bounty hunter. I mean we all have to make a living right? Did you know that I once wanted to be a bounty hunter?”
“They aim to hang you, Tozir.”
Tozir shrugged. “Well if it weren’t for you I’d be dead today. They aimed to eat me, you know, those dirt mages? The fat one looked me in the eye and told me so. He showed me the seasoning he was going to use on my leg. If anything, I should thank you, cause now I have a few extra days to live.” Tozir spat on the ground. “I hate dirt mages! And what was with those rats?”
Kameron had never heard such nonsense. With a grimace, he held his bow up a bit higher. “We need to put some distance between us and those dirt mages. They likely won’t give up our trail easily. Start walking… and no tricks now.”
Tozir’s face pinched into a shallow frown as if he were hurt by the implication he could not be trusted, but he complied and trudged onward.
The rain came down hard. Finger sized droplets pelted Kameron as he huddled under the tiny rock overhang for shelter. He was cold, on the verge of shivering, the campfire barely hanging on in the fierce storm provided no comfort from the chill. The fire hissed and smoked as the rain came, wisps of charcoal blackness floated out above around the stone hanging and into the foul weather. He scratched his black ringed eye, itching even more in the dampness. His fingers hung onto his crossbow, but they were so numb he wasn’t even sure if he could use it if Tozir were up to something.
He glanced over at Eight Lives, his cloak drawn about him like a bat would wrap itself with wings. He looked perfectly dry, the rain slid off the emerald cloak like a duck shed water. Only slightly damp hair was the only indication the rain even bothered him. Over the din of droning precipitation, Kameron swore he could hear the man snoring, which was not much of a change from his constant chattiness.
Dawn broke and the rain with it, the pelting squall nothing more than a drizzle now. The sunlight cascaded across the rain-soaked landscape in a kaleidoscope of colors that shimmered with an unearthly radiance. It was beautiful but nearly blinding to the eye. Kameron stepped out from the overhang and let the warm sun rays soak into his damp skin and wet clothes.
“Ah, there ya are.”
The foreign, yet familiar voice startled Kameron. He whirled about and lifted his bow with a stiff numb hand.
“Not so fast!” Jerr Jethon insisted with a growl. The man had a devilish grin under his wide brimmed hat. His bald comrade had his own bow pointed at Kameron, bared and ready to fire. From the corner of his eye he noticed the fat one who had so eagerly consumed his beer, waddling around the overhang, a flat club bouncing up and down menacingly against his palm.
Kameron steadily lowered his bow. It slowly dawned on him what these men were up to and he scarcely believed it. “What is this? This is against the bounty code! You gave me the bounty on Eight Lives fairly.” Kameron Black-Eye demanded.
“What’s he called Eight Lives fer anyway? Shouldn’t it be Nine Lives?” the bald bowman bounty hunter next to Jerr jested.
Jerr waved his comrade off plaintively. “Aye, we did set you out on the bounty.” Jerr purred as he tipped his hat. “And we thank ya for getting our prize here away from those dirt mages.”
“And we’ll be killin ya for yer trouble ya cursed black eye fool!” The bald man flinched with his bow as he shouted and for an instant Kameron thought he was going to die right there.
“Wait now!” The fat bounty hunter warned as he inspected the rock overhang Kameron and Tozir had used as a camp. “Eight Lives ain’t here!”
Kameron found himself dumbstruck as he gaped at the empty campsite. The campfire smoldered, his pack was there, but no Eight Lives Tozir.
A sinister sneer creased Jerr Jethon’s lips. A bit of rain water toppled from his hat as he dipped his head low and stared daggers into Kameron. “Where is he?”
Suddenly a pair of iron shackles descended over Jerr’s head and wrapped around his neck. Eight Lives Tozir yanked the iron chains tight and shouted with what Kameron could only think of as joy. “Here I am!”
Kameron did not hesitate. His arm flicked up and he shot a bolt at the dumbfounded bald bowman next to Jerr. His aim was true and he caught the bounty hunter through the neck. With a dying spasm, the man lost his own arrow and let it fly waywardly. It harmlessly skittered across the ground just past Kameron’s feet. Jerr Jethon and Tozir tumbled from the overhang. They landed with a tangled wet thud in front of the camp, spattering mud in all directions. The iron shackles still tugging at a gasping Jerr’s neck, the bounty hunter’s face was purple. His eyes bulged.
