Guilded

Chapter One:

A lone woman dropped her well-worn saddle next to the open trough. Ignoring the scuzz floating on the surface, she dunked her head deep into the cool water and drank until she could no longer hold her breath.

Somebody is going to pay,

Zoe thought to herself.

I hate the desert.

With a quick yank, she pulled her head from the water and let the momentum fling her brown hair back. Drops of filthy water plopped into the dusty earth—rivulets of mud trickled over grubby clothing, revealing black cloth beneath the dust.

A disturbing growl broke the silence. It came from deep within her gut.

Zoe covered her flat stomach. She’d forgotten her last good meal. The water did nothing to sate her hunger.

“Stranger… You must have been thirsty,” a man’s voice said.

Immediately she clenched, ready for an unexpected attack. She always expected an attack.

One look at the strange man covered in filth and she relaxed her posture. This was no brigand, more like a village idiot, covered in shit. Only his overwhelming stench posed a threat. Tall and thin, he barely had enough meat to hide his ribs.

Still several steps away, the man held out his hand. “Can I tempt you with a rice ball?”

From the distance, Zoe could see she wanted nothing the man offered. “I hate to inform you that’s just horseshit covered in maggots.” Over his left ear, an ugly scar cut through his matted hair. She waited for his response, expecting the worst.

“Hum. So it is.” He dropped the clump of muck to the ground, wiping his filthy hands on a dirtier, tattered tunic.

Scanning the area, Zoe spotted little of interest. She’d been brought to a dung heap of a village too close to the desert for her liking. This close to the animal enclosures, the usually swarming biting flies were kept at a distance. The insects must have learned. The livestock didn’t kill with glee as human targets would.

Behind the man, the whitewashed village huddled together as if buildings could show fear. Narrow alleys offered the foolhardiest adventurer a claustrophobic sense of dread. All waited to be explored.

A small child played in a nearby cesspool, the runoff from the local pigsty. The child of no more than five used a stick to prod a listing paper boat. She waded through the thick ankle-deep muck—not a care in the world.

The idiot took a hesitant step closer. “Listen, you look tired, but you should move on. This place… this village, is filled with violence. A person, such as yourself, might become a—victim.”

The man was correct. Even under the bright sun, a shadow of death hung over the hamlet. A finality oozed from the very mud brick used to build the hovels. Morbid—just like she liked it. A wise person would leave this place for greener pastures. She should run away, but she couldn’t. Besides, the universe had summoned her here for a reason.

The slightest hint of a smile cracked her lips. Danger and death typically meant an opportunity for a person willing to reach out and grab it. “And tell me what kind of person I am?” She pulled her soaked, long bangs back out of her face. The sides slipped behind her ears. She slapped her black pants, and a cloud of dust formed around her.

Damn, I need a bath.

The words came with a nervous stammer, “Why you are of the female persuasion… I can tell by the bumps.” He pointed at her breasts covered by the black halter top.

She shook her head at the strange observation. “Thanks for noticing, but I think I’ll be all right. Tell me, this place got a name?”

“This village?”

“You expect somewhere else?”

“It don’t really have a name. Most people forced to live here call it home. Or maybe some more colorful names when upset… or drunk… or both. I guess the magistrate thinks it is named after him—Pain-in-the-ass-burg.”

“I assume the man don’t like that name.”

“He’s never heard it. I just made it up.”

“Still…” Zoe nodded. “People got to make a living. I guess one place to call home is as good as the next.”

He shook his head and cackled. “The only person making good coin here is Jarvis.”

“Oh, really? What’s he do?”

“Makes coffins and plants them in the ground… business is booming. There’s a whole field of them. We call it the boneyard, out in the desert.”

“I see.”

“Tell me, if you gonna refuse to move on, you got a name… in case the worst happens? Something to say over your grave. Everyone deserves to have their name known at death. It’s the respectable thing to do.”

The locals didn’t need to know Zoe’s real name. Her last name of Death-Maker never sat well. She scanned the immediate area. There wasn’t much around, save the idiot, pigsty, and trough. Then she spotted a small golden flower blooming in a pile of horse shit. “I guess you can call me Dandelion.” That was as good a name as any.

