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Glen
Arguen Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
Monarch O’ Morn Taras
Gifts in her cradle
Part II
-You’ve opened the door to fear-
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“Boo,” Inis-Mir gushed, more a puff than a word and rolled on the bed with a frowned Iskay watching her.
Sen-Iv standing on Glen’s right side sighed and made to help, but he stopped her extending his arm.
“She won’t fall,” Glen murmured. “Was that a real word?”
“She can’t talk,” Sen replied looking his way.
“Hmm,” Glen grimaced, but knew what he’d heard last night. “I’ll have a bigger cradle made by morrow and installed where Iskay sleeps. The baby needs to move about. She’s turning too fat.”
“Husband she’s a small girl still,” Sen protested civilly and hugged his waist with a smile. “But maybe it’ll turn to boobs in time?”
Glen returned the smile, deft hand reaching under Sen-Iv’s roomy robes feeling the warm flesh underneath, one eye on her teasing stare, the other on the Hoplite standing next to the door in full gear.
He cleared his throat recognizing the Zilan Anfalon had send under the sinister black Hoplite helm. Lyceron returned his stare with a small nod.
“Was there no one else available?” Glen grunted and Sen turned her head to glance at the sinewy Zilan.
“Othrim’s best fighter to take good care of the princess,” Lyceron retorted confidently and Glen disliked him even more instinctively.
“Yeah, it won’t do,” Glen told him and the Hoplite frowned.
“May I query as to the why Hardir?”
“No,” Glen replied sternly. “I’ll put someone else in charge of her security.”
“Anfalon won’t like it,” Lyceron told him. “He’ll perceive it as an insult, or a failure on his part so soon after given the assignment.”
Lyceron was probably talking about himself here.
“He’s thick skinned enough me thinks to get over it and you can guard the door, if ye like. The one downstairs.”
“Husband,” Sen said thoughtfully. “He seems rather skillful.”
If Glen had any doubts about removing him this reply had vindicated it.
“Wife let me be the judge of one’s skill in such matters,” he cautioned her and Sen blinked, but yielded with a soft supportive kiss on his lips that caught him unawares.
“I’ll feed her now,” she told him standing back with a look at the whining Inis-Mir.
“Sure,” Glen replied unsure.
Sen paused thoughtfully, the sun coming through the open window showcasing her figure under her thin robes charmingly. “Was the gift for her birthday? It’s a couple of months early for her second.”
“It’s a golden egg Sen,” Glen reminded her.
“It doesn’t feel like gold to the touch,” Sen noted. “Nor does it look like an egg.”
Glen raised a teasing brow and tapped his right temple a couple of times with his index finger suggestively.
Sen responded with a quick curtsy and added in a well-trained meek voice.
“But my husband always knows best.”
“That’s right,” Glen agreed and watched her walking slowly towards the bed to pick up their rapidly growing daughter, praising the good illumination provided by the large floor to ceiling windows. The picture offered quite lovely. Glen snapped his head back abruptly, but Lyceron seemed to keep his eyes away from the women, or the crafty Zilan had better reflexes than him.
Hmm.
Sneaky motherfucker.
Glen could sniff out a ‘player’ in a crowd and the young Zilan had a lot of game in him.
“Stand outside the door,” Glen ordered him gruffly, hearing Jinx raising a ruckus with the guards at the entrance. “I’ll head down. Anything untoward happens afore I find a better… solution, you’ll suffer Seeyu’s fate.”
“Aye Hardir,” Lyceron replied faking professionalism, as if Glen didn’t know you couldn’t snap your fingers and turn into one in half a year. “Rest assured, I won’t allow anything to happen to our princess.”
“ARRGH CRAP!” Kirk cried out desperately from downstairs, apparently in pain.
“Oh, don’t be such a cunt!” Jinx rejoined. “Yer fine.”
“You spat in me eye!”
“It’ll clean up soon,” Whisper assured him.
“Uhm,” Glen grunted and rushed to see what was going on.
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“Why would you do that?” Glen protested with a glance at a furious Kirk. “He was with me at the time!”
