Tucked in a far back corner of an estuary, Karcerak was the main supply center for the smaller villages and farms for the region. Its shoreline hosted nearly a dozen docks that reached far out into the waters, the shallow depth affording natural protection from monstrous sea demons. For this reason it berthed barges, hunting ships and fishing boats that either traveled up the delta onto their continent’s main rivers, or out into the perilous sea.
From a thick timbered A-frame, the remnants of a massive carnivorous fish hung from multiple hooks, most of the meat already stripped and the leftovers now being noisily picked over by various types of scavenging birds. A squat warehouse on the bank belched fragrant smoke that slid over the water like blue mist, while two empty river barges sat moored on a wharf nearby, waiting to be loaded with the fresh-cured meats.
Apoch observed the activity from the crest of the road before nudging Bu’u down the sloping entrance to the town. He pulled up his cowl, tilting his head down so that the hem of the garment shadowed the upper part of his face as he guided Bu’u with his knees towards the only trading post.
Inside he found his supplies with familiar ease, though when he turned towards the clothing section he hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. A girl whom he suspected was the owners daughter approached, all coy smiles and shy glances at her opportunity to assist the attractive stranger.
“Are you looking for a gift for someone special?”
“Possibly,” Apoch hedged, eyeing the slender female long enough to cause a faint blush to rise to her cheeks. “Have anything that fits?”
She was pixie cute, with slate-green skin and freckles of ivory that matched her braided hair. Her lashes veiled amber eyes that were flecked with copper for a moment before she met his gaze playfully.
“This one,” she lead him to the back wall and opened a drawer, pulling out a lovely summer dress of grey silk. The top tied around the throat so that it was backless, the skirt a single swath overlapping a front sheet that would be modest, until the wearer took a step. There was a hungry look in her face and Apoch knew instantly she had stashed it away to buy for herself someday. She pressed it to her chest to model for him.
“I would wager it would look good on your floor for tonight, if you bought it,” she purred. He smiled slowly, tilting his head in invitation. She moved closer to him and he took the dress, his grin changing from roguish to business.
“I’ll need garb for a slave in that same size, along with a couple other options for a house servant as well.”
The girl blinked, her mouth hanging open in shock as Apoch strolled away from her casually to the front of the store, as if he hadn’t just eviscerated her ego.
The cashier had rung up all of his items by the time she had returned, slamming what could’ve been brown cotton bags with tubes for arms on the counter before storming off. They were perfect.
With the travel foods and goods individually wrapped in burlap he put them in the riding packs, tugging on Bu’u’s reigns lightly before walking beside his denimal down to the prominent and only inn in town.
The sign marking it was a gaudy thing. Carved in cheap wood with gold leaf, it was already cracked and peeling from exposure to the elements.
So like him, he thought to himself, grinning as he handed Bu’u off to the stable boy who was rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Apoch let a silver piece walk across his knuckles before it vanished in his palm, gaining the full attention of the youngster.
“Evening, Honored. Fresh meat, fresher water, you understand?”
The cambion boy nodded exuberantly. “Y’stayin th’night?”
“I’ll be back after nightfall. Have him ready.” The boy’s head bobbled again and he lead Bu’u off.
Apoch entered the inn, keeping the door open momentarily to take count of the faces and let his eyes adjust to the dimness so he could see the patrons before they could see him. Finding no attention on himself he found a table tucked near the back and slid into the seat. A maid hurried over, cheeks pink from the heat all the bodies packed in the room was creating.
“Sorry sir, th’table’s reserved. Seating at th’bar though.”
“I’ll have a Sen’drale.”
She didn’t hesitate, nodding as if her apology had never happened.
“Fish stew is decent t’night.”
“A large one of those, then. And this time don’t put an entire loaf of bread in it.”
The female snorted a laugh, her tail flicking in amusement as she shook her head and walked away. “Take that up with th’ owner.”
“Cheap bastard,” Apoch muttered.
He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his wide chest as his attention swept across the room the tables location afforded. Sailors and fishers well into their cups made the most of the gathering, maids and local whores working their ranks, earning back the money that the waters had lined their pockets with. A bard sat near the hearth, strumming on a lute and singing a song unknown to Apoch.
One of the females who had been waiting for his gaze to land on her offered a smile, but he pointedly turned away from her after a moment. Dismissal noted she resumed plying her skills on the big-bellied male whose lap she was currently occupying.
The waitress returned, setting the stew down with a knowing smirk as Apoch tsked, upper lip curling on one side at the sight of the loaf taking up most of the bowl. Her husky laugh followed her departure, and knowing the bread would be hard as a rock he didn’t bother attempting to dig in until she finally delivered the ale to accommodate his meal.
With the better portion finally eaten he pushed the bowl away, finishing the horn of salted beer the town was known for. Their proximity to the sea made it so the tavern wenches spun it as a tribute to the bounty the tides brought in, but Apoch knew better; the owner simply diluted the brew with seawater to increase his profit margins. Still, it had caught on and become part of Karceraks’ charm. Something the travelers and workers alike had to look forwards to at the end of a long day or even longer haul.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He set a silver mark on the table, but when the maid returned with another overflowing horn she didn’t bother to pick it up. Taking the fresh drink he kicked back, thankful to have a moment to himself to enjoy the company of his own kind.
The candelabras had become the main source of light by the time he had finished off the second round. The bard had switched genres of music at some point in time to popular drinking songs, the rowdy group slurring the lyrics as he sullenly plucked the melody for them.
Apoch glanced over as the bar tender returned from the kitchen and waved his waitress over, the two exchanging words before she wove her way to his table, setting a single rusted iron coin down before pocketing his silver.
“Enjoy your evening, Warlord.”
