The Thief King

16. Scythe

Kole slammed the man into the bricks, squeezing the man's neck tighter. His fingers were an instrument to crush, to damage, to kill. The neck muscles under his fingertips clenched in protest. The man choked and spasmed as Kole leaned over him like a dark phantom. His hood shadowed his face. His mask muffled his voice when he spoke; it made him feel like death's messenger. He had never been more ready to carve a way of destruction as he was now. His muscles quivered at the memory his anger brought. Memories of nights spent serving death.

"I already told you," the man wheezed. "I...don't..."

"I don't believe you." Kole squeezed a little tighter.

The man's face was turning purple, his eyes red. "I can't—"

Kole released the man without warning. The man collapsed at his feet with a grunt, sucking in as much air as he could.

"I been on this trail all night, mate." A dagger dropped into Kole's hand. The familiar leather strapping of the hilt comforting in his grasp. "My patience is as finite as them stars, ye know. Either ye tell me what I'm asking for, or ye die with the night."

The man coughed. "I told you—"

"Ye told me jack shit."

The man glared at Kole behind reddened eyes. "Them Northies were attacked."

"I know this. Tell me something I don't, or this dagger goes into yer shins."

The man spluttered. "I uh...there been talks of it being an inside job. Some lad thinking he can rule the Northies and challenge the Thief King."

Kole sneered and drove the dagger down. It sunk into flesh. The man howled, his bruised neck forgotten, his new injury of immediate concern.

"I said tell me something I don't know."

The man was crying, his hands shaking over the protruding dagger hilt digging into his thigh. Blood ribboned down pale flesh. Kole had already stripped the man of his trousers—nakedness shrank a man's courage.

Kole knelt, another dagger already in his hand. "Don't keep me waiting, mate." He twirled the dagger in front of the man's nose.

The man sniffed, crying unashamedly. "Y-ye know of the men killed? Wh-who they were?"

"This sounds rather uninteresting to me."

"Wait! Strange aint it? Out of the dozen small crews that be living in the Northside that only three of the men killed were crew leaders?"

"I'm waiting for the strange part."

The man seemed to gain a little confidence. His shakes becoming a little less violent. "All 'em leaders had men die. All of 'em. Yet, none are looking for vengeance. The Northies are quiet. New leaders have been appointed. Some say foreigners replaced those leaders who were killed."

Kole narrowed his eyes. For effect, he tilted his head to let the man know he was listening.

"See, the rumours say," the man continued, "that the bloodshed was over territory within the crews and that some sought to merge the territories to create a stronger, united front. But none of that happened."

"How many crews were there?"

The man's eyes widened in fear.

"Yer an informant. No way ye don't know something like that."

"I be an informant for detail. Not general knowledge."

Kole sneered and drove the second dagger into the man's ankle. The breathless scream almost made Kole regret the action.