Danica awakened sometime near evening the next day. Her head ached fiercely and her leg had swollen into the bandage, causing some amount of discomfort. She loosened the wrapping and observed the garish red wound on her pale lavender skin, stitched closed by the hand of a skilled surgeon. It would still leave an impressive scar, one that she’d carry her whole life to remind her of that night.
Though it was difficult, she managed to clean herself up and get dressed. She hobbled down the hallway to the dining hall, trying to avoid unwanted attention. Several of the guards sitting at the tables eyed her as she passed. They were military men, of that much she could be certain.
A hand shot out and grabbed her as she tried to pass them. “Landon’s little pet got injured, it seems. What happened little mouse? Did you find a big scary cat?”
She tried to shake him off but his grip was too firm. “Let me go, Jorin.”
The men around him joined into a chorus of laughter at the spectacle. Jorin stood and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sub-commander Jorin now, elf.” He tightened his grip, sending pain shooting up her right arm. “I expect you to show me some resp…”
The laughter died down and some of the men stood to draw their weapons. The sharpened knife teased at Jorin’s throat pressed in tight, and he wasn’t sure if he could even swallow without the blade cutting into the tender flesh. She had pulled it almost purely on instinct it seemed, ready to defend herself against the threat of harm.
She stared at him, those deep blue eyes showing no fear. “I asked you to let me go. I won’t ask again.”
He released his grip and started to back away, hands held high. “One day elf, you’re going to regret that little mistake. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you off with a warning.”
His eyes stared at her with an unmistakable hatred in them, watching her every move. She resheathed the small knife into her belt and continued through the hall into the kitchen. She knew that she had just made another enemy. He may have been a coward and a braggart, but he unfortunately had some authority, as undeserved as it had come. He was second in command to Landon now, and if something happened to the commander, she’d very likely be in serious trouble.
Inside the kitchen, the heat was almost unbearable. The women worked at cleaning up the remnants of tonight's meal and preparing for the next day. Delicious scents hung heavy in the air and made Danica’s mouth instantly water. Angela busied herself with cutting slabs of red meat into cubes and hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“Hey,” Danica called to her with a wave as she approached.
Angela dropped the knife and hugged her hard. “Thank the light, you're alright.”
Danica hugged her tightly and patted her back. “I am for now, but I might not be for long if I don’t get a decent meal.”
The older woman laughed a little and wiped away either a bead of sweat or a tear off her cheek. Danica assumed it was the latter, but she didn’t want people crying over her. She tried to convince herself it was sweat instead. It was so blasted hot in this room after all. The kitchen staff really deserved more credit for what they had to endure day in and day out to provide the men with their meals.
They walked outside into the cooler air and sat at an outdoor table area. A few gnats buzzed around, and an occasional fly made an appearance, but it was so much better than being indoors. Cool shadows were cast across them from the small trees planted nearby as the sun cast its light down upon the city.
Angela made sure Danica was comfortable and went back inside. A moment later she reappeared with a tray containing roasted chicken parts, a vegetable stew, and fresh baked bread. There were two mugs of apple cider, slightly fermented from their long storage in the cold cellar. It was truly a feast, the likes of which she hadn’t been prepared for, but was very thankful to have.
“What’s the occasion?” Danica asked, staring at the bountiful serving.
Angela set the tray down and served the younger girl her food. “You’re alive and so am I, and we’re both hungry. Seems like reason enough for me.”
They ate together, relaxing under a darkening sky, talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary. They shared thoughts and feelings, commented on local gossip and gave opinions on what it all meant. Danica had thought about telling her of the run in with Jorin, but decided not to spoil the good moment. She debated on telling Landon as well, wondering if the incident might just be forgotten about eventually if she said nothing about it.
Angela suddenly stopped laughing and her expression turned serious. “Danica, would you consider leaving this place?”
Danica studied her intently, seeing now how tired and worn out the woman looked. Angela was already well into her fifth decade and Landon was early in his sixth, but until this moment it never really seemed to dawn on her just how aged they really were. The stresses from their chosen professions didn’t seem to be helping matters much either.
Danica sighed and shook her head. “There’s some unpleasant moments, I’ll admit, but this is my home. If people work to make it better, then maybe it will get better.” She paused thinking about it for a moment. “I don’t think Landon would leave this city behind regardless.”
Angela nodded in assent to that. “He’s as stubborn as they come, I think. Always was.”
Danica reached out and held Angela’s hand. “We can’t leave him here alone. He’d be lost without us.”
Before the woman could respond to that, bells began to ring off in the distance. Danica could see a plume of thick smoke accumulating over part of the city where the sound was coming from. Soon more bells began to ring out, and guards began to scramble around the barracks.
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One of the guards ran by them and Angela stopped him with a shout. “Wellis, what’s going on?”
He stopped in his tracks, slightly winded, and looked at her. “Ma’am.” He looked over at Danica and acknowledged her as well. “There’s a full blown riot in the markets.”
****
Landon held the shield up high as a chunk of stone bounced harmlessly off the wooden planks. A glass bottle broke against the shield of one of his men next to him, sending a glittering mess all around them. He lowered defenses enough to get a better look at the mob of men and women ahead of him. They were shouting obscenities while waving torches and a random assortment of implements in a threatening manner, showing no sign or willingness to back down.
