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Aelrindel, of Edlenn
Broken, burned out things
Part II
-A mother’s warning-
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“Why,” the cavalry leader said, black eyes staying on her. Romir something. “That’s a lot of meat on your slave mister Caruso. What exactly is she good at?”
Excuse me?
What she’s not great at you dick!
“Cooking,” Caruso replied and the Cofol merchant chuckled showing her another roll of fabric, the stand providing little shade and the heat blowing from the nearby desert making life inside the walls of the large sandstone-brick castle an ordeal. “She’d a big Horselord for a father.”
“It explains them hips,” the Cavalry man noted with a leer. “Damn heat,” he grunted next, wiping the sweat off his penciled brow, the paint leaking down his sideburns. “I thought we’d see more action when I joined, but all I got out of it is visiting Sadofort twice in as many years and the ruin of Rida.”
“Unlucky,” the merchant commented with a frown seeing her pushing his offer aside and pointing at a smaller roll of white silk. “That’s left over from the Prince’s order,” the merchant explained. “Very expensive.”
“Can’t be more than a couple of meters of fabric,” Aelrindel countered in common Cofol, keeping her voice low.
“Still the quality is pricey,” the merchant insisted. “Meant for healthier purses and loftier families.”
“Haha,” the officer of Atpa’s army guffawed. “You don’t really expect to find these kind of clients here Ribar? Rida maybe… just give her the darn thing.”
“So how come your friends are not here?” Caruso asked. He knew the Cofol from Rida, where he’d been stationed previously.
“They headed down the Merchant Path,” the officer replied and watched her unfurling the fabric to measure it. He’s going to ask Caruso to rent me out for the night, she thought. I’m going to have his cock for dinner.
The problem being, what to do with the rest of his body afterwards.
“So the story that the army is in Sadofort…?” Caruso asked nervously, the interest of his ‘friend’ in his ‘new’ slave girl a bother since the morning.
“Partially true. The Prince is here, but half the army is heading to Xi Yil to join with the other Prince,” his ‘friend’ replied.
“Which Prince is that?”
Radin.
“Why do you care?” The cavalry officer asked with a frown. “The Khan ordered it.”
“Will they go for Eikenport?” Caruso insisted.
“Not that I heard of. Hey Ribar, how much for the roll?”
“I’ll pay for it,” Caruso insisted.
“Ten gold,” Ribar replied.
“Fuck off! That’s half a tunic at most and if… on her, it mind even be less,” he added eyeing Aelrindel’s figure appreciatively. She looked Cofol under the sheer mesh covering her head and shoulders, but a tall one, since you can’t hide height without hilarious mishaps. Like bumping things off without touching them.
“Well,” Ribar shrugged his shoulders. “It’s good for a pillow at the very least. I traded one for a horse the other day.”
Must have been a sickly horse, she guessed.
“I tell you what,” the officer suggested, but Caruso stopped him before they heard his counter.
Not that anyone cared.
As a matter of fact in this horrid heat a man could have a ‘heart attack’ and drop dead at any moment now, she mused.
“We’ll be moving on, I have a job lined up,” the mercenary working for the Guild explained, fearing the worst.
“Damn it man. I start patrolling this month around the lake and I rather watch wall paint dry,” the officer complained. “Was thinking to have Moira—”
“I’ll be here in a month for sure,” Caruso offered stopping him again with an apologetic smile, the gap in his front teeth always making it look a bit donkey, which Aelrindel thought was funny.
“Yeah. Be seeing you then Caruso,” he murmured unhappy, nodded at the merchant and with a last look at the silent Cofol slave girl, he turned heel and moved away from the small market stand.
“How much?” she asked touching Ribar’s warm hand over the counter.
"It’s a small piece of fabric really for the price," he stalled. “I have more affordable full rolls.”
“I like small skirts,” Aelrindel teased and felt his pulse quickening. No magic, just natural charm. Eh, sort of natural, she thought pouting.
A bit of magic too.
A tiny bit, like the skirt.
“I like them too… that is, I can see the appeal,” the merchant blurted out, now properly aroused.
“Mmm,” she purred, a sharp fingernail tracing the inside of his wrist, to better help him see the appeal.
“Not for ten golds,” Caruso reminded her.
Goddess. I’m working here you plebe!
“Two,” Ribar said quickly. “I wanted to drive him away.”
“Aww, sweet Ribar,” she gushed stooping over his balding, sweaty crown. The merchant a good head shorter than her at least. He smelled of sweat and cinnamon. “You should come for a cup of tea.”
