Quiet. Stunning quiet was all that remained after the brief tussle. Guldrich stared in shock, jumping with a start when the oval crackled as though it were a bonfire. Was he free or would he be next? He locked his legs in place when she stood and faced him. She approached slowly, seductively, drawing him in with every movement.
“You are free,” she said, circling him, her tail finding its way everywhere.
“To what end?” Guldrich turned enough to keep her in sight, not trusting the purple woman behind him.
“Good question.” She smiled. “To flee? To retreat?”
“No,” he grunted, his hand clenching into a fist.
Her tail ran along his forearm until it relaxed.
“You were in there. You saw.” He breathed deeply to keep his anger at a simmer. “The idiots want to go to war without wielders or a champion. Instead, they would kill me and destroy the empire that could be. Better had the Vex’kvette left us farmers.”
“Then do something about it.” She gripped his boney chest armor and pulled him close, his back now to the dark portal.
“Who are you?” he whispered. “What do you want of me?”
She looked up into his eyes as she inched forward. He stepped back. “I am Felicia, and you are right,” she said. “Without a champion, we are nothing.”
“And where do we find one of those?” he asked.
She nodded over his shoulder at the portal, mere inches away.
“The champion is in there?” he asked.
“He’s certainly not here,” she said slyly. “You have a choice, Guldrich. Stay and be killed. Run in fear and see Fulk’han defeated. Or...” She nodded toward the portal once again.
She was not like any other Fulk’han woman he had met, and seemed much more than any woman he had bedded. Quick, strong, and wise. He felt drawn to her and was hungry for more.
“I’ll find you a champion,” he stated. “I’ll find a champion for Takarn-Ivan and for Fulk’han.”
Her full lips broadened to a smile that became a kiss. She pulled away and took his hand, placing a ruby ring on his finger. He looked down at it quizzically, but quickly forgot it as she pressed her mouth to his.
“Come back with my champion,” she demanded, “or die trying.”
He did, indeed, like this one, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his thin gray lips. Guldrich leaned in for one last kiss, barely managing a peck before she pushed him into the darkness.
Nordruaut
Feemi lay on the cushioned pallet, covered in warm furs, waiting for yet another lonely night to pass. She had promised herself to Niihlu, leaving Jarle and traveling East. Niihlu had offered her the world, but when he won the right to be the Nordruaut champion, he was rewarded with a curse that affected them both. The foci, Ghorfjend, coated his body with ice that fell from his arms with every movement. Since wielding the war axe, Niihlu would barely speak to her, and she wondered if the ice had penetrated his heart. He now had power, and fame, but she was left with an empty pallet.
“I swear I will bed you soon,” he had said, his long face filled with worry, and frost coating every word like a cloud. “I just...I just need to understand this first.”
That bedding had never happened. He ignored her, and it was slow to sink in that she’d made a mistake. She had wanted so much, and been left with nothing but rumors. Terrible rumors of his cheating, and deaths. Maybe Jarle had been right about being covetous, that her life should be about the hunt and not about wanting something she didn’t need. Now that Jarle was here, would the old man take her back?
Drapes to her entryway flew aside as someone entered the room. He was grunting heavily and looked around as though lost. He appeared short through her sleepy eyes.
“Niihlu?” she asked, sitting up and holding the fur bedding over her naked chest. “Have you finally come for me?”
“What?” The man’s head jerked about to focus on her voice. He took a step forward, and his foot clunked loudly against the pallet.
“Are you drunk?” She reached to a bedside table, uncapping the jar of sun beetles.
A dim light filled the room. She turned to face Niihlu with a broad smile.
“Did you summon me here, wielder?” the man demanded.
He was dark gray with leathery protrusions that looked like turtle shell. His eyes were silver slits behind a diamond-shaped helm carved from bone. Similar bones jutted from his sides, enveloping his chest like armor. The creature was horrific, and she looked around the room for a weapon to kill him.
