“What’s the most I can leave the city with?” Erroh called to the innkeeper, gesturing at the pile of pieces strewn messily across the counter. Lillium had confirmed how unstable the city’s economy was these past few months. Pieces were in short supply and every time a trader left with bulging pockets of coin, it became less stable. It was only a matter of time before straight out bartering returned to fashion. Such a thing could not be allowed to occur in Samara. It wouldn’t effect Erroh, so he didn’t really care about consequences. At that moment, he didn’t care if the city became bankrupt, besieged, or burned to the ground.
“You can carry out around a hundred, I think. A man like you could probably smuggle a bit more,” the innkeeper said grinning. “Who would dare check you, eh?” he added, his eyes glancing at the fortune of cheated coins.
“I don’t need a hundred,” declared Erroh, hearing how drunk his voice sounded, and deciding it sounded marvellous. “I just need another drink. And some bread. And a bottle of sine. In fact, make it two,” he said pushing the pieces across the bar. “And buy a round of drinks on me. I’m never getting to leave this city so I think I need to make newer friends,” he said and giggled stupidly at his wit. His new friend Wynn had a mate who was wonderful and come the morning they would be departing the city, leaving him behind. It almost made a young Alpha want to drink himself into a deranged stupor and say all the things on his mind to any who would listen. So that’s exactly what he was going to do. It was a terrible plan and it worked perfectly.
“There’s more here than what you are asking for,” the innkeeper said carefully. A drunk Alpha was a dangerous Alpha. A drunk Alpha with delusions of generosity was a very dangerous Alpha come morning when sobriety reared its ugly head.
“It’s alright,” explained Erroh in his wonderfully drunk voice. “I’ll just win more tomorrow,” he said before covering his mouth and burping loudly. “Don’t forget my wakeup call,” he shouted, stumbling down the stairs three at a time, away from the roar of the crowd. “Or do. I don’t really care anymore,” he muttered to nobody, as he fell in through the doorway of his chambers.
He forgot to sleep or at least he forgot falling asleep. He might have slept. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t stop drinking, even after throwing up a few times. At some point, he’d attempted a few songs himself. Great songs, not about the city at all. When dawn broke the innkeeper appeared at the open doorway, brandishing a fresh black eye.
“Are you up yet, cub?” he asked grumpily.
“Aye,” replied Erroh. He was sitting on the floor in a corner of his room holding his half-consumed bottle of sine in his lap. His head was resting on the bedside locker. He wasn’t sure why he brought it over to this side of the room either, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He looked back up at the figure in the door and pointed to his eye. “Was it me?”
The man shook his head. “Different one of your sort,” he said gruffly.
“The one with the ponytail?”
Again, the man shook his head. “You should clean yourself up,” he said turning away and walking slowly back upstairs. It was fine advice and Erroh knew he probably looked as bad as he felt. He splashed his face and tried unsuccessfully to wipe most of the crust from his face before chewing on some glorious honey bread and washing it down with some water. He freshened up his breath by taking a few mouthfuls of sine. Never one to take any unnecessary risks, he pocketed the bottle for the long walk to the arena.
Above in the bar a manmade hurricane had struck the interior and left complete devastation in its wake. The floor was littered with debris with overturned chairs and cracked tables and there were hints of bloodstains to be found by the keener eye. Among the ruin of the inn sat the innkeeper who was busying himself with screwing the leg back on an old wooden bench. He did so with the resigned look of a man who’d tasted many mornings as unpleasant as this. Erroh took another swallow and fought the reflex to throw up. He could have offered to help and perhaps on another day, he may have, but instead he walked past without saying a word, out into the blazing morning sun for the final day of the Cull. Aye, the last fuken day. He would make sure of it.
It was a short walk but it took him longer than normal because he really didn’t care anymore. His loneliness and sense of rejection had changed during the night. What started as a trickle of anger with the Alphaline witches; was now a tidal wave of fury. He had tried to win their favour with honesty and they had punished and beaten him for little more than cruelty’s sake. Sitting at a table with Lillium had been the final straw and he intended to set alight the entire field.
