by Jack Porter
But I wasn’t about to do that. I walked up to her, already feeling angry that they had insulted her.
One of the humans, a tall woman with broad shoulders, spotted me. “He’s the one who brought her in here?” she asked someone beside her.
The woman next to her nodded.
“Siding with the elves, man?” the leader said. “These filthy, pointy-eared warmongers.”
My ears began ringing. I’d fought beside these elves. Many of them had died beside me defending their homes and families.
“Jon,” I heard Ilana say, “I can handle myself. There’s no need—”
“Silence, succubus!” the leader said. “You’ve obviously got him under your spell, you whore. I bet you service the Wraith King himself and suck his dick. We don’t like your kind here, and we don’t like the elves, either, especially if they have aligned themselves with such company.”
I kind of lost my shit.
As I launched myself at the woman, I heard Ilana shout my name, but my ears were ringing in anger.
I’d never harmed a woman, though, except for that one time I’d hit Sarina when I’d thought she was trying to kill me.
And yesterday when I’d beheaded a sorceress’ apprentice.
Anyway, I changed direction and steered myself for the man nearest to the leader, a broad-shouldered guy with a heavy beard and big hands.
As if that was the elves’ signal, they charged with me, and chaos ensued.
I rammed the big guy right in the solar plexus, and he fell back onto a table with a grunt. Then I planted a knee on his chest and prepared to pound his teeth out of his face. But somebody hit me in the head with a beer stein, sending me reeling to the left. I heard the crockery crack, hoping my skull hadn’t cracked with it. I staggered, regained my balance, and turned to look at the woman who had been leading the humans. She didn’t wait for me to recover, though, but swung again with the broken bits of crockery in her hand like a knife. Without even thinking, I dodged the blow and smacked her in the face.
Despite my righteous indignation, that was enough to jar me out of my anger for a moment. Damn, hitting women just wasn’t my style, but she was playing dirty.
But as the woman turned around, grabbed a candlestick from a table, and came after me again, I realized that equality worked both ways.
I blocked the candlestick before it could hit my head and then grabbed her wrist. Swinging her around, I gave her a shove toward a pair of elves.
They quickly met her in a wrestling match that landed all three of them on the floor.
There, not my problem anymore.
Then the big brute of a guy came after me again, and we traded blows for a few moments before the jostle of the other fights split us up. After that, I found myself face to face with a large woman who I at first took for a man. She knocked me sideways using one of the long benches, and I crashed into the fireplace mantle, almost landing in the fire.
“What the hell?” I yelled.
Ilana turned up then, with her claws out, and engaged the ugly woman, and I jumped onto the backs of two men ganging up on one elf.
From there, it was all fists and elbows and head butts, and I lost track of who was hitting me and who I was hitting back. The room was becoming slightly blurry, probably because at this point, I’d taken several blows to the head.
I could have used my newfound magic, but no one else was using magic. Anyway, I felt like that was cheating. These weren’t wraiths or orcs. This was just a good, old-fashioned, barroom brawl, and despite my already bloody knuckles and nose, and a cut above my eye that was bleeding and further obscuring my vision, I was having the time of my life.
And I was also beating the shit out of a few people who needed to be taught a lesson.
The fun ended when the city watch entered the inn with spears and sticks to break up the fight.
When they reached me, I was in the corner of the room behind an overturned table, with a lovely woman sitting on top of me, ready to take my eye out with a fire poker. I was just thinking that magic might be warranted when the guards pulled her off me.
38
Rough hands pulled me to my feet, and I got a glimpse of the place.
It was completely trashed. Not a table had been left standing, nor a bench that hadn’t been broken. Trash, food, and beverage made the floor slippery, and there was a fair bit of blood on the wooden boards, too.
While I attempted to wipe the flow of blood out of my eye, the soldiers finished breaking up the remaining patrons. Nya stood among them, dressed in a long brown shift. Even dressed as a peasant woman, with her face angry as she spoke to the Captain of the Watch, she was stunning. Ilana was fine, with not a scratch on her. She stood with Nya, and the captain was gaping at her. That rankled me once again, and I would have elbowed one of the guards holding me, but Nya turned and motioned for me to join them.
I jerked out of the guards’ reach. “Get off me.”
They released me, and I waded through the mess and a few unconscious humans to get to the door where they stood. The leader of the human mob joined us, as well, and I glared at her for good measure.
“By the Light, Jon,” Nya said, “do you cause trouble everywhere you go?”
“I don’t stand by while someone—anyone—insults my women.”
Nya raised an eyebrow, and the corner of Ilana’s mouth moved upward in a small smile.
“And who are you?” the captain asked, looking slightly affronted.
Maybe I’d spoken out of turn, but I didn’t care.
Nya spoke up before I could say anything further damaging. “He is with me, Captain Fowlks. I apologize for his behavior and the behavior of my guard.”
Remembering that I’d already caused Nya plenty of trouble the last couple of days, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t point out that the townspeople had started the whole business.
