She wasn’t looking forward to this, at all, but if it interrupted whatever Golix was about, she’d tolerate a population of smelly, over-zealous Ogre’s.
They weren’t the friendliest lot to begin with and if they were in league with the black Unicorn, they would only be worse.
But, if they were, then why were his henchmen on the way to kill one of them. That’s what didn’t make a clamshell’s worth of sense. Unless, this particular Ogre wasn’t part of the overall plan or could gain him some other advantage…
The thoughts tumbled and twisted over on themselves as Zesul guided them through the currents. The other problem she faced was a decided lack of weapons. She’d traveled light to begin with, in order to save time in reaching Arin and had lost her sword in the fight with Haydn. She hadn’t bothered to ask the Orc assassin for another either, which was hindsight on her part.
Nothing for it. She’d just have to improvise.
Something she was relatively good at.
Surfacing a good length outside of the city, she swam the rest of the way ashore and crept across the beach just as the moon was cresting the horizon. Thankfully, most of the citizens here worked and were in their homes for the darkfall. Still, it was best to cover up and she procured a cloak from a wash line. Making her way through the darkened streets, she hunkered down in the material and kept an ear out.
She wasn’t sure what to look for though, which was going to make this difficult indeed. But, it also wouldn’t be easy for the Kobaloi’s either. Like her, they would stand out in a city full of the oversized brutes as they were the complete opposite.
A short, lanky lot, they tended to have skin that continually flaked off, leaving dry, scaly patches over most of their bodies. They smelled horrendous and honestly had faces that were the stuff of a youngsters nightmares.
The one advantage they had, and used, was numbers. Traveling in packs of no less than 10, usually more, they attacked en mass and wore an opponent down through sheer weight of the group. Once they had you down, one would come along and finish the job, either by slitting your throat or just stabbing you in the heart.
It was not a pretty way to go, for sure, and despite her aversion to Ogre’s in general, no one deserved such a death.
Most of the time.
Of course, their prey could be just as bad, but a cook? Not usually a profession the grungy brute’s aspired too and certainly not one most would do willingly. Someone had to though, so it could simply be a matter of that as opposed to something else.
Either way, her speculations didn’t matter unless she found them first…
Circling back to the docks, she looked for the ship Haydn had mentioned and got lucky. The rat bastards had yet to leave it and she slunk back into the shadows to wait.
About a tick after she arrived, they slipped off the vessel and dispersed into the shadows themselves. Stealthy creeping through the streets, she followed the main group of five, keeping well behind, but not so far as to lose them entirely.
They were circuitous but eventually ended up outside a now dark restaurant. The sign over the door proclaimed Garax’s Eats and Greets and she smiled.
Eats and Greets?
Well, at least that confirmed her earlier thoughts about his involvement or lack thereof with Golix. Surely anyone that named their establishment in such a way couldn’t be all bad…
She waited in the shadows though, unwilling to get caught between the group of five she followed and the others that had separated off at the docks. It was better to wait until they were all inside.
The first group picked the lock and disappeared into the dark interior. Waiting several heartbeats the others arrived and slipped in after their companions. Sadly, she heard it lock again and no choice but to head around back.
Leaping a low wall, she was more than a little surprised to find a well-tended garden and hid another smile at its implications.
Yes, it was a good thing she was here. This Ogre obviously wasn’t a fighting sort, not if he planted flowers, and was definitely going to need her help.
The light coming from the kitchen’s windows cast an eerie yellowish glow over several beds of roses and daisies. A shadow moved across it and she crept for the back door, reaching out to try the handle before just barging in.
It turned under her fingers and she eased it open, winching when it creaked loudly in the silence.
Slipping around the jamb she got her second shock of the evening when one of the biggest Ogre’s she’d ever seen stood just past the threshold, arms crossed casually over his chest.
“If you are here to kill me, I would appreciate it if you could wait until my bouillabaisse has finished simmering…”
Phara almost laughed outright at the request, but managed to hold it in check. Slipping a knife from her belt, she squatted a bit and slung it past him, nailing the first of the Kobaloi’s between the eyes.
He flipped backwards with a grunt, crashing through several shelves. Jars of flour, sugar and other cooking ingredients burst apart, showering the now dead assassin in a rain of white.
The Ogre spun at the noise and surprisingly enough, sighed.
Slipping by, she scooped the best weapons she could find off the table. Hefting a pair of cast iron pans, she planted herself between the cook and the doorway to the restaurant, waiting for the rest. “Stay back.”
The Ogre grumbled something she couldn’t make out and grabbed her about the waist, moving her out of the way. “I think not.” He reached up into the rafters and pulled two swords free of hidden scabbards. Twirling one, he eyed her speculatively then tossed her the other. “A sight better than pans, yes?”
She caught the weapon and while heavier than she was used too, it would do. Swinging to find its center, she smiled. “Indeed.”
“So, who are you?” He asked, taking the next Kobaloi apart with one swing.
Two more darted into the kitchen and she dropped to her knees, slicing one near in half as he tried to scramble around her. It screeched, the sound loud in the small space. Fortunately, the area wasn’t large and with the Ogre filling most of it, they could bottle-neck the assassins if they played it right.
“Phara.”
