The Black Handled Cleaver

By Goldie R.P. Boslem

Step into the life of a Rockspine outlaw with nothing on his agenda but blood and brotherhood. Follow Nero, an initiated member of the Black Rats as the fight is brought to them by their enemies, the Spinecircles. The town of Sagdum might not survive the carnage.
With battle comes loss, injury, and brutality. Sometimes it’s better to die than find out exactly what you would do to stay alive.

Across the Star in the bridge-side town of Greycrossing a resentful son decides that twenty-three cycles are enough to keep his feelings buried. The fate of the family trade, their livelihood and the blood that ties them lies in the swing of a blade with a black handle.

Set in the same world as Mother Vixen, this novella can be read as a companion or as a standalone story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Goldie R.P. Boslem
• Release date: May 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311597953

Goldie R.P. Boslem

Goldie R. P. Boslem is the pseudonym adopted by Will R. Boslem and Dan P. Goldie, two Scottish authors making their debut in the world of Fantasy-Fiction. The unreleased Mother Vixen is the humble first step into a world that will grow faster than readers can anticipate, through The Cycle of the Skulk series and beyond. Will and Dan bring different assets to the table as authors, having taken entirely different experiences from the world, to create their own. Dan has graduated from university and came out the other side with a degree in English and History, and has spent the last few years working with the public, enlightening him on countless different personalities and lives. Will spent a few years touring the country with his band, and now excels as a tattoo artist, enlightening him on countless personalities and lives in a completely different setting. Together they have a broad range of experience with people, environments, culture and the world. On top of that they are both avid readers, gamers and TV marathoner's, which helps in keeping their ideas unique and fresh. Since their school days, long before all of that began, they have been creating together. For almost a decade their world has been in the making, moulded and transformed, ideas batted back and forth every week, until the Kingdom Mother Vixen was finally born. The beginning, middle and end have been in the two authors' minds since the very first night the world was imagined, they knew the ending of the series before they even began to write. However the way that ending is reached has dramatically changed over the last decade, growing beyond anything they ever imagined on that first night, and continuing to grow every day. They both love creating their world, and are never happier than when they are writing, and hope the readers enjoy their tales as much as the authors did spinning them.

Book preview

The Black Handled Cleaver

Goldie R.P. Boslem

This Novella takes place in the lands of Mother Vixen, but does not necessarily happen at the same time as The Cycle of the Skulk. It can be read before, after or along with The Cycle’ or as an independent story.

Contents

Prologue

I – Silent as the Grave

II– Better Late Than Never

III – Nemesis

IV – A Sinking Ship

V – Two Cigars

VI – Gore

VII – Your Own Blood

VIII – Scant Mercy

Epilogue

Prologue

The large gates at the back of the manor grounds were open and unguarded, which was odd, but then again the owners weren’t exactly expecting men to flank the great house from the back of the land, if at all. The road around was long and not easily taken.

The horses clopped over the mossy, forgotten threshold making no effort to keep the noise down, but then again, they were horses and the thought probably didn’t cross their minds.

There were a score of the horsed Spinecircles, so even if every guest at the dinner had a bodyguard they would still have the numbers on them. The contract was as good as theirs.

Rod had heard about the job from a man in the tavern. Ten people had to die and they would be rewarded with the loot inside. The ten people just happened to be eating dinner together that night. They were witnesses in a trial or something and the accused family was very rich.

There weren’t many torches, they didn’t want to give them too much warning. The more surprise the cleaner I’m thinking. Rod was hoping to get away without too much resistance from alerted house guards. They began to head up the expansive stone path toward the house, long forgotten and riddled with more dark moss.

They were still far enough away that they could talk without worry of anyone hearing, and there were still no guards to speak of either. He overheard two of his men going over the plan.

So all we have to do is kill ‘em all and we get to loot the place and nobody will come after us? That almost sounds too good to be true. I was thinking that myself.

There was something strange going on but Rod had stuck his neck out on this job to the leader of the Spinecircles. So this has to work. As well as that the lads that were beside him had taken his word for it, a word he was beginning to regret making.

Greycloud, as if reading his thoughts, pulled up beside him on his horse and kept pace with Rod’s stallion. They were still a fair distance from the house, making their way up the tree edged path, bathed in darkness.

Yer sure about this now aren’t you son? He growled, I wouldn’t want to turn up to find an empty barn, this is the right place?

Rod made a dismissive sound with his lips and flapped his hand. I’m sure boss, this is the place, he lied. He hadn’t so much picked up the information as drunkenly overheard it but still, the opportunity was there, that’s how being an outlaw worked.

And the place is golden? You know if yer wrong the boys will beat ye…Where’s yer coat? he asked, quizzically.

I…eh…don’t quite know, I got messed up last night and can’t remember where I put it, replied Rod in a half-lie.

That coat is a sign of what you are, a Spinecircle! He pointed to the emblem on the sleeve of his grey leathern coat, other hand still on the reins. It isn’t so easy earning one of these. He grunted and spat from his horse. It’s disrespect is what is it Rod! If ye weren’t my son I’d beat you myself. I might just!

Father, it’s a coat, I’ll buy another with my share of the prize. he replied as they passed through another clearing, completely unguarded.

Greycloud gave a scowl around the uneven circular expanse. Where’s the men? There should be men…

Rod was wondering the exact same thing, and it was really beginning to worry him, but he had to make something up. It was a habit he’d become accustomed to, lying to save his friends, and himself, from his uncertainty. The bigger the risk, the bigger the payout.

The man said that he would take care of that, he lied. He said all the guards would be at the front. All he asked for was a painted shield with a horse and a snake on it, family heirloom apparently…Well, that and the ten corpses. Rod was an accomplished liar, he knew to choose something obscure enough that his father wouldn’t want to take the loot but not too obscure as to be made up.

Well thought out this plan of yours eh? his father asked with a tone of slight disbelief, his eyes narrowed slits on his thin face.

Aye, well… I always was the brains of the operation. Trust me, I won’t let you down boss. Rod used his most honest sounding tone, a grit to his voice that secured the deal.

That’s right, you won’t let me down. Greycloud’s words were a threat as he rode ahead to take the front.

They were almost upon the stately home, the flickering candlelight in the distance like fireflies in the air.

There was more than gold in the place, Rod knew that, he knew there were jewels and weapons and writs. He definitely knew that there were writs, probably quite an amount.

This particular meeting, in the town of Sagdum included the most important people in the town, the Mayor, the major landowners besides, the heads of trade, protection and industry. If they could take them out they would take the town.

How often does one get the opportunity to deliver a whole town, well…village to his club? to his father!

Alright so the plan was laid out, and Rod had just happened to hear the meeting being set up, and discussed in detail whilst drinking himself into oblivion the night before. He had stumbled through the door to the hideout and spluttered a drunken plan out.

His father had, to teach him a lesson no doubt, agreed to the plan. At the time Rod was overjoyed, positively beaming with pride. At this point in time it was the stupidest, most ridiculous idea he ever had.

Apparently he had promised no guards, and an easy entrance, according to his father’s reaction in their brief conversation. A fact that his alcohol-affected brain had obviously completely forgotten to let him know.

He had handled that