This Poisoned Tide: The Last Water Witch Book One

CHAPTER 38

He would do anything to find Elara, but even Juda knew he was throwing his life into the hands of the dead gods by venturing this far alone into Grimefell during these dark tides, when The Serpent Order had waged war against the people in Ban-Keren's name.

He was good, of that much he was aware, but desperation saturated the air here like the densest of sea fog, and the Batak oil slashed across his face made him the target of every cutthroat gangster who might happen to cross his path. Despite the King's promise to reinstate their water rations, if the people could find no witch to deliver to the black gates, it wouldn't be long before they decided they had nothing to lose in rising up against those that sought to drive them to their knees. If Juda wasn't careful, he'd be leading a trail of rats behind him in no time, all yearning to slice open his veins or toss him straight into the murky waterways of the Setalah.

Juda wasn't even surprised when he detected the soft tread of another shadowing his route through the winding alleys and stinking footways. He'd picked up his shadow close to Midgulch Bridge, and the tread was such that he was certain it must be Erron Rhomm, who frequented these parts like sea lichen clung to the cobblestones, and whose feet were nimble enough to traverse the narrowest of crossings with little effort. Besides, the rat spent too much time with his head in a cloud of riverweed smoke and Juda could smell the pungent fumes carried on the sea breeze, like a dead thing haunting his path.

Once clear of the bridge, the sound of his shadow shifted from behind to above and it was moving faster, the faint creaks and groans of the wooden balustrades of the high gantries betraying Erron's location and quickened pace.

Juda wasn't concerned. From what he could hear, the rat was alone, which meant he was probably attempting to track Juda's movements through the slums to ensure he was here for his own personal endeavours and not present in any official capacity as a member of The Order. This cat and mouse game was not unusual, only Erron always failed to understand just who was the hunter and who was the prey. Juda's destination was no different than normal, and he cared not for what Erron or any of the slum vermin thought of that, but he saw no harm in reminding the boy that he'd do better to keep his fucking nose out of Juda's business.

Slipping into the next alley where the overhang of the high dwellings on either side crushed all life from light, Juda knew Erron would have to follow him at ground level and so he melted into the shadows and waited for the boy to appear. The shadow child did just that, hovering at the entrance to the passage, clearly unsure whether to pursue. A glint in the pulsing gloom told Juda the boy had unsheathed his dagger, wary enough to know it was a fool who'd enter such a place unarmed and unprepared. He waited for the boy to take a few tentative steps into the alley before grabbing and disarming him with ease. Twisting his hands behind his back, he pressed Erron's cheek into the wall.

"I told you last time, Erron Rhomm," he hissed into the boy's ear, "that I will go wherever I please in Grimefell, but that did not mean I would allow you to trail after me like a lost hound seeking its owner."

The boy, who'd made barely a sound of protest up until then, grinned out from under his raised hood and began to chuckle. He was but a mere child, but the sound of his laughter instantly slipped under Juda's skin and made the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Little fucker.

By the time Juda realised the hair prickled on the back of his neck for another reason, the stiletto blade was already poised at a point just below his eye and the man pressed against his back had his hand wrapped around the pommel of Juda's scimitar.

"Hello gorgeous." His voice was light and lyrical in tone but edged with a cold indignant fury that Juda recognised. "Now, we don't much care for whatever you told Erron Rhomm, but how about you unhand my good friend Bazel there, before I'm forced to pop open this pretty little eyeball of yours with my blade?"