“In here!” he whispered.
A second gray man rushed into the room. He appeared identical to the first in every way. She spied her longbow and dagger directly behind the intruders and hopped up to a crouch, throwing the blankets aside. The two gray men gawked at her nudity, one nudging the other with an elbow.
Men are the same in any package.
Would she even require her dagger to kill the smaller man?
A third gray man, larger than the others, pushed past the curtain. This one wasn’t wearing a helmet, carried no weapon, and his arm was covered in orderly scars and fresh cuts.
“Guldrich!” one of the smaller gray men called out.
“Later,” the large one snapped. “We’ve been tricked! Now we have to kill our way out!”
They all stared at her hungrily.
“Niihlu!” Feemi yelled.
17
Angst dropped his bag and wielded Dulgirgraut. The pirates stepped back, mouths agape as he hefted the enormous red glowing blade high into the air. With a dramatic grunt, he drove the foci two feet into the beach, making the ground shake in the process. He walked around it with a mischievous grin.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Uh...” The woman faced the others. “Why are his eyes glowing?”
The three pirates weren’t dressed for a formal. Their leader was a short, dark-skinned woman so thin her cinched tan pantaloons would’ve fallen off with a wrong wiggle. She wore a cropped leather jacket that would barely keep someone warm in the spring. Her hair was a grandiose unkempt black mass that appeared more dangerous than her chipped scimitar. The second woman, who had yet to speak, was mousy, as if underfed, or overworked, or both. She shivered beneath layers of patched linen reeking of sweaty socks. Most of her light-brown hair was forced under a greasy kerchief. Everything about their companion was oily, from his hair to his trousers. His dark eyes flitted between the giant sword, drinking in Victoria, and finding a quick escape. He was the first to notice their predicament.
“I’m stuck,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with panic.
“I am, too,” said the dark-skinned woman. She bent her knees, rocking from side to side, attempting to wiggle out of the trap.
Victoria turned her back to their assailants and placed her hands on her hips, frowning at Angst. Her red cape and blond hair spun about dramatically. “You didn’t know they were coming?” she asked in surprise. “Again?”
“Actually, he did know,” Hector said in Angst’s defense. “That’s the reason you both hung back, and the rest of us went ahead.”
“One of the reasons.” Angst winked at her. “The gamlin warned me...and they didn’t eat anyone!”
Three gamlin popped out of the ground to surround the pirates, pawing at the beach and licking their lips hungrily. The pirate leader poked at a gamlin with her sword. It looked back at Angst with a discernible frown, rubbing its little hands together anxiously.
“No,” Angst said warningly.
The gamlin grabbed the sword from her hand and dove into the sand, dragging it with him. When he popped back up seconds later, it was gone.
“We really didn’t need the gamlin to know the pirates were coming,” Hector said. “You’d think with all this water nearby, they wouldn’t smell so ripe.”
“We can hear you,” the woman called out, her lips tight and eyes wild.
“Ugh, I can smell them too.” Victoria crinkled her nose in disgust.
“Are all pirates stinky?”
“How can we get a full night’s sleep with that?” Dallow agreed, turning up his nose. “Maybe we don’t have to stay in town.”
“We can always stay in tents.” Tarness grinned. “About a mile down the beach.”
“We’re standing right here!” the first pirate said in despair, now tugging futilely on her leg.
Angst smiled at the banter, hoping the pirates would get the impression that they were no threat. He didn’t want to harm them if they decided to attack. So far, so good. The pirates were worried, their leader looked ready to pass out.
Victoria’s eyes flitted from the pirates to the twinkling stars of the massive geode. Angst could only assume she was trying to figure out where to get one. He shook his head.
“It’s so shiny!” she said in answer to his thoughts. “I really want one.”
“It’s too big,” Tarness proclaimed.
“It’s a giant rock,” Dallow said with a wry smile. “There is no reason Angst couldn’t carry it to Unsel.”