“I’m very fond of the practice,” the merchant admitted and made to cup her hand, but she twisted it around easily without hurting him and freed hers.
“Master you should pay him,” she said sweetly and Caruso grumbled behind her back reaching for his purse.
“Somehow this arrangement isn’t giving me what one would expect,” he murmured digging inside for the coins. “Just putting it out there.”
“What does Ribar think?” Aelrindel chuckled at his discomfort.
“The man is a fool obviously,” Ribar droned without hesitation. “In fact he can work the stand and I’ll take you home Moira bin Manar.”
The name a play of words from the archaic Lorian Moira which meant fate and the Cofol-used Zilan word Manar, which meant fortune.
The cultured merchant had scored more points with her in precious few minutes, than the cavalry officer had since morning.
But in the end it didn’t really amount to anything for either of them.
‘Moira’ wasn’t in her best of moods these past months.
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Mmm, the sorceress mused letting her burning sweaty body sink into the chilled waters of the small bronze bathtub. The water splashing out, shapely left calf and heel resting on the flat lip and her nape touching the thick soaked towel she’d covered the headrest with.
She closed her eyes to enjoy the icy water, but Caruso cleared his throat from the door of her small bedroom, the two story hostel one of the cheapest they found in the small town and forced her to open them up again.
“I thought you went downstairs,” Aelrindel murmured.
“Eh,” Caruso said turning his head to stare away.
“It’s just an ankle Caruso and a bit of leg. By the goddess,” she sighed. “Where’s Lithoniela?”
“Not in the stable, or downstairs obviously.”
“You think, she went looking again?”
“Aye I do,” Caruso grunted.
“I can’t spent any more time there,” Aelrindel griped. “Nature is to be treasured in small doses, or excursions. Plus we looked pretty thoroughly already.”
“She doesn’t believe we got them all.”
Our Princess the Aken huntress.
“Nonsense. She’ll be back in the evening. Get some rest,” she retorted. “You can use the bathtub after I finish.”
“There’s a bucket in the kitchen,” Caruso dodged. “It’ll do.”
“She’s blind to you,” Aelrindel snapped with a moist gurgle. Water had flooded her mouth. She coughed some of it out frustrated.
“Not why I’m worrying Moira,” the mercenary reminded her, as if she could forget.
Aelrindel closed her eyes again and relaxed, in her second attempt to survive Sadofort’s heat.
> “He gave me this,” a grinning Zilyana blurted out nervously. Everyone on edge and unsure how to handle the situation. “It’s silk and leather, with real rubies!”
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> “Also a slave collar,” Aelrindel hissed and got up from her engraved silver and alabaster throne. Sulynor, of Othoniel’s austere face not betraying his emotions, but Faelar didn’t have the subtlety of the former Rokae leader.
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> “The man expects a meeting soon,” the Imperial Ranger elucidated for those not privy on the finer details of the young witch’s expedition. “The settlement is keeping inside due to ‘weather’ for now, but this can’t last. Eventually someone will step in a room with Horselords present without a hat on and then this will turn ugly.”
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> “I can bed him tonight and we’ll have an alliance,” Zilyana insisted, uncomfortable under the elders’ scrutiny.
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> I bet you would dear, she thought.
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> “Which the Khan will break once you get caught,” Aelrindel countered. “You can’t keep the illusion running in his palace. You will have to live there, with all his other wives.”
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> “She can’t pull it through,” Sulynor announced with finality.
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> “Wow, so what… I send him back to the Khanate?” Zilyana protested. “He knows the way priestess mother.”
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> “I could charm the prince into living away from his father,” Aelrindel murmured.
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> “No,” Faelar grunted with a glare.
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> “Let us hear her Faelar,” Sulynor intervened.
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> “You’ll trade the teacher for the pupil Sir Sulynor?” Faelar snapped angry.
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> “Ralnor will keep me safe,” Aelrindel cut in looking at the silent and standing a bit apart from the others Zilan. A rebel stray unable to break from traditions. “He’s been living with the humans for centuries now.”
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> “Wait, you get to bed the prince now?” Zilyana protested all flushed, but determined.
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> “That’s enough child,” Sulynor scolded her. “You’re not contributing. Better to step out of the room.”
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> Zilyana hissed all teeth and glowering eyes.
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> “I feel uncomfortable with this,” Faelar murmured and glanced at Ralnor. “Can you clear the Prince’s court of dangers?”