As Fowlks looked at Ilana, her eyes narrowed in distrust. “By the order of the Chief Magistrate of this city, I have the authority to forcibly remove this succubus. However,” she glanced at Nya, possibly weighing how much trouble that would cause with the Elven Ruler, “considering she is a guest of Your Grace, I will let my report reflect that she left the establishment in a peaceable manner.”
“You are most generous, Fowlks. I will be sure to pass along my compliments to the Magistrate when I see her later today.”
Fowlks bowed low. “I aim to serve, Your Grace.”
“We don’t want her kind here!” the mob leader said, glaring at Ilana. The woman looked livid. Her lip, still bleeding, was trembling in anger, her eyes and hair wild.
“Listen—” I said, my own anger returning.
“Enough,” Nya said. “We are leaving the inn, anyway. I feel that although the accommodations are suitable enough, the neighborhood leaves much to be desired.”
The innkeeper ran up, then, almost falling as she slid over the wet floor. “Your Grace!” She bowed low. “Please, do not leave my roof. I will make sure the rabble is thrown out.”
Nya nodded. “I don’t believe any fault lies with you. However, you have much cleaning up to do, and we are better to camp outside the city gates. I will arrange to move my injured forthwith.”
The innkeeper bowed low again, and she looked like she was about to cry. It was the first time I’d seen her up close, and she looked younger than I’d originally thought, only with bags under her eyes and a weariness that stooped her shoulders beyond their years. I felt a bit sorry for her, and more than a little bit guilty.
“I’ll stay to help clean up,” I said.
Everyone turned to me. “That is,” I added, remembering my promise to Nya, “if Her Grace will permit me.”
She nodded. “I think it is good. We will also pay for the damage done, as well.”
The innkeeper, now openly weeping, bowed low again. “Your Grace is most kind and generous.”
“I’m sorry we brought so much trouble on you,” Nya said. With a look to her guard, Tenie
l, she swept out of the inn.
39
As if she had been holding back while Nya was present, the leader of the mob took one last look at me, spit at my feet, made some sort of rude gesture at Ilana, and stomped out. A few minutes later, Teniel returned with coins for the innkeeper.
I’d set to work righting tables and trying to ignore the growing headache that seemed to originate from a lump on the back of my head. Thinking I might have a concussion, I figured it might be better to keep moving for a while. Most of the elves joined me, but only a couple of women and one man did.
I was picking up the pieces of a broken pot when the innkeeper approached me. She held a damp cloth in her hand and a small mortar and pestle. “Please, let me tend your wounds.”
Feeling like it would be rude to refuse, I sat down on the nearest stool to face her. She brushed some of my hair out of my face and began cleaning the cut above my eye with a gentle but practiced touch.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Rosamunde.”
“I’m sorry about your dining room.”
“Eh,” she scoffed quietly, “they were looking for a fight. The city’s been on edge for weeks now, after finding out about the battle at Blackhold.” Rosamunde stopped dabbing my cut and looked me in the eye. “Were you there, then?”
“I was.”
“Did you see the Wraith King?”
“Only from a distance.”
“And what were you doing there, if I might ask? Are you a merchant? You don’t look like a merchant.”
“No, I’m not a merchant.” I stopped, not knowing how much I should say. “I’m a friend of Her Grace. And I fought in the battle.”
Rosamunde resumed tending to my cut. “Then you are a brave man, and she is lucky to have you as a friend,” she paused and then added, “if that’s what they’re calling it these days.”
I smiled. “Something like that.”
“And the succubus?”
“She is also a friend,” I said, “and I couldn’t just stand there and let anyone insult her. She doesn’t deserve it. She fought in the battle, too. If it weren’t for her, many elves would have died.”
“I believe you. I’ve often said that the races of Hell who are against the Wraith King need to stop quarreling amongst themselves and unite forces.” Rosamunde finished cleaning the cut and then spread a paste over it. Then, she applied the compress to the lump on the back of my head. Within moments, my headache disappeared, and it was replaced with a calming, almost euphoric feeling. “There,” she said. “You’ll heal in no time.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Why haven’t they united against the Wraith King?”
Rosamunde put her tools on a table and sat down across from me. “It is a result of centuries of distrust. And each race thinking they’ve had it harder than the others. The humans feel slighted by the elves. The elves feel as if they protect the realm without any support, and then of course the humans are offended that elves discount their own armies.”
“Is there anything that would fix it, do you think?”
“Aye,” Rosamunde said. “Perhaps. If everyone could agree to unite under one leader for long enough to get something done. Even then, Jon, it would be a hard fight against the Wraith King. A hard one indeed.”
I thought back to the Prophecy, the one Nya insisted I was part of. The Prophecy that said someone would come from another world to overthrow the Wraith King. I still didn’t quite believe it. Or at least, that I was part of it.
While Rosamunde had been tending me, the elves had made light work of cleaning up the place. It looked almost as good as new, barring the broken benches and crockery. Syn came downstairs then, along with the other elves who had been captured. They looked well, considering what had happened to them. Syn saw me and smiled, then she turned toward the door. Sarina was there, too, not bound but walking between two guards. She cast me a glance that I couldn’t quite decipher. I sighed. Time to return to my duties as a prison guard.
