Hilda's Inn for Retired Heroes

by Cyn Bagley

  Hilda sent a mental cry to her elemental, Sassy. The fire in the main room and all through the inn went cold. The ash settled on the shoulders of the men. One of the men's eyes went wide. She would have to kill him first because he had felt her elemental. Once again the men crashed their mugs together and turned towards Hilda. The guards stepped away, letting the thugs through.

  It was then that Hilda realized that these men were not human. Their eyes glowed gold with hints of red. Their body changed to a dark dark red with horns and hooves. She could feel the fires, not the clean fires of an elemental, but the damned fires of another dimension. Their teeth were fang-like and they had huge clubs in their hands. She hadn't known that the Hel-kind could possess humans on this side of the border.

  Some mage or magical creature must have opened a huge gate near her Inn. Someone in Lord Barton's employ could use this magic. It was not a small well of magic that her sister had assumed, it was much more than that--a power node.

  Hilda sent a cry out to Sassy for enforcements. The fire salamander popped into the main room with more salamanders and also a phoenix. Hilda didn't think of the favors she would now owe to these elementals, but she would pledge much more to save her people from an ally of the Hel-kind.

  The Hel-kind roared. Many of customers left through the Inn's front door as if hell was after them. Once the Hel-kind were released, they would eat both enemies and foes. They would rip apart anyone in their way. The only thing holding them in check at that very moment was the mage – the man with widened eyes. He was backing out the door, reaching for the handle, and out. The Hel-kind were unleashed and tore into the guards around her.

  Hilda leaped sideways, jumped on the tables, slid across them, one after another, until she reached her sword. The pain in her legs and hips reminded her that she was too old for this maneuver. The largest Hel-kind leaped over two or three tables and grabbed Hilda's foot, pulling her away from the sword.

  In the midst of the screaming and yelling. Some of the men pulled out big knives and stabbed the Hel-kind. They were mercenaries. They knew how to kill monsters.

  The Hel-kind dripped poison from their fangs, and when it hit some of the men, it burned through clothes to the skin. Hilda leaped and pulled the Hel-kind with her as she grabbed her sword. She turned and with one swoop took off the Hel-kind's head. The head screamed and flew across the room, the torso folded onto the floor. Rooso cut the head of another monsters, and then several of the men circled the rest of the monsters until head after head of the Hel-kind rolled. Soon the public room was filled with headless bodies.

  One Hel-kind after another burst into flames as the phoenix pulled them into its embrace and ate the flames. The phoenix nodded its head to Hilda and flew away when the last Hel-kind was demolished.

  You couldn't kill a Hel-kind, but when the body they possessed was killed, they were banished back to their own world. It took a lot of blood and another summoning ritual to get back to the human world.

  There was blood and ash all over the room. Hilda pulled the men to the small courtyard, while the drudge threw bucket after bucket of cold water on Hilda and the men to get the acidy blood off of them.

  Sassy and the other fire salamanders scoured the public room. When they were all done, Hilda knew that she would have to buy more tables. At least the Hel-kind and the bodies that were used by the Hel-kind would be ash. Some families would be mourning the death of their men. Hilda was tired, but glad that most of her men had survived with a few acid burns and of course, the older men were in pain from the exercise. There was a lot of back-slapping and yawns. A lot of old mercenaries would nap this afternoon.

  Hilda could feel the stretch in her back and legs. Tomorrow she would feel the pain in her back, butt, and legs. She gasped and sat down. Her heart thumped.

  "Is anything wrong?" asked Rob. He looked as weary as she did.

  "Ask the cook for some of the peppermint tea," she said. The cook had already opened the kitchen and the drudge was serving stew again.

  In a few moments as they sat in the courtyard, laughing a little in relief, Hilda drank the tea. Her heart calmed. They would need some help. She needed to send messages to her friends and family particularly Mary Rose although she might not need to since Annie, her spy, was already gone.

  It was time to send a message to the Mercenary's Guild.

