by D. H. Aire
He felt the tip of the blade against his ribs.
“I’d let her go, if I were you,” he heard the boy say. “My friend here has a thing for girls being treated right.”
Yel’ane’s eyes were wide as she tried to see who had come to her rescue.
“I can easily break her neck before I die.”
The blade jabbed and cut into his fresh. “Ah… I get your, uh, point. I’ll let her go, but first you remember that bounty I mentioned. She and her friends are worth… quite a lot… and I’ll even let you keep this one. You can make a nice life with her, though don’t expect any sons to come of it.”
“Hmm,” he replied, “but you told me we’d split half a gold.”
“You and your friend will share a gold.”
“Sounds fair, pass her back to me,” the boy said.
The man hesitated, then thrust her at him, diving away from the man and his sword behind him. Yel’ane fell into Casber’s arms as there was a flash of light. For an instant the man stared up at the unicorn and her blazing horn, then his eyes glazed over and he fell, unconscious.
Yel’ane gaped, “What?”
“This is my friend. Says she likes you.”
Chapter 16 – Cellar
Greth woke with a start, reaching for his broadsword as light filled the cellar and a horse plodded carefully down the ramp as their surviving two mounts nickered.
Yel’ane followed, “Uh, it’s all right. I’ve made a friend. Oh, and I got us soap.”
“What?” Nessa cried, careful not to look at Greth as he edged into the shadows as the girls woke, startled.
“Uh, hi,” said the boy at Yel’ane’s side as Nessa stared at the horse with the glowing white lit horn.
Lawson blinked and came out of his corner, where six of the little girls had crawled over to sleep. “Uni…corn?” he said. “Well, that explains why those old wards didn’t warn us.”
Casber felt faint and swayed as the jewel at his throat blazed. Yel’ane hurriedly steadied him. :Report, Assistant Engineer!:
“Mother?” Lawson rasped, the implant in his cheek giving him a twitch as he stared at what looked to him to be a fragment of computer crystal.
:Explain why you have not made scheduled contact:
“Um, I sort of broke the transceiver,” he replied, uncertainly.
:If this assistant engineer had not heard me on the emergency frequency and agreed to find you, what would you have done?:
“Lawson,” Ani’ya whispered to her year-mates, “since when does he speak our language fluently?”
Nessa frowned, overhearing that, “Since now, I guess… Yel’ane, what have you done?”
“I just went to get the girls soap,” she protested.
Vi’ya shook her head, glaring at her, “You mean you went to get him soap.”
The girls giggled.
Yel’ane had complained to Lawson that he needed a bath and the girls would be happy to get him properly scrubbed. Lawson apparently understood her well enough that he had threatened to dump the stew pot over her as Greth fell down laughing.
“You need a bath just as much as he does,” Yel’ane had retorted. At the startled look on Greth’s face, Lawson nearly fell down laughing.
Afterward, Nessa took Yel’ane aside, “What were you thinking?”
“Have you smelled yourself lately? Between them and us, I don’t know how we can stand eating that stew that nice woman brought us.”
“Yel’ane…”
She stood her ground and didn’t want to think about why she’d offered to have them scrub Lawson, he wasn’t a Cathartan lord to be treated so… He was… a troll, a very hairy, unpleasant looking troll… who had saved her life. Her heart seemed to beat a bit faster as she told herself that.
:Line of sight ending in thirty seconds. Lawson, proceed as directed. You are ordered to accompany Assistant Engineer Casber du Winome and the unicorn.:
“Mother about Greth and…”
‘The Colonel of Marines is now officially assigned to you… and the girl is right. Let them scrub you. Your olfactory senses indicate you stink. Out.’
He swallowed hard, eyes wide, touching his cheek above his implant.
Casber blinked, the jewel going quiescent. “Um, what happened?”
Greth shook his head, “Just getting acquainted, lad. So, where did you get that jewel?”