Jinx frowned and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I got mad,” she said with a sigh. The Gish turned to Kirk, the guard’s left eye bloodshot from all the rubbing he’d applied to it. “There, I’ll let you play wit Bobelo in the afternoon.”
“Don’t want to play wit yer darn monkey!” Kirk grunted livid, but grimaced seeing Glen’s hard warning stare. “Apologies for the outburst milord. Lady Jinx,” he added pressing his lips tight and walked outside to take his spot at the entrance again.
“Whisper that’s no way—” Glen tried to say, but she stopped him before he could finish.
“How is she?”
“Seeyu walked inside at an opportune moment,” Glen replied. Not for the poor slave obviously. “The eel had diverse tastes in food and went after him.”
“Damn. Metu was really heartbroken,” Jinx replied.
“I’m very angry myself,” Glen told her. “We had an excellent relationship.”
“Mmm.”
“Cut that shite Whisper,” he grunted. “Any ideas as to who the culprit was?” Glen asked and watched Fikumin approach them. The dwarf had a long dagger strapped on his waist and no pickaxe this time.
“You don’t think it’s an accident?”
“It wasn’t,” Fikumin said stopping between them. They both had to look down on him, but it couldn’t be helped. Jinx even tried to pat the dwarf’s head for luck, but he swatted her hand away with a hiss.
“Go ahead,” Glen said, stopping Jinx from kicking Fikumin pulling her back by the shoulder.
“A wide selection of buildings around, people living in most of them, yet it came straight here,” Fikumin continued. “Which they won’t do. I asked around the neighborhood and at the lake. They just don’t approach this part of the shore, but stay across the lake near the sugarcane coast.”
“Din is of the same opinion,” Glen agreed.
“Who is he again?” Jinx asked whilst trying to bite his hand. Glen was keeping it in front of her to avoid a stupid reaction out of the Gish. He also dodged the bite, turned his hand around and gave her a slight slap on her right cheek. “Oi,” Jinx gasped with a shocked glare. “Why ye did that for?”
“Out of love,” Glen retorted and Jinx blushed fiercely. “As for Din, he’s probably what Larn and Flix were. An assassin.”
“Whoa,” Jinx snapped out of it. “Why do you trust him?”
“Din could have done it another way,” Glen explained, the thought very disturbing.
“Aye, this was done to induce horror on top of pain,” Fikumin agreed.
“How can anyone harm a child?” Jinx queried unable to fathom it.
“An evil bastard would,” Glen replied. “Or an Aken.”
“That’s true,” Fikumin agreed. “They would.”
“You guys have seen one,” Jinx said worried.
“I haven’t, but Fiku you came face to face with one right?” Glen replied and the dwarf nodded that great head of his.
“While you were injured,” the dwarf said, pausing to frown. “Din said unalive though, which opens up the possibility of a construct.”
“Like that shit in Eikenport?” Jinx asked ogling her eyes. “I don’t want to even remember that!”
Hmm, Glen thought. This makes it even weirder.
“No one does,” the dwarf agreed crustily.
“An Aken can’t blend in out there,” Glen murmured.
“They are… very distinct in appearance,” Fikumin agreed.
“Like what?” Jinx queried, but Glen frowned remembering Qanuq wandering about a while back and paid little attention to them.
Could it be that lying creep had stayed behind?
“Hey, has anyone seen that priest?” Glen asked interrupting Fikumin’s explanation.
“You’ve told me that you’ve sent him away,” the dwarf said.
“I had.”
“What priest?” Jinx asked curious but no one paid any attention to her.
“Did you make sure?” Fikumin asked.
Glen stood back with a deep frown.
“It was during the trouble at Eikenport, then we lost Elaniel,” he murmured. Ah, you son of a whorin’ goat, he thought angry with himself. “I haven’t seen him since.”
Glen hadn’t looked for him though.
“Why would he try something against Inis-Mir?” Jinx asked.
“We may have maimed him a bit during a botched interrogation,” Glen replied.
“You’ve tortured him?” Jinx gasped in horror.
