Howling Thunder Book 2 Ch.9
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The carriage has no top so I easily hop up, one of the guard’s rolling eyes doesn’t escape my notice.
Pardon me for being in a good mood.
I turn to Mora and offer her a hand up just to confuse the fellow into wondering if we’re uncivilized dogs or not.
The response is a sigh as he hops to the driver bench. The other guard steps to a foot hold on the back as Walt takes a seat and the horses start to pull. A glance forward and I notice a lack of reins as the driver lights a lantern to his side.
A few minutes to the end of the main road in town and we steadily begin a snaking climb along a wooded ridgeline towards the keep above.
Even up this high, the sound of the tavern in town echoes against the cliff walls in the valley.
Half way up the ridge my ears to twitch with an itch of instinct.
Walt glances over, “What is it.”
Speaking to the man on the back, “I’m getting the impression you folks have a bad habit of leaving out half eaten food.”
I point to a shadow leaping through the trees just behind us, visible only by the dim red glow of it’s eyes. However my pointing seems provocation enough as it lets out a horrid screech and leaps for the carriage.
Fog dimmed moonlight reveals a female figure in the air, her hair black, skin pale as a ghost and wearing naught but rags.
The guard hops from the carriage with a heavy sword swing at the attacker. She rolls forward and lands with her feet on the flat of his blade, using it to spring towards us.
Walt and Mora look to me.
“Oh fine.”
So much for gauging these guards. Rost appears with a swirl of black mist in my hand.
Pulling it up under my arm while I aim it at the Woman, now barely an arm's length away, her hands clutching forward like claws.
“Bang.”
A brilliant flash of white light bursts from the gap of the pike head. Her body goes shooting over the trees and cliffside as arcs of white energy and flames crawl across her skin, turning the pale visage a charred black. A piercing shriek of pain filling the valley until all that remains are ashes falling like snow.
The guard picks something up off the ground and walks around to the driver. I barely catch the glint of jewelry.
I can’t hear them but after a moment the horses pick the pace back up and we continue along the ridge trail.
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The guard up front looks back and sees that my Rost is still out, “You can put that away, there won’t be another.”
Smiling I leave it as is, “You know that for sure? You know it’s rather fun discovering your natural prey like these undead.”
He chuckles, “I would say the same about humans.”
I get the feeling that my, not so subtle, threat was completely ignored.
The keep entrance is right on the ridge, the right side of the door is the cliff face, to the left is the edge with only a few trees lining it. A pair of guards stand on alert holding torches and resting a hand on their swords.
We ride through uninterrupted to a court yard which cuts into the mountain. The red glow of predatory eyes peek down from second floor windows above us. Despite its menacing, military outward appearance, the inner yard would lead one to think they were visiting a countryside villa.
Grey stone brick work mostly hidden by plaster, lots of arches, an ornate old well, reddish roof tiles, and plenty of plants. Actually...it looks somewhat familiar, as if I’d be surprised if it looked any different.
The driver steps down and gestures with a bow, “Follow me please, the master is waiting in the lounge.”
Behind me I hear Walt take a slow breath, looking back I see his tense expression.
I have to sigh, “Final reminder brother, we’re not here to pick a fight, just visiting a neighbor. Also, I will not be speaking for you, you’re supposed to be the next Fenrir. I’m just here stretching my legs a bit.”
He nods, steels his face and steps ahead of me.
Such a strong temptation to flick his head right now, he still didn’t say anything!
My ears pick up the sound of steps just around corners as we make our way through the hallways but we meet no one. Soon I catch the sound of music, in the same style as down in the town except slightly distorted. In fact, the voice is the same, there’s no way the whole band beat us up here?!
The guards stop at a red wooden door and knock, “Your guests have arrived Sir.”
“Show them in.”
When the door opens the sound of the music increases and my eyes are immediately drawn across the room to a wooden box on a side table with a large metal horn attached, on its surface, a black disk rotates under a needle.
A smooth voice pull my attention, “A lovely singer isn’t she?”
Looking towards a fireplace I spot an older man with combed back, black hair and thin mustache. He is smiling while pointing towards the strange item.
His suit is rather dashing and once more I feel like it shouldn’t be any other way.
He frowns slightly before attempting to be cordial, “Is something the matter? Allow me to introduce myself first I am the one simply known as The Baron. If I may, the grey one of you should be Walther Winter, a rather silent fellow. The black one should be Nox Winter...really why are you staring at me.”
I swear I can’t help it. Walt looks back to me and taps his nose, I give him a nod.
Politely smiling back towards the gentleman, “Rude as it sounds, there are a couple things. First what is that thing making music, secondly, why do I smell a human and a cat, lastly why do I feel like I know you from somewhere? However, you certainly went by another name, and title.”
Walt raises a brow while a feline purr comes from behind us.
Turning around I just catch a blur of black as a woman of one of the cat clans rushes up to Walt.
She squeals, “Oh wow, it really is a knight in shining white armor!”
Looking closer I swear she could pass for Miss Ailu’s twin sister.
Mora side steps out of her way, “Suppose this explains the cat.”
The Baron frowns, “Miss Kitten, this is a special tradition, might I ask you to calm yourself.”
She stops fawning over a confused Walther and sticks her tongue out at the old man before returning to lay down on a sofa, struggling with her black, maid outfit to get comfortable.
He coughs to bring the moment back to himself, “The music is being played by a trinket currently in process of invention in the black city to the north, doesn’t have a name yet.”
Interesting, this from the same city that has supposedly made ships which sail the skies.
Looking back at The Baron, “You are human?”
He grins, “Once, once more, who really knows, I’m certainly not dead...anymore.”
With a snap of his fingers another woman walks in with a tray carrying two bottles and crystal glasses.
This woman, undead like the guards, smoothly pours the baron from the bottle containing a strange smelling blood. In the other glasses she pours an amber alcohol.
I gladly accept a glass and gesture towards the baron once more, “What about your name?”
Narrowed eyes examine me up and down, “We should speak on that in a bit, first let's get tradition out of the way. I hereby renew my oath to remain a silent ally of the Winter Clan, to aid them in their darkest of hours. In exchange for peaceful relations and protection of the areas near my lands, as well as non interference with our needs for survival.”
His glass is raised and I do the same in recognition of the gesture. Glancing towards Walt’s confused expression I really must roll my eyes and grin.
“Speak brother, unless you’ve forgotten how a toast works, I know you don’t drink...for hilarious reasons.”
While Mora looks interested Walt gives a grunt, “Is this really how this has been done, a simple cheers to silently ignoring your slaughter of wayward humans?”
The Baron lowers his glass but remains smiling, “Yes, this is how your father accepted it, his ...predecessor, and the fenrir before that, clear back to before the first, when your clan was happy living in the mountains far north of here. Even then this agreement was in place, though it was much simpler then. A simple truce to not kill each other.”
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