The Jagged Gate: Twelve Tangled Tales (Borderlands Book 2) by Maxey James

Author:Maxey, James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Word Balloon Books
Published: 2017-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

GREATSHADOW: ORIGINS

FOR TWENTY ODD years, Bigsby the Dwarf had run a little seafood shop near the docks of Commonground. The years had been odd indeed, given the cast of scoundrels that frequented his establishment. Commonground was a lawless city, haven of pirates, abode of goblins, home to thieves and thugs. Bigsby hadn’t grown wealthy serving such a clientele. Still, he scraped by, and over the years had accumulated a treasure of interesting stories to share with friends over a pint of ale.

By reputation, Bigsby was a mirthful sort, good company in a bad city. Lately, Bigsby was rarely seen at his favorite bars. He spent his evenings in his shop, sullenly chopping at blocks of ice. His lantern burned late into the night. His face took on a pale tone, his eyes lined with red.

One evening, after he’d shuttered the windows and started to work on the ice, Bigsby heard a knock. He stopped chopping.

“It can’t be him,” he muttered.

The knock came again, more firmly.

“Go away,” he shouted. “We’re closed!”

He looked at the flat surface of the ice. With his ice-pick, he drew a line across the block. Even with good winds, it took three days to sail from the Silver City. If they left on the Feast’s Eve, two days ago, they couldn’t have arrived yet.

Again, the knocks came, swiftly followed by a thump, then a crash, as the door came off its hinges.

In the doorway was a giant of a man. The intruder was heavily muscled and horribly scarred, with a face that looked sewn together with bits from several different people.

Bigsby opened his mouth. A squeak issued forth.

He cleared his throat.

“F-Fish?” he said. “Are you here for…?”

“I’m here for you, traitor.”

Someone else had answered. Bigsby glanced away from the monster. In the doorway stood another man, hardly any taller than himself. This stranger was hunched over beneath his tattered cloak, his body bent until his head was even with his waist. The hunched man leaned on a gnarled wooden staff. Rags tightly entwined his body, concealing every inch of skin. His eyes glowed like embers beneath his dingy hood.

Bigsby wiped away the sweat stinging his eyes.

“D-Did you say… t-trader?” he asked. “T-that I am. A humble trader in—.”

The hooded stranger chuckled. “You have no secrets, dear Bigsby. I call you traitor with precision. You were a traitor twenty years ago when you cruelly poisoned Lord Brightmoon. Now you contemplate the betrayal of a friend. I know of the letter.”

Bigsby hadn’t heard the name Brightmoon in years. He’d all but forgotten the enormous price placed on his head. Countless souls in Commonground would betray him for the money, if they knew the truth.

Bigsby narrowed his eyes. He’d killed before. It was time to kill again. With desperate speed, he flung the icepick at the brute’s throat as he dove from his chair. He swiftly pulled open the drawer that held his knives. It fell to the floor in a clatter. He grabbed his sharpest, longest blade and spun to face his attackers.

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