> ----------------------------------------
>
>
>
> Pray he comes alone, a heart made of stone
>
> If love finds her way into the king’s circle
>
> Rivers of blood would paint a black throne
>
> Atone…
>
> What thee take, thou shall give back
>
> If vanity breaks the gilded throne
>
> Wyvern’s scales shall turn an onyx black
>
> Atone…
>
> Or thee shall be judged
>
> by the Tamer of Monsters
>
> -
>
>
>
>
>
> Sintoriela’s Revelation
>
> (aka, Song of the Acid Gardens)
>
> 2nd stanza
>
> Edlenn, of Sintoriela
>
> High Priestess of Nesande
>
> (Unknown Date, presumably First Era)
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Glen
Mister Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
Ruler of Goras Peninsula
Part III
-This land belongs to me-
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Jinx raised a pink brow, her questioning face as much weird as hilarious.
“Hmm?” She probed him further and Glen stared right at the hard-lined face of Kalac and the equally weathered Tarn, his second in command. Outlaw snorted, head shaking this way and that to avoid an angry bug and Glen had to pat his mane a couple of times to calm him down.
“There are just buildings mate,” Glen said, pulling his leg away from Jinx’s side kick, the short Gish almost toppling from her own horse in the attempt. “Tall ones for sure.”
Too fucking tall.
“Glen,” Jinx hissed and he gave her one of his mirror-practiced patented grins. “What are you doing?” She asked, sounding confused. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, see if you can find their tracks, Pretty.”
“Maeriel could have helped, she’s on our side,” Jinx argued the same point again.
“No she’s not.”
“She’s with Phina’s people and Anfalon. Not the Cultists.”
“I never said they might be Cultists here,” Glen said evenly, whilst watching the Horselords spreading out to locate the route Sam and Soren’s group had taken, as it was obvious there was no one near the Towers. They’ve checked first one and then the other. No sign of the horses.
“She’s not fond of Soletha,” Jinx informed him.
“There are more sides than that,” Glen said and eyed the sprawling tiled road that appeared covered with solid asphalt at large portions of it, with very little shrubbery at its edges. “Can you help?”
Jinx puffed out and jumped from the saddle, rolled once on the ground unnecessarily before she started looking around for signs of the small group of riders. Glen rolled his eyes at her shenanigans despite feeling worried after Uvrycres warning.
“What do you fear?” Kalac rustled, the Horselord Leader had approached him while he was distracted. Glen noticed he’d the reins looped on his bronze hand.
Glen hadn’t told them anything.
How could he possibly explain?
“A gut feeling,” He murmured and stared at the massive West Gatetower, the entrance half-collapsed, several cracks running up the granite blocks, but looking despite all, sturdy as all hells. “Have you ever had that?”
“Aye,” Kalac replied looking at him with calculating eyes. “Reckon I had. Once, or twice.”
“Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Uhm. Should we look inside the towers?” Kalac asked.
“Better to look for our people first,” Glen said and Kalac stood back. He nodded once with his head and turned his smaller steppe horse away. Jinx who was skirting stooped the undergrowth raised a hand and waved it his way. “What?” Glen barked, the pressure getting to him and Jinx folded her fingers one after the other, but for the middle one.
Oh, for slovenly fuck’s sake.
“Tracks,” The Gish said chuckling. “Horses grazing.”
“Soren?” Glen asked, jumping from the saddle and rushing towards her.
“Hmm,” Jinx murmured and kept following the tracks, rushing over the naked parts to where enough soil had gathered. She used a digit to measure the depth of each hole made by the horses’ hooves.
“Well?” Glen asked half an hour later, the tracking business atrociously boring and unrewarding, but for the chance to stare at the Gish’s fit backside undisturbed.
“That’s Soren’s horse,” Jinx said, whipping her pink head around and almost catching him. Glen’s face a mask of indifference and silent contemplation of the general scenery not giving her anything.
“How do you know?”
“Hooves dig deeper at parts, he was leading for a while, the horses coming after it, covered it up some,” Jinx replied and showed him the patch of disturbed land, covered in half-eaten greenery and animal droppings. Glen had no idea what he was looking at, but nodded as if he did. “They went towards the bigger buildings of this neighborhood.”
“There’s only tiles and this paste thing from here on. No more shrubbery.”
