The Serpent Cult (Heroes of Ravenford Book 2)

by F. P. Spirit

  Elladan agreed. There were too many folks around. Best to talk about this Serpent Cult business away from prying ears. After breakfast, the entire group adjourned to Glo and Lloyd’s room. They spent about an hour discussing the plan for that evening.

  Foremost, they needed to guard the Baron and his family. At the same time, the perimeter of the castle grounds had to be watched. Elladan and Aksel, both with keen minds for this sort of thing, helped devise a strategy that would allow them to do both. Seth, with his knowledge of all things shady, added a few fine points. When they were done, they had a solid plan to protect the Baron’s family and maintain watch on the keep. Lloyd and Glo would stay close to the Baron, Baroness, and Lady Andrella. Seth would scour the rooftop of the keep. From there he would be able to see all around the outside of the castle. Martan would position himself atop Maltar’s old tower. He would get a bird’s-eye view of the front of the keep from there. Aksel would keep watch down at the gate. Elladan would be on stage with Shalla. Together they would watch the courtyard and the other performers for anything out of place. Finally, Glo would send Raven aloft to fly around the perimeter of the keep.

  Once they were done, Aksel addressed everyone. “Now then, we all know our assignments. We have the rest of the morning free to prepare. Let’s meet back here around noon time and then head on up to the castle together.”

  The companions said their goodbyes and parted for the morning. Elladan left the room with Shalla on his arm. The meeting had gone well. Individually, these folks were quite talented, but with a solid strategy behind them, they were nearly unstoppable. With his battle knowledge, they had easily taken down Voltark’s minions. The mage himself had been a bit more difficult, though. Elladan wondered if tonight would be a repeat performance of that battle.

  “What’s on your mind?” Shalla asked, breaking his train of thought.

  “Nothing really.” Elladan smiled and took her hand in his. “I was just thinking how interesting this evening might turn out to be.”

  Shalla smiled in return. She put her head on his shoulder as the two of them walked down the hall.

  Old Friends

  I’m just a poor iterant artist trying to make an honest living...

  Alittle while later, Elladan strode through the downtown section of Ravenford toward the clothier’s shop. He had ordered a special outfit for tonight’s show, cut from white fringed leather and studded with gold sequins across the chest and back. The merchants’ quarters were packed with people hustling about here and there. He recognized many of them as other performers and exchanged greetings. Elladan finally reached his destination, but had to step aside when he opened the door. A trio of wealthy-looking patrons exited the shop, carrying bags that had to contain dress clothes for tonight’s party. Elladan held the door open for them and nodded politely, then strode inside. The door closed, shutting out the noise from the busy street outside.

  The inside of the clothier’s was now empty except for one slight fellow. He leaned over the counter, flirting outrageously with the pretty female tailor. The fellow was fair-skinned with short, sandy blonde hair. He wore a brown leather vest over a white puffy shirt, his lower half was clad in brown—brown pants and knee-high brown leather boots. A slender scabbard hung at his side, capped by an ornate hilt. What drew Elladan’s attention, though, were the pointed ears that jutted out from under his short-cropped hair. There was something strangely familiar about this elf. Elladan could swear he had met him before, but where? The blond elf was still flirting.

  “Arwel is such a beautiful name... almost lyrical; a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  The tailor was indeed an attractive woman. Glo had said she was Kailay’s mother. Elladan noted the resemblance the first time he saw her. Arwel blushed profusely as the blond elf continued his amorous banter.

  “Tell me... have you ever considered having your portrait done?”

  Portrait?

  Elladan suddenly remembered where he had seen this fellow before. It was a year ago, in the City of Lukescros, south of here down the coast, during the annual Lukescros Fair. A bardic competition was typically part of the festivities, and Elladan had planned to participate. He had been passing through one of the more opulent sections of the city, when he’d heard some shouts.

  “Stop that elf!” came a loud voice from inside a nearby inn.

  Elladan remembered gazing up and seeing a figure crash through a second story window. The form tumbled onto the canvas awning below and then somersaulted to the ground inside a wide courtyard.

  Nice move, he remembered thinking.

  The yard itself had been surrounded by a tall, black wrought-iron fence. Elaborate white stone columns split the fence into a number of sections. Elladan could clearly see the figure in the courtyard beyond—the same blond elf who stood before him now.

  A moment later, the upper body of a pudgy man had poked out a window. It was the same window the elf had launched himself out of seconds ago. The man was dressed in finery, his face beet red. He cursed at the elf below and hurled things down at him. The blond elf easily dodged the flying objects, while straightening his disheveled clothing. He continued evading them as he bent to retrieve the belongings he had dropped in his tumble to the ground. A beautiful woman appeared at an adjacent window wrapped only in a sheet.

  “Stop!” she yelled at the pudgy man. “It was only a portrait!”

  The elf smiled up at the woman with a roguish grin. The woman glanced down at him and blushed. He bowed to her elaborately. “Thank you, milady! Perhaps another time?”

  The elf then turned to walk away. He’d only gone a few steps when three young men came charging out of the inn. They were all large and muscular.