“Twas an accident,” Glen grunted with a glare, not liking her reaction. “But this time I may do it on purpose.”
“Glen,” Jinx protested, but he snapped his arm to cut her off.
“Enough Whisper!” He rustled. “Are you serious? After what he tried to do?”
“He worked with that Aken,” Fikumin said and Glen nodded.
“Kirk!” He barked getting angrier with every passing moment. Lyceron appeared at the top of the stairs and Glen glanced at him. “Bing will stay to guard the house. You’re with me and I want someone from your unit that can handle an interrogation. I want to learn what the fuck we’re dealing with!”
“You don’t know he’s still in Goras,” Fikumin cautioned. “Or if he’s behind it.”
“Eh, my gut tells me I got conned here Fiku,” Glen replied. “Lyceron?” He grunted at the watching Hoplite.
“I don’t know Hardir,” Lyceron said unsure and Metu who had entered followed by Kirk added sternly.
“That’s palace work my Lord,” the Cofol said, his face dark. “You’ll need someone with a firmer stomach.”
“Who would have the skillset?” Glen asked him turning his way. Metu had taken it upon himself to bury the murdered slave he’d elevated to his old position.
“The Denmaster handled ritualistic executions in the empire,” Metu, well-read as most high-level Sopat slaves, replied. “I believe his skills covered what you’re looking for.”
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Folen blinked, neatly trimmed blue hair glued on his head with plenty of oil, long ears protruding very pronounced and adorned with a big silver loop.
“A priest of the Painted God?” he asked just to make sure he’d heard Glen correctly.
“Aye, that motherfucker.”
“They stand out Garth,” Folen said and signed for a pretty Cofol slave to go away. They were inside his ‘pleasure house’, but there was no door in his office, or to any of the adjoined rooms. A communal experience, he’d justified it earlier, but Glen had opted to move on from the matter.
“He ditched the paint,” Glen retorted.
“I see. That is, I haven’t seen anyone,” Folen replied. “Though Cofols do frequent the premises.”
“Do they talk?” Glen asked.
“It’s part of the ritual,” Folen replied.
“The ritual being fucking?”
“You’ve sterilized the experience I’m afraid. It’s a human culture thing to do that,” Folen elucidated in his fulsome manner and Glen showed him his clenched fist suggestively. Glen’s manner more direct and to the point. “But yes, they do,” the Zilan added quickly.
“Could he have gone to the port?” Jinx asked.
“What does Soletha say?” Glen asked Laedan and the Denmaster smacked his lips. “Her people keep records of the comings and goings right?”
“More opportunities here, than in the port,” the Zilan replied. “Especially if he wanted to try something against you.”
“Fikumin had the guards on alert fast enough,” Jinx intervened. “Wouldn’t they have spotted someone trying to get out of the District?”
“Any caravans left?” Glen asked.
“Eh, not since yesterday,” Folen replied. “But it’ll be difficult to flush him out. You are the only one that knows how he looks Garth. Do we stop every Cofol out there?”
Glen stared his way sternly.
“That’s right,” he told him.
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A frustrated Glen returned to his villa an hour later followed by Laedan, Kirk and Jinx. He found Anfalon waiting for him there next to a worn out Bing, the guard taking a second shift for the day, after Kirk had woken him up earlier. Glen had already decided to start working on an expanded bodyguard detail for his close family.
“Hardir,” Anfalon rustled, seemingly unbothered by the heat, his helm under his left armpit and in full battle gear. The latter fact the norm for the hardened Hoplite leader. “I understand you’ll deal with the Princess security yourself?”
“I will. I know typically the Phalanx provided a detail for the Queen,” Glen told him, wanting to move inside and away from the sun. “But I prefer to use Maeriel for the task, when I’m away.”
“Huh?” Jinx gasped taken by surprise.
“It will make it difficult for her to carry out the training of the Rangers,” Anfalon noted. “Lyceron is skilled enough for the task. If he fails, I’d have failed in turn. He won’t do that.”
