The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

01-2: The Bloodied Sands [continued]

"Best of luck with Tailfin."

With that, the old man turned and wandered back the way had come. Madrik barely managed to mumble a meek 'thankyou'.

Lost in thought, Madrik wandered towards the city. It was nice to be able to walk in daylight again. Somehow the sun didn't feel so powerful on that side of the mountain.

His mind roamed the desert. The ancient spirit that attacked him. The adventure with the giant invisible beasts, even if they weren't real. The oasis in the desert. Lytette, her golden skin and scant clothing lingering in his memory. Even after a night of rest in the lower slopes of the mountains, and another day en route to Helen's Bay, he couldn't quite get Lytette out of his mind.

The old man hadn't exactly clarified who or what Lytette was, only that she was more than just a dream. He hadn't even said what his name was, for that matter. But Madrik supposed it was for the best. He couldn't owe someone whose name he didn't know.

He did owe Tailfin, and before he knew it, he had made his way to Tailfin's headquarters. A gambling den. Where grown men went to waste their lives. Where criminals went to make new connections. Where dock workers went to lose their meagre income. Where men like Madrik went when they thought they could outsmart the likes of Tailfin.

The door opened, and a large man with too many muscles studied him with a look that suggested that it didn't matter who was standing there, he would give them that dirty look anyway.

"What you want?" demanded the henchman.

"I'm here to see Tailfin," said Madrik, trying to sound confident.

He hadn't really planned this, he thought to himself. He was unarmed, and in Tailfin's fortress. What exactly was he going to do? What was he going to say?

"He's busy," insisted the henchman. "Go away."

"He's always busy," said Madrik. "He'll make time for me. Tell him Madrik is here to see him."

The henchman looked a little unsure, and then walked off into the back office leaving Madrik standing outside to hastily plan his revenge. His mind wandered shortly behind his eyes, which skimmed over the usual punters and landed on the odd man out, sitting in a quiet corner, with parchments neatly stacked as he tapped quill a thoughtfully on the table.

The henchman opened the door and poked his head through, waiting for Madrik to follow. He entered the office to see Tailfin sitting at his desk, and more brawny guards standing around the room looking as intimidating as they could.

"Madrik?" said Tailfin. "How nice to see you. You look like hell. What happened to you?"

"You threw me in a sack and dropped me off in the desert, after a few complimentary kicks."

"Well, yes, I know that," said Tailfin evenly. "I meant, what happened to you since the last time I saw you."

"I survived," said Madrik. "Made it out of the desert alive."

"With the sole purpose of wasting my time?" he asked impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Revenge!"

"And this was your plan?" said Tailfin. "To ambush me from the front, with my lackeys standing ready?"

Dammit. What was his plan? Tailfin appeared completely unconcerned that Madrik had made it back – perhaps he wasn't the first to survive the desert run. He had expected Tailfin would at least be surprised. Instead, he appeared a little impatient and annoyed. Tailfin would have him escorted out in no time, probably back to the desert.

Madrik laughed out loud.

"Well, of course not," he said. "I was just here to show you that I am alive and well, so that you knew I may be working on a revenge plan. It's not like I am going to jump one of your guards, steal his blade, and throw it at you!"

But that's exactly what he did.

He leapt to the nearest guard, punching him on the nose, and pushing him back as he grabbed a dagger from the brute's belt. He turned quickly, took half a moment to aim, and flung the blade straight at Tailfin just as another lackey tackled him from the side.

The blade hit the wall about a two feet off the mark, while Madrik hit the floor several feet from his.

"Godsdammit," he said as the lackeys pulled him to his feet.

"Indeed," said Tailfin. "That was rash."

He felt a thud on the back of his head, and fell over unconscious.

When he came to, he found he couldn't move. He was wrapped up in some sort of linen. A sack. Another bloody sack.

"Tailfin?" he called out, as if he didn't know what was happening.

"Yes, Madrik?"

"Where am I?"

"I should be more worried about where you are going to be," answered the crime lord.

Another blow to his head cut short the conversation. He was vaguely aware of his intermittent bouts of consciousness, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of time. Eventually, he felt himself thrown to ground.

"Congratulations, Madrik," said an unusually cheerful Tailfin. "You are back in the desert."

A kick to the belly was quickly followed by another to the head, a then few more less accurately targeted blows. He could hear the men chuckling as they did it. When they stopped kicking, he groaned a question.

"Why don't you just kill me?"

"I am intrigued to see what your next revenge plan may be, should you survive again. I rather hope it's a little better thought out. You might even consider taking a bath before confronting me, you know, showing a little respect. Besides, I find it boring killing idiots. Good luck to you, Madrik."

Madrik heard the footsteps fade away. He struggled with the sack to pry it open, eventually breaking free. He could still see Tailfin and his men off in the distance. The desert stretched out before him, with the mountains far to the west. It was the same place he had been dropped off the last time.

This time his ankle wasn't hurt. Instead, it was something much worse. Each ankle had an iron shackle locked around it, with a heavy metal ball joined at the end of half a foot of chain.

He took one step forward, the ball dragging through the sand. He could barely move his feet. Wouldn't be able to walk a league in a day. Wouldn't be able to run from anything.

He really should consider not going up against Tailfin again. But that was precisely the opposite of what he was considering at that moment. He would have his revenge, this time. That is, of course, if he could make back alive again. He wondered where the old man of the desert could be. What was his name?

He scanned around him, searching for anything that might help, a possible salvation. He didn't have a clue what to do, or where to go, even if he could move. He was left at the mercy of the desert once again.

Godsdammit.