Shakedown Turnaround - Chapter 1

         The sun burned high over the river bank. Its heat sucked moisture out of the cool mud, just as it squeezed brought the sweat to Jek's brow. He straightened up, trying in vain to work the kink out of his back. Finding that it didn't help, he settled back into his spot. He looked around at all the other people by the river, pan in hand, trying to find the small scraps of gold that would change their lives forever. He bent back over and went back to sifting. Little granite pebbles built up and washed away, the twinkle of gold emerging through granite pebbles.
         A few feet down from him, a man leapt to his feet. With one hand he swept back a shaggy mop of hair, and with the other held up a nugget right there for everyone to see. He smiled at it like a doting father and cut a little jig right there and then. "He-he-he! I found one! I found one!" Perhaps then he remembered where he was - he froze and looked around warily. All eyes were on the lucky fellow. He jerked his hands back down to his breast and scuttled away from the river on the trail back to town.
         Jek sighed quietly. Some people simply didn't know how to handle themselves. Showing off like that in a place like this was a good way to get yourself robbed. Tamgang was a shoddy little settlement overflowing with prospectors of all types, each looking to make their fortune. But for every man looking to find their fortune by the river or the mine, there were others who looked to strike it big by sifting through pockets instead of pebbles.
         But, really, how other men carried themselves was none of his business. Couldn't look out for anyone else, his own self was enough to worry about. But regardless, he had found his own day's fortune. It was hot, he was muddy, and it was time to call it a day.
         After he cleaned off and changed his money, he took a stroll down to the ale-house of choice for most shakers like him - The Scuffed Shoe. As the name implied, it wasn't anything fancy, nothing in Tamgang was, really. It had four walls and a roof, which was a lot to boast of in these parts, and the beer was fine, if thin. The real reason he came here was that its proprietor didn't mind his whittling - no illusions of cleanliness meant no problem with wood shavings.
         Jek was sitting in his corner seat at the bar. The servhirt gradually emerged from the hunk of wood as he carved. Slowly, carefully, he pared back the wood. Fibers fell to the floor as he shaped the fangs and antlers on the creature's cervine head. The doors swung suddenly open and a man staggered into the room, swaying with the stumbling confidence of a man well into his cups. "Barkeep! A round for the room... on me!" He reached into his pocket and spilled out a few silver coins onto the counter. A round of cheers went up, but Jek just looked back down to concentrate on his whittling. It was the man from the river, already wasting his money. The weight of Jek's own coins in their belt at his waist drew his attention - he didn't need the fool's charity - but who was he to turn down a free drink.
         The cheers from the others grew louder as the drinks made their way around to the various tables. Jek tried to ignore them, but they struck up a jaunty tune that finally drove him to put down his knife and take up a drink. As the night grew long, people trickled gradually out of the Shoe, and Jek decided it was his time to go too, if he wanted to get a good spot by the river in the morning.
         Jek was walking back to his room on the empty dust-strewn street. It was late, and he was alone. In the silence, a succession of smacks and the thudding of wood sounded from a nearby alley.
         "What are you doing with so much coin, eh? You don't know what to do with it - how to keep it safe. We'll hold onto it for you, yea? Like a bank, of sorts".
         Down the alley, two men, one brawny and bald, one skinny and tall, were standing menacingly over a prone figure. The moonlight bathed them in a cold light that cut through some of the shadows and bounced off the bigger man's bald head.
         "P-please leave me alone - You took all the coin I had left! I don't have anything for you to t- agh!" The big goon delivered a swift kick. Their mark yelped and wheezed as the thick boot drove all the air from his body.
         "No coin on you, eh?" said the skinny one, " Well how's 'bout you tells us where you're stayin' and we'll go and get it for you then.
         The big one took over, his voice rasped out in low, grating tones. "Man like you's got lots o' money after such a find, ain't that right? 'S you even supposed to be here? Lot's o' yeoman runnin' off without paying' off debts these days. Maybe if you don't have the coin for us, we'll just turn you over to one o' the magistrate's men so they can find out where you really belong."
         They wouldn't kill him - he didn't think they would at least. Standing there watching, the light shifted enough that Jek could see the shaggy mop of peppery hair that covered the mark's face. It was him again! Unsurprisingly, he was right - largesse like that was not the way to keep it.He really had it coming, after a fashion. Why under Baalveman's open sky couldn't keep it to himself? But did he really deserve to get beaten and robbed? Jek couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the man. He took a step toward the alley and spoke up.
