Lug watched from across the street as the restaurant staff returned. Their horse had been hitched to a cart, which was full of food for the competition. The former thug felt his breath freeze in his chest as the draft horse turned its head his way. But its gaze didn't linger on him for long.
Feeling silly about his reaction, Lug forced himself to take a breath. Imagine! A guy like me being afraid of a horse!
He rubbed his hands together to fight the evening chill and checked for any witnesses. The streets were empty, so he figured that now was as good a time as any. The sooner he burned the place down, the sooner he could go home.
Lug reached into his bag and grabbed a bottle of lamp oil. He had already tied a greasy rag around the neck of the bottle with some twine to act as a source of ignition.
The thug struggled with his flint and steel, but eventually managed to ignite a little square of char cloth. He held the smouldering char cloth to the greasy rag and blew on it. A few breaths later, he was rewarded with a flickering yellow flame.
The roof of the restaurant was covered in snow, so he decided to aim for an upstairs window. Downstairs would have been easier, but Lug didn't want to accidentally kill anyone. He figured that the staff would probably all run out once the upper floors caught fire.
He lobbed the incendiary and watched it arc through the air. It hit the upstairs window, and bounced off harmlessly. Lug swore as the bottle of oil rolled and came to a stop at the edge of the rooftop. Somehow, against all odds, it had been extinguished by the snow.
Lug went over and tried to grab it, but he couldn't quite reach. He looked around for something to stand on, and spotted a wooden ladder built into the side of the building.
That'll do nicely, he thought, happy to see that his streak of bad luck was finally ending. I'll grab the bottle, light it, burn this place down, and then go home for some nice warm soup.
He climbed up to the roof with happy thoughts of soup and crackling fires multiplying in his thick skull. But when he looked for the bottle of oil, it was gone. He peered over the edge to check the ground below, but it wasn't there either.
Huh, Lug thought as he scratched his head, Where in the seven hells did it go?
A snort from below caught his attention, and the former thug looked down to see a draft horse staring up at him. Lug was no expert on animals, but he didn't like how the beast was licking its lips. It looked… hungry.
The horse looked over at the ladder, then back at him.
It's a good thing horses can't climb ladders, he thought, before dismissing such a silly idea. It was just a horse, not a rampaging spirit beast.
Lug decided that his best course of action was to climb in through the window, light something on fire, and get out of there before he froze solid. Things hadn't gone to plan, but he needed to adapt. The only way forward was through.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Imagine, me being afraid of a horse,” Lug said with a shake of his head as he turned towards the window.
Daisy watched him go. “Yes,” she said softly, “Imagine that.”
Zane stepped out of a shadow and patted her on the shoulder. “Good job spotting him, and thank you for letting me know instead of just dealing with it yourself.”
There was a cry of surprise from upstairs, followed by a loud thud. “Come on,” the young man laughed, “Let's go rescue our new friend before Dumpling turns him into pâté.”
“In that case, maybe we should wait,” said Daisy, “I’d kill for some good pâté.”
***
Cara had almost given up and gone home by the time Lug returned. The former thug looked like hell, and was carrying a large wicker basket.
Lug fixed a pair of bloodshot eyes on Cara. “Uh. Hi, boss.”
“What is it? Have you done what I asked?” the chef asked, preparing to fly into a well deserved rage at the incompetence of his underling.
“No, boss.” Lug set the basket down and slowly started backing away. “I'm really sorry about this. But Zane said it was me or you. And I chose you.”
Before Cara could respond, he felt an incredible weight start pressing down on his body. His head slammed against the desk, almost knocking him unconscious.
“HELLO, CHEF CARA BAZURA,” said a voice like gravestones crumbling, “I HEAR THAT YOU HAVE BEEN EXPERIENCING SOME ANXIETY OVER THE OUTCOME OF TOMORROW'S COMPETITION.”
Dumpling hopped out of her basket and landed on the floor with enough force to split the wood. Cara could hardly breathe, much less talk. He was forced to watch in silent horror as Dumpling approached.
Each of the void stalker’s footsteps was like the crack of doom, and the pressure around him slowly increased as she got closer. Finally, the desk collapsed, bringing them face to face.
Eight sets of yellow eyes watched pitilessly as Cara was crushed beneath the weight of his own skin. Once Dumpling heard the chef’s heart stop beating, she stored his body in her collar and turned to look at Lug.
“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, MR LUG?” she asked.
The former thug looked down at the floor. “Well, boss. You didn't say that I could leave.”
“BOSS? YOU CALL A CREATURE LIKE ME BOSS?” Dumpling threw her head back and laughed. “OH, I LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT! HOW RESPECTFUL YOU ARE, MR. LUG.”
Lug stood up a bit straighter. “I always try to be respectful, boss.”
The void stalker closed her eyes and smiled. “YES. I'M BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND WHY THE AWAKENER SPARED YOU. HE IS TRULY A BEING OF GREAT WISDOM AND INTELLIGENCE.”
“He is?” blurted out the former thug, before realizing his mistake and correcting himself. “I mean, yes! He is! The Awakener is wise and powerful!”
Dumpling let out a low chuckle and hopped back into her basket. “COME ALONG, MR. LUG. THERE IS STILL WORK TO DO.”
“Yes, boss!” Lug picked up the basket and let out a sigh of relief. The former thug didn't know what was going on, or why he was still alive. But he wasn't going to worry about little things like that. He had work to do. Existential crises could wait.
“Where to, boss?” Lug asked.
“BACK TO THE RESTAURANT, IF YOU PLEASE,” Dumpling replied with a yawn, “I AM GROWING WEARY AND WISH TO RETIRE FOR THE NIGHT, MR. LUG.”
Mr. Lug, he thought, Now, that's a name I can get used to! That's a respectable name!
“Yes, boss!” Mr. Lug said as he made his way out the door, taking great care not to bump or jostle his new employer. “Whatever you say!”