“I really hate this place,” he said when the three witches took their place above him. He rubbed his eyes clumsily and hiccupped as quietly as he could. He cleverly held the bottle behind his back as he had little intention of sharing it with them. After a moment, he decided it would be rude not to so he held it out for all to see.
“Thank you for telling us that Erroh,” Lea said nervously. Beside her Roja was pale. Silvia less so.
“Maybe we should postpone until tomorrow, it’s quite obvious he’s still suffering from his injuries,” she said quietly. She could recognise a dangerous and wounded animal and rightly so, for she would be the first one attacked.
“No, this could be entertaining,” Silvia said. Of course she did. Roja however shook her head. She could see they’d pushed him too far.
“He’s completely drunk,” added Silvia helpfully.
She had not pushed him far enough at all.
“Yes I am,” declared Erroh. He waved the bottle for any takers. There were no takers so he shrugged and drank deeply.
“This Cull is done for the day, he’s not in his right mind at all,” said Lea once more. How many days had they lasted, one more would hardly make a difference.
“I’m not staying another fuken day with any of you whores,” he shouted suddenly.
“You have to stay until it’s finished,” Lea warned but Erroh could see the fear in her face and oh, how he hated her the most.
“And you have to fuk off,” he suggested.
“You should listen to her,” said Roja coldly. She was not troubled; she spoke like a leader. Maybe she should have led this Cull. He thought about suggesting as much. He took another drink instead.
“Honour your blood line, Erroh,” Lea said desperately.
He stared at her in unrivalled hatred and she looked away in fear. Maybe it was shame. She certainly wore the same expression as Lillium.
“He has no honour,” said Silvia, finally seeing the turn of events for what they were but refusing to cease poking at his anger.
Erroh shrugged. “I don’t want a mate who takes this long to choose me. That’s why I’m happy for Lillium. She saw Wynn, she appreciated him and chose him, but I want none of you,” he roared miserably.
“Maybe he was a finer choice,” Roja said. She would make a fine card player. Or else she was emotionless.
“Oh, I think we can all agree he’s a finer choice than me,” he laughed desperately. “To the happy couple,” he raised his bottle and drank. It didn’t matter that it offered little comfort to him. It just made him hurt a little less.
“There are rules in the Cull,” Lea squeaked. She mumbled something about “entitlement” before her voice disappeared into uncomfortable stillness.
Nobody was really listening anyway.
“I like this version of Erroh,” decided Silvia.
“Oh shut up Silvia,” he suggested. That wiped the stupid look from her face.
“You shut up,” replied the witty little blonde.
“This little runt needs to be taken away and put out of his misery, he’s no Magnus,” Roja muttered to Lea.
He didn’t mean to do it, it just happened. The bottle was in one hand, perhaps his left and then it wasn’t. It was somewhere in the air. And it was moving with great velocity. It met the wall at their feet and did what any self-respecting glass bottle would do, given the same circum
stances. It died a good death. The shards scattered everywhere and the females jumped back.
Erroh spoke to Lea one more time and it was a fine address in an attempt to end proceedings.
“I’m deeply sorry for my behaviour on the first day; I will forever regret my lack of respect. It was careless and I hope you find a mate worthy of you in the end,” he said and should have stopped there.
But he didn’t.
He had one more thing to say.
“May he never see you as the cruel manipulative bitch that I do,” he said before bowing theatrically. He saw a tear form in her eye just as he turned away and left the three remaining Alpha females behind him.