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> “All I need is time,” Ralnor assured him. “And her cooperation.”
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> “Aww, he’s so dependable right? Our trustworthy killer,” she mocked him for his jab.
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> “Aelrindel!” Faelar grunted. “This is serious.”
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> “I’ll charm the earrings off the prince and the crayon from his lips,” she assured him and stared outside her glass walls at the falling snow. “In ten years we shall control the Khanate. At some point, we have to act old friends.”
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> Act, she murmured in her sleep, the dream spreading inside the room. It reached the open window and leaped outside. Over the brick walls and the desert where the burning sands ruled. The mountains at the far edge of it, down the slopes and into the garden. The disturbed spirits pausing to listen.
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> Lirue ni o linn, they urged the miserable sorceress.
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> Sing her a song.
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> Saam Phanti paused unsure, weak smile on his painted black lips and thinning hair oiled back carefully on his bony head.
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> “Why would we send your grace Lady Lenar?” he asked with enough fake respect to almost be an insult, an eye kept on a bored Prince Sahand.
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> “I can ask politely,” she explained returning the jab.
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> “The Khan will never agree,” Phanti said, wanting to end the conversation.
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> “He doesn’t have to know.”
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> The First Advisor to the Khan recoiled.
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> “A visit could mask a query is her meaning,” Sahand intervened.
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> “Imagine if the Khan asks the High King,” she added. “And the King rejects his offer to amend the treaties. The insult will be monumental to his person.”
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> Phanti stepped back with a series of grimaces, mulling it through.
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> “The old Duke won’t insult the Heir’s spouse,” Sahand assured the hesitant official. “Even if he feels the inclination.”
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> Stolen novel; please report.
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> Eh.
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> I’ll feast on your eyes! An insulted Aelrindel snarled.
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> A humming reaching her ears, nigh distracting. The dream growing, scenes entwined with others.
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> “Can Radin do it?” she asked a more troubled than angry prince.
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> “I suppose,” Sahand relented. “He knows them. All those years on Jelin.”
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> “He doesn’t have to know them, or even speak for that matter,” Larn intervened hoarsely and the Prince eyed him unsure on what was his role inside the court. “All he has to do is deliver a simple letter of complaint and do nothing foolish for a few months. A mule could do the job I’m certain.”
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> Damn it Ralnor!
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> Sahand narrowed his eyes at the insult to his royal brother.
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> “He’s from a faraway village where mules are valued greatly. More so than people,” Aelrindel quickly sang to soothe the Prince’s anger, feverishly working her threads around him.
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> “Uhm,” he murmured with a nod. “I can respect that.”
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> Khix’roon clicked her forked tongue, the dream losing cohesion and changing its purpose the more she stayed in it. The humming increasing, a soft breeze smelling of flowers touching her cold skin. The Aken female clasping at her arm before she could drag it away. Her body heavy and sluggish, the smell of blood in her nostrils strong. The place bombarded, alien.
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> “This time they succeeded, where they had failed afore,” Khix’roon whispered in her ear. “But they are not sure they have got it right again.”
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> Or maybe she said ‘fear they haven’t’, the Aken’s words lost in a cacophony of other sounds and pieces of future conversations.
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> “Sly little witch”, Wiris the construct said, wearing the face of another. All the Aken gathered turning to stare at her. Snakes eyes, human eyes. The dead restless.
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> “I can hear your chanting”.
A gentle hand pulling her back.
Her mother’s voice cautioning.
Don’t go there.
You’re not real, Aelrindel whispered stirring from her stupor.
The voice now coming from afar.
Go back to Neil-Dan.
A gasp and the sorceress woke up, water splashing out of the lukewarm bathtub, the darkness thick inside her room. Hours had gone by. The shadows around her created from the light coming from the open window and the cracked open door dancing as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
But for one.
Sneaky fool.
“Was that her?” Ralnor asked sounding spooked and stepped out of the darkness, pale gaunt face once scary, funny before Nym, but now just familiar.
Ah.
Aelrindel glanced at the ghostly figure sitting next to her bathtub and slowly losing cohesion.
“Spillage from a dream,” she murmured and pushed herself out of the water. Aelrindel stood on her soaked feet, breathed once deeply and then rushed to the silent watching the ghostly figure Ralnor. She hugged him tightly, the assassin’s many weapon handles and sheathes harsh on her soft bits.
“Goddess you smell of sweat, blood and rot,” she complained and planted a kiss on his shaven skull.
