A Liar’s Game – Part 9

A Liar’s Game – Part 8

A Liar’s Game

A dull glow permeated the skin of Tayne’s closed eyelid with a warm orange hue, his consciousness stirred sluggishly at the intruding light. A low groan escaped the man’s lips as he forced his eyelids up and away from the closed position. The friendly glow transformed in an instant to a glaring blaze, the brightness of which pierced his eyes like a million tiny needles.

With a louder groan, Tayne rolled onto his side, away from the open window and its bastard brightness. Something wasn’t right. Even though the drunk’s roll had ceased, his head continued in its spin, the room turned into a blur of colour as it spun around and around before him. Oh no…  Tayne had but a moment to grab the edge of his soft bed and pull himself half over the edge as a thick stream of ruby red vomit left his lips in a projectile spray.

“Ughhh…” He moaned wretchedly.

“That’s the hard bit done.” A deep voice silenced Tayne’s sounds of misery, his entire body locked in place in shock. Slowly, as to not trigger the world consuming spin as before, Tay moved his head to look in the direction of the sound. There, sat beside the bed, was a very blurred, very pale, very sickly looking Raydian Von’Faygan. Admittedly, the blurriness was more than likely Tayne’s own struggling sight, but even so, he took a moderation of comfort in the fact that the man looked as he himself felt. “Kirzan informs me that the poison our would be assassin used, is incompatible with our bodies, for reasons beyond the obvious of course.” Raydian paused, his breathing heavy. “The substance cannot be digested, thus it requires an outlet.” this time, the lord of the Von’faygan family nodded towards the sticky red puddle of vomit that had pooled over the beautiful dark mahogany planks of Tayne chambers. “you should start to feel better fairly soon.” Raydian grimaced as he shuffled in his seat, an obvious attempt to find a more comfortable position. “it’s a slow process.” the man amended as he noticed Ray’s quizzical look.

“wha-” Tayne’s half formed word emerged in a croak before being engulfed in a fit of dry heaving coughs. Raydian waited patiently.

“What happened…” he managed, the words without substance, whisper like. By Tarrant he felt like shit.

“A number of things.” the Lord shrugged as he spoke,”but what it boils down to Lord Tayne, is the fact that once more you have single handedly defied all odds and saved my life… Again.” with obvious discomfort, the man lent forwards towards Tayne, his arm outstretched came to a rest on the drunk’s shoulder. “Thank you.” he whispered as a lone tear fell from one eye. Tayne shrugged in emulation of Raydian, clueless as how to act in this situation. He couldn’t really say, “actually big boss’man, I was just tryna leggit out of there to save me own arse and tripped, by chance happened to be carrying a long pointy knife, and stuck the bastard that was trying to jab you up.” Raydian must have taken Tayne’s silence as a subtle form of modesty, respect burned in the powerful man’s eyes.

“Effective immediately, I name you an honorary member of the Von’faygan family. Your words carry the authority of my house, your purse, forever filled with Von’faygan gold. Permanent quarters have already been made up for you in the family’s wing should you do us the honour of remaining with us.” Tayne’s jaw dropped. He had just been made part of the Von Fay’gan family. The Honorary title just a formality, a way of unobtrusively implying adoption without change of name, although a great honor would be given if the subject did decide to adopt the family name, and fully merge with the named house.

This is insane. A few days ago Tayne was a no one. No, he was less than a no one. He was the type of person that people stepped over, lying passed out cold and covered in filth in a random back alley, without even realising they had lifted their leg. He was part of the scenery, part of the dirt, the kind of man that Lords addressed as “you there” or “boy” regardless of the fact Tayne himself was in his mid thirties. Now, effectively he was part of one of the most powerful family in the whole of Sulpi.

Dreams of grandeur instantly stole away Taynes focus, an image of himself reclining in a solid gold throne-like chair came to mind, then swapped with a mental blink to one of himself throwing a handful of gold crowns directly into Mercy’s gorgeously evil little face.

“I’ll take the name-” Tay blurted without thought. Panic once more took hold as silence ensued. Shit, shit, shit, blown it already.  A small sniff caused the panicking peasant to raise his eyes from the floor, fully expecting a red faced, raging house Lord to be staring back at him.

He was right, to an extent. Raydian Von’faygan was indeed red faced and staring back at him, although instead of raging, he appeared to be crying. Tear after tear streamed down each cheek as the man’s head fell forwards into his own hands. Tears continued to stream through his fingers and down his hairy arms to come to a stop in a growing damp patch on either knee. Eventually, the unexpected display of emotion calmed, the man raised his deep blue eyes upwards and locked them with Tayne’s own.

“Tay, you do me the greatest of honors. I thank you, from the depths of my heart, from all that I am, I thank you.” Raydian paused his onslaught of gratitude to fix the bedridden fake lord before him with another steady gaze. “If you had not of shown up each and every time that you did, I would have lost not just my own life, but that of my daughter. And not even just once!” He chuckled. “Tarran sent. That’s what you are Lord Tay, Tarran sent.” Another grimace creased the Lord’s expression as an apparent pain speared through his body. “Tay, I must rest, and I assume you require the same. We shall talk again, soon I hope. Goodbye for now…” He paused. “Brother.”

A Liar’s Game – Part 8

A Liar’s Game



7 Comments Add yours

  1. Mark Mieczkowski says:

    I absolutely love the voice used in the narrative perspective. It’s an essential part of Tay’s character even though it is external to him. I also really like the subversion of the try-fail cycle plot device. I keep waiting for Tay’s luck to run out. I can’t help but wonder where this is going. Will Tay’s luck finally run out, leaving him where he started? How high can fate take him before the wheel turns and runs him over? This is the question that propels us through the story. The subversion of Tay’s agency is a lot of fun to read. A really fun twist would be if Tay actually is a monk, and his style makes him a so-called “drunken master”.
    Wrecket, I sincerely hope you collect this chronicle, clean up the rough spots, and self publish it as a novella.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. wrecket says:

      Thank you so much Mark, it’s definitely a possibility! If I’m honest, I’m as interested as you are in regards to where this is headed, I write reactively without a plan as I find regimentation restricts the creativity. This way, I’m as much telling the story to myself as I am to you guys 🙂

      Thanks again for your comment, it means a huge amount to me 🙂


      1. Mark Mieczkowski says:

        Interesting. Is this complete discovery writing? Did you make any unpublished back stories for the characters, families, and the world?


      2. wrecket says:

        80% or so, the world is that of my finished (although unpublished) novel, although all of the characters in this story are brand new that I’m building as the story develops. I know it’s an odd way of writing, but I’ve realised that planning just doest work for me. Although having said that, the characters backstorys are noted and built as it goes on.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. wrecket says:

        Damn, I just realised my phone autocorrected your name – sorry about that! Have updated it on the previous comment.


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