  “There won’t be a next time!” the opulently dressed man shouted from above. “Get him, boys!”

  The elf whirled around as the three men drew their swords, approaching him menacingly. He backed away raising his hands in front of him. “Guys, there’s been some misunderstanding here. I’m just a poor iterant artist trying to make an honest living...”

  A sneer crossed one of the men’s face. “The misunderstanding here is when you messed with our step-mother. Now you’re going to pay.”

  He and his companions pressed forward until the elf was almost backed against the fence. The elf glanced behind him then stopped. He quickly reached over his shoulder and pulled out a long pole from his pack. He held it out in front of him threateningly.

  Another of the men taunted him. “You think that puny stick is going save you?”

  The elf shook the stick in his hand. Abruptly it split into three separate staffs attached to each other at the butt. “Aha!” he cried.

  The men laughed as the elf continued to threaten them with his easel. One of them jeered. “Oooh, we’re so frightened!”

  Abruptly, the three men launched themselves at him. Elladan’s eyes went wide at the spectacle he witnessed. The elf used the legs of his easel as a shield, parrying one opponent’s blade while keeping the others at bay. He continued to caper around merrily between the lumbering young men. Occasionally he would whack one of his opponents with a leg of his easel, then dodge out of the way.

  A crowd had gathered in the street, cheering on the plucky artist. The three young men quickly became enraged. One of them charged in, bringing his weapon down in a great sweeping motion toward the elf’s head. Elladan half expected to see the elf’s head split in two, but at the last moment, the wiry fellow brought up the butt-end of the easel and parried it. Unfortunately, the force of the blow split the legs of the easel apart.

  The elf backed away, his merry expression disappearing as his face turned red. “You dastards broke my easel!”

  The young men froze in place, surprised by their opponent’s sudden change in attitude. The elf began to spin the remaining two legs in his hands. In a quick
sweeping motion, he took out the legs of one of them while backhanding another, catching him in the back of the head and knocking him out cold. The elf rose from the sweep directly behind the last one. He struck him hard across the back with both sticks. That young man also fell to the ground, out for the count. The first one tried to get up, but the elf knocked his blade from his hand. A pole jabbed down sharply at the man’s Adam’s apple. His eyes went wide as he saw it descend, but the elf stopped it a whisper’s length away from his neck.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down.” All traces of humor were gone from his voice.

  The young man’s face went deathly pale. He quickly nodded his surrender. The crowd went wild, cheers breaking out amongst them. The blond elf turned and bowed elaborately.

  “Get up!” the pudgy man cried from above. “Get up, you useless muscle-bound oafs!”

  The elf spun around and glared at the man. He then bowed to the woman in the other window. “Some other time, milady.”

  She blushed, obvious adoration in her eyes as she gazed down at him. The elf spun around once again and headed for the courtyard gate. He never reached it. A number of town guards pushed through the crowd, effectively blocking the courtyard entrance.

  “Arrest that elf!” cried the pudgy man. “He accosted my wife!”

  The crowd booed as the town guards entered the courtyard. The artist backed away as he was confronted by the four of them. Unlike the three young men he had just dispatched, these were experienced fighters. The elf tried to reason with the guards.

  “Aww, come on, guys, are we really going to do this? I’ll just take my things and leave. I’ll promise never to come back, and we’ll call it even, okay? I really don’t want to embarrass you...”

  The town guards weren’t impressed. They stood their ground, swords drawn and ready. One of them spoke in a commanding tone. “Now, come along quietly.”

  The blond elf sighed and shook his head. “Okay, guys, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  In one swift motion, he cast aside all but one of the broken easel legs, pointed it at the guards, and charged. Elladan watched in disbelief. The daring artist made his suicide run, but just before he reached them, dropped the tip of the pole into the ground. The elf then vaulted up and over the surprised guards, somersaulting in mid-air and landing on top of one of the white columns in the fence. The crowd held its breath as he teetered there for a moment. The elf finally regained his balance and the crowd erupted into applause. He spun around and peered down at the astonished guards.

  “Sorry, boys, got to run.” He then jumped down and tumbled into the crowd below. Elladan pushed his way over to him and grabbed his arm.

  “Quickly, this way,” he whispered.

  The blond elf flashed a quick grin then followed him around the corner of the inn. They could already hear shouts behind them. Pursuit would not be far behind. Elladan rushed down the busy street and around the next corner. Once out of sight of the inn, he stopped and reached into his bag, pulling out a cloak.

  “Here, put this on.”

  The blond elf quickly threw the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. Elladan thrust a lute into his hands and whispered, “Now walk next to me and let me do the talking.”

  They fell into step and walked side by side down the busy street. A few seconds later, they heard footsteps running up behind them.

  “Stop!” a voice yelled.

  Elladan whirled around and saw the town guards standing there, swords in hand. He replied as cheerfully as possible. “Gentlemen, whatsoever seems to be the problem?”

  The guards looked him up and down. Their expressions softened as they realized he was not the elf they were looking for. Their eyes fell on his companion, but he had his head bowed and plucked at the strings of the lute he held.