  Chapter Eleven

  Delhaven, port city

  Hilda Brant

  The clerk in his official black robes arranged the quills, ink pot, and paper on the table in the courtyard. Arnie, Hilda's unofficial scribe, was not writing her letter today. Hilda wanted the letter on official parchment with an official stamp so that the Mercenary's Guild would pay more attention to what she had to say.

  The clerk listened to her instructions, then wrote the letter in official legalese. Hilda listened as the clerk read it back to her, asked for an explanation on some of the words, and then put her X on the document as the clerk officiated.

  The price of his services was expensive, but also included delivery to the main Mercenary's Guild headquarters on Black Mountain. An expensive letter, but she was a retired mercenary in good standing, meaning she still paid dues. She had a little savings in the guild's coffers, not enough to pay for mercenaries, who would fight Lord Barton, but enough that the guild wouldn't want her demise.

  She hoped that the letter would stir the Mercenary Guild's sympathy or at least their greed motives. No, mercenary wanted a lordling to mishandle retirees. It had been done before and the mercenaries had decimated those lordlings. The King never said a word. He gave the estates to one of his other favorites and the mercenaries were left alone. Even the King knew that you don't mess with soldiers, even retired soldiers.

  It might be a long shot. Hilda's strategy was to cover all the bases. Plus her resources didn't cover Hel-kind killing her customers, and wizards who were versed in black magic. Lord Barton had all these resources and probably more. The Mercenary Guild was tight-lipped about their magical resources. Hilda knew from stories that the guild had killers who could neutralize mages.

  If the black mage was able to drain the well here. Hilda shuddered at the thought. It would be very bad, very bad indeed.

  When the clerk finished writing the letter, he sanded, rolled, and sealed it. Then, the clerk wrote the recited letters of the other ex-mercenaries. There was a long line, the clerk was tired and impatient, but continued writing until the last mercenary was finished. He stretched his fingers as if they cramped. Hilda set an ale beside him. His face lightened as he took a swig and sighed.

  "From the ale wives?" he took another swig. Behind him was a bodyguard who glanced between the clerk, Hilda, and the mercenary retirees with a bored expression on his face.

  "Yes," Hilda smiled. The clerk drained the ale, Hilda motioned to the drudge, who filled his mug with the ale again.

  "My wife is one of them. This tastes like her work." He finished the second ale, picked up his bag. The bodyguard followed him out the courtyard. Hilda whispered a soft prayer that the clerk and his letters would be safe and make their destination.

  She turned towards the table, but the drudge was already cleaning up the ashes and dirt. She nodded her head at the drudge and went into the common room. It was time to start wearing her sword and scabbard.

  "Rooso, Rob," Hilda pulled the two to a corner. "Tell the rest, they need to carry weapons. Plus, we need to be careful. Go out in twos or more. I wouldn't put it past our enemies to attack us singly."

  "Rob," she continued. "The horses need to be protected." Rob knew archery and had been training the stable boy. "You might want to teach the drudge."

  "Already tried ma'am," he said respectfully. "She won't pick up anything more than a mug. But, the cook will keep her safe."

  Hilda knew the cook had a temper and was expert with her knives and pans. Any intruder would not like to feel the wrath of the cook when was in a high dudgeon. She was liable to take a man's head off with a
pan.

  Rob and Rooso would pass on her instructions with instructions of their own. Rob would make sure the cook, drudge, and horses were protected. Rooso would make sure the retirees carried their weapons. Lord Barton could start the war, but Hilda was sure that her men could finish it.

  Her job was to fortify the inn.

  Black Forest north of Delhaven

  Davi Dracson, Michael Ordson

  Michael was so tired that he wanted to sleep forever. When they left the dragon's cave, Michael was still drowsy after the sleeping spell. He slumped over the saddle while Davi led him down the mountain, through the pass, and down a small trail. They reached the main thoroughfare three days later.

  Michael's mind was lost in the grayness. They walked on the side of the road, while merchants drove past with their goods piled up in wagons. When the day finished, Davi would pull Michael off the horse, Davi would make soup over a small fire. As they traveled closer to civilization, Davi hobbled the horse so that it could graze. Whenever they stopped, Michael would tell Davi that if they made it to Hilda's inn, then the horse would need oats after such a hard harrowing ride. Davi agreed with him.

