The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

14-1: A Tail Of Revenge

Tailfin strolled along the docks in the evening light. No – he skipped along. He'd been under water for a week, and finally putting his legs to work again was a strangely delightful experience.

Merilyce had saved his life, or at least, she had released him from an eternity of boredom beneath the waves that Arynlock and her man had sentenced him to. No – Madrik had sentenced him. The upstart gangster had called for them to 'feed him to the sharks'. Him. Tailfin?

He would deal with the ambitious bastard soon enough, once he'd returned to his office and made sure everyone knew he was still alive; once he'd ensured that his criminal empire was running smoothly and hadn't simply fallen to pieces in his absence.

He thought back to his time beneath the waves; the sharks circling him helplessly, their teeth not sharp enough to saw through the chains. He would gaze upward, staring at the changes in light above. That's how he knew it had only been a week; any longer, and he would have given up counting the days.

For a change of scenery, he would search the sea floor for anything interesting. Unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of bones scattered in the shifting sands – most of them rough from the savage gnawing of the tailsharks, few of them there by pure accident.

He had also happened upon a bag of gold, neatly fastened shut, just waiting for someone to collect it. Collect it he had, and he'd brought it to the surface. Some wave of kindness or madness had seen him hand it over to Merilyce. The poor girl deserved a reward, but a whole bag? It must have been madness. Tailfin wasn't infamous for his acts of kindness.

There was someone else in Merilyce's boat with her. A scribe. The Scribe? An interesting thought passed his mind, one that he would hold on to for later. First, he needed to get back to his office.

When he looked up from his feet, clearing his mind of his more generous thoughts, he saw he'd already arrived. The gambling den – his gambling den was right before him. There was a massive man standing at the entryway with a stunned look on his face.

"T... T... Tailfin?" he stammered.

"Get out of my way!"

"Ah... yes, boss..."

Tailfin smiled as he passed the doorman. He could smell fear, and that foul scent always made him happy. He walked confidently through the main room past the tables full of punters throwing away their money, and headed to the office at the back. Another large man stood at the door. His favourite henchman, he noticed.

"Tailfin?" he said with a shocked expression. "You're alive?"

"Do I look dead to you?" he demanded.

"No, boss."

"Do I look alive to you?"

"Ah... yes, I suppose so. Boss."

"Well then?"

The henchman was still blocking the door. Clearly far too much information being processed by his limited mind.

"Get out of my way," he warned.

"Ah... yes... no... it's just... Madrik..."

"Madrik?"

Tailfin pushed past the henchman and kicked the door with all his strength. It swung open, and Tailfin charged through, fuming.

"Madrik!" he shouted. "What the godsdamned—"

"Tailfin!" interrupted Madrik with a huge grin on his face, leaning back in his chair. "How wonderful to see you again!"

Tailfin fell into stunned silence. Madrik was expecting him?