         "Leave him alone, he's just a drunk shaker who doesn't know how to carry himself".
         The big man turned to face Jek. "Who do you think you're talkin' to, skinny boy?" he snarled, "Push on 'fore you get hurt".
         He already spent his money on drink at the tavern, he can't have that much more from one meager nugget." Jek replied, trying to reason with the brawny man.
         "Just a meager nugget, eh? Then why don't you pay for him? Since you know so much about money and all".
         He stepped towards Jek, the muscles on his thick arms standing out more up close. Despite being bigger than most of the northerners, Jek felt small in comparison to this thick-necked fellow. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and rubbed the unfinished carving. The unfinished grain tugged on his fingers and comforted him. His fingers bumped up on something else next to it - the handle of his carving knife. The big man mistook his gesture, and held out a hand.
         "There's a good lad. Now, give us what you got, and push on before you get hurt."
         "I don't have any money." Jek took out the carving and held it up in the light. "Just something I've been carving ".
         The big man smacked the carving out of his hand and gave Jek a strong shove that sent him sprawling in the dirt.
         "Shut up!" He stomped on Jek's stomach, igniting hot pain that replaced all the air in lungs. His assailant stooped over him as Jek lay on the street, gagging, fighting for breath.
         "I don't give a rat's ass about your little ninny carving. One last chance. Pay up and shove on, or I'll stomp your stomach till you shit blood." The pain in Jek's stomach spread all over his body. He reached to his belt with leaden hands and tossed his coin purse forward.
         "There's a good boy. Now git." Without a second glance, the big man turned and walked back to the skinny one in the alley. He chuckled as he spoke. "We got us a nice payout tonight, Dodu, didn't we?"
         He was tired, and dirty, and hurt. But anger inside him - it rose like the tide, drowning all other sensations under its dark waters. He staggered to his feet and reached into his pocket. Ripping the sheath off the small knife, he threw it to the side. He held the handle of the small blade in his hand and ran forward towards the man who had turned his back on Jek. The big man started to turn as Jek got close, an annoyed grimace on his face. His eyes widened in surprise, too late to fully react. Jek's knife made a ragged cut that ran down his side, clashing with ribs as it slid through flesh. Jek kept stabbing before the man could recover himself. He plunged the knife in and out of the man's chest and belly. He was too rough - the blade snapped off between two ribs. Blood stained the man's shirt as it streamed out of him, soaking into the dry dirt beneath them.
         Jek dropped the broken hilt and staggered back from the bloody mess he had made. At the cries of his friend, the thug's companion came towards them to see what was happening.
         Somehow, the big man still stood. He managed to speak, though his voice was guttural and halting through the pain. "You bastard! I'll kill you!" He lurched forward at Jek, arms outstretched, hands ready to throttle him. He never made it to Jek. One of his legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground. Behind him, his companion stared intently at Jek, his deep set eyes baring down on him with an almost physical weight. Jek didn't see what happened to the man he had been trying to help. He didn't see what happened to the man he had killed. He fled, running as fast as he could.
         He wasn't sure how long it took him to get home, but he arrived panting and sweaty. He ripped off his clothes. They spattered with the other man's blood. He flung himself down on his cot and pulled the blanket up over his head.
         He swore he could still feel the other man's blood, its warm thickness clinging to his hand and spattering his face. It made him sick to think about it. Childhood in Iigaeti was already hard, death and violence were familiar, but a warrior he was not. Tonight was the first time he had ever taken a life. His stomach twisted, like it was still held under the dead man's boot, like fear's tight grip would choke him and force the bile from his stomach just as the air had been forced from his lungs.
         Eventually, his fear and pain gave way to exhaustion, and a fitful sleep claimed him. When he woke up in the morning, his head pounded and his stomach bore a severe bruise. The next few days were eerily normal, he spent all day under the hot sun shaking muck out of his pan and rifling through the pebbles, for little bits as small as grains of sand. He avoided the Shoe. It was too close to where he had killed that man, and he didn't want to be recognized by anyone who might have seen. On one hot summer day though, someone did recognize him. Jek was back at the river when a familiar figure dropped down next to him on the bank. Jek glanced over - it was that fool shaker he had saved. His nose was swollen, and one eye was red where it had filled with blood. Jek turned back to his pan, trying not to think about it.