Victoria squeed loud enough to make the pirates cover their ears. “Please?” She pulled on Angst’s arm.
“Thanks,” he said to Dallow.
“My pleasure,” Dallow said, grinning ear to ear.
“Who are you people?” the dark-skinned woman asked.
Hector placed his hands behind his back and ambled over to them. “We’re here to see Jarblech. Why don’t you three lead the way?”
The pirate town was a patchwork of wood buildings, a mix of single story shacks and unevenly-stacked dwellings several stories high. It was as if entire buildings had been stolen from neighboring towns and crammed into the geode as needed. Torches burned along their path, teasing with their warmth. Directly over the geode, Angst saw the masts of several ships that must’ve been stashed away in a cove behind the town. The pirates led them to an unmarked building, a spectacle of busy noise and bright lights.
“What’s your name?” Angst asked their leader.
“Tamara,” she said quietly. Her thin lips flashed a smile, but her eyes still burned hot.
“Tamara the pirate.” He let the words flow off his tongue. “I like that. So, Tamara the pirate, why the hate?”
“You’re either Melkier soldiers,” she looked him up and down judgmentally, “or you led them here.”
“Do I look like a soldier?” Angst smiled broadly. “Do I wear their black armor?”
“Not their black armor,” she huffed. “But they can’t be far behind. You don’t exactly look like you could sneak away from them.” She nodded, either at his belly or the big sword.
“I’m about as sneaky as that hair,” Angst said, teasing a bit defensively.
“Angst,” Victoria warned.
Tamara stopped and turned to face him, her nostrils flaring as if he’d insulted her greatest achievement.
“Don’t worry, Tamara,” he said darkly. “Melkier soldiers won’t be bothering you for a long time.”
She frowned as she looked them over. “Come on, sneaky,” she said, leading them into the building.
The old bar tried to be seedy. The floors were aged but clean, only a little sticky from the ale spilled that night. The greasy bar food smelled good enough to make Tarness wipe his chin—it wasn’t burnt like Angst would’ve expected from a bar run by pirates. Netting hung from rafters like birthday decorations, holding old starfish, mollusks, and a harpoon. Cracked tables were placed thoughtfully to maximize usage of the available space, each filled with wiry, muscular pirates playing cards. The bar defied itself, rough around the edges yet still polished and welcoming. And there was something else that drew Angst in, something he really liked about this place but couldn’t put a finger on.
An old bard woman in the corner played a gentle jest with the ensemble of instruments that made up her kendagar. Victoria looked at Angst with eyes that wanted to get lost in dancing and tabletops. Angst winked at the prospect, hoping it would happen for every reason, right and wrong. Dallow tripped and caught himself on Hector’s shoulder.
“It seems to only work outside.” He frowned and jerked the memndus stone from his temple in frustration. “For now.”
Hector merely nodded, scanning the room until his eyes locked onto five pirates engrossed in a card game at a corner table. A broad shouldered pirate with black, oily hair stood behind the head of the table with crossed arms. Several of the gamblers were listing, barely conscious, and with few remaining coins before them. The more-sober opponents glared warily at a sturdy woman with a wide chin. She had a big nose, a grimace that at one time could’ve been a smile, and a tall heap of coins. She laid her cards on the table. One pirate stood, spat on the floor, and stomped out of the bar. Another’s head fell to the table with a loud thud either from losing or booze. As the winner gathered her winnings, her bodyguard tapped her shoulder and pointed at Hector.
The handsome woman’s eyes went misty as she pushed up from the table. Shorter than Angst, and wide as Tarness, she had a round face and large dark eyes, but her years and weight rested heavily on her. A do-rag failed to restrain gray curls that fought for freedom. Angst couldn’t see even a hint of beauty hidden behind weatherworn wrinkles and gray age other than maybe those eyes—black pools that rivaled Rose’s. She walked straight to Hector and, without warning, struck him in the mouth.
