Tahnee - Protagonist Short Story

Tahnee

She was going to win. Determination coursed through her veins as she entered the pub’s smoky lounge. The air was stale and held the essence of old beer. Her feet stuck to the floor as she moved into the room, the heat overbearing as it burst upon her cold cheeks.

Tahnee carefully unclasped her cloak, its green fabric spotted with droplets from the fog outside. She hung it neatly on the suspiciously empty coat rack and walked towards the bar. Her slight heels clicked against the wooden floorboards as eyes turned to look upon her. She ignored them and sat on a bar stool, flipping the tails of her jacket to hang over its side.

She tested the bar table with a tentative finger. After feeling it’s tacky surface she sat away from it, folding her arms on her lap rather than risking her jacket’s sleeves. She leaned forwards to try and get the attention of the barman who was busy scrubbing glasses with what she hoped was a clean cloth.

“Excuse me, may I get a beer please?” She asked politely.

The barman barely glanced up from his work. A heat rose to Tahnee’s cheeks at the thought of the other patrons viewing this rudeness. She frowned heavily in frustration.

“A beer, if you will, sir,” she said more aggressively, agitation plain in her voice.

This time he looked up, frowned, picked up a glass and poured her requested beer.

“What’re you playing dress up for, lass? It’ll only get you into trouble,” the barman stated, glancing at her awkwardly.

Tahnee looked down at her pristine clothes, her long tailed jacket in tawny brown, her green waistcoat, brown trousers, black belt and high black shoes seemed perfectly adequate to her. The cutlass at her side even more so given the stares emanating around her.

“Petticoats and skirts are not very practical in my line of work. And I find I dress prim and proper enough in my garb.”

“Your line of work, huh? And what would that be?” The barman asked as he slid the beer towards her, holding his hand out for payment.

Tahnee slipped a coin from her pocket and dropped it into the man’s hand. His palms had black dirt encrusted into his lines. She didn’t dare to look upon his fingernails.

“I’m a historian. Currently looking into some work for the King himself.” ‘A little lie couldn’t hurt.’ “Perhaps you will have seen my work in the local libraries? I recently published a book on the wonderful artifacts found in the ancient city of Lias. Very fascinating work.”

The barman raised an eyebrow at her.

“I think you wandered into the wrong bar, lassy.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely in the right place. I’m here to see a Mr. Fryson. I don’t suppose you know where he is sitting?”

The room around her went deadly silent as the barman froze before her. She sat rigid, making sure to show no emotion upon her face. She had discussed her plan with Rokka and he had repeatedly told her it was a bad idea. He’d even tried to stop her going out tonight but he wasn’t very good at staying up late. It was past his bedtime after all.

As the silence stretched on her heart thumped harder against her chest. Her hands grew clammy. Perhaps she had overstepped the mark? These people didn’t seem too pleased with her presence and she was trying to meet up with one of the most revered gang leaders in Koros.

Finally, the barman cleared his throat to speak, leaning heavily on the bar table before him.

“You’re definitely in the wrong place, lassy,” he growled. His eyes darted around her towards his other patrons who shifted awkwardly.

Tahnee leaned forward, careful not to let any of her clothes touch the syrupy mess of the bar.

“I think not,” she stated, taking a hold of her glass and having a sip of beer.

It tasted awful.

She could feel the dirt sticking to her teeth and lips. She wanted to gag, cough, stick her tongue out in disgust, but she couldn’t in front of these people. With much determination she smiled at the barman.

He sighed heavily.

“Very well. Up the stairs, first room on the left. But remember I warned you lass. You can’t say I didn’t.” He turned away from her and continued his wasted effort of cleaning the glasses.

Tahnee nodded her head towards his back and rose from her stool, straightening her jacket. She turned away from the bar but then remembered her drink. She didn’t want to drink it. She wasn’t going to drink it. But should she leave it? She stood for a moment in contemplation and then decided she should take it, it would be impolite to leave a drink poured for you after only one sip and she was sure she could leave it somewhere where someone else would finish it off for her.

She picked up the fowl glass and looked around the lounge for the stairs. The room was full of patrons. All male. Big, husky and dirty. Striding towards the stairs she inhaled deeply, immediately regretting her choice as the smell wafted to her nose.

‘First room on the left, top of the stairs. I can do this, I can do this.’

The stairs were rickety beneath her feet and she was sure a trickle of liquid was not supposed to run down the side to pool at the bottom. But she wasn’t from here, what would she know? Different bars had different themes, perhaps this one was supposed to be dingy and uninhabitable. It was situated in Hockmead after all.

The door appeared to her left quicker than she would have liked. She was nervous. Rokka had told her many times how crazy she was but she needed to get that artifact. She had to know if it was real. And if it was she had to study it.

She lifted her chin and knocked hard against the door with her fist. Silence greeted her. She waited patiently.

Eventually, a loud thudding echoed from behind and the door swung open, revealing a huge muscled man. His shirt was tiny, the little amount of fabric struggling to cover the colossus chest beneath. He had no sleeves, allowing the tattoos and scars to be seen across his thick arms.