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“Listen, how about we avoid failure and keep it practical?” Glen told him. “Maeriel shall train a replacement, I believe she has one ready and stay near my daughter.”
“You trust her huntress instinct and hex discerning talents?” Anfalon asked and Glen nodded. Maeriel had an acute sense for danger and was familiar with most ‘stealth’ spells through her training. “I’ll miss her in the field,” Anfalon added, returning Glen’s nod.
“Wait,” Jinx intervened and stepped between them. “You can’t keep Maeriel trapped in the city Glen!”
Anfalon frowned and glared at her.
“Whisper, my first priority is to make sure no one makes it near my wife and daughter. Inform Maeriel to come here.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Jinx blurted out.
“Yer living in the same house Whisper,” Glen reminded her a little frustrated. Talking under the sun and out in the street wasn’t his favorite activity.
“Eh, we have our problems,” Jinx told him looking away, not wanting to talk about it. Glen glanced at the scowling Anfalon and cleared his throat. “Let us step inside,” he offered and wiped the sweat off his brow.
“I must return to the camp Hardir,” Anfalon grunted.
“Sure,” Glen said with a sigh. “Any news from Kalac?” The Horselord Leader had taken the difficult task of reconnoitering the terrain and jungle paths to the two still standing bridges over the Eroshin River.
“They reported the second bridge has collapsed,” Anfalon said.
“Eh, can we repair it?”
“We can.”
“Did they approach the main bridge at all?”
“Wylinor and Shalia did,” Anfalon replied. Those were the first two rangers Maeriel had cleared as ready for duty. Poor Elaniel would have been the third, Glen thought with a frown. “The Horselords are a noisy bunch despite their boasts.”
“Right. Which of the two could take over for her you think? In the field I mean,” Glen asked him.
“Wylinor is the more skilled of the two, despite Maeriel favoring females,” Anfalon replied.
“This is a risky operation,” Glen murmured and Anfalon nodded. “Would Lord Rothomir try and hurt Inis-Mir?” He asked the ready to leave Hoplite.
Anfalon thought about it for a moment. “He would have gone after you. Rothomir campaigned with the Phalanx in his youth. We don’t harm children Hardir.”
“But those in politics would right?” Glen insisted. “Don’t tell me all those people I hear about died naturally Anfalon, especially the exiles.”
“They didn’t. You are correct Hardir.”
“Can I trust Aenymriel? Would she do something like that?” Glen asked him.
“Absolutely,” Anfalon replied without hesitation. “But not to you. She talked of you long before you appeared in Wetull. Knew you were coming and did all she could to help you get here. Aenymriel’s whole scheme revolves around you making it Hardir.”
“That’s reassuring,” Glen replied relieved and Anfalon frowned.
“Never feel assured around her,” he cautioned him. “Aenymriel’s schemes are mostly self-serving. Question her counseling always.”
Fantastic, Glen thought, his initial relief diminished and watched the sinewy Hoplite march away with determined strides.
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Jinx stepped in front of him the moment he made it inside the Villa, his face and neck covered in sweat.
“Whisper,” Glen warned her. “I need a drink.”
“We need more than one,” Laedan agreed coming up behind him. “I haven’t been so bored in my life listening to you two.”
“You could’ve contributed something to this whole mess you know,” Glen admonished him and walked to the table to pour himself a cup of water from a carafe.
“What need have you of helpers?” Laedan snorted. “You have a Wyvern.”
“Glen,” Jinx tried again, but Glen stopped her frustrated.
“Whisper, I need Maeriel here. We’ll talk later,” he told her and Jinx puffed her cheeks out.
“She’s not in a good place right now,” she said finally and Glen sighed.
“It wasn’t her fault.”
“Sam believes it was,” Jinx replied.
Glen grinded his teeth to keep his tempers from flaring up. A smirking Laedan reached for the carafe and started glugging down water directly from it, spilling some on his robes.
“Do you want some?” He asked Glen stopping for a moment.
“I’ll have wine,” Glen grunted and turned to a solemn-faced Jinx. “Whisper I don’t blame her. She took a decision to keep some stuff from the others and kept her mind on your survival per my orders. While she messed up the mission, she brought you back safe. Tell her to come here immediately.”