“I thought you were gone,” Ralnor murmured hoarsely and Aelrindel clasped his face with both hands to stare in his ashen eyes.
“I’m not, but my Zil was killed,” she sniffled, the assassin’s stench making her uncomfortable. Where had he rolled himself in? She wondered. Goodness me. “I’m sorry. We lost Faelar as well.”
He nodded and she stepped back with a pout.
“You know.”
“I found Lithoniela in the woods,” Ralnor rustled, a tick in his eye. Aelrindel sighed and looked to find a piece of clothing to put on.
She didn’t have much, as her wardrobe had been lost in Rida.
“I can’t believe you can think of sex at this point,” she admonished him with a hiss.
“I wasn’t, until you mentioned it,” the assassin retorted and watched her throwing a simple front closing tunic on.
“Is she alright?”
“I don’t think she is. What happened?”
“Grogoceq hurt her, but I healed her in time,” Aelrindel replied scrunching her nose.
“The one with Suharto,” Ralnor noted.
“By himself. Well, twice over.”
“Why go after the Aken Doll?” Ralnor griped. “What possible reason—?”
“Gimoss came to Rida. He killed Zilyana,” she hissed and stepped back to breath once deeply.
“The Wyvern…” Ralnor started, voice pregnant with disbelief. “Stormed the Duke’s palace?”
“It was him,” she snapped. “And yes, he did. Caused quite the mayhem.”
“How could so many miss a huge wyvern? Ah, you are not making any sense as well,” he griped shaking his head in despair.
“Goddess! Who said anything about a wyvern…? I mean yes, the wyvern was there, but he came wearing the body of a man!” Aelrindel admonished him.
Ralnor smacked his lips and stared at the bathtub, where the ghost of her mother had been.
“Where is he now?”
“Gone. I struck a deal with him. Let me finish… He wants to find the Aken that took him down.”
“Faelar agreed to this?” Ralnor queried trying to keep his anger from spilling out.
“Faelar wasn’t there. I made the call!” Aelrindel sighed and walked to the window, her naked feet splashing on the rough wooden floor. “So we came here, found that creep Grogoceq, both of them and killed them. Faelar… was wounded gravely.”
“Where’s the wyvern Doll?” Ralnor grunted.
“He took the Aken’s body, killed the other. Gimoss is gone Ralnor,” she explained and turned to look at him. “He’s like a Lich now.”
“Great, the good news keep piling up,” Ralnor grunted mockingly. “Why did he kill Zilyana?”
“He thought it was me,” Aelrindel puffed out and returned near him. “They were fooling around with Lithoniela. Just a game.”
“I fail to see the pleasure in it,” Ralnor retorted gruffly.
“Goddess! Stop it! How could they have known?” She snapped angry.
“We have an Aken problem,” he informed her tiredly. “Barlow is a construct and Faelar is dead. I don’t have enough information to deal with this.”
“Who is this Barlow?”
“I had him running the finances of the Guild, but he was killed years ago,” Ralnor explained. “Someone else took his place and continued doing the job, though obviously they have an agenda. I’m missing a ship full of corpses!”
“Grogoceq’s constructs were pretty basic,” Aelrindel noted. “Plus he’s hopefully dead.”
“I found one staring at the lake,” Ralnor countered. “What about Suharto?”
“Suharto was a general in the war. His creations soldiers and war things, according to the old heads.”
“I wrote to Sulynor. Told him to get his old arse in Rida,” Ralnor informed her. “Anyone else?”
“If no one figured him out for years,” she replied thoughtfully remembering her dream. “Then Zargatoh comes to mind. Mother knew him. An Elder of Calith.”
“We had met one in the woods outside Rida. Lithoniela was with me,” Ralnor reminisced. “It could be him.”
“He’s too old now,” Aelrindel murmured. “But he’s on Eplas as well.”
“What is it?” Ralnor asked perceptively.
“I had a vision,” she replied. “Parts of it. It might have something to do with that.”
Don’t go there.
“Well?” the assassin probed impatiently. A rarity for him. Ralnor was rattled.
“I can’t… I can’t make sense of it. I need time to think it through—”
“Good grief,” a male voice said, a wiry half-breed standing at the doorway. His skin a dark gold almost, thick braids caught tight at the back of his head. “The miracles keep multiplying.”
“I like your skin,” Aelrindel told him and then remembered she was in her real form.
“I like, your everything,” the man admitted and Ralnor intervened afore she killed him.