Tahnee’s body began to shake, the putrid beer in her glass wobbling, but she couldn’t let it. Struggling to contain the squeak in her voice she smiled warmly towards the brute, reminding herself she had her cutlass.

“Good evening to you, sir. I am here to see Mr. Fryson. The barman told me he was in this room.”

The brute continued to stare at her, a scowl across his wrinkled face. His nose was so crooked she was certain it must have been broken countless times and the sides of his lips pointed downwards. Someone had told her long ago that if the edges of the mouth point down it showed the person didn’t smile often. This man looked like it would physically hurt him to grin even the tiniest bit.

Tahnee cleared her throat awkwardly.

“If I am in the wrong room I’ll move on and look elsewhere. I do have an appointment.”

“Let her in, let her in!” An old voice called from inside the room.

The brute made a grunting sound and moved to the side, clearing the doorway for Tahnee to step inside. She moved hesitantly, gulping down phlegm, she hoped not too noticeably. She stepped into the room and the brute closed and locked the door behind her, it’s loud bang causing her to jump and spill some of her vile drink upon the floor.

Inside was dark and musty. The air was thick with dust and the room was jam packed with valuable paintings, books and jewellery. She’d heard that Mr. Fryson was never in the same place for more than a week and presumed he must carry all of his wealth with him. The thought of it made her tired. Who would want to move around so much with so many belongings?

The bed was ruffled and unmade, two half naked women sprawled across it. Tahnee hoped they were merely sleeping, their limbs hanging off the sides of the bed didn’t seem very mobile.

“Come in child, come in. You are the historian, Tahnee. I have heard so much about you.” An old man sat upon a chair beside the grimy window, a table was laid out before him, a game set up in preparation.

Tahnee made her way over to the table, flicking her coat tails behind her as she sat across from him. The brute from the door came to stand behind her, and another stood beside her opponent. Tentatively, she placed her drink upon the table, her knuckles white as she forced her hand to let go.

“Well, you are an unusual specimen. Men’s clothes on a woman, and such a pretty one too. It’s been many years since I have seen someone with hair as dark as yours or eyes so green,” Mr. Fryson flattered.

Tahnee’s stomach rolled.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Fryson. I have also heard many tales about you. I hope some are not true…” She inclined her head, her mind still worried about the girls on the bed. They still had not moved.

Fryson laughed.

“My dear, if one’s reputation were mostly a lie there would be no point to it. Now to business. You have requested to play against me? I am always happy to receive a challenger, they come by so little these days. But as a contender you must want something. Pray, what is it you seek from me?”

Tahnee stared at the man before her. He was one of the great gang leaders in Koros and yet he looked so frail. His back sagged, his teeth were yellowed, his ears had grown so large as to be the most defining feature upon his face. Yet this man had never been beaten. He ran almost half of the criminal activity in the city, and he was not known for being pleasant.

“I have heard you have recently required an artifact I would greatly like to study. It concerns Trodama.”

Trodama, the lost and forbidden city. It was the last known city of mages. Destroyed long ago by their own careless magic and hatred for others. If the place existed at all, it was mostly referred to as a myth, a legend to scare children with at night. For though the city was supposedly dead, mages had ways of coming back from the afterlife, to continue their evil endeavours. And the blood of innocent children was so sought after in magic.

Fryson smiled wickedly towards her.

“Taf, the artifact in question, if you will.” He held out his hand as the brute by his side walked away to rummage amongst the stacks of artifacts around the room.

He returned with an envelope thick with padding. It looked to be in good condition. Taf placed the envelope in his master’s hand, who brought it to his chest, eyeing it carefully.

“This is a most treasured thing to me, so unreal and yet here I do hold it in my hand.”

Tahnee looked on, trying to stop fear from crossing her face. She had to get that artifact, it was the only way she could stop the dreams, she was sure of it.

“Very well,” Fryson conceded, “we will play. For this item. If you win, you get to leave this room with my beloved artifact. If you lose…” A disgusting smile crossed his face, his yellow teeth cutting across his bottom lips, pale blue eyes like ice. “I get you for the evening. Deal?” His pale eyes flickered around the room as if considering his part of the deal.

Tahnee glanced over to the still forms of the women upon the bed. She had thought them prostitutes, but were they perhaps others who had lost the game?

Rokka had told her not to come, had said it was all folly, that she would regret her decision. Oh, why hadn’t she listened to him? But then the dreams would never cease, she would never sleep again and what was the point of a life like that?

“Agreed,” she said with far more confidence in her voice than she felt.

“Perfect.”

Tahnee took her appointed team, placing the components in neat piles before her, two pieces of Captaincy at the end, strongest to weakest. This way she’d know at a quick glance how she was doing. She looked across to Fryson’s side of the board but his pieces were in disarray, a shambled mess with no order at all. She frowned heavily.

‘Why do people never arrange things out? It would make their turn go far quicker if they weren’t searching through the rubble for what they want.’

“Well, shall we say ladies first?” Fryson suggested, his fingers brushing each other in anticipation.

