Page 3 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

The scent of damp, freshly turned soil filled his nose. That shouldn’t be in such an old graveyard. Planting his hands in the scraggly weeds and soft dirt, he started to push back to his feet when he noticed a very wide and long pauper’s grave meant for communal burials. Peering over the edge, he saw there were several places where it looked like older coffins had been buried, but some asshole hadn’t bothered to fill in the entire hole.

But what caught his attention was a shoddy-looking wooden coffin tucked up against the side. There. That was what thumped and rattled, shaking loose some of the dirt chucked on top of it. So…old hole, new occupant? Was the dirt there merely to keep the person inside, inside? Because there was clearly something “alive” in that coffin.

Whether or not it was friend shaped was the question.

Fenric honestly considered just leaving because he was a villain, not a hero. Who cared if someone got buried alive, right? Besides, a ghoul or something could be in there. People not buried with the correct rites turned into Other Beings, after all. Not his circus, most definitely not his monkeys.

A heart-wrenching sob poured from the coffin, plucking at some dusty cords deep in Fenric’s chest. The sound held such a note of hopelessness, Fenric’s throat tightened and his teeth clenched. Ghosts of memories from when he had been at his lowest in life, without a single soul to help him, moaned in his ears.

Ouch, feelings. Feelings had joined the party.

Well, didn’t hurt to ask, right?

Of course, he could also hear Hapi snickering as the necromancer called him a sap and a sucker.

Whatever.

Fenric hopped into the hole, then nudged the side of the coffin with his boot. “New grave, who dis?”

“Is someone there?” a soft male tenor rasped. He sounded young. “Please, I implore you, do help me. I’ve been unfairly buried alive!”

“I see that. Promise you won’t try to suck my soul out of my body or eat me if I let you out.”

“I would never, sir!”

Well, all right, proof was in the pudding. Not to mention Fenric had a fair assortment of knives tucked about his body. He felt certain he could take one prematurely buried wretch.

With a shrug, Fenric held his arms together and used them to sweep off the grave dirt. “Hang on, then. I’ve got to remove some of the dirt to lift the lid.”

“I commend your courageous and forthright spirit. May Adon shine his guiding light on your noble brow!”

Fenric stopped and rolled his eyes heavenward while heaving a great sigh. What the hell was he doing?

Some thief had clearly nabbed himself a rich, educated nob, pilfered his purse, and then tossed him in a grave. If he had any sense, Fenric would turn around and walk away right this second. He was a villain.

Except those hopeless, lonely sobs still echoed through his mind.

No. No, he wasn’t some sap.

However, maybe he could get a reward after getting the man back to his family. Far more than the meager coins Fenric had scrounged on tonight’s bunko. Somebody had to be willing to pay to get Sir Fancy Pants back.

Oh, and fuck the god of justice! The great patron god of heroes could shove his guiding light right up his ass.

All right, that should be enough dirt off. He scooted around to the head of the coffin, got a grip on the lid, and tried heaving, but the damn thing didn’t give. He leaned in close, sliding his fingers over the rough wood to find nails hammered into the lid. At least six of them. Fenric jerked back. His eyebrows leapt nearly to his hairline. Nails weren’t cheap to come by. This wasn’t a quick ditch-and-dash job. Someone with more than a little scratch didn’t want Sir Fancy Pants climbing out of this grave. Walking away was starting to sound better and better.

“Kind sir?” the young man called out, his muffled voice wavering ever so slightly. “I have no wish to be a bother, but will I be free soon?”

It was that sweet voice that had sabotaged Fenric’s common sense. The kid sounded so innocent. This probably wasn’t a robbery at all. Some rich guy’s second wife probably paid someone to off her husband’s eldest son from his previous wife to make way for her own spawn. He probably didn’t even know Stepmommy wanted him dead so he couldn’t inherit the family fortune.

With that very logical story worked out in his head, Fenric grabbed one of his knives and started working it between the lid and the coffin, prying the cheap wood up bit by bit. “I’ll have you out in a trice. No worries.”

Wood creaked and groaned as the trapped man pushed up against the lid while Fenric pulled and pried. After several minutes, the lid flew off and the captive scrambled out. He rolled onto the ground, clearing the coffin completely.

Fenric let the lid drop and took a good look at who he’d just rescued.

Well, ain’t this a cute little puppy?

What the hell.