Picking up the currency he headed towards the kitchen, passing through a narrow, unmarked doorway and up a steep flight of stairs. At the landing two guards eyed him suspiciously but he flicked the coin to one, the male catching it and stepping aside to rap hard on the door.
A deep voice came from the other side and the male opened it, blocking the doorway with his bulk as he turned a condemning glare onto Apoch.
“Weapons.”
Apoch offered a mocking smile, the same voice in the office answering for him.
“Let him through. Not like you could stop this one if he wanted me dead anyway.”
“Garl, you cut me deep. I would never stab you in the back,” Apoch replied humbly, entering the room with his palms out. Behind the desk a full-blooded demon with an orcish face sat cutting rows of purple dust.
“No, I bet you’d gut me from the front like you did Salas.”
At this Apoch laughed, sitting down in the chair opposite of Garl. “You heard about that?”
“Good on you, that traitor. Donned human skin and played their puppet thinking he was safe. Zidaii has been missed by all.”
Apoch tipped his head in reply, setting a small bag of coins that clinked weightily against the wood between him and the demon. “I need some supplies. The regular order, and then some that aren’t.”
Plugging one side of his pug-nose the demon snorted the lines in one inhale, sniffing sharply before finally looking at his guest.
“So, The Warlord is back. More than a few upstarts are gonna be pissed.”
“I’m not coming back, just cleaning up a few loose ends.”
“Yeah, that’s how it always starts.”
Apoch pointedly glanced down at the empty spot where the bag of money had been. “You’re getting better, Garl.”
“That, or you're getting older.”
He chuckled low in response, using a foot to push his chair onto its back legs as Garl rose and studied the hutch behind him. Picking out various vials and jars he set them on the desk carefully, sitting back down and opening a drawer by his knee.
Apoch reached for the tinctures, his hand freezing when a silver slavers collar clanged onto the desk. His smile faded, gaze flicking from beneath his brow dangerously to the demon without lifting his head. Garl held his stare in a drugged stupor for a moment before lowering his voice so that it wouldn't carry.
“Not my business why you’re in my town buying clothes fit for a human girl. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the same week I heard you had disemboweled Salas that the old names are, for some strange reason, looking for a maiden with white hair both sides of the wall, and making no attempt to do it quietly.”
He set a brick of black dye next to the collar, Apoch still not reacting. “Call it a customer appreciation bonus.”
For a moment neither moved. Then Apoch leaned back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head nonchalantly, which was somehow more perilous than if he had pulled a blade.
“I wonder who you fear more,” He finally murmured, crimson eyes glowing faintly. “Them, or me.”
Garl blinked in surprise, beads of sweat rising on his brow. “Did you stick your dick in an Archfiend or something?”
Apoch's brows rose, not understanding his meaning at all. Garl shook his head, realizing he probably didn't want to know why the Warlord’s eyes were now burning like the titans they fought. “Your reputation is your enemy from here on out, old friend, not me.”
Apoch mused over this, knowing it to be true. Being a legend in a world filled with the worship of death was not to his advantage at this point. Garl was helping him out, but Garl would also talk when either the time, money, threats, or a combination thereof came. It wasn’t like he couldn’t; too many people had seen him in Karcerak. Killing the demon would be a red flag, one he couldn’t afford. The best he could hope for would be that his old comrade would set the hunters on false trails for as long as possible.
Apoch stood and rapped his knuckles on the empty desk, Garl belching a laugh when he realized the supplies had vanished some time during their conversation.
“This shit is good or you’ve gotten better. I guess some things do age well.”
Apoch smirked at him and took his leave, his smile vanishing immediately as soon as he was down the stairs.
Outside the boy waited with his denimal, and Apoch handed him the promised silver before packing away the final supplies Garl had sold him.
Mounting he headed out of town northwards under the veil of night, stopping at a bend in a ravine to dismount and climb up the sandstone walls to a hidden vantage point. He glanced at the random indicators he had put in place to alert him of the narrow edges use, but it seemed to be still unknown to most travelers. Bu’u had already continued ahead, leaving footprints to lead any followers onwards.
Apoch waited motionless for hours to make sure he had not been followed. With just the sounds of the forest as company, inevitably his mind wandered back to Iscah. The thought seemed to gouge talons anew inside his chest, making him wince. He had meant to turn his fury on her, especially when she had been stupid enough to defend Triki after what that bastard had done to them. But with his emotions in check now, there was no denying he regretted it.
They were all victims of circumstance, and while he held no regrets for past violence against her kind, he knew this time it was different, she was different. Triki was right, it had been his decision to bind her to him as a mate, but he couldn’t understand why he had done it. Yes, there was no denying he wanted her physically, and she wanted him as well, but when had a little attraction ever driven him to such extremes?
He and Nedivah had been together for years, and still he had never marked her. Had never felt his mouth water and dick twitch at just the thought of sinking his canines into her flesh. It was like the girls blood held some sort of narcotic that he craved, something that wrapped him tighter around her, and it scared the fuck out of him. Not because he was afraid of losing control and killing her, but because he could feel a foreign emotion burrowing deeper into his heart and mind: acceptance.
His heartbeat slipped as his body cycled through an acute stress response, fighting against the concept that he would actually accept a human not just as a bound contractor, but as a mate as well. It was too much, too fast, even for him. He closed his eyes and willed his body back into calm, acknowledging that processing this horrific turn of events would take time, and currently this was not the time nor the place for it. He had to make sure they were not being tailed to keep his little lamb safe, and keep them both alive.
It was nearing dawn when they finally arrived at the dry stream bed and turned to follow it to the cave. Bu’u paused near the entrance, ears flicked forwards as he scented the air noisily. Apoch snarled a curse, jumping from the saddle and shoving the hide aside to confirm what her already faded scent had told him.
Iscah was gone.