Word spread throughout the city of his performance, or it felt as much. He could never be certain as he spent the rest of the day hidden away in his bedroom like the brave Alpha he was. When the last of the alcohol had left his body, so began the crushing feeling that only the most obnoxious drunks are gifted to, come the first breath of sobriety. He pledged never to drink again. A lie he knew but a lie that served to alleviate his guilt. His heart hammered wildly, just like Lillium’s angry rap upon his doorway to which he never answered. She spoke through wood and steel and begged for entrance but he turned away in his bedding and dug his head into the pillows. On the third attempt, she cursed loudly and disappeared away with Wynn following quickly behind. Only Lexi was allowed enter but conversation was uneasy. She was distraught about his behaviour but said little more once he’d insisted gruffly that her questions would be unanswered. When neither one of them could take another uncomfortable silence, she slipped away and left him to his miserable pondering.
That last night in Samara, he slept better than ever.
He woke up to the feel of a long pike prodding at his chest. Opening his eyes, he snatched the shaft of the pike and thrust it aside swiftly. He was halfway out of bed with fists swinging before he realised there was no second attack coming and his wake up call was not an assault, but two anxious Black Guards standing their ground in the doorway with lowered weapons.
“She ordered us to retrieve you,” ordered the nearest guard. “It’s almost noon,” he added quickly. “We shook you a few times and you didn’t stir,” the second Wolf muttered apologetically and gestured weakly to the pike’s tip. He wore an “it seemed like a good idea at the time” expression. Erroh nodded and dressed quietly.
“What is this about?” Erroh asked and splashed cold water on his face. His stomach had settled but the headache remained. It was well deserved. “I can’t be under arrest for shouting,” he muttered. They said nothing.
The two Black Guards did not march him through the city or attempt to chain him. This was a good thing in his mind. Thoughts of being chained up or jailed were worse than losing an eye. His heart sank a little when they left him at the doors of the Cull. It was likely the Primary was going to give him his marching orders. She would probably have a few words to offer on the matter of the last day of the Cull. He couldn’t hide under the pillow for this particular attack.
However, the leader of the world wasn’t there to meet him. Lea entered from above and walked quietly. She appeared nervous and it almost felt like the very first day all over again. She wore a bright yellow dress. It really suited her. She smelled of flowers.
“Are you in control Erroh?” she asked coldly.
“Aye,” he said and folded his arms.
“I thought you were going to attack one of us,” she said and he dropped his head in mild shame. He would never hit a female. Not even if she deserved it. Had they not spoken of this matter? Still though, what did it matter now? “I would never strike a female in anger.”
“You said that before,” she said.
“And I would say it again, many times,” he said, shrugging. Even at this moment, she could not let matters go. He felt the anger rise again.
“I need to record the ending of this Cull,” she said.
“So it’s done?” he asked hopefully. He could already taste the clear air of freedom.
“Aye Erroh, it’s finished,” she said smiling in relief.
“And all girls rejected me?”
She looked across to where each had stood and nodded knowingly. Her face was smug. It didn’t need to be so smug. Stop being smug you witch.
“All girls rejected you,” she replied wistfully. Her smile grew but there was still fear, lest he leap up and drag her down to his level.
“Before you leave, can I ask why you behaved like that?” she asked and leaned against the balcony rail.
How could she not know? He could have answered her, allowed her closure on this miserable event but instead he shrugged.
“It seemed like the thing to do,” he muttered. To this, she nodded and accepted it as truth.
“A fair answer after everything that has happened,” she admitted, but he wasn’t really listening. He was already thinking about the road ahead. First a few months ride down south through snow and storm. No problem. Trying to locate one patron in one solitary inn in an entire region? Not a problem either. And then he would face the long road home to his disappointed family and a place in the army. Bit of a problem.
“Perhaps someday you might see that I’m not as nasty as you think,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head and letting her cruel eyes stare deep into his soul. “And I Lea choose you as my mate,” she said softly.
New Customers
The noise. The terrible noise. It was everywhere and it pulled Sigi from his sleep. It came from beyond the stained walls, on which hung his precious decorations. Somewhere far away. The rumbling shook the sawdust covered floor and up through his body. He heard Wrek emerge from his cave behind the bar. He had never seen the behemoth show fear. Now he saw terror.