  Not half bad, Elladan thought.

  “Did you see a blond elf come running by here?” one of the guards barked.

  Elladan shook his head and replied in a calm voice. “A blond elf? No, sir, just me and my lady friend headed up to the Bardic College.” He paused a moment then said, “We’re entering the competition.”

  The guards exchanged glances but in general seemed to buy it. The one guard responded in an officious tone, waving them off. “Very well then, continue about your business.”

  The two elves turned and slowly walked away. They strode in silence until they were a few blocks away. The blond elf then stopped and threw back his hood. “Thanks for the assist back there, but it’s not like I haven’t eluded a few town guards before.”

  Elladan broke into a half smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. So, does this kind of thing happen to you a lot?”

  “More often than I would like,” the blond elf answered. He handed Elladan back his lute and doffed the cloak he had given him. “It seems the world is full of art critics.”

  Elladan took the lute and made it magically disappear. He could recall it whenever necessary. He then stored the cloak it in his pack. “Maybe it’s not the art itself they don’t like?”

  The elf eyed him thoughtfully for a moment then a mischievous grin spread across his face. “I believe you hit the nail on the head, friend. It is the subject matter that they seem to object to the most. Who knew so many fathers and husbands hated art.” His expression was innocent.

  Elladan laughed. He was beginning to like this fellow.

  “May haps I could buy you a drink. After all, you did just lend me a hand,” the elf offered.

  “I think I know a place,” Elladan replied.

  The duo proceeded down the street to the less opulent side of town. They stopped at a tavern, found a table, ordered some drinks, and exchanged stories. The blonde elf ’s name was Donatello. He was an artist by trade, but as they continued to share ales and tales, Elladan discovered that he had quite a checkered past. If his stories were to be believed, he was a bit of an adventurer, and a pirate to boot. From the sound of it, he was also quite the ladies’ man. That soon proved to be true. The two of them soon found themselves in the company of two lovely women. Shortly thereafter, they parted ways, each with a young lovely on his arm.

  Donatello saluted his newfound friend. “Until we meet again!”

  “Until we meet again,” Elladan echoed.

  Now, almost a year later, Donatello had turned up again, in Ravenford of all places. A thin smile spread across Elladan’s face. He just couldn’t resist himself.

  “Stop that elf!” he yelled from the doorway.

  Donatello spun around and fell into a crouch, his hand immediately going to his sword hilt. He immediately spied Elladan standing in the doorway. The blond elf eyed him warily for a few moments. Abruptly, his expression changed to one of recognition.

  “Elladan?”

  “Who were you expecting, the town guards?” the bard replied with a half-smile.

  “Elladan!” Donatello cried. He strode towards him, arms open wide.

  Elladan met him halfway, and the two embraced, patting each other soundly on the back.

  “You know each other?” Arwel called from behind the counter. The duo turned as one to face the winsome tailor.

  “Oh, Donnie and I go back a ways,” Elladan said.

  “Lukescros, wasn’t it?” Donnie added.

  The duo strode over to the winsome tailor.

  “Indeed,” Elladan said. “A certain affluent gentlemen and his lovely young wife...”

  Donnie nodded. “Ah, yes—the courtyard and the town guards...”

  “...and a daring escape,” Elladan added.

  “And the bar afterwards...” Both elves smiled.

  “Sounds like you two had quite the time.” Arwel watched them with a wry look on her face. Elladan noted how she gazed back and forth between them, her cheeks slig
htly flushed.

  “We did indeed, my lovely.” Donnie leaned over the counter once more. “But we are here now in Ravenford, which is made all the more fair by your very presence.”

  Arwel blushed a bit more. “Flatterer—keep that up, and I just might let you paint my portrait...”

  Donnie’s face lit up. He leaned over the counter farther. “Well now, there are some details I would love to iron out.”

  Elladan cleared his throat. “Maybe you can hold that thought until I get my outfit?”

  Arwel’s expression changed to one of embarrassment. “Oh, why yes, of course. It’s done, and if I must say so myself, it looks gorgeous! I’ll go get it.”

  Arwel spun around and stepped through the curtain behind her. Donnie turned to Elladan. “Outfit? That wouldn’t be for the party tonight by any chance?”

  “I’m kind of the emcee.”

  A knowing smile spread across Donnie’s lips. “I should have guessed.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me, is there any way you can sneak me in?”

  Elladan chuckled. “Let me guess, you want to offer to paint portraits for the guests.”

  Donnie made an expansive gesture with his hand. “Of course—life is a canvas, and I must paint its beauty!”

  Elladan laughed. “Donnie, you are incorrigible.”

  Donnie grinned in response. “As are you, if I recall correctly.”

  Arwel reappeared through the curtain, holding up a bright white leather outfit on a hanger. Gold sequins sparkled brightly across the chest, and fringes hung down from the arms. She handed it across the counter to Elladan. “Here it is!”

  Elladan inspected the outfit, carefully spinning it around and looking it up and down. He gave Arwel an appreciative smile. “This is a work of art.”

  “If you care to come in back, you can try it on,” Arwel said in a soft voice.