Faerunners

The Wrong Side of the Law

The harsh, metallic click of a shotgun being cocked cut through the chill in the air. A gravelly voice followed it. “Cold Iron Detective Agency. This is a raid.”

Tallis turned and saw a full brigade of detectives coming down the street, all wearing high boots, leather vests, long coats and iron bracers. It was standard battle dress for the agency. Each piece was layered with spells and enchantments, leaving the men and women coming towards practically bulletproof.

Callan leaned in close and whispered into his ear. “You are too tired to run, you are unarmed, you have no magic. How do you think this will work out for you?”

Tallis licked his lips, his tongue was like sandpaper and his mouth might as well have been packed full of ashes. “We haven’t really done anything wrong have we? How bad could it be?”

Callan laughed but there was no humour in the sound. “We’ll see.” The Fae reached gingerly under his coat and drew out his sawn off shotgun, holding the grip between his thumb and forefinger. He set the weapon down, got on his knees and held his hands in the air.

Tallis made the mistake of opening his mouth to speak. A detective took a lunging step towards him and hammered the butt of a shotgun into his guts. He went down gasping for breath. The detectives fanned out and kicked their way into houses. People were hog tied and thrown into the mud. Children were crying. Somewhere someone tried to put a fight. A shotgun roared. An agent rolled Tallis onto his stomach, jammed a knee into his back and handcuffed him.

He lay there for what felt like a long time, until a rough pair of hands grabbed him and wrenched him to his feet. He came up staring into Allistair’s beady little rat eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

The sergeant pulled a cigar out of his pocket, lit it and blew a cloud of smoke into Tallis’ face. “This your plan all along, boy? You let that Changeling go. You cheated me in that interrogation. You tried to sell me up the river to the captain. And here’s why. Can’t say I’m shocked really.”

“Sergeant, please. That’s not how it is.”

“How is it then?” He punctuated the sentence by blowing another cloud of smoke into Tallis' face.

He coughed, eyes burning from the smoke. “I’m trying to help,” he mumbled.

Allistair leaned closer. “Help? Did I hear that right?”

He nodded. “I’m on the inside now, sir. This has been going on right here for who knows how long. Let me go and I can help you crack this smuggling ring.”

“Tallis,” the sergeant spat his name like it was poison. “I need you to give me one good reason not to take your gods damned head off, right now.” He took one of his revolvers out of its holster and pressed the barrel under Tallis’ chin.

The detective next to him drew her gun too, aiming it at the sergeant. “You can go ahead and drop that. Now.”

Something was off about the detective, her vest was lighter than everyone else’s, her boots were short, and there were no runes etched into her bracers. She fit in from far away but up close it was easy enough to see that this woman did not belong in Cold Iron.

Allistair lowered the gun and turned on the imposter. “Who in all seven hells do you think you are to be ordering me around like that?”

The imposter grinned, but didn’t have a reply. Instead, she pulled back the hammer on her pistol and fired. Allistair leapt back with a curse and the gun flew from his hand. Tallis stumbled backwards and tripped, landing flat on his ass in the dirt. The world exploded into chaos. More gunshots ripped down the street and the detectives stormed out of the houses they’d been searching. An ear splitting report roared down from a nearby rooftop and one of the detectives caught the round square in the chest. Light flared from the spells stitched into his coat and he went down in a heap.