Billy Ninefingers: Billy's Revenge

Billy Ninefingers

Copyright © 2018 Connie J. Jasperson

All Rights Reserved

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 9781680630640 

ISBN 1680630644

First Edition February 2018

Graphics, Maps, and Art © Connie J. Jasperson

Stained Glass Knight © Indigocrow | Dreamstime.com

Billy Ninefingers: Fairybothering (first published in the Northwest Independent Writers Association 2015 Anthology, Asylum)

The King’s Whore (first published in 2011 by Connie J. Jasperson in The Last Good Knight)

The Ladies Clean House (first published in 2011 by Connie J. Jasperson in The Last Good Knight)

Excerpt from Huw the Bard (first published 2014 by Connie J. Jasperson)

Special thanks to Eagle Eye Editors

Myrddin Publishing Group

––––––––

Contact us at - www.myrddinpublishing.com

This book is dedicated to my husband, Greg, with all my heart and all my love. Your support and belief in me mean more to me than mere words can possibly express.

Lee French, Irene Roth Luvaul, and Alison DeLuca, your friendship and confidence in me inspires me more than I can say.

This book wouldn’t exist without the hard work and sincere efforts of Carlie M.A. Cullen, and David P. Cantrell, editors extraordinaire. The hundreds of hours spent combing this manuscript for inconsistencies, errors, and typos were appreciated more than you will ever know.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Map of Waldeyn

Chapter 1 Billy Runs Afoul of a Bastard

Chapter 2 Dealing with the Devil

Chapter 3 Mutilation, Agitation, and all Points Between

Chapter 4 Burning Down the House

Chapter 5 The Brilliant Idea

Chapter 6 Elaborating on the Dream

Chapter 7 Oh, Fortuna (and a funeral)

Chapter 8  Gertie Shakes Things Up

Chapter 9  Woe in Somber Flats

Chapter 10 Billy Declares War

Chapter 11   A Truce of Sorts

Chapter 12   Love and Pain

Chapter 13   Going Forward

Chapter 14 The Ladies Clean House

Chapter 15   Billy Ninefingers and the Painful Truth

Chapter 16   Billy’s Revenge

Chapter 17  The Fat Friar

Chapter 18   Billy Gains a Bard

Chapter 19 Billy Ninefingers: Fairybothering

Chapter 20  The King’s Whore

Chapter 21  Cob John Becomes a Midwife

Excerpt from Huw the Bard

Map of Northern Waldeyn

Chapter 1 - Billy Runs Afoul of a Bastard

––––––––

The jingle of mail and the occasional squeak of a wagon wheel broke the silence. Periodically, brilliant blue sky emerged between rain squalls, patches of amazing color that touched the soul and made strong men feel like singing. It was exactly the sort of day Billy MacNess, captain of the mercenary company known as the Rowdies, hated.

Billy was an exceptionally tall man, towering six inches above the tallest of his companions. To his eternal mortification, despite his height, he appeared far younger than his actual age of twenty-two. He was possessed of a smooth, boyish face and had a slenderness suggesting a young man not fully grown. Growing a beard would have changed that, but he couldn’t take the itch.

His dad had been killed two months before on a similar day in the place they were currently riding through. Billy had strange luck. When something bad occurred in his life, it always happened under beautiful skies, in the middle of a day that should have remained gray. Still, if trouble loomed, experience said it would happen in the narrow, winding ravine through which they now traveled. Accordingly, he and his Rowdies each scanned the surrounding area vigilantly, ready for trouble.

The weather was not cooperating. Billy sweated in the unseasonably pleasant February weather. Riding along, he took off his helm, running his bandanna over his close-cropped, reddish-blond hair and put it back on. He hated the way sweat clung to the long, thin, braided tail that grew from behind his left ear, making him feel sticky where it snaked under his armor. The tail fell past his waist, as it had never been cut, though the rest of his hair was kept short in a military cut, such as the king’s guard wore. That was the standard mercenary haircut most men and many women sported. The length of the tail was a good indication of how long they had been mercs.

Warily, Billy led the small caravan of three wagons south along the trade road through the low range of hills that heralded their approach to the village of Somber Flats. Billy and Alan Le Clerk rode point, with Gertie Smith and Clyde Thompson riding tail. The occasional sounds of birds disturbed the day, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

A stiff wind was blowing as always when the road summited Windy Ridge. Billy led the caravan onto the flat, narrow path that crossed the bare spine of the ridge. The views of the plateau on one side and down into the Rainbow Canyon on the other were amazing, but the sheer drop to a sudden death on either side of the narrow trail was daunting. As leader, Billy made the crossing first. Once on the downhill side, he held his breath, waiting to be sure the entire caravan made it safely. They managed to get the wagons across the dangerous stretch with no trouble and began the descent to the river and Somber Flats. With the crossing behind them, Billy relaxed.

