Chapter 2: SAVAGE JAXSON - Only a Pawn

Road to MidGale City, Nightway

SAVAGE JAXSON

When Danbury’s carriage rounded the corner at the edge of the Warwood, it was followed by the coach laden with the goods from Nightway.

The driver tugged the rein at the sight of a line of men blocking the dirt path. At the forefront he recognized the same man who’d halted them before. The driver didn’t like the sight of him.

He cringed and withered into the wood seat. “My Lord. He’s here.”

“Is he indeed?” The voice rasped from inside the carriage.

“I am.” Savage called. Feeling a surge of power in knowing a confrontation was impending.

One I’ve yearned for.

The driver hopped down and scurried to fumble open the carriage door. Radix stepped out. The moth-eaten gray robes falling around his dirtied gray shoes.

And there you are.

“Hello, My Boy. I’ve missed you.” Radix gave a thin-toothed smile. As Radix stepped toward the front of the carriage, Targue and Nonis began filtering from the trees.

The Seditious Lot hissed at the nickname but Savage paid no mind.

“I was wondering what that stench was.” Savage grinned just as merrily. Welcoming Radix.

But he didn’t miss the whoop of wings above him. Sarabis in the sky. He knew. He wouldn’t come after prey as formidable as me without them.

It wasn’t ego. It was fact. He knew how Radix operated.

“Do you honestly think you can fight me off?”

“You didn’t bring enough of your dogs and rodents to take me down.” Savage could hear the shuffle of rocks around him as his Seditious drew their weapons and positioned. Murmuring amongst themselves, horrified to see the creatures.

“Are those the beasts of Battling?” One man murmured.

“Those are the dogs that guard the Black Roses.” Another whispered. “I didn’t know they came out of Battling.”

They’re terrified. They should be.

Savage was aware they might bolt. But I couldn’t care less.

He’s what I want. And his gaze was locked on Radix. If he made a move directly on the demon, the animals would swarm him, and Radix would lash him with his power. And I’ll lose. So, he stood fast. Unafraid. Smart enough to not move but clearly refusing to retreat.

Radix’s annoyance was apparent. “You should be squirming with fear Boy.”

“Perhaps I should be. But I’m not.” Savage shrugged.

“I’ve missed you, My Boy. You can come home. Come home to your Daddy, Boy.” Radix opened his arms in a cold gesture.

I’m far from your Boy.

The assassins circled tight at Savage’s back. Gasping as they heard the odd interchange.

“First,” Savage lifted a finger, “I’m far from a ‘boy’. And you were never my ‘daddy.’ Secondly, I wish to enlighten you.”

“Oh?” Radix was nearly quivering with anticipation of either dragging Savage back to Stone Peak.

Or killing me right here in this road.

“Yes. You think I see myself as a King.”

“They call you King of Assassins.” Radix countered.

“Yes, they do. But I’ve never referred to myself as such.” He dismissed before adding. “You think that because you see yourself as a King that I’d see myself as such.” Savage shook his head adamantly. “But what if you’re wrong? What if I perceive myself as a pawn in our little game?”

Radix looked at him warily. “Where are you going with this little chat, Boy?”

Savage smiled almost pityingly. “Well, if I’m only a pawn-one I’m willing to sacrifice no less…And you have brought your knights,” He looked at the Firoque men and women who slid from the carriage. “and your bishops,” His gaze fell to the Targue lurking under the carriage and growling from behind it. “And your rooks.” He put a hand to shield his eyes as he looked to the sky to see the black winged creatures circling. “Well,” He shrugged. “Who would that leave to guard your queen?”

Radix looked horribly confused. “Deiti?”

Savage grinned snidely.

“I’ll tear you in half!” Radix badly wanted to kill the boy but knew how valuable Deiti was with her great beauty and array of abilities.

He leapt in the carriage and changed the direction of all his beasts toward Stone Peak.

Savage slowly rotated. Strolling the dirt road toward his own carriages where his men carefully loaded crates pulled off Danbury’s coach which had been left behind with two quaking drivers. Paralyzed in their seat as rough assassins ripped the goods off the roof of the coach and yanked them from within.

“Who are you?” One driver asked, terrified.

“Haven’t you heard, Lads?” A hideously disfigured man laughed. “We’re Savage Jack’s Seditious.”

“The Seditious.” The other murmured.