“That’s not thunder,” hissed Wrek dressing himself frantically. This consisted of little more than putting his boots on. The sound was growing, the sound was nearing, and the sound was familiar. It was a great march but there was no army in this part of the world, unless Magnus had had enough of peacetime.
“Soldiers,” he muttered and crashed through the main door out into the courtyard to catch the sound in the air.
“Excellent,” replied Sigi rubbing his eyes and slowly stepping behind the counter. He opened a cool press and took out some bread. He hoped he had time for a quick meal before business took a wonderful turn. Soldiers meant coin. Wrek hated change but Sigi always saw opportunity and business had been bad. Few wanderers had passed through in search of fortune at Samara these last few weeks. Eerily so.
This was bad and Wrek knew it deep in his soul. He needed to get up high to find the source. The Rat’s Nest was the only freestanding structure for miles in any direction and a natural area to make camp. So it made a perfect spot to run a tavern.
Sigi stepped out into the sweet morning air. He could see it would be a fine day. The sun would blaze and there would be many mouths with a thirst to quench. He watched Wrek pull himself onto the roughly patched roof and keep climbing. Sigi listened to the noise a little more and bit into the slice of bread and chewing contently as one does, in the knowing that a few tough weeks of business were about to end.
“While you are up there, there’s still a leak by the chimney to be patched,” he shouted to the climbing man before walking back inside.
Wrek staggered across the roof and looked out across the plain. He could see them through a gap in the hills. Their flags worried him most. They were deathly black with crude slashes of crimson symbols at the centre. They travelled in tight formation. He counted fifty brutish cavalry leading a few hundred foot soldiers. It was a small army, but an army nonetheless. They were dressed in leather skins with fur lining underneath and unpolished metal plating on the outside, crudely tailored by unskilled hands and far too warm for this part of the world. Both men and women marched together as equals but it was evident they were no Alphas, nor were they from Magnus’s army either.
“We have to go,” he hissed aloud.
They moved through the pass alongside, no more than a couple hundred steps across and the noise grew louder. However, it wasn’t the cavalry or the hundreds of soldiers causing this thunder. The noise emanated from four large carts of wood and steel with wheels the size of a mount. They rolled slowly and tore the ground up underneath them. What did they carry?
“We have to go,” he whispered to himself. Maybe they’ll pass us by, he thought as he hid himself behind the damaged chimney. “Maybe they’ll think we’re a ruin among the overgrowth,” he whispered aloud. It was a suggestive prayer to the gods above who’d cursed him to a life as miserable as this one, with all ill decisions leading him to this very moment. A bead of sweat dripped down into his eye and instinctively he wiped it away with a grubby hand. A few of the horsemen caught the movement but only glanced towards the building just as the last rider entered the pass. He held himself still and after a few breaths, they continued on their way. They never even bothered to send a scouting party and cruelly enough, Wrek began to believe.
It was always a little nippy, first thing in the morning despite the sun. The early breezes normally left a chill in his bones so Sigi bend down and lit the fire. A moment and a few coughs later, there was a fine glowing flame. He threw some tinder down and warmed his hands.
Lovely.
Wrek smelled smoke and a terrifying realisation struck him. By the time it did there was delicate puffs of white cloud souring majestically into the air calling out “over here,” in their own little language. A few of the Riders gathered and Wrek began to pray a little louder. “Maybe Sigi is right. Maybe all they crave is a drink.” But there hadn’t been any business these last few weeks, had there? Many of the wanderers of the road had simply vanished. As if hunted down to extinction. The tall bouncer dropped the last few feet from his perch just as the piercing cry of war horns filled the air. The low rumble of the wheels ceased and the horns blew again.
Sigi heard the call of death through the walls and immediately realised his error. Sometimes, he had to admit, his tall companion saw things others did not. He stood at the doorway frozen in thought, but no answer came. The horns fell silent only to be replaced by the roar of charging mounts. Panic overcame him and then a giant arm reached through the doorway and pulled him into the fresh morning air.
Spark City Page 16