         The other man broke the silence. "Thank you... for what you did for me. Name's Pabun. What's yours? Not too many others in Tamgang that'd stick their neck out for someone like you did."
         Had he really felt sympathy for this man? He hadn't learned anything! Not even a week past a beating and he couldn't keep to his own self. Jek stood up.
         "Leave me alone. It's good you're okay - but a word of advice. Mind your business. There's a lot of dangerous people here. You'll be a lot better off if you keep your successes your own." Jek gave him a pointed stare, stood up, and left. This was all too much. That fool, Pabun he said, came right up to him - what would people think if they were seen together? What if anyone else had seen what Jek did by the Shoe. He knew one man that had definitely seen - the dead man's companion, Dodu, he had said, saw his face - had stared him right in the eye. Jek knew the look, and he wanted to be damn sure he didn't see it again.
         What could he do to protect himself though? No one had said anything thus far, until today at least. If he just pretended nothing ever happened would he be okay? It's not like there was much in the way of a guard or militia. The town was barely five years old and full of newcomers every day. But is that a risk he should take?
         Going through the motions with a storm in his belly was difficult, but he tried his best to keep at it. He had just sat down at a tavern with a bowl of greasy soup when he caught what the people at the table across from him were saying.
         "Stabbed in the back he was! It weren't no shakedown neither - didn't even take his purse. What're we supposed to do when there's a killer about?"
         Jek pushed himself back and stood up from his seat. That was enough for him - he was leaving town.
         He quickly returned to his tent to pack up all of his things. He regretted that he lost his knife and the carving he was making. He didn't have much in the way of personal effects, just his pan and the bare necessities, so it didn't take him long to break it all down and pack it away in his rucksack. Just like that, he would be gone without a trace - no sign that he had touched this town, other than the dead man he was leaving behind.
         He left town on a trail cutting west, maybe it was time for him to head back across the mountains - to home. This venture was a bad idea, a waste of his time. He had made a mess of this. Maybe he was just unlucky - it didn't matter, he wasn't going to stay to be hanged when they found that a barbarian from the wrong side of the mountains had killed a subject of the emperor.
         The sun was beginning to set as he came out of the hills into the fertile valley. The sky seemed on fire, it was so lit by orange light. A cool evening wind blew, rustling the prairie grasses around him as it blew across his face. Crickets and other small bugs chirped in chorus - the droning song eased him, and he gradually relaxed his shoulders. Maybe he could slow his pace for a bit - he had already made good time today, a bit further and he could set camp for the night.
         As he slowed down, he heard something coming up down the road, beyond the gently sloping hills. It sounded like drum beats, short sharp strikes that cut through nature's melody. From over the hill, a column of soldiers emerged. They wore tabards of brown and gold over their ruddy leather gear. Jek moved to the side of the road, intending to let them pass. He tried to look like he hadn't done anything wrong, but his heart was beating faster and faster in his chest, as the beating drums and marching men approached. The head of the column passed him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief - he would be okay. As the column kept passing by though, one man stepped out of the line in Jek's direction.
         The soldier spoke loudly and firmly. "Hail traveler. Whence do you come?" It was phrased as a question, but he knew better. The way the people of the Sohng empire spoke always sounded clipped, but this man's assertiveness emphasized the harsh tongue.
         "I'm coming from Tamgang - cutting my losses". Jek did his best to add levity to his voice.
         "You're from Bukhan. Are you headed back home?"
         Bukhan was the southern name for all lands south of the fortress mountains. To Jek, and the others who live there, it was Iigaeti - the Free Lands.
         "Er, yes... I am, but I have papers of entry from my time with the Company. Would you like to see them?" Jek took off his rucksack and set it on the ground to begin digging for the papers.
         "No, put your pack back on. It's a while yet to Tamgang and you'll show them to captain Karigal in the morning.
         "My apologies, but sir, I'm not headed to Tamgang. I'm headed from there."
         "Not anymore. No one is to be allowed out of Tamgang until further notice on the orders of the Prince of Kindan. His grace and many others have had enough of the violence and disorder from that place, and no one is to be allowed out until further notice."
         "Sir, please! I'm just trying to go home after a run of bad luck."
         The man reached out and grasped Jek's shoulder firmly."No one is leaving." he said, his tone was as firm as the grip on Jek's shoulder, "Not a soul, and especially not an outlander."
         That was that, then. He walked bonelessly as the soldier escorted him to a spot in the line with several others who must have been trying to leave. Together they walked in silence back to town.