  Even though the she-dragon had promised that Michael would get better, Davi could tell that it would take months before Michael was completely healed. At least he was aware of his surroundings as they moved closer to the walled city.

  The times that the geas rode him were the worst. He would wake up flailing and shout that they needed to get to Hilda's now and that it was too late. Davi would pour soup down him, wrap him in a blanket, and whisper to him. Michael would calm down and in the morning they would start the journey again.

  The horse plodded along. The pictures that Davi picked up from its small mind was carrying home drunks after a binge. Davi smiled a little because the drunk looked remarkably like Michael.

  So Davi plodded on, his mind dull from traveling so fast and so far. He hoped that whoever was at Hilda's Inn that Michael was so sure needed help, would be able to help them.

  By the time they reached the Inn's courtyard, Davi had grown into his height. He was a slight bit taller than most of the humans. The she-dragon had taken away the memory of the rescued child from Michael's mind. If Michael didn't remember, then he wouldn 't have to explain how he grew so quickly. Some dragonlings took time to grow. In his case responsibilities hit quickly and so did the magic. He would mature into an adult faster than most. Maturity also meant power. If he continued growing, his transformation would come early. It could be fatal if he changed in the middle of a human settlement. But Michal needed him.

  Who knew that a dragon could become friends with a human? Rivals, yes. Enemies, yes. Friends? Soon he would find out if he could be friends with more than one human.

  Delhaven, port city

  Hilda Brant

  The drudge swept the courtyard, while Hilda was in the kitchen, once again soothing the cook's feelings. It wasn't Sassy this time who had unsettled the cook. It was romance plain and simple. Rob had been courting the cook, and then very recently he began staying in the public room to listen to the bard Hilda hired for two nights a week.

  It had caused havoc in the kitchen. The cook was a jealous woman. Whenever Rob went into the kitchen the cook threw knives, bread, parings, and meat at him and the serving staff. Rob bypassed the kitchen some nights after his work with the horses. Rob was nimble and could sweet-talk the cook, but with the extra duties he was too tired for her nonsense.

  Hilda banned the retirees from the kitchen. If she let them in the kitchen, the retirees would have been betting on who the cook would hit next and if her aim was really that good. It was better to keep them out in the public room.

  The drudge rushed into the kitchen in the midst of one of the cook's tirades. She cringed and fell to the floor. Hilda grabbed the drudge's arm and pulled her to her feet.

  "What's going on?" Hilda asked, and then glared at the cook. The cook stopped in mid-rant. Something about Rob and his dang breeches.

  "Some-uns asking for you," said the drudge. The drudge looked down and wouldn't look Hilda or the cook in the eyes. Since it was normal behavior from the drudge, Hilda ignored it.

  "Back to work," Hilda told her. The drudge rushed from the kitchen in relief. The cook looked surprised. "And you," she glared at the cook, "keep your knives down and get back to work."

  Hilda marched out of the kitchen and into courtyard. It was too early for the Mercenary Guild to have answered her letter. She patted her waist to make sure she had a knife.

  At Hilda first took in the scene and smell of the two travel-weary men and a horse. They looked like more retirees looking for help. Then she looked closer.

  One of the slighter built men, a youth really, pulled the other one off the horse, where he lay on the ground and moaned. She could recognize that moan anywhere.

  "Michael, Michael," she yelled as she ran to him. "What are you doing here?" When she reached him, Michael wasn't moving. She turned on the youth. "What did you do to him? Don't you know he can't hold his liquor?"

  The youth stepped back with his hands raised and waited for her to calm down. A stable boy took the reins of the horse and led it to the stable for a rubdown and food. The horse went willingly.

  "Are you Hilda?" asked the youth.

  Hilda took a closer look at the youth and he seemed younger than he looked. "Don't move. Stay right there." She said to him.