“Shite as well,” Jinx said and pointed in the middle of the large road. “This grass made them bowels move.”
“Right,” Glen said with a grimace and walked to his own horse blissfully grazing at the green patch of land. “Spread about, keep yer eyes open,” He said to Kalac who was talking with Tarn about twenty meters away and on the other side of the boulevard. “We’re heading in.”
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Goras appeared beaten up worse than Lebesos. Much worse. The architecture uncommon, even with Eikenport in mind, it allowed for spacious villas and estates separated by wide streets and partly blown apart outer walls. Nothing above the first floor had endured the calamity, everything fused as if covered with cement that had poured from the sky and then cooled off creating a bizarre landscape with almost no nature surviving, but patches of grass and yellow, or sickly white flowers.
The roomy streets empty and eerie silent but for a soft breeze that cooled his sweaty face.
“Ever seen something like that afore?” He asked a silent Jinx.
“No. I don’t like it,” She replied with a shiver.
“Aye,” Glen murmured and eyed the sloped road heading towards the better preserved buildings. “Is that stuff lava?”
“Don’t know,” Jinx said and jumped down.
Glen followed her lead and they walked towards the nearest destroyed villa. They went over the melted outer wall and strolled down an arena sized garden, or field, the terrain flat underfoot. Jinx paused at what once had been a big entrance, now only a meter of wall remaining.
“Is Soren in danger?” She asked him, kneeling to pick up a pebble she then tossed into the opening. It struck the hard asphalt like floor and rolled to one of the internal still standing walls afore stopping.
“They are over a day missing,” Glen replied and walked on the floor, now raised at least two feet above its original level to check on the interior. “They might be. There’re Zilan still living in the city. Fuck, this shite is so big that… yeah.”
“How do you know?” Jinx asked, standing right behind him.
“Uvrycres told me.”
“The Wyvern?” Jinx cleared her throat. “Why keep it a secret?” She asked a long moment later.
Glen turned his head to look into her worried face.
“I don’t trust anyone Whisper,” He admitted. “But you knew that all along.”
“Aye, I did,” She murmured, hugging her chest and looking about. “Do you trust me?”
Not when you’re horny.
“You’re my friend,” Glen said, cracking a small smile. “First Gish I ever saw and the best.”
Jinx raised a pink eyebrow not convinced. “If yer angling to have your cock sucked, I ain’t in the mood. I’m in a relationship,” She added seriously, before a dumbfounded Glen could explode.
It didn’t last that long.
“Whisper for crying out loud!” Glen blasted her irate. “What the actual fuck? I’m trying to explain some stuff here—”
Jinx raised her hand to stop him.
“Why now? What has you worried?” She asked narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t feel you that sorry for Alix, or even for Flix leaving. The freak I’m not going to comment, or Sen. She has big tits, so I get it.”
Luthos provide assistance.
“I was sorry for Alix and Flix was more close to me than you can realize,” Glen said pursing his lips. “But I don’t care the same about everyone, not the way I do for those that are with me from the beginning. You know me better than anyone else and I know you.”
“Oh, come on Glen,” Jinx said. “All this I understand, but don’t pretend ye ever gave a shite about what’s going on to all of us.”
“I know about the monkey,” Glen deadpanned.
“What?” Jinx asked standing back, her face pale.
“But I respected you enough to not say anything. Or about Leona. Now Maeriel, who may, or may not work an agenda you don’t see.”
“What agenda?”
“I don’t know,” Glen replied. “I don’t really know any of these people. What if I told you there’s a Zilan that can take that knife off yer belt whilst talking to you from across a table?”
“A spell?” Jinx asked and Glen shrugged his shoulders. He glanced about them, at the devastated room that was once the hall of a probably impressive villa. Glen noticed part of a statue next to an ancient fireplace, a crude décor now half-sunk in asphalt to the hips and walked that way. “Glen?” The Gish called after him.
“Aenymriel. She played a trick on me,” Glen told her and touched the bizarre statue’s face, the grey surface brittle and the expression carved on it disturbing. “Holy fuck,” He gasped and jerked away shocked.
“What?”
“It’s not a statue,” Good grief. Glen took a deep breath and stepped back. He looked in the haunted Gish’s face and touched her shoulder softly. “Let’s get out of here Pretty.”
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“Where’s Belec?” Kalac grunted an hour later.