Good. Alan exhaled in relief. We made it across without losing anybody over the side. He moved up to ride beside Billy, chuckling at a memory. Whenever we go this way, I still see that time old Gorton’s wagon got blown off the ridge, team and all, right down to the Rainbow Canyon.

I always think about that here too, said Billy. It was my second job as a merc. Mad Marien was screeching and hanging on to his wagon so tight I thought she was going to follow him over. I was riding tail, of course, being the new lad. I spent the next leg of the trip planning on going home to Grandma and taking up farming. The two men laughed. This whole stretch bothers me. Since the day my dad was killed there at the Narrows, I hate this road. But a job’s a job. We work when and where we can.

I know. I hate it for that reason too, replied Alan. He looked out the corners of his eyes at Billy. "You’re good at keeping us busy. I know why I’m still swinging a sword, but what keeps you working hard? Could it be Dame Bess?"

I’d like to convince her to marry me, admitted Billy, red-faced. Everyone knew his great shame, knew that beautiful Dame Bess regularly refused to marry him. Perhaps once she sees I’m as able a leader as my dad was, she’ll think better of me.

It isn’t you. You’ve already proven yourself. It’s her. She’s not going to give up the sword for you unless God intervenes and strikes her in the head with a bolt of lightning.

I know, Billy replied. He gazed up at the sky, a glum expression on his boyish features. I’ve heard all of her reasons, and they don’t make sense. There’s only five years’ difference between us. I’m an adult now, for the love of God. I have been for six years. He caught the look on Alan’s face and grinned. I know. I’m a fool. After all this time, I know it well.

Yes, you are. But we all are when it comes to love. It’s the way she is, and you won’t change her, replied Alan. Ladies in this business are notoriously unlikely to marry and settle down. Be happy with what you have while you have it. You’re the only lad in her life. It’s all you can hope for with her. He grinned at Billy’s troubled expression.

Though no one knew it yet, Alan had his own hopes, ambitions, and challenges to overcome regarding lovely Lily Rhys. Nevertheless, he did have advice for Billy. You’re chasing Bess with too much determination. Maybe if you let her think you’ve accepted her position and don’t care anymore if she marries you or not, it’ll get her attention.

Huh. Billy was reluctant to consider such a thing. I don’t know. She might forget I exist, except when it comes time to divvy her share of the take from a job.

She won’t do that. What you should do is give her more space, sort of behave less like a lovesick calf and more like a mature man in love. Alan winked at Billy’s affronted expression. Don’t be standing there every time she turns around. Make her look for you for a change.

A lovesick calf. Billy rolled his eyes. Thanks awfully, Alan. She certainly thinks I’m that.

I’m just saying you make it too easy for her, replied the lanky mercenary, his lazy grin taking the sting out of his words. She has your undivided attention and complete support, with no commitment on her part. You’re right there, smoothing the way every time things get rough for her. Maybe she needs to fend for herself a bit so she can see what she has in you.

Billy restrained himself from sighing. I doubt she’d even notice, but what the heck—I’ve nothing to lose by trying it. She’s always telling me I stick too close, like a burr in her blankets.

Alan chuckled wickedly.

The caravan began the final descent to the flats, crossing the river on the narrow, shaky bridge. The mud was deep and the going slow once they were across and on the Somber Flats side of the river.

At last, they entered through the gates of the stockade, slowly making their way past the depressing string of buildings that comprised the town of Somber Flats, all perched on flimsy stilts. The old copper mines had never produced a lot, and the last shaft had finally been declared worked out. Over the space of a year, the once thriving town had become barely a way station, supported by the mercenaries known as the Wolves.

The skies once again darkened and a hard February rain fell, cheering Billy immensely. Soon they arrived at their destination, Jock Macon’s warehouse. Now the mines were closed, Jock’s warehouses served as a staging area for local shipments waiting for large caravans going south. Most of the stockpiled shipments were from lesser merchants who paid a fee of four percent to Jock and the same to the merchant owning the larger caravan. Jock handled the exchange of coins, and the system worked well for everyone. The larger merchants could travel more often if they knew they would have full wagons.

Ho, Jock, bellowed Billy, standing in his stirrups and stretching. Open up! We’ve brought you a shipment from Dervy.

Jock and his lads came out. After signing off on the shipment, the wiry old merchant had his boys quickly offload the wagons. The Rowdies watered their horses and stretched their legs, catching up on news with a few of the Wolves who were about. Jock discussed business with Ned Wells, the man Billy’s crew was guarding.