The man looked at her for a moment. He busted out in exaggerated laughter that set her teeth on edge: it sounded like the braying of an ass. “That’s a stupid name… But if that’s what you want to be called, who am I to argue?”

“Wise man…” The newly dubbed Dandelion picked up her saddle. “Is there a place to eat around here?” She was happy the laughter was short-lived. If the racket went on much longer, she was ready to silence him with one of her batons. A quick slap behind the ear was usually enough to silence any irritation.

“Sure thing.” He pointed to his left. “That way in the center of town… but I suggest you go the long way around.” He pointed a different way, with a wide arc of his arm.

“Why would I walk out of my way?” She stepped off the way he first pointed.

“I figured as much. Most people don’t listen to me. They call me an idiot.”

“Just answer the question. What’s wrong with this direction?”

When the man fell in behind her, he bent over while walking with a skip. Arms nearly touching the ground, his tattered tunic made him look like a ghoul or wrath. “It takes you right past the magistrate’s building.”

“So?”

“His law keepers aren’t very…”

“Nice?”

“Or smart. Or friendly. They tend to beat first, ask questions later.”

“I’m sure if you talked to most people, you would find they aren’t too smart, either… or friendly. People have a way of being assholes.”

“Take one to know one?”

She shook her head. “You really are an idiot.”

“No, really, they have a habit of demanding payment to pass by them and beating those that can’t pay.”

Strolling past the cesspit, the child sat in the mud—tears running down her cheeks. The paper boat had become waterlogged and capsized. Dandelion noticed the young girl sported an ugly bruise on the side of her face. Her right eye was nearly closed from the swelling.

Dandelion asked, “You all right, sweety?”

The child ran away before they came close enough to stop her.

“What happened to her?” she asked.

“She got on the wrong side of the law-keepers or the temple—either is just as bad.”

“Not much of a human who beats a child, is it?” She stepped off in the direction the idiot warned her about. She whispered to herself, “No women or kids.” Her jaw set, teeth clenched.

“Wait. You never asked my name…”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” She dodged the contents of a chamber pot discarded in the dust.

“I’m—”

She cut him off, “Did I ask your name? I doubt we are going to be friends.”

“And here I thought we had a meeting of the minds.” He blurted the next out quickly before she cut him off. “People call me Soupbone.” He stepped alongside her.

Rather than look at the man, she kept her focus forward. “And you said Dandelion was stupid.”

He walked sideways now, keeping abreast of her every step. “Yes… but, well, mine’s a nickname. You want to know why people call me Soupbone?”

“No, not really.”

The street she strolled down wasn’t much better than the pigsty and cesspit outside of town. Down the center of the dirt lane ran an open ditch where a disgusting mixture of human waste and water trickled until it disappeared into the dusty soil. Brown, unspeakable stains were mashed into the littered path. Larger piles of animal waste had been left to rot. When she passed, swarms of flies took flight from the free meal.

“I wouldn’t let animals live this way,” she growled.

He said once more, “Please… really… you shouldn’t go this way.”

Someone closed a wooden window shutter at his voice. Foreboding omens lay at every turn. All that was lacking was a black cat to run across her path. Over the years, Dandelion became too desensitized to the anguish felt by her fellow humans. Too many people were forced to live like this.

“Please… I can’t…” The man’s voice trailed off.

“Seems as good a day as any for death. Want to join me?” She turned to find Soupbone deserting her.

“And they call me an idiot…” The man’s voice evaporated when he ducked down a narrow side alley.

A quick glance skyward proved there was a fair amount of time until darkness. Then the real fun could begin. She might find a meal and bath before too long, before death stalked the filthy streets of this forsaken hamlet.

Without a name or target, she didn’t know who was about to die or how many. But when her presence was requested, it was only a matter of time before all Infernum broke loose and the dead piled up. It was a bloody profession, but someone needed to do it.

The narrow path didn’t get any better the farther she went. Indistinguishable stains decorated the walls. Down this street, at least the walls shifted from stark white to a dreadful shade of white. If a color might look skanky, this was it. There was no reason to think the rest of the village looked any better.