“He can speak proper, too!” Ani’ya cried in delight as she found himself walking up to the unicorn. En’sta and Vi’ya quickly joined her, reaching out to touch the unicorn’s flanks.
“Yes, uh, I have been made the gift of understanding,” Greth replied in surprise.
Lawson glanced at him.
“In exchange for this gift I’ve been told both of us must bathe in the morning,” Greth added.
“Um, Greth, really?” Lawson groaned as Yel’ane blinked and Nessa gave her a harsh look.
“I heard my orders clearly enough, Lawson,” Greth said. “I’m assigned to accompany you the rest of the way. Now, let’s deal with the other part of our assignment… Assistant Engineer Casber, you are to accompany us.”
“Huh?”
Lawson smiled crookedly, “Assistant Engineers have to stick together.”
With a grimace, Greth shook his head, noting that all the little girls were fawning over the unicorn and petting it. The unicorn did not seem the least bit unhappy over the attention. Well, better the unicorn than him, he thought. “Lad, where did you get that?” he pointed.
“This?” Casber said, touching his elvin wrought necklace. “Why from my Uncle Balfour. His mother passed it down to him and he gave it to me. He’s a healer, or he’s becoming one at least…”
Frowning, Greth’s eyes narrowed. “Someone has recently agreed to train him.”
Casber hesitated, “Uh, yeah.”
Nessa stared, “Your uncle is the healer Lord Balfour du Winome?”
Casber frowned, “Lord? He’s no lord. Well, he’s an elfblood, but that doesn’t make him no lord.”
The girls stared at him. “Our father made him a lord,” Nessa said. “My mother’s bonded to him. Our Sire gifted her to him for saving… a life.”
The unicorn stood rigid, horn glowing brighter. All the girls hastily stepped back. The winds of fate swirled within her as she heard those words in this so-called, heavily warded, cellar of a forgotten keep where the fortress had later been built.
“Bonded? What’s that mean?” Casber asked, not seeming to notice the unicorn’s reaction, too interested in the news of his uncle.
“They’re married, silly,” Vi’ya answered, clasping her hands in delight as the glowing unicorn horn seemed to dance with light.
“She’ll keep him safe or die trying,” En’sta said as Lawson frowned.
“And bear him lots of daughters,” Ani’ya added as the girls giggled.
“Um, that’s nice, I guess,” Casber said.
Lawson mused aloud, “Let me guess, lad, you’ve met George.”
Casber stared, “Um? Wh—”
‘Tell them.’
“Lord Je’orj!” the girl gasped.
The trolls looked at them.
Yel’ane shrugged, “We’ve a bossy older sister who also bonded Lord Je’orj for his part in saving… our brother’s life.”
“Yel’ane!” Nessa rasped.
The girls frowned.
“You shouldn’t have told them that!”
“I’m not seeing us lie to the unicorn!” she protested.
‘This is why I like this one.’
Wincing, Casber nodded, “Je’orj saved my life. I kinda was falling off a cliff, you see…”
Greth replied, “That’s my blood––brother, all right. I’m Greth, by the way, and my friend there’s Lawson, your fellow assistant engineer, young man.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Casber asked.
“You and he,” Greth answered, “are both the only designated assistant engineers I’m aware of.”
“Seems to come with spending too much time with George,” Lawson admitted, looking at that crystal Casber wore and wishing he had one. His implant gave him a twitch. Mother? But there was no response.
“You’re a mage,” Ani’ya chortled. “A boy mage!”
The girls all laughed, delighted, while Nessa frowned, shaking her head. Great, just great, all we need…
“I’m a what?” Casber squeaked.
#
Getting the girls back to bed was not easy. That Yel’ane tried to creep back under the covers so easily was not something Nessa was about to allow. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she whispered. “I want to know what happened… and how you plan to organize the scrub fest in the morning.”
“Me?”