“Jon,” Rosamunde said, watching them leave, “do all females look at you that way, or just the ones you travel with?”
I laughed and rose. “Thank you again, Rosamunde.”
“Good luck,” she said. “Remember what I said.”
“About?”
“About Hell being united under one leader.”
I frowned. “And why do I need to remember that, specifically?”
She smiled. “Do not be alarmed. I have had the gift of the second sight since I was eleven. You must answer your true calling, Jon.”
A weird chill swept down my spine. “And what is that?”
“I think you know.”
“How—” I began.
But she shook her head and smiled. “I do not have the answers you seek,” she said. “Only that piece of advice. The goddess does not tell me everything.”
“The goddess who doesn’t permit herself to be named?”
Rosamunde smiled. “The very one. Now, I believe your friends are leaving. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Feeling slightly unnerved, I nodded and then excused myself, exiting with the remaining elves.
I glanced back at the inn as I left. Well, shit. The day had taken an unexpected turn. I wondered what Sarina would have to say about the innkeeper’s ‘gift,’ as she called it.
Did I believe Rosamunde? And if I didn’t, how else would she have known? My conversations with Nya about the Prophecy had been private, and even Ilana didn’t know most of it.
The alternative was more unsettling. That perhaps there was more truth to the Prophecy than I wanted to admit. I believed in magic now—I had to, didn’t I?
Why not Prophecies, too?
40
We planned to spend at least another day camped outside the city. Nya had gone to meet with the Chief Magistrate, and I had resolved to spend the rest of the day practicing magic. Whether part of the Prophecy or not, I needed to be able to control myself.
That feeling of euphoria never really left after Rosamunde used the paste on my head. I felt lighter all the way back to camp. A little reckless, even. Perhaps it was the result of all the stimulation already from the day, but I felt good. So, it was without a thought that I asked Sarina to help me practice my magic.
Sarina seemed subdued when I asked her to help me, but she didn’t say no. So we spent the afternoon together, with her showing me how to cast a few more rudimentary spells. I mastered them more quickly than I had the first ones. And when I used them on a pile of stones about ten yards away, they incinerated in a bright flash.
“I’m getting better,” I said, smirking.
She walked over to examine the smoking stones. “Your power is growing.”
“How though? I haven’t encountered any more wyrms.”
Sarina turned to me. “I am not certain.”
“You’ve been practicing magic your whole life,” I said. “How do you gain more power?”
She shook her lovely head. “I know the signs, yes, but I was never a great magic user. I was always better with the sword and spear, and preferred them in my service to the goddess. You seem to have a gift, though, Jon. That is apparent.” Sarina looked at me with her green eyes, a bit of their old spark once again returning. “Despite the consequences, I am beginning to be glad I didn’t kill you in my barn.”
I smiled and took a step closer to her. “I’ve always been glad of that. Thank you for helping me.”
“It is my duty.”
“I don’t know how. The way I see it, we’ve both saved each other’s lives at this point.”
Sarina raised her hand as if she was going to grab my arm, but then stopped herself. “I am not talking about the blood pact. It is my duty to help you as you help the elves. Because you are the only ones who can save my people now.”
“I’m not sure what we’re doing from here. Even though Nya wants to take our injured home, since we are so close to the slaver’s market, we might continue there. And then, we still h
ave to find the sorceress Maera.”
Sarina looked hopeful. “Is that why Nya is meeting the Chief Magistrate?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “She didn’t tell me.”
Sarina took a deep breath and looked away, toward the dusty horizon. “Even when you were in bed together?”
I half-smiled, surprised at the question. “We didn’t do much talking.”
“I have seen how she looks at you, and how you look at her and Ilana, and I believe even Syn, if I’m not mistaken.”
I cupped Sarina’s chin and turned her face toward me, to look me in the eye. “And your point?”
“Just making an observation.” Her gaze darted to my lips. It was hungry, and considering the struggle I’d already had around her, I wasn’t surprised at my urge to kiss her. But I let go of her chin instead. My inhibitions felt dangerously lowered, as if I had been drinking. Although I hadn’t, I needed to break contact if I was to keep my self-control.
But Sarina surprised me by leaning forward as if she expected more.
“What about your vow?” I asked.
“That is my business,” she said firmly. And then she leaned in to kiss me. Her lips were soft and warm as I expected. When she drew back, she cleared her throat and said, “Now I know.”
“What it’s like to kiss me?”
“What you taste like.”
41
Dammit, what else was I supposed to do with that other than to pull her closer for another kiss? So I did, and she responded by wrapping her arms around me. Her body molded to mine, her breasts pressed against my shirt, her hips against my groin. I wanted to do more, but it was neither the time nor the place. I was sure that eyes had turned to us. And anyway, Sarina hadn’t expressed a desire to move beyond kissing.
Mastering myself, I pulled away and asked, “How do I taste?”
“Like earth and fire.”
And suddenly the lust I’d been fighting the last week flared up, and I reached for her again. This time, I kissed her deeply, feeling the brush of our tongues. I only stopped when I felt her hand on my chest.