“He knows. Works for me,” the assassin informed her calmly. “As a matter of fact he might be the next leader of the Guild. His name is Rhys.”
“Might?” Rhys frowned and then smiled nervously.
“Rhys,” Aelrindel said softly.
“Milady,” the assassin answered in the same vein.
Quick in the tongue and smart.
Hmm.
“I have my sandals under the bed,” she told him. “Bring them to me downstairs.”
“No problem,” Rhys replied readily and Ralnor all but groaned in frustration.
“Let’s go visit Lithoniela,” Aelrindel told the sullen Zilan. “I’ll wash my feet in Caruso’s bucket.”
“There are heeled and flats here?” Rhys queried from the back of the room.
“Bring the flats,” Aelrindel said with a shrug and strolled down the staircase.
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She paused in the middle of the stairs to nod at Caruso, the mercenary was heading to the kitchen and eyed a gloomy Lithoniela repairing her arrows at the other side of the room. With a sigh Aelrindel walked down the final steps, moist feet leaving impressions on them and returned her eyes on the young Princess to scold her for going out on her own again.
A man’s familiar voice stopping her at the second to last step, before her foot touched the floor.
“What in all rusty hooves?” Captain Romir snarled, as much shocked as furious. “What are you? What is this shite?”
Aelrindel turned to look at the Cavalry Leader, apparently not gone patrolling yet for whatever accursed reason and his men entering the hostel one after the other. Caruso had lit up every oil lamp in the place, with the owner Dilmor probably working at the stable, to help Lith better see what she was doing.
Everyone present benefiting from it.
“Look at them ears!” Another yelled standing behind him, eyes ogling as if he’d ever seen a better pair in his miserable plebeian life!
“Why, that’s a… Zilan Captain,” a third grunted. “Holy shit!”
Romir's mouth forming a snarl and rushing her way.
Aelrindel stepped forward to stop him raising her hand, forgot about the last step and when her naked foot found it, she slipped.
“Eeeh!” she screeched, eyes snapping to the ceiling, legs splitting in a cunt revealing kick afore she dropped backwards and hurt her hip on the last darn step. “GAAH!” she cried out double mad and Romir was on her. Everything happening in seconds. He reached with his left arm for her hair, the right wielding a large knife. An arrow whistling and shoving the hand away, piercing his wrist through to the fletching.
“AARGGH!” Romir growled and made to swing with his knife at her gnarling face. Aelrindel put her hand on his other wrist moving much faster and hurled him across the room. The Captain smashed a table before he stopped, but a second Cofol took his place, a saber in hand.
The blade clattering on the floor afore he could use it, a throwing knife buried in his right eye. Down went the Cofol, another charging her, stopped by Ralnor that had leaped from the top of the stairs after he’d hurled the knife and kneed him in the neck.
The hostel turning into a war zone in the blink of an eye.
Aelrindel stumbled to her feet groaning and not believing the turn of events, right hip barely working and hurting like she’d been kicked from a bad-tempered mule. She snarled all teeth at Lithoniela, the Princess arrows zipping over her shoulder and shrieked seeing the heavy Cofol swinging a mace at her. The sorceress dodged barely, made to grab the big rider but missed, the Cofol getting smacked by a sandal right on the nose a moment later.
“Ugh!” he gurgled nose broken and Ralnor’s steel peleg split his cranium down the middle splashing gore and brains everywhere.
The silence following the thud of the heavy Cofol hitting the floor deafening.
Broken by a returning from the kitchen with bread, onions and a couple of carrots Caruso.
“What in allhells…” the mercenary mumbled in deep bewilderment witnessing the bloody chaos. “Happened here lads?”
“Eh, ouch… oh crap,” a pained Aelrindel cursed limping towards a chair. Only one left standing upright. Six Cofols dead on the hostel’s floor, sporting various injuries and many arrows Lithoniela judiciously went about retrieving.
“Ahm,” Rhys murmured standing next to the door unsure. “We need to get the bodies out of here guys.”
“Where?” Ralnor grunted and eyed Caruso.
“The horses too,” the mercenary mumbled crunching on an onion, giving a carrot to a busy Lithoniela. She slotted it in her mouth and kept pulling arrows out of bodies. “I’ll take them to the stables.”
“They can tell them apart easily,” Ralnor grunted. “But it’ll have to do for now.”