Here the path opened. To her left sat the first two-story building she’d seen. The village plaza lay beyond. The few multistoried buildings sat arranged around the courtyard— homes and businesses of the not-so poor. Even from a distance, it was plain several of the buildings sat empty, with one gutted by flames. Soot stained the whitewashed walls.

The first larger structure she came to, a low wall with an iron gate, created a small foreyard. Over the entrance hung a sign, with no written words present, only a pair of manacles indicating what lay beyond.

Resting on the low porch of the building were two men. She assumed the pair offered some sign of what the law offered in these parts: loutish.

She didn’t break her pace. Rather, she strolled past the men, taking stock of them from the corner of her eye.

These two were brutes, more like bears than humans. Long on muscle and short on brains. A parody of the evil government official. She would be shocked if either of these two were in charge. There was little chance the pair had a full brain between them.

“Hey, you. Stop.” Single syllable simple words, a good sign of a lack of intelligence. Being the strongest bully in town had made the pair bold, if stupid. In this land of magic, it was never wise to underestimate a stranger.

These two men were simple tools—hammers. To a hammer, a world of problems all looked the same—like a nail. She needed to pull the head off these tools to make them harmless.

Perhaps the pair would take a hint. Dandelion didn’t need to prove herself to anyone. She kept walking, despite knowing they would not let her pass. It wasn’t in their bones to allow the seemingly weak leave unmolested. The fact she appeared to be a helpless female only temped them more.

“He said stop,” the second mental giant called out.

She finally stopped but didn’t turn to face them. Any decision she made might be perceived as a snub. Turn and face them, they might think she was offering a challenge. Keep facing away, they might think she ignored them. To a bully, any affront was a reason to lash out—no provocation too slight. Given her druthers, she would rather ignore the pair until she found something to eat.

“You ignore me?” She was wrong. At least the one that came outside the gate first could use a two-syllable word, if missing a few words.

“No. I just arrived in town.” She shook her head. “I just want to get something to eat.”

The second one laughed. “You gotta pay the tax.”

“Yeah, the tax…”

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. If this was the level of danger the town represented, this was going to turn into a long, tedious stay. “Listen, I know the two of you are only doing your job, such as if it may be. I don’t want to use too many big words. So let me make this simple. I’m going to drop off my things, get a bite to eat, maybe clean up. Then I’ll come back and discuss the child with the black eye.”

“Bitch.” The second man stood outside the gate now.

“You should try to lift yourself beyond the stereotype.” Turning to face him, she failed to disguise her grimace when the pockmarked ruddy cheeks came into view. “You should stop drinking so much. You’ll live longer. Maybe get laid more.”

Each wore a blade. She assumed more for decoration than fighting. These men were not built for swordplay but for brawling. Each was twice her weight, arms larger than her thighs. Large, sloped foreheads with heavy brow ridges only further cemented their look as brutes.

The one behind said, “Fuck you.”

The first one mimicked, “Yeah, fuck you. We goin’ ta teach you some manners.” He grabbed his crotch.

Not only brutes but rapists to boot. Maybe this pair should die now. “And who will teach you?” Dandelion waited, relaxed. Ready to move when the anticipated attack came.

The larger one at the front took a step towards her, his hand reaching for her wet hair.

Stupid man, too accustomed to meek victims—he didn’t expect her to fight back.

She didn’t need to think. Her knee lifted, calf swiftly shot out, her foot connecting to the enormous man’s crotch. He didn’t need his testicles, anyway.

All amorous thoughts of bothering her must have left his mind. Both hands gripped his battered family treasures as he bent over in pain. Only the slightest peep escaped his lips as she planted another kick to his jaw. He folded, unconscious in the filth, a puff of dust rising from the impact.

The second man was no less stupid. He should have learned from the first male’s painful mistakes. Undeterred, he charged, arms spread wide to entangle her in a bearhug.

Dandelion stepped into the charge. Her fingers extended as a blade she sliced into the man’s throat.

The attacker’s eyes bulged in surprise when the blow struck home. His attack forgotten, he gripped his throat, fighting to find air. He took two more staggered steps before dropping to his knees.