“Your idea, you’re in change, because I’m not scrubbing that hairy back. Not by any of the Lords of Catha, I’m not. Now, tell me what happened when you decided to go and find that soap for him and the girls…”
Swallowing, Yel’ane was glad the unicorn’s horn was only providing wan light now. No one could see the flush of her cheeks. She explained as matter-of-factly as she could.
“The man who followed you… what about him?”
“Oh, um, that’s taken care of… I think.”
#
‘Greth,’ the unicorn whispered in his dreams.
He opened his eyes, knowing it was yet hours from dawn, and sat up. The unicorn’s horn was barely visible to his night vision.
‘Their horses are nearly lame.’
“I know,” he admitted, having dreaded the idea of the girls needing to walk from here with a bounty and likely worse pursuing them.
‘In the back of the cellar, there is something that will help.’
He rose, careful to duck his head until he stood in the more cavernous arched ceiling part of the room. Making his way quietly past the gently snoring Lawson and the girls who kept continuing to crawl up to him before falling peacefully asleep nestling against him, he found a wooden chest. Opening it, he found it filled with what smelled like old leather.
He glanced back at the unicorn, whose horn now glowed.
‘Bring it here,’ the unicorn said.
“Exactly how’s this going to help?”
‘First, bring that chest… and the one that lies behind it.’
Chapter 17 – Badlands and Beyond
The brigand shouted from the walls, “Storm coming!”
The dark clouds rolled in from the southwest like a wave. Lightning flashed, then thunder slapped the air. There were shouts below, ordering everyone inside. As the brigand on guard hurried to the ladder, she glimpsed something. She paused in shock, going pale, then scurried down the ladder screaming, “They’ve come!”
The cloaked forms reached the gate barely ahead of the storm. That their minions were shuttering up tight, came as no surprise, though their palpable fear was more than concern over the storm.
Drenched by the downpour that whipped at their cloaks and hoods, the five entered the main building, the last of them slamming shut and barring the door. “Milords, welcome,” their leader said, greeting them, alone.
“Are we the first to arrive?”
She hesitated, “No, Milord.”
“We will… dine in the hall with them, then.”
She paled, “Milord, they are slain.”
“What?” he hissed as his companions lowered hoods and glared at her.
#
As the storm raged outside and the patched roof dripped water into several large buckets, the graying haired brigand leader managed to choke out, “Trolls.”
The goblin holding her by the neck nodded, “I… not… think… you… cut… his… head… off… yourself.”
The shortest of the five goblins knelt on the floor casting the bones. He glanced up. “They loosed the Hellcats.”
The watching brigands they had rounded up, several understanding the goblin’s every word.
“After… the trolls? Set them… after… trolls?”
“No,” she gasped, nearly fainting, “before.”
“Before? Woman… you… are… fool.”
The goblin mage cast the bones again. “The Hellcats are either dead or freed of their binding.”
The woman’s head bent unnaturally as he closed his grip, then tossed her upon the floor. “She is more use to your augury. Find the trolls!”
The goblin mage drew his curved dagger and cut her for her still warm bloody bones. He cast them, then frowned, shaking his head. “We do not appear to be able to sense them… and we should.”
“The trolls must be warded,” one of his companions said.
The goblin leader strode over to an old woman, who went pale as he leaned closer, “How many of them were here?”
The other women cringed back as the old woman threw herself to the ground, “Half a dozen, Milord! We stood no chance against them!”
The goblins sniffed, “Smell the dark metal… But not so thick.”
“We cleaned!” the old woman protested in their tongue. “And set out the bodies of your kinsmen for you!”
Thunder echoed around them as the raging storm shook the building.
“The trolls have never come this far south,” one of the goblins said.
“They must have tracked one of…” the largest said.
Another nodded, glancing at the women, “These are of no further use to us.”
“Not entirely,” the goblin mage replied, “I just need the choice bits for the curse I have in mind. Oh, and save me bones, definitely the bones.”
The old woman cried, “Run!”