“She talked to you about it?”
Glen sighed. “Aye Whisper. I asked for her report and she told me everything,” Maeriel didn’t trust the adventurers enough to open up. It’s one thing to make a team in words, another to put that team in the field and see if it’ll work. Same thing with the Horselords and the Rangers. As for Maeriel losing Elaniel, well that was punishment enough for her. “All that matters is I trust her more now for keeping my instructions in mind. The rest, she’ll learn about and avoid in the future.”
“I can take care of myself Glen,” Jinx hissed showing her disagreement with his logic.
“So did Elaniel and Alix,” Glen reminded her sternly. “They are both dead now. If ye don’t mind, I’ll do it my own way henceforth.”
“I mind,” Jinx argued.
“I don’t care!” Glen deadpanned. “It wasn’t a question.”
The Gish narrowed her eyes comically, but before she’d time to respond Kirk walked inside bringing a cute heavy-bosomed Zilan along.
“Milord,” Kirk started unsure, seeing them confronting each other face to face sort of speak, as Jinx’s head barely reached Glen’s chest, “Folen’s… mother would like an audience.”
“Mother…” Laedan commented with a smirk, making air quotes with his hands. “Nice.”
Glen puffed his cheeks out, an eye on Jinx to avoid a sneaky kick in the balls, the other on Luthoris.
“Anything the matter?”
Luthoris blinked once to have her silvery eyes adjust to the darkness of his hall, took a big breath in making the cheap tunic she had on stretch to its limits and then started talking.
“Folen wants to inform Garth he may have found the Cofol—”
“Hello there,” Laedan said impressed cutting her off midsentence.
“Laedan! Fuck’s sake get ahold of yourself!” Glen blasted him.
“Thought it might pop oh, ye ultimate Monarch,” Laedan retorted. “That’s a mighty cheap button there holding everything together.”
“Where is he?” Glen grunted turning to the uncertain waitress/employee in Folen’s venues and allegedly a former bard.
“In the beach side tavern,” Luthoris replied and waved a hand at a strangely silent Jinx.
Another curiosity, for another time.
“What?” Glen flinched in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
Luthoris shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know. But Folen said he asked for coin to pay for a caravan to return to Eikenport.”
“Kirk!” Glen bellowed, voice reverberating inside the hall, despite the soldier standing three meters away from him and Luthoris recoiled in panic not expecting the loudness that button popping and the parting cloth baring everything to her navel.
“Oi,” Jinx gasped looking from behind his back.
Ah, for slovenly fuck’s sake.
“Mmm,” Laedan hummed vindicated in his turn, with Kirk showcasing remarkable professionalism considering the amount of flesh displayed and his character.
“Bring the horses around sire?” The experienced guard asked casually.
Glen just nodded, too frustrated to utter a single word.
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Glen intended to ride to the ‘Bard wit no name’ and proceed discreetly from there, first making sure Folen had the right man and also avoid a public spectacle. As things usually go though, he recognized Qanuq drinking pensively by his lonesome on a stool in front of the counter and lost it.
He rode a neighing Outlaw through the tables toppling chairs, tossing regulars down, Sarya losing her beer laden tray and a couple of men and women screaming at the top of their lungs at his wild semi-charge, as if they were being assaulted by a horde of Orcs in broad daylight.
Outlaw sensing he’d lost his mind tried to stop on his own, seeing the counter approaching fast, Folen’s eyes growing twice their size, but his hooves slid on freshly installed tiles and Sarya’s spilt beer. Qanuq who’d turned his head alarmed from the commotion managed a terrified gasp and then the large warhorse crashed on his tall stool sending him flying backwards, drink still in hand.
Damn.
“Every man for himself!” A patron yelled behind his back panic setting in, but Glen shook his head and jumped from the saddle not bothering with the chaos he’d caused, landing on broken cups and destroyed furniture.