In a blink, she spun. The saddle made an effective weapon as she slapped him with enough force for his momentum to carry him into the wall. His weight did him a great deal of harm as he smashed his face into the unforgiving white wall. He left an impressive bloody face print where he splattered.

“Wow…” The idiot had returned. He stood hunched over her. His right hand did little to cover the smile that showed off his yellow teeth.

She bent down. Both men still breathed. She needed to fix them or expect another attack. “Hand me that stone, will you?” She pointed to a rock the size of her fist that sat on top of the low wall.

“Are you going to kill them in cold blood?” His concern didn’t stop him from handing her the rock.

Splayed out as they were, it would have been easy to bash their brains in. She shook her head. “No need for that…” She spread out the fingers of the first man’s right hand and smashed them with the rock. “Let’s see him hold a blade now.”

The idiot whispered, “Looking at how he carries his blade, isn’t he left-handed?”

She contemplated the valid point before smashing the fingers on his left hand just to be safe. Before fixing the second man, she asked, “This one is right-handed?”

The idiot nodded.

She smashed three fingers on his right hand. They would be lucky if they could ever fight again. Served them right for messing with her. They probably both deserved to die, but that would need to wait.

“Ew…” Soupbone stepped back.

That was when she noticed gore from the ruined digits had sprayed over the filthy man. “Sorry I got blood on your feet.”

“What kind of idiot picks a fight with a madman?”

“You speaking about them or me?” She stood and retrieved her saddle. There was no need to wait for the answer. More important thoughts filled her mind.

All she wanted was something to eat and perhaps something to drink. A hot bath wouldn’t hurt either. She should be safe from the pair for at least a fortnight while they healed.

She took off along the central plaza of the village. The twang of a zither drifted on the wind. It sounded a bit out of tune. The music wasn’t loud enough to cover the sounds of the struggle. Yet no one came running to discover the cause of the commotion. The lack of interest didn’t surprise her. Being too curious in a town like this might get a person dead.

Soupbone skipped over the pools of blood that added to the surrounding stains. He rejoined the tour at her side. She noticed he walked bowlegged now. The closer to the center of town, the more pronounced his silly walk became.

The courtyard wasn’t even paved. Stained, hard-packed dirt from years of travel made it easy to tell where the horses were hitched. Surrounding the square’s perimeter was a raised boardwalk providing a convenient place for dogs to sleep away the midday heat.

Diagonal from where she entered the plaza stood an impressive temple made of wood but covered with the now-familiar lime wash. Four massive columns of wood held up the roof that covered the steps leading to the three-story building.

“That’s the temple,” Soupbone informed her. “But I’m not sure I’d go there.”

“Why?”

“Not long ago, a priest of the Mother ran the place. Now it has been taken over by a new cult. The sisterhood of the void.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Yeah, me either. Till they arrived. They stick to themselves. They don’t even feed the poor anymore.” He patted his stomach.

He motioned to a haphazard structure that looked to have three or more buildings stacked on the same lot with little reason or concern for the appearance.

“And the Happy Harpy, the brothel.” He chuckled. “Not that you need to pay…”

Dandelion tsked at the fool. Though she agreed. The joint looked like a rat’s nest and firetrap all in one convenient location.

Soupbone stopped before a humble-looking two-story building, a small balcony overhanging a porch. “This is Toady’s… the best tavern in town.”

To Dandelion, it looked about the same as everything else. “Are there any other taverns or inns?”

Her guide cackled once more. “Nope, that’s why this is the best.”

She let out a sigh. This building would not do in a fight. There were too many windows for attackers to gain entrance. But she didn’t have much of a choice. This place would need to work, or else she’d need to take up residence across the street. She could think of no reason to take that drastic step. “It’s a beautiful day. Too bad it’ll be ruined by the coming storm.”

Soupbone shielded his eyes, scanning the sky. “Lady, they ain’t no clouds in the sky.”

“I beg to differ, a tempest is gathering. I can feel it in the air.” She didn’t offer further explanation. Instead, she took the steps slowly. In her heart, she knew once she stepped through the doors, there would be no turning back. Such was the burden of a Dreg. Her life was a constant search for conflict.

Might as well get this party started.