Jock had goods he wanted to forward on to the trading post in Dervy. It’s not much, only two wagons full, but you’re going that way anyway. This way I won’t have to wait for a big caravan heading to Galwye, which could take weeks, I’ll regain that space in my warehouse, and Josef will receive his goods that much quicker. Jock thought for a moment and then said, I’ve also got empty kegs for John Caskman out Dervy-way if you’re interested. That’ll fill your wagons.

Spitting in their palms and shaking hands, Ned arranged to leave his wagons with Jock overnight so his boys could load them. Billy—are you okay with a side trip out to Caskman’s?

Sure. We were heading that way anyway, taking you back to Dervy. The two men came to an arrangement, and Billy turned to walk across the stable yard to where Gertie held his horse. As quickly as it had come, the rain had ended, and the sky shone a brilliant blue again.

Watch out, Billy.

Billy looked up, seeing Tom Saunders in the shadows, speaking low. An old friend, Tom was one of the Wolves who worked out of the Powder Keg. The Bastard’s off his head again, and he’s coming for you.

Billy turned, seeing John McAllister, known by all as Bastard John, weaving his way toward him, nimbly eluding his wife and several of his crew who frantically attempted to intercept him. Billy said, You’re drunk, John. Go home and take a nap. I won’t fight you.

John was known as the Bastard for several reasons, not the least of which was his touchy nature and extreme unpredictability. He drew his sword. You’re a traitor, Billy. Your dad up and left me and took half the crew. You should have stayed.

He didn’t take half your crew. Don’t be exaggerating, replied Billy, drawing his own blade. "Our contract was with your mother. When she died, we had the choice to go where we wanted. Of course, I went with my dad—it’s family, John. He ducked as John swung drunkenly at him. It’s been five years, for the love of God. Get over it."

I don’t forgive traitors. The Bastard swung wildly, and Billy easily blocked it. Especially traitors who keep luring my Wolves away to join their upstart band of thieves. Now fight me like a man.

I’ve never lured a one of your crew. That’s ridiculous, replied Billy, stung to the core. I can’t help it if they come to me when their contract is up. He sidestepped as John lunged at him again. You were acting like my best friend last week when we were here handing off old Lynnis and his caravan to your crew. What the hell is wrong with you? Billy blocked another drunken swing. Put that sword away before you hurt someone. I don’t fight drunks.

John glared at him but lowered his blade. Billy sheathed his sword and turned to walk away.

No, shouted Gertie Smith, just as Billy felt something nick his right hand.

Alan and Gertie wrestled the Bastard to the ground, getting his sword out of his hand. As he struggled to sit up, Gertie slugged him in the jaw, knocking him out, flattening his plumed hat. She reared her fist back to punch him again, but Alan grabbed her arm, his face white. Don’t waste your time. Billy’s hand.... God help us, he’s hurt bad.

When Billy looked at his hand, he nearly threw up. It looked like half of it was gone, and blood was everywhere. Aw... shit, he said, just before he passed out.

Chapter 2 - Dealing with the Devil

––––––––

What a mess, said Elma, John’s wife. She glared at the Bastard, who’d returned to consciousness. He bit back a sob, saying he hadn’t intended to hurt Billy, he’d only meant to kill him cleanly.

Oh, shut up, you drunken sot. Now you’ve done it. Elma beckoned to several of the Wolves. Johnny Malone, Val—you two rig some way to carry Billy back to the Powder Keg. He’s a tall man, but one of those shutters off the long windows should do it. And you two, she gestured at Jim and Bloody Bryan, since you lads are his best mates, get John out of here and sober him up before he really sticks his foot in it.

Shrugging, the two men dragged him away. Elma looked at the blood-soaked rag binding Billy’s hand. Where is that priestess? Oh God, Gertie. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the Bastard. He’s gone over the edge since Clyde refused to sign a new contract with us and went up north to your crew instead.

Why? There’s more than enough work for us all, replied Gertie. Your lot can’t keep up with it and neither can we.

I don’t know why he’s so obsessed. He’s getting dafter by the day. When Eddie was killed, he was sure you’d all return to us. He’s been wild ever since, believing the Rowdies were done for. But it looks like Billy’s as good as his father was at keeping you all working. For some reason, Billy’s success has suddenly become an affront to him.

Gertie didn’t know what to say.

Elma sighed heavily, worry clearly etched on her prematurely lined face. He’s gotten so bad I’ve had to hide the double-distilled grain spirits, or there’ll be none for cleaning wounds. I gave up the sword for him, but I’m going back to Galwye if things don’t change. To top it off, Bloody Bryan is a thorn in my side, claiming he’s John’s lieutenant, and pretty much trying to run things, since John’s out of his mind most of the time. Everyone knows Dave is John’s lieutenant.