Tarn, son of Babal pressed his wrinkled mouth tight and turned on his bone-adorned saddle to stare at the slopping road leading to the upper neighborhood. The villas on it weathered, but still standing. Pyramid-shaped designs, half or inverted triangles, same angled roofs over exotic multi-floored structures.
“I can see him returning,” Tarn rustled.
“Why do they build so far apart?” Glen asked and Kalac eyed him for a moment afore answering.
“Space. The Zilan are like predators,” The Horselord said. “Lions of the Steppe rule over large swaths of land. Wyverns are like that as well.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that,” Glen replied. “Phina’s people are communal, this seems like a perversion, or… ah, I don’t know.”
“Castes,” Jinx said. “There was a divide and it grew over the centuries,” Glen glanced at her. “Our Elders talked about Wetull all the time. We lived closer to them than anyone else, but for the Ticu. Then again, they live near every port so yeah.”
Ahm.
“Fuck’s that?” Glen asked with a frown, the word strangely familiar, as if he’d heard it before.
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“Eh, creatures of the sea,” Jinx replied, scratching the area around her small nostrils with a finger. “A bit shy, but very treacherous.”
“Like fish?”
“No,” The Gish replied all serious. “Fish aren’t dangerous.”
Ah.
“Your Kraken is,” Glen reminded her and she breathed deeply once afore letting it all out.
“The Kraken is Abrakas dog,” She explained. “The Ticu are his children. Not fish. Very different. Better stay clear of them.”
Glen had no idea they even existed, nor any inclination to meet them anytime soon.
“Belec returns,” Tarn reported interrupting their educative conversation. He turned his eyes on the returning Horselord and the rider following after him. The man being twice Belec’s size.
At least.
Well.
“He brings company,” Kalac noticed, pointing out the obvious.
Glen smacked his lips and pushed with his knees to get Outlaw going. He could recognize Soren out of a crowd, but they had a lot of people missing and his initial relief turned to worry.
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“Hey Pretty,” Soren greeted the Gish with a broad smile.
“Hey there doofus. Don’t ever do that again,” Jinx replied with a wicked grin. “Had me worried sick for a moment.”
“Why?” Soren asked, his horse neighing in protest underneath him.
“Why ye think?”
“Where’s Sam?” Glen cut in, a little pissed he got ignored, but also worried about their missing men.
Soren shrugged his broad shoulders. “I saw them heading up the road, but I couldn’t find them.”
“When was that?” Glen asked.
“Late yesterday.”
“You’ve been looking since?” Kalac asked.
“Aye. I thought it odd.”
“Spotted anything strange?” Kalac asked Belec and he grimaced, which could go either way.
“Soren?” Glen queried.
“There’s light in the dark,” The Nord replied. “I had to turn back here and return in the morning.”
Glen grimaced. He eyed their group of Horselords. Kalac had brought everyone almost. Twenty three riders, plus Glen and Jinx. “We’re going back up there,” He decided. “Someone should stay with the horses.”
“Leave the horses?” Tarn asked with a frown.
“If we can hear the hooves clopping on the tiles,” Glen replied, “So can they.”
“Who’s they?” Kalac rustled.
Glen climbed down from Outlaw and reached into his saddlebags for his weapons.
“Eh, eyes open,” He cautioned the men watching him. “We’re about to find out. Get ready.”
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The sun was past its midpoint, the bright disk shining over the blacked stone walls, the interior filled with calcified trees, or broken stubs. Every villa having its personal small forest at one point, neatly arranged in rows of now dead thick-trunked trees, with rhomboid patterns and trails between them. The burned land had started recovering though. Amidst the dead nature, green had appeared, flowers and large swaths of yellow beds of harvested wheat.
“There’s water over there,” Jinx said and pointed with a finger at the mist starting beyond the hilly neighborhood. “Can you feel it?”
No.
“Someone is gathering the crops,” Glen said instead, his eyes darting right and left, his back on the wall. He popped his head again through the opening. “No gates.”
“Safe community,” Jinx commented. “Why the walls though?”
“Borders,” Glen said and saw Kalac who was standing across the tiled street pointing further up ahead. There was an animal standing outside another estate, the distance about two hundred meters.
“What?” Glen hissed to the nervous Horselord as he started walking towards the horse, with Jinx and Soren following after him. Kalac sent Belec across the street at a fast trot. Fifty meters from the stray saddled mount Glen paused to hear the Horselord.