Before Angst could reach for Dulgirgraut, Hector gripped the back of her neck as if he were picking up a kitten and mashed his lips to hers. Her mouth sucked his in, creating a vortex of discomfort in the room. Angst looked at Tori, who was focusing intently on the ground, blushing brightly. Dallow sighed deeply while Tarness stared on in frustration.
After a full meal of the painfully awkward moment, the two wrenched their lips apart. She raised a hand to strike him again, but Hector held her wrist roughly and smirked. “I deserved one,” he warned.
“That’s your opinion,” she said in a scratchy voice, pulling her hand free and dragging him in for another kiss.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Angst said, rolling his eyes.
“Now you know how we feel,” Tarness chided.
“What?” Victoria asked, spinning to face him.
“We don’t do that,” Angst said defensively.
“Only because you’re chicken,” Tarness teased.
Angst and Tori frowned at him but were interrupted before either could reply.
“You’re as beautiful as I remember.” Hector sounded sincere.
“You’ve always been a bad liar,” she said with a wary grin. “Interesting crew. You’re here for reasons. You going to tell me some of them?”
“Let’s sit,” Hector suggested, pulling away from their embrace.
She nodded at the muscular pirate, who waved off the table. Almost all the players scrambled away, leaving a softly snoring woman behind. The tall pirate lifted the chair as if shaking crumbs out of a dishrag, and the body collapsed to the floor in a passed-out heap. The pirate brushed off the chair and smiled at Victoria. She daintily stepped over the fallen drunk and sat with a smile. Everyone followed suit.
Angst looked over his shoulder to check out the room. Few had taken notice of their entrance, even ignoring Dulgirgraut. He tried making eye contact or stealing a smile, but no one would glance in his direction. Something nagged at him, and it made him antsy, but couldn’t help the smile on his face. Maybe it was the anticipation of a fun night? He gave up trying to figure it out and turned around to see his friends sitting quietly. A pretty redheaded barkeep, who was dressed very conservatively for a pirate bar, set a round of mead at their table.
Hector raised his mug for a toast with his old companion. “To more profitable times.” After taking a long draw, he looked around the table.
“Angst, Tori, Dallow, and Tarness, this is Jarblech.” Hector nodded at everyone in turn.
She studied each of them, her eyes drinking in Victoria, Angst, and Dulgirgraut until they’d had their fill.
“How long
have you owned this place?” Hector asked.
“I took it over a year ago when the former owner went missing,” she said.
“On purpose?” Hector’s eyebrow raised.
“I can’t say,” she said warningly, placing both hands on the table.
“You have rooms?” he asked.
Jarblech waved the barkeep off and nodded once in confirmation. She dug a stubby finger under her do-rag and scratched for too long. Hector didn’t seem to notice, but Victoria squinted and goose bumps speckled her arms.
“You’re not here for rooms,” she said, after apparently digging a hole in her skull.
“We need passage,” Hector said.
“I didn’t assume you were here for luvin’,” she said gruffly.
“Don’t assume.” Hector winked.
“That’s reason enough to take you in,” she teased. “Almost.”
“I—” Angst began.
Hector held out a hand to stop him from speaking.
“That’s quite the spatula you’ve got there.” She nodded at the sword over his shoulder. “And a lot of magics.”
Hector peered at Angst as if it was his fault the sword wasn’t hidden better. Angst rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Not hard to figure out. Too heavy for most to heft, and he’s a little guy,” she continued, ignoring Angst’s indignation. “I sense danger. Where are you bringing the princess?”
“How—?” Victoria questioned before Hector cut her off too.
“I’ve done business with your mother,” she said. “A total bitch, and very shrewd.”
Tori was now scratching her arms. Angst was surprised she hadn’t drawn blood.
“Where to, love?” Jarblech asked Hector. “Waters aren’t safe these days. For a hefty price, I can see you up the coast.”
Angst Box Set 1 Page 90