The fat man in their camp shelter cried out and raised his club over his head intent on smashing Tozir’s skull. Without a second thought, Kameron dropped his empty crossbow to the ground, raced ahead, and slammed into the fat man with his shoulder before he reached Eight Lives. Unfortunately, Kameron did not have the weight to knock the hefty bounty hunter off his feet as he intended. It was like running into a dirt wall and they simply spun about, the attacker tossing Kameron to the side like a sack of flour. The bounty hunter raced back at a prone Kameron all bug eyed, his fat rippling under his loose fitted shirt.
Kameron Black-Eye waited patiently on one knee. When the fat bounty hunter was in range, he ripped his sword from its scabbard with practiced ease and ran the fat man through in one motion. There was a deep inhale, shocked empty eyes, then the man fell.
“Well breakfast would have been better, but a good morning romp isn’t so bad!” Eight Lives Tozir quipped as he climbed off a very still and purple Jerr Jethon.
Kameron narrowed his eyes. Tozir was unshackled, the irons held in his hands like one would hold a kitten by the scruff of the neck. They were covered in blood and bits of skin. Kameron’s eyes narrowed even further.
Tozir’s eyes peered down at the shackles. “Oh, I could have gotten out of these at any time. It’s my flexible thumbs.” Tozir proceeded to bend his thumbs inward at an unnatural angle as an example. “You need to use rope around both wrists and double knotted if you want to bind me.”
Kameron let loose an exasperated sigh. “Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?”
Tozir shrugged. “You needed help. They would have killed you.”
Kameron looked around at the three dead bounty hunters strewn about their camp. He couldn’t argue he would probably be dead. Kameron sighed again. He pulled the rope from his pack and tossed it over to Eight Lives Tozir who snatched it out of the air with a grin. “Tie yourself up then.” Kameron instructed, but half expected Tozir to run.
Much to his surprise Eight Lives snaked the rope around his wrists one at a time with skilled ease. He pulled the knot tight with his teeth then held his hands out for Kameron to see. Advancing cautiously, still expecting some trick, Kameron eyed the bonds and tightened them to his satisfaction. He noticed the green cloak had not a spot of dirt on it.
“You know you can’t good will your way out of this.” Kameron felt compelled to state. “I made an agreement with your bond holders and I cannot break it. It is against the code.”
Tozir nodded to the three dead bounty hunters. “You mean the code they follow.”
“I am not them.”
Tozir nodded “Honorable fellow. I respect that.”
“What do you know of honor, you’re a thief.” Kameron felt as if he were being insulted and spat the words more harshly than he intended.
Tozir’s grin faded. “I meant no offense, but I never stole nothin from anyone who didn’t deserve it and anyone who deserved it was a far worse sort than me. I promise you that.” He held his rope bound hands up for Kameron. “We good then?”
They had traveled for the better part of a day and a half, mostly in silence, which Kameron felt a little unnerving from the usually chatty Tozir. For his part though, Tozir had not been any problem at all to the point Kameron had to remind himself not to relax around the man. He was a criminal after all. Perhaps not a murderer, but Kameron had all too often seen men driven to foul deeds by the situation and with a hanging in his future, who knew what Eight Lives Tozir may be capable of.
A slight breeze kissed his face welcome with fresh air. The open plains were the last leg of their journey, back to civilization and back to the jurisdiction where Tozir would be turned in, only about one day away. The spacious travel was a welcome respite from the tangled woodland trails that twisted through hill and fallow that the dirt mages called home. Kameron breathed the fresh air deeply, confident the worst was behind them.
No sooner had the thought flicked through his mind, the hairs raised on the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if he detected something in the air or maybe it was just a honed sixth sense for danger. Kameron glanced behind to the old knobby forest in the distance. His face fell. He blinked and shook his head, but the sight that took his heart would not vanish. A cloud of dust and debris rose above the fields. It was moving quickly, unnaturally as if aided by sorcery. The gentle breeze brought the first tips of the noxious vapors. Kameron breathed in the foul odor. His heart sank further.
“I hate dirt mages!” Tozir seethed, eyeing the same blemish on the skyline.
“Everyone does.” Kameron muttered.
“I can’t believe they followed us this far.”
“They must really want to eat you.” Kameron mumbled.
Eight Lives Tozir slowly turned to Kameron and his mouth etched into a wide grin. “So there is a sense of humor in you.”
“Not much of one right now.”
“Maybe we can outrun them?” Tozir offered hopefully.
Kameron shook his head as he removed his sword from its sheath. “Their sorcery sets them at speed against us and there is nowhere to hide out here. It’s fight or nothing.” His eye itched. Kameron rubbed it with the heel of his palm but it only itched more. “Put your hands out.” Kameron demanded.