“That’s Terta’s horse,” Belec explained in his rough Common.
Glen narrowed his eyes and stared at the light brown and grey horse. Was it the saddle? The horse returned his stare sitting still before the entrance.
“Guard the villa directly across,” Glen said. “While I take a peek inside.”
“We should storm it,” Belec grunted.
“Read my lips. There’ll be no stormin’ afore we know what’s goin’ on,” Glen explained to him and the horse started coming towards them.
Belec clicked his tongue and reached for his satchel for a treat as the horse started galloping towards them. Ten meters and the Horselord knelt to place a honeyed piece of bread on the ground, five and he stepped back as the horse was charging full speed without intention of slowing down.
Fuck.
“Glen!” Jinx yelled a warning, but he was already moving, the horse turning and coming right for him. The sound of hooves striking the paved street terrifying. What in Luthos is this crap? Charge at Belec shit for brains!
Glen dived right and out of the way towards the outer stone wall of the villa, the dead-eyed horse turning at the last moment to trample him over. Jinx shrieked chillingly and then a thud was heard followed by a tearing sound, just as Glen landed on an elbow, rolled over ash-like fine grit and stopped at the base of the wall with his left knee.
The pain blinding.
“ARGH!” He bellowed furious and tumbled upright after a couple of failed tries, ogling eyes looking for the crazy horse whilst hopping on a leg. Everyone staring stupefied at the decapitated and bleeding animal. Its head a couple of meters from where Glen had ended up and the wound on his neck cavernous.
“Fuck happened?” Glen asked, rubbing his hurt knee hard, to alleviate the stinging sensation.
“Eh, he chopped its head off,” A thoroughly shook Belec mumbled and looked at the unassuming giant. Soren had his big battleaxe out, the weapon painted in gore.
Ah.
It makes sense, Glen decided with a shrug and then frowned staring at the dead horse.
“Any idea, what got into it?” He asked his bewildered companions moving on to more important matters.
“I’ve never seen this afore,” Belec said and Glen signed for the approaching Kalac to bring everyone on their side of the road.
“Get your friends up the wall if you can,” Glen told him.
“I can climb the wall,” Jinx offered.
“I know, but I was thinking you should stay this one out,” Glen said.
“Hah, nope… Not if yer going in.”
“Whisper.”
“You’re as important as this one to me,” Jinx said and pointed a thumb back at Soren. The giant Nord raised a spade like hand in greeting, the large smile on his face a splash of white amidst all the red.
Glen raised a brow mischievously and Jinx landed a light punch on his armoured shoulder.
“Don’t be a cunt,” She cautioned the former thief with a grin.
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Right.
Glen checked his harness, unsheathed Angrein’s sword and stepped inside what had been a massive walled garden once. He started walking following the paved main path towards the exotic villa. While blackened, the stone was mostly undamaged and there were signs of life near it, several patches of land covered in greenery and flowers. Behind him the Horselords entered in turn and spread out finding cover behind dead trees that had turned to grey-white stone. Soren followed right after him in his usual slow tempo, with the Gish on his left shoulder a couple of meters behind Glen.
His eyes searched the dark windows, most of them covered, before they returned on the door. A sturdy oaken construct, quite new and painted a dark green. It was left wide open, the dark interior of the exotic villa ominous.
“I know you’re here,” Glen said stopping a couple of meters from the entrance. “I’m just looking for my men.”
He got no answer. Glen gulped down nervously and felt a sweat rivulet trickling down the side of his face. He glanced at the flower trees, the bright white flowers and ashen-green leaves inviting.
“That’s bloodroot,” Jinx whispered. “Nigh poisonous.”
Shite.
A man had appeared on the threshold. Scrawny and tall, long legs sprouting out of his worn out tunic and feet encased in old leather sandals. He had his arms behind his back, a bald head and the long ears of the Zilan. One eye half-closed. Half his face sagging, the skin loose and sickly. Either paralyzed, or badly healed.
“Hey friend,” Glen said setting his shoulders, Jinx snorting at the term. “We’re looking for our people,” He repeated and the Zilan brought his arms forward and tossed a severed head at his feet. It bounced once, the skin pale and the eyes missing and rolled towards a numb Glen until it stopped in front of his dusty boots. It left no trail behind it, the blood drained.