“Ye piece of lying scum!” He growled and rushed the trying to get up Cofol. Qanuq saw him charging and attempted to run the other way, but Folen who’d recovered somewhat, reached with an adroit hand, found a bottle of rum that had been left standing, grabbed it by the neck and hurled it over the counter with a strange whistle.
Qanuq managed a couple of strides away from a furious Glen, but the bottle connected with his left knee hard after curling at the last moment to avoid the former thief and sent him sprawling down again. Sarya who’d gotten up in the meantime, flipped her empty silver tray around and smacked him once right in the face breaking his nose.
The shocked crowd watching the priest’s bloody head snap back, let out a collective gasp of horror.
“He didn’t pay for the rum,” the pretty waitress -among other things- explained with a toothy smile and most patrons still there hurried to find their purses to avoid a similar fate.
“Get him up,” Glen rustled breathing heavy and pointed at the unresponsive Qanuq. “Someone bring this motherfucker around!”
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“Milord,” Kirk said worried, while Glen wiped his face and chest with a towel to clean up some of the spillage.
He reeked of cheap rum.
“Keep the crowd back,” he ordered him and Kirk nodded. The soldier turned around, grabbed a five man strong City Guard patrol that had rushed to the pavilion alarmed at all the ruckus and spread them out in a loose cordon to keep the curious bystanders somewhat away.
“That him?” Jinx asked poking Qanuq with a thin finger, the groaning priest coming about and the blood crusted on his chin making him appear ghoulish.
“Aye,” Glen grunted and kicked the propped against the counter Qanuq between the legs.
“Arggh!” Qanuq moaned in pain, his head banging on the hardwood and fresh blood splashing out of his broken nose.
“What did I say?” Glen spat not caring for his protests. “Why are you here?”
“Stop you philistine!” Qanuq cried out raising an arm, but Glen kicked him again catching his elbow with a satisfying crunch. The priest's miserable screams infuriating him even more.
“Glen, let him speak,” Jinx said and tried to get in front of him, but he shoved her aside like a ragdoll and unsheathed his sword. A Jackal snorted from somewhere, its heavy breathing coming and going.
“Look at me,” Glen rustled and placed the point of the blade under his chin to lift it up. “Why did you do it?”
“Did… what?” Qanuq gasped, holding his broken arm. “You’re… insane!” He looked about him desperately. “He’s nuts! Belongs in a fucking asylum!”
Glen almost killed him right then and there, but Laedan intervened pushing the blade aside. He stooped over the shaking priest and stared at his scared pale face with solemn alien eyes.
“You’ll talk yes?” he asked him.
“What…? I don’t…” Qanuq tried to say, but Laedan stopped him gathering some of the blood from his face with a long index finger and licking it clean with a satisfied slurping sound. The Priest stopped talking horrified.
“You tried to kill my daughter,” Glen hissed grinding his teeth. “Put a filthy creature in her cradle you foul turd!”
“Tell the truth,” Laedan cautioned him and reaching into his worn out satchel got a strange short knife out. A makeshift weapon made out of an iron spoon. “I’ll cut a small piece of flesh out for every lie.”
“What?” Qanuq croaked in disbelief and looked about him. “Help me please! They’re crazy!”
“A bigger piece,” Laedan explained and snatched his dangling arm by the wrist. He run his long fingers down the exposed flesh, paused at Qanuq’s palm and spread the priest’s fingers out carefully. Qanuq tried to shove him away, but Glen’s sword smacked his right arm with the flat of the blade hard enough to send it flying back. “For a bigger lie,” Laedan finished looking at him, exposed fingers trapped in his larger hand, the grip steely.
“You stayed back to take revenge for yer injury,” Glen tried again, the crowd gathered growing by the minute, but kept outside the pavilion as more and more soldiers arrived to help out. “Sneaked into her room and placed a fuckin’ eel near her! She could have died, but Seeyu lost his life in her stead. An innocent Cofol, but you don’t care about that right? First it was the dwarf kid lost to the Aken and then this. Why? Why should I spare you? I told you to leave this place! Why are you still here?”