He gripped his iron tipped cudgel tightly, fearing the worst. “Damned fools. Sergeant Merrick! Hold this position and don’t let them take a step past this line. Use lethal force only if necessary.”
He didn’t wait for confirmation, trying to hurry away from the main body of the protestors. Someone was inciting this riot, and he needed to find out who. He grabbed four guardsmen, who had just arrived onto the scene, and made his way around to the other side of the market district.
Some of the buildings had become blazing infernos, making it impossible to approach them. People attempted to soak the wood of nearby residences in an effort to save those structures from suffering the same fate. Smoke hung heavy in the air, choking those it enveloped as cinders and ash rained down from the sky. Here and there, a lone body lay on the ground unmoving.
They came upon a group of three men that were attempting to loot a store with a broken window. He charged forward, knocking the first man down to the ground. The guards followed his lead and started beating the other two would be thieves. It didn’t take long for the three of them to get the point and make a hasty retreat.
“Damnit!” Landon yelled. “We don’t have time for this.”
He pressed forward along the path, picking up more straggling guardsmen along the way. Soon he had nearly two dozen men, well armed and ready for anything, making their way down the street. They managed to cut around and back behind the main body of protestors, intercepting and turning away their straggling reinforcements as they proceeded towards the source of the unrest.
Soon he found what he had been suspecting would be the root cause of this dire situation all along. A man in priestly garb was prophesying to a gathered mass of people about the injustices of Norport. He encouraged them to take up arms and fight for their very lives and those of their families against the evil tyrants. He was inciting them in the name of Zaphel and Myrra, the gods of light.
Landon turned back to his men, noting their readiness for battle. He pointed to the priest, “Try to take that man alive.”
The guards charged out of the side street into the thick of it. Despite Landon’s best efforts to quell the rioters without killing them, an occasional overzealous guardsmen would crack a skull with their cudgel. He’d seen enough combat to know that he’d just witnessed a deathblow, and there’d be no rescuing that person after the battle. It would be impossible to save everyone, but if he could stop this madness at its source then he could at least minimize the casualties.
Despite the priest of light urging them on, the angry citizens soon lost their nerve to fight against their supposedly oppressive rulers. He gave a few more futile efforts to whip them into a frenzy, but finally gave up and turned to run away from the battle while he could still get away. Unfortunately for him, a well aimed club soared through the air, hitting him in the back of the head and sending the man flying forward into the hard stone street.
Landon charged forward, using his shield to bat away anyone unfortunate enough to end up in his way. He arrived to where the priest had fallen and saw the man staggering to his feet, trying to get his wits about him. Before he could demand the man’s surrender however, the priest swung his steel scepter at the captain. Landon raised his shield to intercept the blow, hearing the splintering of the lightweight wood under the heavy blow. He realized then that his opponent wasn’t using an implement for ceremony, but a deadly martial weapon in disguise.
He drew his sword and swung for the priest, missing entirely as the man deftly dodged the attack. He tried a few lighter strikes, testing against the man's skill and was growing worried at the possible outcome. He was facing someone younger, stronger, and faster than he was. Hopefully he would not be nearly as skilled or experienced in the ways of battle, giving the older man an edge he desperately needed.
The priest swung his scepter at Landon’s head, but the fatal blow was stopped with his shield once more. It began to break apart now, being designed solely for light duty use as it was, the defensive gear never stood a chance against such force. He didn’t want to risk it’s total failure so he slung it off his arm at his opponent. Unsurprisingly the nimble priest moved to the side and deflected it easily away from him.
He jumped forward, aiming at Landon with a double handed strike, but the older veteran had anticipated such a move. He stepped in with his sword and intercepted the scepter at its base, deflecting it away from him. He quickly struck the priest in the eye with an elbow, knocking the man to the ground. Landon gave a resounding kick into the downed man's ribs, hearing an audible pop and sending him rolling across the ground. He tried to repeat the attack, but his legs were swept out from under him and he hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from his lungs.
The priest regained his footing first and was standing over top of Landon, ready to smash his weapon into the guard captain's skull. A bolt suddenly appeared in the man’s chest and then a few more followed in rapid succession. The man looked down at the wounds with shock etched onto his face, staggered for a moment, and then dropped to the ground dead.
Sergeant Merrick, now sporting a nasty gash across the forehead, helped Landon to stand. “Sir, reinforcements from the barracks have arrived. We’re getting things under control now.”
Landon looked over at the corpse laying on the street, blood pooling beneath it. He cursed under his breath at the fact he wouldn’t be able to ask the man why he’d incited the people into riot, then turned and waved appreciatively to the guards holding crossbows. A moment later, and they’d have been planning his funeral arrangements.
He walked over to the body and studied it for a moment. There was nothing too out of the ordinary physically it seemed from just looking at him. All he could discern was that this was a man dressed in religious attire that could fight as well as most trained soldiers. That was a terrifying thought to imagine the church turning out religious warriors like this as instigators to take the city.
Merrick walked to his captain's side. “Your orders sir?”
Landon looked around the area at the mess they’d now been left to deal with. “Get the rioters off the streets, tend the wounded men, then let’s get these damned fires under control before the entire city burns to the ground.”
He reached down to the dead priest's neck and pulled off a silver pendant featuring a golden crown divided in half. One of the holy symbols for the two gods of light. He placed that into his pocket and stood. He didn’t know why the clergy from the church were doing this, but he knew who he’d start questioning on the matter. It was time he paid Sombec another friendly visit.