A tick appeared on Glen’s face, the head belonging to Terta, one of the Horselords in Sam’s group. He licked his dry lips slowly, feeling his mouth bitter and his heart thundering in his chest from the scare. He could hear the Horselords muttering at the distance and he raised his hand to stop Jinx from firing. The Gish had her bow out already.
“What happened?” He asked the silently watching him maimed Zilan.
“I was forced to break Queen’s law,” The Zilan replied.
The fuck does that mean? Lith, yer people are total nutjobs girl.
“Name’s Garth,” Glen said with difficulty, trying not to look at the severed head at his feet.
“Ah. What is it you keep, Sinya Nore?” He asked him, his sole eye gleaming.
“Not afore ye answer me friend.”
“You toss the term around, yet you strolled in my house, sword in hand, thugs and harlots in tow,” The Zilan hissed and Jinx gasped and loosed her arrow. Glen flinched, but the Zilan stepped forward fast as lighting and down from his porch, the arrow disappearing through the door after flying over his head.
“Damn,” Jinx said.
Glen raised his sword and aimed it at the Zilan. “Where are the others?” He grunted.
“Some I’ve eaten,” The freakish creature replied and reached for his satchel. “Certain parts. Others I kept. Why are you still moving?” He asked him looking at him strangely.
What?
Glen frowned, made to glance behind him, but the Zilan moved again forward, raised his hand and blew something his way. Glen could have used his sword there, but he didn’t. He opted to vault to his right on instinct, knee smarting. Glen somersaulted, the blade almost taking out his eye, saw Jinx standing frozen, next to a still Soren and then he was on his feet again, breathing heavy.
The Zilan stared at him impressed.
“You’re more than you appear,” He told him.
Glen grimaced and reached for the peleg. The maimed creature stepped near his two companions in response, to cut off his angle. He reached with a hand and touched Jinx’s chin, slotted a long finger between her lips and grunted pleased.
You sick fuck.
“Fine lovers,” The Zilan told a slowly repositioning and seething Glen. “Versatile. Not good slaves though. Disloyal.”
“You know fuck all about Gish,” Glen growled fearing what his opponent would do next and stepped aside again to find a better angle, but the Zilan kept his friends in the line of fire and Glen wasn’t confident enough with the throwing axe to attempt it.
“You strode into my garden,” The Zilan hissed, crooking the working side of his mouth to show Glen his gnarly teeth. “Brought your friends with you. Who in Oras Hells do you think you are?”
“I’m the guy with the Wyvern,” Glen retorted and tossed the peleg up as a distraction, the steel weapon rising, whilst catching the rays of the sun. The Zilan watched it rising briefly, face registering his surprise at Glen’s words that quickly turned to fury. In the meantime Glen had reached for his dagger, a weapon he was much more familiar with and without aiming hurled it towards the snarling creature.
The exotic weapon flying high.
The Zilan saw it coming and turned to avoid it, the dagger turning with him and lunging for his face. Realizing it he put a hand up to block the nasty weapon, everything happening in less than a second and the blade went through his palm to the hilt, almost taking out his good eye.
“Gah!” The Zilan cried out and glared at him furious, for getting suckered. “Where did you get this?” He growled and reached with his good hand into his satchel, as Glen had closed the distance between them again, the Horselords rushing their way coming out of the dead trees and Soren shuddering awake with a grunt. He blinked once, saw the Zilan standing a meter from him, with his back turned, raised his fist and punched him in the head.
And that was that.
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“I think I swallowed something,” Jinx said a moment later, whilst Glen stared at his unresponsive opponent. “What happened?”
“A spell,” Glen told her, keeping it vague and stooped to check on the knocked out Zilan, thinking it was dead.
“Me hand was numb,” Soren explained standing over him. “No strength in it.”
Uhm.
“Glen?” Jinx asked stooping over the maimed creature. “What is yer dagger doing in his hand?”
Glen cleared his throat and got up.
“It’s a long story. Tie him up tightly,” He said and stared at the villa, just as Kalac and the others arrived. He raised his hands to calm down the angry protests from the Horselords, who realized what had happened. “We need answers and we need to find the others,” He explained and accepted the dagger from Jinx.
He paused before heading inside the villa and looked at her, emotion flooding his senses.
“What?” She snapped and bending nimbly at the waist spat down to clear her mouth.
