The Skeleton Queen

Iron Pt 2

The spell of a dark night continues in the golden sphere....

William's feet came to a stop as he heard a cacophony inside a building. He stepped carefully and found the inscribed sign for The Flagon. His ears heard the sounds of coins hitting the table, fluids of beer being spilled on the floor with abandon, and a woman crying for help.

"Stop! Stop it!" she pleaded.

He strummed his mandolin and pushed his shoulder through. "Who wants to hear free music?!"

His voice traveled to the back of the room. The collective sounds died. Numerous pairs of eyes from the Black Iron Gang fixated on his figure.

Thanks to the distraction, the skinny brunette elf kicked her assailant in the balls to get away. He gripped the table while hunching over.

"Guess you will have to try again later," his cohort laughed.

Their scarred leader who over towered his men stepped forward. He pushed back his greasy strands of hair that matched his colored knife. With his one good eye that isn't covered, he looked at the young man. Will kept his face still as a foul breath hits him.

"Who do you think we are?" he growled.

"I'm not sure, but no one can resist a good time."

"S-S-Sir, may I speak with him? He doesn't know-"

The leader pointed his black knife at the innkeeper who interjected. "You're right. Even then, we can't let him leave. 2 minutes and counting."

The innkeeper noticed Will's condition and led him by the wrist behind the bar. "You can't be here. The Black Iron Gang will not let you leave here unless you join them," he whispered.

"I understand. Get you and the staff out as soon as I play," he whispered quickly. He turned around and projected his voice for all to hear.

"If you need a bard, I'm your man. I know I'm new to everyone, but I hope you enjoy my music. Just give me some time to speak with your boss so I can deliver a performance worthy of the Black Iron Gang!"

The drunken members cheered.

"We do need a bard for our exploits!"

"Let him sing, sir!"

Their leader banged his hand on the table for them to be quiet. "What is your name?"

"Charmer, prodigy, magical, quick fingers. That's what my lovers call me."

The gang erupted into jovial laughter.

"But you can call me Fiero."

"Alright, Fiero. Let's talk. Will you need my assistance?"

"Yes, please," he offered his hand and is led to the leader's table. Will kept his free hand from clenching into a fist. He forced his face to not show a wrinkle of disgust.

"What would you like to know of us?"

"How big is your group? I don't want to leave a person out in my songs."

"Everyone is here and accounted for."

"That's good. What are some memorable missions you did? I want to elevate the song to match your level."

The leader liked him enough to spill names and some of their deeds: killing a family of a client for not paying protection money; small robberies; and burning down the Bennett farm.

He spun a gold coin on the table before taking it. "These will last us for a long while."

Will gripped his knees to prevent himself from lashing out. "I understand. Where should I sit?"

The leader guided him by the wrist and sat him in the chair facing everyone. Will shakily exhaled as he tuned his mandolin. The leader assembled the rest of his crew to face the musician. One of them threw a mug of beer at Will, who casually ducked it. The glass shattered against the wall behind him. Droplets of beer hit his shoulders.

"Just wanted to lighten the mood!"

"Don't ruin the entertainment," the leader glared at him.

"No, he's right. It's time to start. This song is dedicated to the most famous gang in all of Engla!"

He played a lively tune on the mandolin. The members tapped their feet to the melody.

"Black Iron Gang, unbroken and strong as their fangs,
When they speak, their rival hangs!

His eyebrows lowered with closed eyes. He channeled his magic with each pull as his fingers increased in speed. The gang clapped in anticipation. He took in a long inhale and sang with an underlying fast growl.

"You flea bitten rats aren't worthy of a breath,
so welcome to your death!
Everything you stole shall be returned to those who mourned!
Draw your knives and end your life,
The Black Iron Gang will not survive!"

The whole group rose up after being insulted, but they saw themselves drawing their obsidian knives. They tried to resist, but they are forced to the will of the bard. All of the money they had collected vanished to their proper owners.

Blood splattered around the tavern room as Will sat in place. Tables broke from some of the members falling through them. His shirt and pants painted with the flying spurts of blood. Part of him wished he could see their downfall until he heard the gurgling of their last breaths.

The heavy smell of iron filled up the room. Warm liquid seeped under his boots. His right-hand trembled as he placed it to his ear. Silence was now his only company.

He got up slowly and slid his boots against the floor to feel for the corpses. His boot touched someone's torso, so he stepped over him. He had to get out of here before the authorities arrived. He could later perform a cleaning spell on himself to remove any evidence--

Creaking.

He quickly turned with his mandolin ready to defend himself!