Grain spirits? Gertie rolled her eyes. That’s a desperate man’s drink. I knew there would be trouble eventually when I heard he’d hired Bryan back. I’m surprised it’s taken this long. The two women followed the group, who carried Billy down the rutted street to the Powder Keg.

Elma shifted as if she had something to say but didn’t know how to broach it. Look, I know Eddie was your lad and all for twelve years, and that makes Billy practically your son. But don’t tell him this, please? What I’m about to tell you, I don’t have any proof, so I can’t say for sure. But I’m afraid the Bastard had something to do with Eddie’s death.

Gertie’s thin face went completely white, and she stopped walking. That’s hard to believe, even about the Bastard. I was there when they ambushed Eddie. It seemed like they weren’t trying for him in particular—it was a regular hit-and-run ambush, no different from any other attack that happens in this business. Eddie wasn’t as fast as he used to be but wouldn’t admit it. Her face crumpled, and she bit back her tears. She put on a shaky smile, one meant to be supportive. You’ve enough trouble with the Bastard right now. Don’t take that on too.

If you say so, replied Elma, her face full of misery. But I’m terrified of what he’ll do next. He’s so far gone with drink he’s forgotten he has a family. It’s a hard life here. The merchants are losing confidence in the Wolves. Mercs don’t stay when their contracts are up. My own sister, Una, signed on with the Ravens just before Yule this last year.

Gertie put her arm around Elma’s slender shoulders, trying to offer her comfort. Let’s get Billy taken care of, and then we’ll talk more.

By the time they got him back to the Powder Keg, Billy was awake again, determined to get back home. Alan and Clyde had a devil of a time getting Billy to sit still. Clyde finally resorted to sitting on his chest to hold him down, while Alan held his legs.

The first thing the priestess did when she arrived was to put Billy back to sleep with her majik. He’s not thinking straight, she told the ring of concerned faces. This will go more quickly if he’s not panicking and in pain.

The Bastard’s sword had nearly bisected Billy’s hand, amputating the little finger. Sister Ursula spent most of the night using her majik to stop the bleeding, closing up the wound and speeding the healing. She reconnected the bones in his palm but was blunt about his prognosis, telling the hovering Rowdies that Billy would be in a lot of pain while his nerves regrew. Two of his remaining fingers would always be limited in their movement.

You’ve worked a miracle, saving what you could for him, said Gertie, though it was clear she doubted her own words. He’ll be grateful when he wakes up.

I don’t think Billy ever saw that much blood coming out of himself, added Alan. Before you majiked him back to sleep, he was pretty upset. He’s never been seriously wounded before. Who knew he was a fainter? Looking at Billy’s hand, Alan’s heart sank.

Sister Ursula chuckled. It’s always the big, strong ones that pass out at the sight of their own blood. Unfortunately, the little finger was a clean amputation, and I can’t do anything about that except seal the flesh and speed the healing process. She raised Billy’s hand for them to see. He’ll find ways to get things done, but he’ll never hold a sword in this hand again. She pointed to the center of his hand, where the ropy, red wound began. He’s lucky things were still attached here at his first finger and thumb because he could have lost it all. Sister Ursula departed, making sure Gertie had the majik balm for Billy’s hand.

As Billy slept, Alan, Clyde, and Gertie talked privately. After a lengthy discussion, they agreed that no matter what else happened, Billy MacNess had to remain in control of the Rowdies. Clyde said, The others will follow our lead, so we must stand behind him. No one is a better negotiator than Billy.

Alan agreed. He can’t swing a sword with that hand, but he doesn’t have to fight. All he has to do is run things. Since Romy died, we haven’t had a proper provisioner because Willie’s too young. The merchants run roughshod over him.

I agree. Billy can do the provisioning, and we won’t be cheated anymore. Gertie glanced over at Billy. He’ll need a few days to figure it out, but it’s up to us to make sure the Rowdies are all behind him and keep him from giving up.

After many discussions, they couldn’t come to a decision regarding the Bastard’s punishment, and no one knew what would happen next. The fear of a feud lay under the surface of all their conversations. 

Once he was fully awake, Billy resolved it. Sitting in the common room with his hand on a pillow, he told the concerned circle of Wolves and Rowdies his decision. You all remember what happened with the Crows and the Badgers. The stupid duel between their captains ended in a blood feud, and the Crows lost everything. I don’t want that for either of us because the Crown got involved and disbanded the Crows. Because of that, there are only three mercenary bands guarding the trade road here in the North, and we’re stretched trying to handle the work. He paused to let that