1.33

As the group walked through the town of Deer’s Point, Fenrick did his best to keep track of their movements. He also caught the glances of a few onlookers, no doubt a few people knew who this man was that was leading them.

“Why do you think he’s so willing to take us to his boss? I don’t think I trust him.” Bodwyn had fallen into step with Fenrick. A twitchy air hung around the leporid.

“You’d be right not to trust me. I’ve given you no reason to. For all you know, I’m leading you to your death.” Bodwyn visibly tensed and he reached for his crossbow.

“Are you?” Sharampf asked.

“Would I answer truthfully if I was?” The man stopped in his tracks and waited for the others to catch up.

“I suppose not. But if you are, we won’t go down easily.” The conviction in Sharampf’s voice could be felt.

“I’d expect no less.” The man looked up to the sky, his cigarette flared. Sharampf’s mechanical arm extended out before Bodwyn had readied his crossbow. Only Fenrick kept his weapon sheathed.

“What’s your name?” Bodwyn demanded.

“What’s it to you?” The man gave a sigh and turned to face them. He put a hand over a fist and cracked his knuckles.

“Just want to know.” Bodwyn snarled.

“Put your weapons away,” said Fenrick. The other two looked at him in shock and neither moved.

“If you put your weapons away, I’ll tell you my name.” He cracked the knuckles of his other hand. Bodwyn and Sharampf complied, and the man smiled. As he smiled, a sudden change in the air around them could be felt. Bodwyn’s fur stuck out and Sharampf had a shiver slide down her spine. Tad backed away behind Fenrick’s legs.

“My name is Havenlocke.”

“I’m Fenrick.” Fenrick stepped forward.

“Bodwyn.”

“My name is Sharampf. Nice to meet you. Sorry about the jump to arms there, we’re a little on edge.” Sharampf approached Havenlocke and extended out her hand. He took it and they shook.

“You’ve seen many horrors, haven’t you?” He looked past Sharampf and eyed Fenrick.

“As have you.” Fenrick shook Havenlocke’s hand. Bodwyn reluctantly followed suit.

“Ianthe is dangerous and is not to be underestimated. Her mood can flip like a switch.”

“Why are you helping us?” Bodwyn asked.

“I’m merely taking you to where you want to be. I’m not helping you with anything there. Your task is your own.”

“Then why are you taking us?” Bodwyn gritted his teeth.

“Why not? Its of no concern to me.” Havenlocke shrugged his shoulders.

“What if she wants you to fight us? To kill us? Would you do that?” Bodwyn asked.

“Possibly. It depends on my mood at the time.” At this, Havenlocke turned away and continued to stroll down the street.

“What’s this guy’s deal? He talks so, just, annoying.” Bodwyn stuck his middle finger high up into the air at Havenlocke’s back.

“You aren’t brave enough to do that to my face?” Havenlocke laughed a chilling, hollow laugh. The others rushed up to him and continued to follow him.

“What can you tell us about Ianthe, so we’re not going in completely blind,” asked Sharampf.

“She wields magic gifted to her through a pact. She’s a coldblooded killer, and she hates your friend Hank. I can tell you know all about pacts.”

“Well, yeah.” Bodwyn went quiet.

“How can you tell so many things?” asked Sharampf.

“He has a pact,” said Bodwyn.

“Not exactly.” Havenlocke gave another smile that made everyone feel unsettled. “We’re here.” The group stood in front of a large, double-storey house made of marble and littered with flecks of gold. The door was a black timber with a picture of a red rose.

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“Not exactly subtle, is it?” Bodwyn chuckled.

“She doesn’t need to be, she essentially runs this town.” Havenlocke opened the door and waited for them to follow.

As they crossed the threshold, they all felt a strange pressure forcing its way down on them.

“What’s that?” Sharampf asked.

“Her presence,” said Bodwyn. “She’s not just powerful, but so is the entity she’s made a pact with.” Bodwyn grimaced and felt himself trying to pull on the power of his own pact.

‘Oh, now you want my help? You are nothing.’

“I see you’ve brought guests, Havenlocke. To what do I owe the pleasure of having company?” Ianthe walked down the white marble steps with a sense of power and grace.

“They’ve come for Hank. Seems somebody home wants him back.”

“Oh, is that so? And you thought I’d just allow that to happen?” A barely audible giggle escaped her lips.

“Yes,” said Fenrick.

“And why would I do something like that?” She levelled her eyes at each one of the group, the disdain in her eyes was painfully obvious.

“Because his father wants him home. Its wrong to hold someone prisoner. You have no right to keep him,” said Sharampf.

“I don’t care for any of that.” Ianthe smiled and turned away from them. “Havenlocke, show them the way out before I do something rash.”

“As you wish.” Havenlocke approached the group. Fenrick and Sharampf pushed past him.

