Free Revenge by Fiona McIntosh

nodded. It was a wise decision.
    He heard Cloot’s warning shriek but it was already too late. Whatever it was hit him hard and he collapsed outside the window.
    Saxon came to, groggy and disoriented. He could hear a familiar voice yelling through the darkness. It was a voice he despised. Xantia.
    The man holding him hissed near his ear. ‘Stay still, stranger, or I’ll slit your throat from arsehole to appetite.’
    Saxon had a mad urge to laugh at the nonsensical statement, but he also had the sense to remain silent as commanded. He peered through blurred vision and realised he had been dragged around to the side of the stracca den where it was virtually pitch black. Xantia looked like a demented ghoul, lit up in the open doorway as she shouted in their direction.
    He realised they were just silhouettes to her and thanked whichever lucky stars were protecting him. She thought they were drunken revellers. She had her say, issued a nasty threat if they were still there in two minutes, then slammed the door.
    ‘You don’t plan on making any trouble for me, do you, tall man?’
    Saxon spat. He tasted blood as he shook his head. His attacker struck a flint and held it up between them.
    ‘Now we’ll remember each other’s faces. It pays to know who might want me dead.’
    Saxon took note of the livid scar which crossed the man’s face where an eye used to be; now there was only a blackened socket. He shrugged, momentarily thinking about taking on ‘One Eye’, but remembered the blade poised near his throat and figured this was a fight better lost and fought again on another day.
    ‘Where is my falcon?’
    It was the first time One Eye had heard his distinctive voice. ‘A Kloek? My, my, you’re far from home, Goldie.’
    Saxon hated the nickname but he did not bite. ‘My falcon?’
    ‘Ours now,’ the man said, pointing to the bushes where Saxon could make out another fellow. Cloot was held firmly in his grip.
    Saxon swung back to stare at One Eye. ‘You can have all my money—’
    ‘Already got it,’ One Eye said, shaking a purse and grinning.
    The light inside the building went out. All was quiet.
    Saxon spoke softly this time. ‘You must give me that bird or I will kill you.’
    ‘I hold the knife, and my friend over there will break your bird’s neck if you so much as raise an arm against me, Kloek. Now, do as I suggest and leave Caradoon.’
    Saxon tried a different approach. ‘What would you want with a falcon?’
    ‘Birds of prey are rare where we’re headed. This one’s a beauty. He’ll fetch me gold for sure in the Exotic Isles. Her majesty has a passion for falcons. She loves to watch them kill.’
    ‘I meant what I said, pirate.’
    ‘About killing me, you mean?’
    Saxon nodded slowly, watching for the next move. He was surprised to hear the one-eyed man laugh.
    ‘Shaking in my boots, Kloek. Until the next time we meet then.’
    He laughed again, pushed Saxon hard in the direction of the town and wagged his finger at him. ‘Go now, Goldie. I’ve spared your life because I can see I have taken something from you which matters to you greatly. But don’t push your luck. My name is Janus Quist. Remember it.’
    Saxon did not hear it coming but he saw Quist’s eyes flick to whatever was behind him. Something hard and unforgiving hit his head and the Kloek dropped to the ground like a stone.
    ‘Get him as far south from here as possible. Dump him as close to the capital as you dare. I don’t want him returning,’ Quist ordered.

6
Breach of Souls
    Cloot had been so intent on getting into a position where he and Tor could see Goth sucking on his stracca pipe that he had not heard the man creeping up on him. Careful fingers extracted him from the net which had been thrown about him whilst other members of the gang dragged Saxon around to the dark side of the building. The man then bound his beak with a fine thread…but not before he had gouged the man’s flesh, Cloot thought, although it