Tahnee took a deep breath, looked at the board in front of her and placed her first piece. She had played this game many times before. But this was different. The pressure mounted atop of her winning was huge and possibly life threatening. Losing was not an option.

Fryson was fast, he placed pieces with barely a moment's hesitation, picking from his pile almost at random.

This worried Tahnee. She thought about his moves, planned her attack, then re-planned, counter attacked, defended, reversed, but it didn’t make sense. The moves he was applying didn’t seem possible. There was no warning or seemingly any preparation for the moves at all.

Sweat formed on Tahnee’s chest as she feared she had made a mistake. She glanced towards the woman on the bed more frequently, more frightened and worried each time. She fidgeted in her chair as Fryson continued to grin at her menacingly. She double guessed herself, her hands shaking as she picked up the pieces, playing with her nails in between each move.

She was losing.

Fryson knocked down Tahnee’s final strong piece and folded his arms in triumph.

“I believe I have won, my dear. There is no way you can turn this game around now.”

Tahnee’s heart sank in her chest.

‘She couldn’t have failed, she knew this game. He couldn’t have…’

Tahnee stared at the board in front of her whilst Fryson clicked his fingers at the brutes. They both walked over to the bed and picked up the two women already lying upon it. They threw one over each shoulder and carried them to the door, leaving it unlocked behind them.

Fryson untied his tie and undid the top button of the shirt.

“Well my dear, I can’t say it won’t be strange taking a woman out of man’s clothes. But at least I have enough experience with my own to help you with yours.”

Tahnee felt numb, this couldn’t be happening. The board layout before her, all the carnage of her own piece’s plight all to plain too see. He’d taken her armies with three pieces of Captaincy, that was… Wrong.

“You haven’t won,” she muttered, her voice breathy.

“What was that?” Fryson asked as he rose from his chair and removed his jacket, throwing it untidily upon the floor.

“You haven’t won,” Tahnee repeated, louder this time. She looked up at him, eyes fierce. “You cheated. You can only have two pieces of Captaincy upon the board at any one time. You have three!” She pointed at the pieces before her, her finger shaking with accusation and rage.

Fryson looked over the board, his gaze following where she pointed.

“Well, my mistake. We should play again then I guess.”

“So you can cheat another way? I don’t think so,” Tahnee snapped. “You cheated, therefore by the rules of the game and the laws of Koros, you lose and I take victory.”

Fryson stumbled back, “Now listen here-”

“Hand it over!” Tahnee demanded, rising from her chair. “I have won this game and you will give me my winnings and allow me to leave this room unmolested.”

Tahnee knew the brutes wouldn’t be long, she had to leave quickly, but she was not going anywhere without that artifact. Her hair prickled on the back of her neck, her legs shaking beneath her.

“I don’t give winnings away,” Fryson grumbled, reaching across to a drawer by his side.

Tahnee swiftly grabbed her beer and threw its contents in the old man’s face, forcing him to retract his searching hand. As he stumbled to clear the drink from his eyes she rose and unsheathed her cutlass, pushing its point against Frysons neck.

“My winnings, if you please,” Tahnee repeated through gritted teeth. She’d never actually cut anyone, only taught herself to fight with books and a few scattered lessons. Could she really threaten this gang lord?

Fryson reached into his pocket and took out the envelope, small droplets of liquid seeping into the paper.

“You will never leave this building alive. My brutes will catch you going down the stairs.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Tahnee snatched the envelope from him with her free hand and signalled with her cutlass for him to move towards the bed. “You will sit on that bed and not move until I have left this building, understood?”

Fryson smiled whilst stepping towards the bed, his soggy clothes clinging to his frail frame.

“I won’t have to move.”

Tahnee could hear the thundering footsteps of the brutes coming up the stairs. Almost dancing on the spot she took her cutlass away from the man’s throat and sprinted towards the door.

“Taf! Ligan! Stop her!”

Tahnee jumped down the stairs almost into the arms of Taf. He made a grab for her but she ducked under him, the wall scraping against her back. Ligan was there waiting. He moved to take hold of her but her cutlass was ready. In his haste he grabbed the front of the blade, the force jolting Tahnee to a halt. He yelled out in anger as blood dripped from his injured hands. Tahnee yanked her cutlass back, the flesh sliding from the man like paper. He growled at her and jumped forwards whilst Taf turned and moved at her from behind.

Tahnee launched herself onto the ground, her elbows smashing painfully against the hardwood. She slid to the corner of the stairs, allowing the two colossal bodies to impact with one another.

She fell down to the bar, no longer caring about the sticky juices attaching to her jacket, nor the pain ripping through her muscles. She jumped to her feet, eyes searching the bar. The patrons had heard the commotion and were rising from their chairs, the barman taking a club from the wall. Her heart thundered in her chest, her hands shaking as Ligan’s blood dripped down her blade.

“Get her!” Fryson screamed.

She launched herself at the door, practically throwing herself into the street. Behind her the men were doing likewise. No one wanted to be a part of the mess back inside.

She ran.

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