“We aren’t leaving without him!” snapped Sharampf. She brought out her mechanical arm again and this time, Fenrick also drew his sword.

“I don’t care.” Ianthe snapped back around to them and with a flick of her wrist, both Fenrick and Sharampf were flung in opposite directions. They each slammed into the walls. The marble seemingly came to life and writhed around their bodies and throats.

“Let them go,” said Bodwyn.

“Or what?” Ianthe glared at Bodwyn, and her eyes widened. “Ah, I see you have made a pact as well. But, for some reason, I can’t tell who, or what with.” Ianthe’s face morphed into a scowl as she took a few steps toward the leporid.

“You don’t want to know.” Bodwyn’s voice had become shaky, and his breathing became laboured. Havenlocke tensed but took a step back from Bodwyn.

“Oh, but I do. You see, mine is with the Rose Queen, now you have piqued the curiosity of both of us.” Bodwyn watched on in indifference as Ianthe’s appearance ever so slightly morphed.

Her skin had greyed a little and her hair looked like it was dead. Her fingers elongated into sharp points and her eyes turned black.

“Back away now, if you want to live.” Bodwyn’s threat caused Ianthe to hesitate for a moment. Havenlocke smiled and tensed his body, like a spring ready to release.

“You dare threaten me in my own home?” Ianthe’s voice became a gut-wrenching shriek.

“You dare threaten me?” Bodwyn now stood straight, and his eyes turned into rubies. His voice roared throughout the room, and he now looked emaciated.

Ianthe held her hands out in front of her and shouted a quick incantation in an unknown language. Rotted looking vines shot out and wrapped around each of Bodwyn’s wrists. The vines lifted him into the air and roses started to sprout from the vines.

The roses opened and needlepoint tongues shot out at Bodwyn, piercing his body all over. Blood sloshed to the ground as the tongues pulled free and shot at him again.

“Stop!” Sharampf screamed. She watched in horror as Bodwyn was repeatedly stabbed with rapid succession. His body had become limp, and Ianthe cackled maniacally as she watched it happen.

“Well, it seems like you were nothing but an empty, pathetic threat.” Ianthe approached Bodwyn as the vines lowered him down, but kept their grip on him. She dipped her finger in his blood that covered the vines and stuck her finger in her mouth.

Blood continued to pour from Bodwyn’s body, but Ianthe cocked her head to the side as she watched the blood that flowed slowly turn to a golden colour, as though it were liquid gold.

The golden blood stopped falling to the ground, but instead flowed through the air and found its way to Ianthe.

Ianthe batted it away and muttered another incantation. The vines lifted Bodwyn back up into the air and the roses resumed their attack. Only this time, the tongues failed to penetrate Bodwyn’s body.

The golden blood continued for Ianthe, who continued to back away screeched her words of power. Spells fired out from her fingertips and failed to have any effect on the gold.

“What are you?” Ianthe screamed as the gold found her and started to cover her body. She continued to pull away from the gold, but it continued to cover her body.

“One of the oldest in existence. Before this world existed, I was there. Something that has been since life started. You are but a bug that will be crushed.” The vines wilted from Bodwyn’s body.

“We know what you are!” Ianthe screamed in terror as her body turned to gold and she was as still, and silent, as a statue.

Suddenly, Bodwyn puked forth a cloud of precious gemstones. The gemstones flew at Ianthe and seemingly devoured her as if they were a plague of locusts. When there was nothing left, they flew back into Bodwyn’s mouth, who doubled over and collapsed.

The marble walls reverted to normal and Fenrick and Sharampf fell to the floor. They rushed over to their friend, who was once again looking normal.

“That was unexpected. Havenlocke stood over them, his arms folded in front of his chest as he massaged his chin.”

“Are you going to hurt us for killing her?” Sharampf asked.

“After what your friend just did to her? She was far more powerful than me, what chance have I got? It wasn’t my fight.”

“What happened?” Sharampf asked.

“It would appear, that whoever, or whatever your friend made a pact with, just took a big ego swing. It didn’t like Bodwyn being threatened by another, and decided to intervene. That kind of, er, involvement, from a being is extremely rare. Quite often kills the host and weakens entity. I don’t quite get it, but that’s how it seems to work. Whatever he made his pact with, is extremely powerful.”

“Where’s Hank?” asked Fenrick.

“I’ll go get him.”

After ten minutes, Havenlocke returned with Hank, who was now extremely docile.

“He shouldn’t be too much of a problem now.” Hank stumbled over to the others.

“What are you going to do now, your boss being dead and all?” Sharampf asked.

“See where the winds take me. Take care of yourselves, maybe our paths will cross once again.”

“Why don’t you just come with us?” asked Sharampf.

“I suppose I could. Here, let me help.” Havenlocke crouched down and hoisted Bodwyn over his shoulder and walked out of the house.