#
Once the storm ended, the goblins left the silent brigand stronghold. “Which way?” their leader demanded.
The goblin mage smiled, pleased that his auguries were so much stronger now, as was the beginning of his Curse. “The augur pointed that way.”
They ran southwest, several carrying sickly green glowing sacks filled with the mage’s choicest bits; seething with his grim mageries.
Carrion birds circled overhead as the rats came out of their holes, drawn to the main building to dine on the seconds.
#
Hours later the goblins came across the mud covered remains of a dead Hellcat. The goblin mage checked its collar. “The charm is drained.”
“Definitely troll work.”
“More than six?”
“Difficult to judge.”
“I hate running on a full stomach.”
“Bah, you hate running,” another replied.
“No, he hates running on empty stomach more.”
“True,” largest goblin replied, laughing.
The goblin mage knelt and drew from his small pouch of choice bits; a pair of mismatched eyes, which he rolled with his bones. The eyes stared in unison to the northwest. “That way.”
“Trolls on a mission of their own?”
“They must be stopped.”
“If there are truly six or more of them…”
“Then it is good we’ve a mage skilled in curses.”
“I am a mere servant of the Lord of Demons, whence our powers come.”
“Such a modest goblin mage…”
“He likely believes that will help him become an old goblin.”
“There are no old goblins.”
“Not if they’re serving our Lord of Demons properly,” the mage replied.
“I’d rather there be no old trolls. Come, enough banter!” their leader demanded. They ran harder.
#
He awoke on the tavern floor with a terrible headache, the sunlight outlining the drawn shutters. He winced, looking away. I wasn’t supposed to match them drink for drink, he told himself.
Feeling for his money pouch, he realized he nearly spent it all. He rose, feeling sick, and stumbled outside.
It was all about the bounty, he reminded himself, then realized seeking fools in this place to help him was worse than useless. He retrieved his horse and led it out of the town. �
��Come back soon!” the stooped old gatekeeper shouted.
Grimacing, he rode more slowly than he would have liked west into the Badlands, where the runaways were most likely still. He had no need of help. Two golds per girl, how hard could it be?
At the gatekeeper’s shout, the befuddled, still half-drunken men woke. Nearly all had decided, before stumbling to their beds, that there was no need for bounty money, not when the obviously wealthy fellow was so close at hand.
“He’s getting away,” one of the keep’s men said as he shoved his wife out of bed, still fully closed, save for his boots which she had managed to pull off him.
Soon most of those who had more than drunk their fill the night before had made it from their homes and retrieved their horses, saddling them. “Which way do you think he’s gone?”
“The bounty hunter’s trail will be easy to follow in the drying muddle of yesterday’s storm!”
“You don’t have ta shout, man.”
Soon they were all out the gate, save one, whose wife watched from her window, arms crossed. “MMM!”
“What? I warned you, Mac! Drink too much again and I’d hog-tie, yeah.”
He blinked, managed to spit out his gag, “Please, Milla, this is not fair! Untie me… and bring back my clothes!”
She fetched her bucket of water and doused him with it. “Now where’s that soap. First time in weeks I’ve a chance to assure myself my man’s clean.”
“Milla! Please!”
“You should be thanking me… Sober, you’re the best man in the vill!”
“Milla!”
She got the soap, knelt and began scrubbing.
“Please!”
“Clean you might find I’d enjoy you in our bed more… might even manage to get me with child.” She said that last without rancor.
He winced, “Milla, oh, Milla.”
She pulled on his ear and scrubbed first behind the right, then the left. “Sober, you’re the man I love. This way… you’re no better than a hog in slop.”
#
When the taverner’s wife did not find the boy or his mount that morning, she did not know what to think. The village was not exactly a busy place in the mornings. The old gatekeeper had finished his duties an hour after dawn. Nearly all the men, save her husband and the old man, she presumed, had made enough noise that none could ignore their riding out after that bounty. Or, she feared, a different kind of bounty.