No sooner had Tozir lifted his arms then Kameron sliced the rope bonds in half. Tozir’s arms flew free. He looked at the sliced rope then at Kameron with a crooked, inquisitive brow.
“Fight or flee, your choice. I aim to bring you to justice, not have you torn to pieces by foul wizards.” Kameron Black-Eye stated flatly.
Eight Lives Tozir cut an earnest smile and pointed a bent index finger at Kameron. “Honorable.” he declared before turning tail and running off into the fields, beaten bits of earth flinging from his feet as he dashed madly away.
Kameron sighed, shoulders slumped and waited. He didn’t blame Tozir. If he thought running would make any difference, he would have done so as well. As it was, they were nearly upon them. The dust cloud loomed larger and shapes solidified into view, three of them, dusky robes flapping in their haste. The smell was worse now, bitter and head turning, he could taste it. Sword in one hand, crossbow in the other, he waited patient and yet anxious just to get on with it.
Through swaying ankle deep grass the first one came. Rolls of fat chugged along with him, slapping with audible thwacks as he ran. Kameron hadn’t heard of too many fat dirt mages, none as a matter of fact. The wizard’s arms were smothered with black marks and sores. An ashen staff was held out before him like a hot loaf of bread. Sweat gleamed as it trickled down his barren, eyebrow free, brow.
Kameron let his crossbow bolt fly, but it was deflected away by a defensive swipe of the wizard’s staff. The dirt mage opened his palm near his mouth and yawned his cavernous black maw wide. A green mist of pestilence and foul gas shot forth. Kameron dodged away from the brunt of the noxious gasses but the scent left him dizzy, light headed. His vision blurred.
He shook free of the cobwebs in time to block a staff strike with his sword. The blade bit into the dirt mage’s staff, chopping it in half. The wizard chucked the split staff to the ground in disgust. His dirt stained fingers flexed, bent at each knuckle like a claw. Kameron felt something tighten around his neck, an invisible vise that choked him. He gagged and spat, to no avail. The dirt mage gave a sinister glare and pulled his filthy fingers closer into his palm. Kameron’s throat closed further. He staggered forward, his sword waving wildly, hoping to strike something, anything. From the corner of his eye he saw the other two mages approaching swiftly. He did not have much time.
So fast it was like a pouncing cat, Tozir and his emerald cloak flashed into view from the short grass and he was atop the fat mage all raging fists and elbows that were quickly stained red from blood. “Try and eat me now!” Tozir screamed as he rained furious blows on the dirt mage.
Kameron gaped a great breath as his throat relaxed. His wits about him, he dashed forward to the tangled thief and dirt mage and with a deft strike, hammered his blade into the bloodied wizard’s heart. Eight Lives Tozir rolled off the pile of dirty diseased robes. He glanced at Kameron. Kameron gave him a short nod.
“Dirt mages are the worst.” Kameron grinned.
“I think I’ll need a bath now.” Tozir retorted with a wry smile.
They engaged the last two mages in a fit of fury. Dusky robes twisted and twirled, steel flashed, and a green cloak flourished with aplomb. The dirt mages spit their foul magic with waving hands and whispers, but Kameron and Tozir were not deterred. Working together, they overpowered their adversaries with steel, bolts, and guile. When all the sickened rats had been squashed and the dirt mages had exhausted their repertoire of nauseating tricks, Kameron Black-Eye and Eight Lives Tozir stood triumphant over their fallen foes.
Kameron cleaned his blood-stained sword on the sun-bleached grass. He retrieved his crossbow and watched as Tozir rifled through the dirt mage’s belongings. “I would not do that if I were you. I hear they curse their possessions.” Kameron had no idea if it were true, but it sure sounded like it could be.
Tozir’s eyes widened, just a hair, and he delicately replaced the few items he had collected. He wiped his hands on his cloak, leaving not a single smudge or stain, and padded over to Kameron, half a smile etched on his face.
“You should go.” Kameron said before Tozir could speak. “You’ve saved me twice now, I believe, and likely could have killed me if you wished.”
Tozir shook his head and pursed his lips. “I’m no murderer.”
“I see that. All the more reason you should go.” Kameron insisted.
Eight Lives Tozir shrugged and held his hands up, palms together. “I wouldn’t have you break your oaths, they seem important to you. You promised to bring me in, so bring me in.”
Kameron cocked his black eye at the cloaked thief. “They aim to hang you.”
“Even thieves deserve justice.” Tozir insisted with a shrug.