Qanuq gulped down, deep red blood covering his mouth and chin.
“I tried to leave,” he started with a fearful glance at the watching him Laedan. “Went to the port, but no ship was available for cheap. So I returned to… find a way out on land. I was looking for a caravan… to take me away from this fucking place!”
“You choose to come here and now you don’t like it?” Glen hissed. “You expect me to believe this? Ye take me for a plaguin’ fool?”
“I came to preach, but no one would listen,” Qanuq blurted out nervously and Glen heard the crowd recoiling around them. A fearful murmur spreading and then the strong sun fading for a moment behind a cloud.
But it was a clear summer sky above them a moment ago.
EERRRRRRR
Uvrycres shriek trumpeted ominously circling around the plaza and the crowd started dispersing fast.
“I don’t believe you,” Glen told the petrified priest and Laedan moved fast, the sharp knife cut through flesh and bone, as one would clip the twigs off a rose bush, separating pinky and ring finger from Qanuq’s trapped palm.
“NAH ARRGH!” The priest started screaming in agony. Glen frowned both shocked at his stubbornness and feeling the ground shake as Uvrycres landed amidst the fleeing crowd. Laedan gathered the chopped off fingers carefully with an old cloth, the blood spreading on the tiles and placed them in his satchel, afore getting up.
“Stop this please Glen,” Jinx pleaded and Glen glanced her way, but Uvrycres burst under the pavilion moving on four limbs, jaws snapping right and left, breaking even more tables and chairs. The Wyvern’s horns ruining Folen’s straw ceiling as it approached the counter rumbling, the whole structure creaking ominously around them.
Qanuq’s screams and moans adding to the madness of the scene.
Glen placed his hand on the dagger’s handle and turned around sensing the Wyvern’s hot breath on his nappe. Laedan had moved away from the counter as well, but none had been faster than Folen himself, the former bard still whistling different tunes looking at them from a safe distance.
“Stop this!” Glen snapped at the new Council member and returned his eyes on Uvrycres’ black scaly snout. “You’re scaring the people,” he told the smirking Wyvern that lathered his face with saliva using a long forked tongue afore replying in his baritone rumble.
“You’ve opened the door to fear, I’ll cement it for you. Is that him?”
“I’m not as sure now,” Glen admitted. He’d expected the priest to come clean immediately, or turn into a walking corpse.
Wait…
He turned around and stooped over the shaking priest.
“How did you die?” Glen asked him and Qanuq blinked, his eyes feverish.
“What… the fuck… are you talking about?” The priest gasped, looking at him with preternatural horror. “What manner… of insane fiend are you? Why are you here?”
Glen grimaced and stood up.
No apparent change.
Hmm.
Luthos balls caught in a mousetrap!
He stepped away from the groaning Qanuq and came to stand next to the Wyvern. A strange quietness had come over the usually lively Lake District, with scores of citizens watching from a safe distance.
Glen sighed, feeling tired and confused. He stared at Jinx’s hurt face, then at the slowly munching on something Laedan, a little blood running down the ruined side of his mouth. Glen frowned and saw Kirk trying to keep the more curious citizens away with threats of bodily harm and Folen with Sarya looking on pensively at their ruined tavern, the Zilan still trying low-key to whistle some tune or another.
“There’s no need for alarm! Everyone return to yer businesses!” he finally announced, a merchant’s smile on his face, voice cracking, but loud enough to be heard from everyone.
“The answer was,” Uvrycres rustled behind him addressing the maimed Qanuq, having moved a step forward without Glen noticing it. “Turned to ash.”
Fuck.
The next moment the back of the pavilion was engulfed in a fireball, the heatwave so sudden and so violent, blazing material, beams, straw, furniture and exploding bottles were hurled to the front, outright killing a soldier that stood guard outside of it and severely injuring another.
Glen had ducked for the floor the moment he felt the heat on his back coming and rolled to safety with only a slightly charred shirt.
Nothing of the priest was ever found in the search of the tavern’s smoldering carcass.
