Pandora's Box

Chapter 3: Part III

The tavern Lakal had selected was as seedy a hole the lower districts had to offer. The front of the Swine's Brine was a disgusting collage of angular rust stains and bursts of mold that looked like fireworks. The mercenary paused for a moment at an intersection directly across from the Swine's Brine, pulling his hat's brim down over his eyes and scanning the sparse crowd for his employer. It only took a moment: the figure cloaked figured stood at least half a head above most.

Lakal cut through the stubborn lines of wagons clogging the roadway. He caught the scent of manure and stepped lively to avoid the piles. His employer gave a quick tilt of the head, gesturing to the alley adjacent to the Swine's Brine, then disappeared into its shadows.

A shiver tickled Lakal's spine and goose flesh prickled his forearms. The mercenary had practiced his craft for the better part of his three decades. He had survived when other men had burned to death on sinking ships, taken trophies of flesh and bone from his ransoms, and balked at kings angling for his services.

But he had never been more afraid, more unsure of the chance of his own survival than he was at that exact moment.

Lakal slipped a hand beneath his tattered cloak, feeling for the reassurance of the dagger at his waist. The familiar weight of the weapon offered a measure of comfort, but Lakal was no fool: he knew there was a dark power looming over him, resting on the shoulders of his employer.

Lakal ordered his courage to stand fast and willed the ice back into his veins. He slipped the dagger free of its sheath, keeping it hidden beneath his cloak. He would only need one free hand to deliver the parcel in his hip pouch in any event.

"You're late," Lakal said, trying his best to maintain ambivalence.

A cold, hissing voice replied, "I've arrived at the precise time of my lord's choosing."

The shiver returned to Lakal's back and gnawed at his flesh. An icy lump formed in his throat, but the mercenary found his tongue. "Yes of course." He tugged at his shirt collar, pulling a few buttons open.

"It is as you've suspected, my lord. The prince—"

Twin lights of burning crimson flashed from the within the cavern of Lakal's employer's hood. A flash of searing pain at the base of Lakal's skull nearly dropped him to his knees.

The cloaked figure stepped closer until the two were an arm's length apart. "Mind your fool's tongue. You're being paid to deliver this information to me, not to the entire kingdom."

The figure gave a gesture and the pain in Lakal's skull vanished as though it had never been. Lakal rubbed the back of his scalp. "Apologies. Your suspicions were well founded. The girl's grasp on the magical elements reaches beyond what they've taught her in the palace."

A stiff wind blew through the alley, lowering the summer temperature to late fall. "Speak plainly," the cloaked figure demanded.

"The Blight, my lord. She is no stranger to it. My men had her father cornered and then she... she..." Nausea trumped Lakal's fear for a moment as he remembered the massacre.

"She what?"

Lakal's eyes bulged in their sockets. "She turned their blood to dust."

The hood fell back a few inches as the tall figure gave a resounding laugh that chilled Lakal's blood.

"Excellent. It would seem my master has chosen correctly after all. The girl will prove to be of great service to him." Lakal's employer withdrew a bulging coin purse from a hidden pocket within the cloak and extended it.

"Do you have the compound I require?"

Lakal fumbled for the clasp of his hip pouch, eager to finalize his business. The figure's voice sounded young, but had an edge, an icy malice that Lakal had only rarely encountered. The shadowed features of the face beneath the cowl appeared to confirm someone ripe with youth, but the alley's darkness grew thicker with each passing moment.

"Yes, of course, my lord." Lakal pinched a small glass vial between his thumb and forefinger. A thin, glowing substance the color of emeralds hung motionlessly within the glass. "Wasn't easy to come buy. Had to call in a favor to an old alchemist friend."

The two exchanged their respective handfuls. The cloaked figured slipped the vial into his cloak's hidden sleeve sheath. "I take it your friend will not be mentioning the transaction?"

Lakal slashed a finger across his throat. The mercenary gave a grotesque smile that displayed the rotten expanse of his teeth.

"No loose ends."

"I suppose not," the cloaked figure replied, voice devoid of feeling.

A sudden tinge of fear told Lakal it was time to leave. He turned for the safety of the busy street and daylight. "It's been a pleasure, but I'm eager for a bottle of better than my usual swill."

"Stop," Lakal's employer called.

Lakal's feet anchored themselves flat to the ground. He struggled against an unseen force that had frozen him in place. His heart beat faster and within a baby's breath had broken into a full sprint.

From the shadows his employer's terrible voice called out to him. "I require one more thing."

Bullets of frigid sweat formed at Lakal's hairline and trickled down his forehead.

"Yes, my lord. I am but your humble servant. Your will, my hands."

"My will, indeed," the cloaked figure said. The words caressed Lakal's ears like the rustling of leaves tumbling through a cemetery.

"The knife in your hand. Drive it through your throat."

At first Lakal laughed. Surely, he was joking, having a laugh at his expense, he thought.

Then a tingling sensation engulfed the hand wrapped around the dagger. The uncomfortable feeling felt like a swarm of marching fire ants as it spread up Lakal's arm. His wrist twitched. His elbow began to bend.

Lakal tried to scream as his hand disobeyed his will and raised the dagger's tip to his throat.

But no such sound came.

He stared in disbelief at a drunk staggering by in the street at the alley's mouth. When the blade finally punctured his flesh, Lakal flinched at the sudden intrusion. The warmth of his blood quickly saturated the front of his cloak.

The world darkened as Lakal began his journey to the World Beyond, taking with him a final image of his employer's pale skin and sinister, emerald eyes.