Kameron Black-Eye was glum as he led Tozir into the city. The onlookers peered and muttered their whispers, he had no doubt less of his prisoner and more about his eye. It was not long before the constable found them. He rode up to Kameron on a white horse flanked by two sour looking gents outfitted in haphazardly cut blue uniforms, the cut of the bondsmen.
Kameron began to speak, but sucked in a sharp breath, as he glanced at Tozir. The thief seemed content, almost jovial, if Kameron were being optimistic. Kameron shook his head.
“This is Eight Lives Tozir.” the constable stated more than asked from horseback.
“It is.” Kameron lamented the answer but knew the time had passed for a different outcome.
“Eight Lives? Why not Nine Lives? That doesn’t make any sense.” one of the blue uniformed bondsmen spouted.
Tozir’s eyes cut a sharp glare at the bondsman and for a moment Kameron thought he may say something, but the thief held his tongue.
“You honored the agreement Black-Eye. Well come along then. Let’s get you paid.” the constable rumbled from deep in his throat. He turned his horse and trotted away. Kameron winced as the bondmen roughly took hold of Tozir and led him along.
The gallows stood just outside the jail, the dangling ropes swaying gently in the breeze. Tozir was led inside the jailhouse, a stick wood building with two cells in the far corner. The place was plastered with paper sheets, bounty bills for all assortment of evil doers and ne’er-do-wells. Kameron fingered through them as Tozir was placed in his cell, but he barely saw the words on the paper, his mind a blank slate. Kameron’s eyes closed tight as the metal cell door clanked closed with finality.
“We’ll hang him in the morning.” the constable said as he smashed a stack of coins into Kameron’s hand. “Take any bounty bills you want, but do not linger. You know how folks will be with your eye and all.”
“Don’t need no curses around here. Got enough problems.” a bondman popped off.
Kameron did not take a single bill and stumbled out of the jailhouse without a backwards glance. He averted his eyes from the gallows, set his feet to the road and did not let up until exhaustion overcame him. He slumped down on the side of the road, not even bothering with a fire or his bedroll, and fitfully slept through the night, tossing and turning under the stars.
Something stiff struck him in the ribs. It took another nudge before he realized it wasn’t a dream and Kameron stumbled to his feet, blurry eyed, the morning sunlight burning a hole in his retina. He extended a hand over his head to ward off the brunt of the light and caught a glimpse of a bright green cloak fluttering in the breeze. “Tozir?”
“Why are you sleeping on the side of the road?” Tozir asked with his hands on his hips.
Ignoring the question, Kameron shook his head and looked around, although he had no idea why he did so. “What, what are you doing here?” he stammered.
Tozir stuck a thumb over his shoulder back toward town. “Oh, there. I left. Slipped out during the night. Those cells are easy enough to escape. I left some tracks out to the other side of town, should take them a while before they figure it out.”
Kameron licked his dry lips and shook his head. His brain was foggy and he faltered for a moment before the words came out. “You knew, you knew you would get out. Why did you even have me bring you in then?”
“Oh, well I didn’t want you to break your word to the bondsmen or your code. That’s not what friends do. Now you’ve brought me in, you’ve fulfilled your oath.” Tozir shrugged.
Kameron’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He had to admit, Tozir had a point and did the man just refer to him as a friend?
Before Kameron could get a word in, Tozir lifted a finger high into the air as if a thought just struck him and laughed. “Know what I like about you, not once did you ask me why I’m called Eight Lives and not Nine Lives.”
Kameron rubbed his eye. “Well I mean, you’re not a cat.”
“Exactly!” Tozir exclaimed. “Nobody gets it.”
Kameron straightened himself up as he wiped the trail dust from his clothes. “I like that you have never asked me about my eye.”
Eight Lives waved his hand dismissively. “Clearly from a blow to the head, probably rattled your eye loose. There’s no curse or bad luck about that.”
Tozir held another finger up. He reached into the folds of his luxurious green cloak and produced a fist full of bounty bills. “Took these last night. Thought maybe we could get some use out of them.” Tozir thumbed through the bills until one caught his eye. He flipped it out and held the picture up for Kameron to see. “Look here, a dirt mage, ugly fella too. Garmar Doombreath. Wanted for impropriety, eating of the flesh, and round about villainy. I say, it’s a good bounty too!”
Kameron looked at the bounty bill, then back to Tozir. He pinched his lips together and thrust out his hand. “Kameron Black-Eye, at your service.”
Tozir wrapped his light digits around Kameron’s hand in a warm embrace. “Eight Lives Tozir. Well met.”
©November 2023, J. VanZile
J. VanZile’s work has appeared previously in Indie Bites. This is his first appearance in Swords & Sorcery.