FOREVER KNIGHTS: #7 King of Assassins

Driter’s Den, Netherlands

MARDICHI

Mardichi enjoyed how small and dank the Driter’s Den was. It suits me. And he found its rocking on its little floating dock quite soothing. Lulling him. The ceiling dripped in slow plops.

The stench of mold infiltrated the whole building which Mardichi found peaceful. Knowing the other knights would avoid it. With their delicate noses.

Loose boards jutted from every corner and there was something that made his elbow stick to the table. But he was heedless as he lifted his drink. Well into his alehorn when Betty the barmaid sauntered to him. He closed one eye then the other trying to get a good look at her. However, all views of her were blurry. “Betty I’m ready for a refill.”

Or ten.

The sooner the better.

“’Fraid not me big red giant.” She tossed curling black hair.

He thought perhaps she gave him a saucy wink. That bodes well.

“I need ye come with me…” She pulled out a knife and put it under his bearded chin.

That does not.

“Tha’ a mighy big dagger fer such a wee lass…” He belched. Pressing a fist to his chest.

Betty cringed. “Come ye giant.” She pressed up until the tip began to pierce the underside of his chin.

Not the slimmest chance.

I’m comfortable.

“Nah” He turned and threw his muddied boots up on the table. Settling more deeply in the seat. “Whoever givin’ ye coin can come see me righ’ ’ere.” He took another long swig from his alehorn.

“I don’ get me coin less ye come wit’ me.” She pushed the blade deeper.

Poor lass…He thought dryly.

He sighed dramatically. “I feel a mite bad ye not gettin tha’ coin. I could give ye some coin fer far sweeter things. Should’ve gone after me coin.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Would’ve been the smarter choice.

She grumbled. Realizing she’d either have to kill the man where he sat or leave him be, she withdrew her knife and tucked it back in her skirts. Grunting in frustration.

It was only a short time before another narrow figure appeared in his view…Or what he could discern of it.

Whose this?

“Who are ye?”

“No one in particular…I’d like you to work for me…” It was a familiar hissing voice he couldn’t quite place.

I know you. Irritation immediately surged at the sound of that voice. Who are you?

“You would?” He dropped his feet to the floor and thunked his meaty elbows to the table sloshing the ale horn he’d so carefully balanced in a tankard. “Oh, bloody Hell! Me mead!”

“It’s ale here.” The voice rasped. “As I said. I want you to work for me.”

“Doing wha’?” Mardichi blinked hard and struggled to focus his gaze. Turning his head side to side to see if one eye would work any better then the other to focus on the interloper.

“Killing.”

Who?

“Wha’ people?” Mardichi slurred.

“Your people.”

Who the hell- Mardichi straightened. His eyes flashed red as fire. As his view tried to adjust to his beast, his vision focused. “Radix…” Mardichi spit. Dumping the alehorn, he turned it and slammed it into the middle of the old man’s chest until only the gilded rim was visible.

Welcome to my table. Mardichi slumped back into his chair with a smug grin.

A barmaid shrieked and a tray clattered to the floor.

Sorry Betty…Or whichever one you are. He didn’t bother to look. His blurred gaze trained on his enemy.

Trying to recruit me. It was so amusing he nearly laughed.

Radix gripped the alehorn and slowly pulled it from the center of his chest. White strings like spiderwebbing clung to it. Ash darkened the bench and wall next to him. Contaminating everything like a plague.

Set it somewhere I can reach so I can put it back in. He hoped.

Mardichi watched impassively. “Ye want to kill me, Old Man, I suggest ye do it now. I’ve no patience for yer antics.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” Radix hissed dangerously. Flipping the alehorn onto the table. It clattered across.

Well that’d make you quite the fool.

Because I have no qualms about killing you.