Calypso's Revenge Ch. 01 - Teaser (Patreon)

“I know.” Alric smiled faintly. “Thank you, Deyna.”She didn’t reply, just smacked his shoulder with a flour-dusted hand and turned back to her work. The morning outside was thick with heat, the kind that clung to the skin like damp cotton. Alric adjusted his coat, secured his blindfold, and followed the call of the sea. The salt air pulled at him, a promise and a warning wrapped into one.The docks weren’t far, maybe a ten-minute walk, and the man took his time, as at this moment, he had all the time in the world. He sensed the docks before he reached them, hearing the creak of hulls, the slapping of waves against the wooden pylons and the familiar calls of gulls. And then… something else.A sour scent, a mingling of oil, sweat, unwashed linen and cheap cologne trying to cover up rot. It blanketed them as they closed in… five of them going by the shuffling of their feet. He kept walking until he felt the wrongness close in around him, five bodies spread in a loose semicircle ahead, just before the edge of the dock.His sloop, Startide, bobbed gently in the tide behind them and Alric sighed at what he knew was going to happen. He thought most of the idiots around here knew better by now, but he figured someone must be desperate. Alric stopped moving, keeping his distance from them. Slowly, carefully, he knelt and set his breakfast bundle on a nearby crate.“I’d rather not fight you,” he said, voice calm and clear. “I have a long journey ahead of me, so kindly move.”The response was a chorus of laughter.“Well, well,” one of them barked. “Blind dog’s got manners.”“Leave your purse and your boots, old man, and we’ll let you limp away with your cane,” a second voice chimed in. Alric straightened, grip tightening on the staff as he listened to the sound of their voices and in that moment, he knew why they were accosting him.“You must be new.”“What was that?”“I said,” he repeated, “you must be new here. Anyone who knows this dock knows I’m not a good target.”The entire group then laughed out loud, like Alric had said the funniest thing they’d heard in a while. A couple of them were wheezing from laughing so hard, while one of the other moved forward. Alric then heard a hand smack on the man’s chest, and he smirked, knowing that the leader of this group was going to fight him. The leader stepped closer, and by God, he reeked of sour rum and stale ego.“All I know is that you’re gonna be lighter and limping when we’re done,” the leader cackled. Alric sighed, turning his head slightly.“Last chance. Leave.”A hand reached for and gripped his shoulder, making that his first and last mistake. With a blur of motion, Alric’s staff cracked across the wrist with a meaty thwack, then spun low to take the thug’s knees out. The man dropped with a scream as Alric pivoted, letting the staff whirl like a living limb—crack to the temple of the next, snap to the ribs of the third, who stumbled backward coughing blood.The fourth thug tried to swing a knife, but Alric caught his wrist mid-slice and twisted hard. Bones popped, and the man shrieked, his blade clattering uselessly. Alric spun the staff up, smooth, flowing, faster than any blind man should move, and planted the end squarely into the man’s solar plexus. He collapsed with a wheeze, coughing as he tried to breathe. The last one—the loudmouth—backed up, panting, still holding a broken bottle like a saber, as Alric advanced calmly.“You said something about my staff?” he asked, voice cool.“F—fuck off, you’re just—”The staff whirled once—then smack, right across the face and Alric swore he could hear teeth flying. The thug dropped, groaning and sputtering blood, both hands clutching his mouth. Footsteps clattered from the side street, and a small squad of colonial soldiers appeared, rifles ready, eyes wide. At their head was Lieutenant Barron, a lean, hawk-nosed man who’d long ago learned not to underestimate blind men with quiet steps.“What in God’s name happened here?” one of the soldiers asked. Alric calmly knelt to pick up his breakfast and turned to face the men, speaking calmly.“I asked them to leave me be. Not my fault they didn’t take my warning seriously,” he stated with a shrug. Barron surveyed the mess, the moaning, broken men, bleeding on the docks like gutted fish, and he chuckled.“These damn pups,” he said, motioning for his men. “Still thinking blind means helpless. You’d think they’d learn by now.”