  Hilda called for some help and a couple of the retirees carried the Michael into the inn. They dragged him up the stairs to an empty room and dropped him on the bed. Michael didn't even wake up. She left the youth slumped on a bench in the courtyard, barely awake himself.

  She started to unfasten Michael's boots and clothing before putting him under the covers, when he sat up. "Where's Davi," he asked Hilda.

  Hilda put her hand on his forehead. Michael was a little hot. She pushed him down until he lay on the bed again, his head on a pillow."He's outside," she said soothingly. "I'll go get him."

  Michael sat up again and said in a loud voice, "I need to get to Hilda's Inn."

  "Rooso," yelled Hilda. She heard him answer. "Get that boy in the courtyard." She heard an assent.

  "Shhh, shhh," she said to Michael. "You're here. You made it to Hilda's Inn. Now rest."

  She could see the tension leave his body. Michael had always been her little brother, the one she raised until she left home. He trusted her voice and her touch.

  When she looked up again, the youth was standing in the doorway, looking apprehensively at her. "Come in." she said.

  He walked in quietly and she knew at that moment that he wasn't human. "You didn't tell me your name."

  His dark eyes gazed, and the irises broke into shards of brown. Then he spoke and she could hear the power in his voice. "Davi."

  "What is wrong with him," she asked Davi.

  "He has been like this since he fought a black mage," said Davi. "I had hoped he would get better when we made it here."

  Hilda could tell that the boy was not telling the whole story. She knew the signs when a young soldier was lying. His eyes drifted down and he wouldn't look her in the eye. She would get it out of him eventually.

  At this moment it was more important to get Michael settled. Davi and the retirees stripped Michael's clothes and carried him to the hip bath. They scrubbed him. If Hilda hadn't been in a mercenary company, she would have learned a few good curses. There were claw marks on Michael's chest. Black and purple bruises formed over his entire body. There was a slight sweet smell of infection.

  Davi dried him off with a towel, and then Rooso put Michael under the covers and left him there.

  Hilda came back to the room with a tonic she had concocted for Michael. When she carried up a tonic for Michael and some water, Davi was smoothing his hair back.

  What kind of trouble did her brother get himself into, again?

  At least Davi looked like he cared for her brother. She just wanted to know what he was, and w
here Michael found him.

  That night the fever set in and Michael murmured, sweated, and screamed from fever hallucinations. Davi kept changing the cold cloth, trying to keep the fever down. At the height of his fever, Hilda rousted Rooso and his men. They helped to fill the hip bath with cold water and dumped him in the bath. Michael was still in bad shape when the sun lit the sky. Hilda sent Rooso for a healer.

  The healer came by nine in the morning and after checking Michael gave Hilda a diagnosis.

  "Brain fever."

  "Brain fever?" Hilda remembered how devastating brain fever was on soldiers in the battlefield. Sometimes the soldiers came out of it with limited mental capacities.

  "Just change his sheets, keep using cold clothes on his forehead, and use this tonic every two hours."

  Hilda sent the drudge up the stairs with new sheets and then asked the question, "Will it hurt his memory and ability to study?"

  The healer looked at her. "We won't know until he comes out of it."

  Hilda closed her eyes and sighed. Hopefully the fever wouldn't cook Michael's brain. She handed the healer a coin, and sighed again. Money was going to be a problem and soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Delhaven, port city

  Hilda Brant

  The warm sun rays streamed through the window warming Michael's face. He opened his eyes.. His arms were bound to his side by quilts wrapped around him. He wiggled his hands and shoulders until he could get his hands above the quilts and stretch. The quilts felt heavy against his skin, and his muscles were weak, but he finally succeeded. He rested a moment as the sun's rays warmed his arms and torso. Then he tried to climb out of the cot.

  His knees buckled when he tied to stand. The pressure in his bladder was excruciating. If he didn't need to go so badly, he would have laid back on the small hard pillow. He could see the wood around him and he tried to touch his magic. Just this small touch of magic exhausted him so much that he fell back on the bed. The chamber pot squatted in the corner, mocking him.