“Nothing,” Glen croaked and rubbed his forehead. “Thought I lost you there for a moment.”
The whole thing too close for comfort.
“Ye didn’t,” Jinx replied. “But keep getting us into trouble and you’ll eventually succeed.”
“That was a horrible retort Whisper!” Glen admonished her and she sighed and hanged her head.
“Aye, twas,” She yielded blushing. “When yer so considerate I get all wet and it throws me game off.”
Good grief.
Soren frowned at her words, Kalac stopped and stared blankly at the distance, with Tarn pursing his lips tight as if in pain, but thankfully Belec bellowed from inside the villa and snapped everyone out of the awkward moment.
They had found the others.
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Glen eyed the Wyvern flying over their heads, the setting sun making the large beast appearing wraith-like and then stepped forward towards the small gathered crowd of Zilan, part of Goras original citizens. Some were dressed in fancy uniforms, weathered and mended time and time again. A female wearing a priestess blue robe, her face reminding him of Soletha, her mannerisms the Seer back at Merhant’s Triage addressed him in Imperial.
“You have to try again,” Glen told her in the simpler dialect he’d come to understand without the dagger’s help.
The Priestess pursed her lips, her expressive almond and silver eyes staying on the tied up, still unresponsive male they had loaded on a horse.
“You’ve taken Laedan, of Zirael,” She said. “The Queen’s Denmaster.”
Hmm.
“Do you have a name?” Glen asked.
“I’m Vaelenn, of Sonariel,” Vaelenn replied. “Priestess of Nesande, Caretaker of Her Temple.”
“Like the Moon’s Daughter,” Glen said and the small crowd gasped collectively horrified.
“Aelrindel has forsaken her place in the Temple,” Vaelenn retorted. “When asked to return and serve the Queen, she never appeared. Her followers remain outside Goras’ walls.”
There are no walls anymore you backwards bitch!
The city is under a kilometer of water, or gone!
All I needed was another fucking faction.
He took a deep breath and kept it puffing his cheeks out.
“I’m going to say it once,” Glen started and the Zilan glanced at one another. “This… place, is under new management. Call it whatever you wanna call it. I don’t give a rusty copper. But, under this new management everyone that has permission from me can stay. Live, eat, fuck and prosper. Now, there are some things that bother me,” Glen continued and watched as Uvrycres came to land with ease in the spacious street behind them. The Wyvern dropped on all fours and started approaching Glen like a giant bat with no soft parts, the riders getting out of his way and the Zilan staring deeply awed.
“Anyone hurting those working for me will be punished,” Glen continued getting all worked up. “Laedan killed and ate someone working for me, partially eaten another. That’s some nigh disturbing shite! He will be punished, taking into consideration he didn’t know better. Now he does. You do know better. Anyone hurting my friends henceforth, I’ll feed to the Wyvern. THERE WILL BE NO MERCY! There’s no Queen’s law anymore. Be with the system, or die outside of it. This land belongs to me. MY PLAGUIN’ RULES! Why?” He asked finishing, breathing heavy and sweating despite the day cooling as it moved towards sunset.
Vaelenn set her jaw and stared at him distressed.
“You’re Hardir O’ Fardor,” She murmured.
“The fuck does that mean?” Glen barked at her, spittle flying out of his mouth.
“You’re the Ruler of Goras,” The Priestess croaked and bowed her cobalt head.
“You god darn right I am,” Glen retorted, Jinx gasping shocked behind him.
Uvrycres brought his scaled head to his shoulder, forked tongue slashing at the air and his long tail rising above him ominously.
“Have them kneel,” He told Glen. “Then we will eat the Priestess!”
Uh? What the slovenly fuck?
“We won’t.”
“Didn’t you just say we can?”
“She hasn’t done anything—”
“Who the fuck cares?” The Wyvern snarled furious and crackled his leathery wings disturbed.
“Enough!” Glen grunted. “No eating. No kneeling shite. We won’t force them—”
“Hahaha! They are kneeling,” Uvrycres guffawed and sure enough the small crowd had dropped to their knees in panic, the Wyvern’s drawn out shrieks freaking them out. “Let’s eat half—”
“No,” Glen told him sternly.
Uvrycres stared into his eyes thoughtfully, brimstone breath hot on the former thief’s face, then added with a toothy leer.
“Yes.”