Jax Kraffon's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Jax Kraffon hunted the man who cut his face open and left him to die in the wastes. The scar ran from his brow to his jaw, still tender under his scarf. He had one lead and a stolen silver dagger, but no face to match them. That was the problem gnawing at him. He never saw the warrior clearly. Blood and dust had blinded him. Any man he chased could be the wrong man. The dagger was his only witness. He turned it in the firelight of the iron-plated lodge where hunters drank. A crown was carved above the blade. Jewels lined the handle. Someone had dropped it beside his body. Someone rich. Jax had shown it to a dozen killers here. All of them shrugged. A woman leaned on the bar and watched him do it. Orange and red hair, turquoise eyes, a red dress patched for the road. She was a bandit, and Jax knew her kind stripped the dead for coin. He did not trust her. But she had not looked away from the dagger once. "That blade got a story," she said. "Kayce Brook. And I've seen it before." Jax set it flat on the table. "Then you saw who carried it." Kayce sat without asking. She traced the carved crown with one finger. "Two weeks back. Out past the dead river. A tall man gutted a traveler and dropped his fancy knife in the panic." She met his eyes. "I watched from the rocks. I saw his face." Jax's hand closed hard on the table edge. "Describe him." "A scar over his left eye. Split lip. He shaves his head." She tapped her own cheek. "And he wears a green cloak with a wolf stitched on the back. You don't forget that." Every word landed like a nail. For weeks Jax had chased shadows. Now he had a face. Not a guess. A witness who watched the whole thing from cover. "Where is he," Jax said. Kayce leaned back and smiled. "That'll cost you." "Name it." "He runs with a crew now. Twenty men, maybe more. They took the old fort by the purple willow, upriver." Her smile faded. "I want the dagger when you're done. It's worth more than your life to the right buyer." Jax nodded once. The trade was made. He finally knew the man. Bald head, green cloak, a wolf on his back. No more chasing strangers. But the lead had teeth. His target was not alone anymore. One scarred warrior had become an army behind fortress walls. Jax rose and pulled his scarf tight over his ruined face. He had a face to hunt at last. He would have to walk into twenty men to reach it.