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The next day Angrein was talking with a worried Sen-Iv on top of the stairs, the two of them increasingly close, while Glen stared at the Council members gathered to discuss the event. They had gone through most of what had happened, giving few details out and keeping the rest as vague as possible. His face grim and twice as angry as the day before for the messed-up conclusion.
“The Wyvern executed the culprit,” Fikumin repeated the official version of the story. “It was a messy affair, but the citizens were ordered to vacate the premises beforehand and the soldier was lost in the line of duty. His family will be compensated, but no such action will be tolerated in the future. Make it abundantly clear to your constituents.”
“Executions should be held in the Den,” Vaelenn said with a frown. “After a formal hearing.”
“The Judge is right,” Glen agreed. “But the Den is not yet ready to house such an event. We shall keep such spectacles confined there henceforth.”
Vaelenn nodded with a pleased smile.
“Anything else?” Glen asked them.
“On the matter of property destroyed,” Folen started, but caught Glen’s murderous glare and backtracked quickly. “We won’t bother the Council more,” he blurted out and sat back down.
“Did he confess?” Fikumin asked him the moment everyone had left and Glen puffed his cheeks out, the start of a fresh migraine bothering him.
“It was chaos Fiku,” he replied wanting to leave it at that. “You know he was involved.”
“I do,” the dwarf agreed and scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I just can’t understand how he climbed up the wall on a maimed foot. Do you?”
Glen grimaced and stood up to walk away from the conference table. He never answered the Shield’s query. On one hand this was a difficult climb for an unfit, lame priest and on the other, wounds heal in time.
People adapt, he thought, but deep down Glen wasn’t certain he’d found the culprit. The silent ranger that had watched the whole Council meeting shifted nervously on her feet and Glen realized he’d stopped in front of her. Maeriel was a tall Zilan female and despite the sadness in her expressive eyes, she stood confidently clad in her tight-fit leather armour.
“You talked with Whisper?” he asked her.
“Aye.”
“How are things…? I hope you girls are fine,” Glen said pressing his mouth tight in frustration. Jinx had given him an earful for losing control of the situation, as if Glen could read the Wyvern’s mind and prevent it from handing out its own brand of punishment.
What am I supposed to do? Block his mouth with my hands?
Assuming I had the plaguin’ time to do it!
What a fucking mess.
“It was my fault,” Maeriel replied. “Lost sight of what’s important delving in the past.”
“Uhm,” Glen nodded and glanced at the still talking Sen-Iv. “You keep things Maeriel,” he told her. “You do it out of suspicion and bigotry, but also fear of letting ‘nasty’ details reach the people you care about. Not everything should be out in the open, am I right?”
“Hardir… I erred,” Maeriel murmured, but Glen stopped her with a wave of his hand.
“I want ears around me to hear things I might miss,” Glen said. “What I tell you, stays between the two of us and I won’t betray your trust in return, nor judge you as long as you follow my orders.”
“Jinx won’t betray you also,” Maeriel told him sounding hurt.
“Whisper is very noble in her thinking,” Glen explained. “She has a big heart, but we’re dealing with heartless nasties here.”
“The culprit is dead,” Maeriel said clenching her jaw, her eyes questioning. “There’s a two page letter stuck on the message boards stating the fact Hardir.”
“He’s not,” Glen told her sternly. “But that’s not the only reason you’re here. This is yer mission now Maeriel,” he looked into her pretty eyes with a pensive smile. “He won’t be the last and I won’t always be at the near to protect her. You will from now on. Not a fancy gift for her, but a practical one. A gift of life. What you didn’t do you for your pupil, you’ll do for my daughter for as long as she draws breath. That’s your way out of yer guilt and how you’ll serve the Monarch. Will you do that for me Maeriel?”
The seemingly hurting Zilan took a deep breath and then nodded with her intricately braided head once.
“Mother of Heavens above and Spirits of the Ancient Woods as my witness, I’ll never leave her side,” Maeriel promised somberly and a satisfied Glen believed her.
As far as oaths go, the former Imperial Huntress’ oath stayed unbroken far longer than either of them had anticipated.
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
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