“Moving the bodies afore Dilmor returns is more urgent I think,” Aelrindel groaned from her chair, a hand rubbing at her hip wondering whether to use a potion, or magic. A frowned Dilmor shoving Rhys aside and stepping inside his hostel with a cry of shock afore she could make a decision.
Eh, damn it. He’s gone, she thought with a pout as she kind of liked him and Dilmor collapsed on the floor, shuddering and spraying blood everywhere from his slit throat. Rhys wiped his knife on the hostel owner’s pants and shrugged his shoulders at all those glaring at him.
In a sense the assassin was right. It was the simplest way to solve their immediate problems.
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“Want an onion?” Caruso offered and she waved him away frustrated. The health potion messing up her stomach and the unexpected mayhem that had occurred doing a number on her nerves.
“Caruso go help Toutatis with the horses,” Ralnor grunted and took a chair next to her. “How’s the hip?”
“Better,” Aelrindel murmured, using both her hands to keep her chin up. “Where do we go now?”
“We could head to Hi Yil, or Devil’s Cove. Find a ship to Jelin,” Ralnor replied.
“Jelin? Goodness me! And what’s that last one?”
“A Lorian port, under Lazuli Peninsula. I have connections on Jelin Doll, hideouts, properties controlled by the Guild and politicians willing to turn a blind eye.”
“Lorians, not to mention Issirs are the worst Ralnor.”
“The Khan is too close for comfort and we can’t use your prince to learn their intentions,” he grunted. “You have a better idea?”
“I rather chance the Great Desert.”
Not really.
“Well, we could stop at Lebesos, think it through calmly—”
Wow. It’s a jest you mule.
“What does Lithoniela think?” she cut him off, which always infuriated him.
“Are you kidding me?” Ralnor hissed and got up his face red. “Listen, I have Selussa in Devil’s Cove, she can find us a ship.”
“How’s the kid? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Doll this is serious!” Ralnor breathed in once and then exhaled. “What is the problem?”
“If we try to force Lithoniela to come with us, she might snap and leave on her own,” Aelrindel explained with a sigh.
“What’s wrong with her? Is it her mind?”
“I don’t know. It might be, but I fear… we might need a Dottore, or a healer.”
“A… can’t you figure it out?” Ralnor murmured with a grimace.
“She won’t talk about it.”
“Can’t you… charm it out of her?” he offered and she glared at him.
“I won’t do that. And I meant… a proper healer.”
It was painful to admit this.
“Great. Welp, we can’t stay here. The corpses will start reeking by morrow and the missing captain might lead them right on your doorstep, since you were seen with him!”
“Caruso, not me… but yes you’re right,” she added seeing him clenching his jaw angry.
Rhys entering at that moment and interrupting their staring contest.
“In a day of many firsts,” the ambitious assassin said standing at the door, hands resting at his hips and legs open under him. “I just had the most hideous cat follow me from the stables.”
“Rhys, I’m in the middle of an important—” Ralnor growled, Aelrindel stopping him.
“What kind of cat?”
“Stray? Fuck I know?” Rhys retorted. “Pardon the language milady. I’m rather rattled I admit.”
“Eh, we dabble in risqué words ourselves, right Lithoniela?” Aelrindel teased to get her out of her sullen mood.
“Not we don’t,” the Princess replied curtly chomping at her carrot.
Eh.
“Anyways,” Rhys continued. “Darn cat kept pestering me wit queries and curses which in a day of many firsts as I said takes the cake.”
Aelrindel narrowed her eyes and turned to stare at the troubled assassin noticing a burned out, boils covered cat, missing most of its hide but at random spots and behind the ears that had sprouted between his legs.
“Fucking pussies left me hanging! Stabbed me in the back!” Melon roared, Rhys recoiling in panic and jumping two meters away with an unmanly yelp. “Sitting all cozy and enjoying life whilst I had to jump out of a fucking burning building and then cross a plaguing desert! ON PAWS!”
“Melon!” Lithoniela squealed happy and run to take him in her arms. “You made it!”
“Hey round tits,” Melon purred, charred face and left eye half closed, whilst the princess caressed his fur-less belly. “Watch them nails. Cock and balls fused near the arsehole a bit, so when I fart, I also spray a little.”
Ralnor let out a pained groan and rubbed at his shaven skull exasperated.
“Oras hells,” he grunted, Rhys circling around the princess and the talking cat keeping the widest of berths. “Of course the darn cat survives!”
“Gnarly motherfucker,” Melon admonished him irate. “Fuck are you talking about? I’m down to a couple of lives since I started running with your stupid crew!”
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
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