“Pleasure,” he replied. “Garax.” He twirled and stabbed the second one clean through. “How many?”
“Ten.”
Two more slipped into the room, separating immediately. She took care of the one closest to her easily enough, the broadswords sharp edge cutting through his body with all the effort it took to butter bread.
The other dodged Garax’s powerful swing, grinning from ear to ear. He countered a second with a shorter sword and she squatted, stabbing at him from under the table. The point sunk deep into his leg and he cried out briefly before Garax took his head off his shoulders. It bounced across the floor, rolling to a stop against the stove. His body dropped with a thud, purplish blood leaking onto the stones.
There was a pause and she straightened. In the darkness beyond the door, she could hear the remaining five conferring with a series of clacks and clicks. She’d never understood their native language, but she didn’t need too. They’d obviously not expected resistance or counted on more than one target.
“Come on you rotting Vawi’s. Let us get this done,” Garax taunted in a dangerously low voice. “My cake is burning.”
***
“My cake is burning?”
Garax eased the ruined confection from the oven with a snort. “Well, it was.” He eyed the blackened surface and shook his head. Stepping over one of the bodies, he dumped it in the waste container and tossed the pan in the sink. “I abhor squandering food.”
The woman laughed, cleaning blood from her face with one of his towels. Her eyes swept the room and the destruction left in the wake of the attack. “Clearly. Mind if I ask why Golix would send these uglies after you?”
He harrumphed. “Most likely thinking my death would restore his control over a friend.”
She cleaned th
e blade next then neatly folded the material and leaned a hip against the table. “Huh. Makes sense. Who is this friend?”
He stared out into the backyard, gripping the edge of the sink. “His name is Rygan…” He spent the next few heartbeats sharing what he knew with the Naiad, mostly out of gratitude for her help. Not that he was worried for his own safety, but for his friends. “Any suggestions on the situation?” he asked when he’d finished.
The female ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out. “I would say we go after him, try to catch up before he gets back to the West Beach, but I get the feeling you do not swim…all that well,” she qualified when he cut her a disgusted look.
She had the right of it. He didn’t swim, well. He sunk like a stone in all truth, but Rygan needed help and they’d known each other far too long not to try. “I do not suppose you know a whale or something that could carry me without drowning me?”
She laughed heartily and came around the table to pat his arm. “I think I can arrange something there big guy…”
Chapter Nineteen
Lanni had quietly watched the comings and goings. More ships than she would have liked had arrived and had been refitted by the workers. In all, despite the losses they’d suffered from her early on, she still counted 40 now making up his fleet.
Which was very bad.
But it wasn’t the worst thing. No, that came on the fifth day after Mithrin and Furiem had left. As the sun rose, the workers all paused and looked to the west. Slowly powering its way around the curve in the land, was the largest vessel yet. She didn’t know sea-craft all that well, but the bloody thing would easily compare to an opulent yacht from back home.
Rolling onto her stomach, she wormed her way across the sand and sat up again at the door to her cell. Gripping a bar between her hands, she gulped and couldn’t help the shudder of fear that raced down her spine when she got a good look at the passengers it carried.
As the ship powered close to the beach, she spied eight more black unicorns on the bow, their manes and tails blowing in the breeze. Eyes of varying colors, from blue to black to green to bright orange, roamed over the operations and two of them had some sort of conversation as the vessel glided to a halt in the waves.
The anchor dropped with a rattle of thick chain and as a group they leapt over the railing to swim the rest of the way. Golix appeared from his cave and galloped the short distance to wait for them.
He bowed reverently as they came out of the surf and the leader of the group, pawed at the ground.
She couldn’t tell if he was agitated or glad from this distance, but neither emotion boded well in her mind.
Golix’s mother, the one she’d seen in her vision with the Harpy Crone, was slower to appear and strolled regally across the sand to join them.
The leader, whose eyes were as black as his coat, bowed to her, dropping a foreleg behind him until his snout practically touched the ground.
So, Golix and the bigger guy were on equal hoofing, but Mother was the true leader. Not that the hierarchy helped her, but it might in the future.
The herd stood conversing for a long while then separated. Most of them headed for the cave but Golix, Mom and the biggest of the lot, turned her way. They strolled along the assembly line, pausing now and then to discuss something before finally ending at her prison.
The newest addition’s lip curled up in a sneer, his black eyes roaming over her. “So this is she? She does not look like much.”
She smiled up at it. “Well, when you’re special, you’re special.”
He dipped close to the bars, turning his long face enough to see her. Now would be as good a time as any and she took it. Shrugging off the ropes she’d cut the day before, she stabbed Mithrin’s knife through the bars and right into his eye.
He reared back, whining angrily and began to buck around wildly. He tore through the kitchen area, destroying it and raced away down the sand, knocking over several vats as he went.
Golix snapped a hoof against the bars and she scrambled back out of range. “You witch!”
She laughed, watching the chaos beyond him with a great deal of satisfaction. “I just wish it had been you, Golix,” she taunted.
Mom, who remained calm, nudged him with her flank, nodding back toward the rampaging animal. “Help him.”
Golix snapped another hoof against the bars but galloped off to do her bidding. When he was out of earshot, she sighed and her eyes blazed briefly. “That will cost you dear.”
She laughed again, scooting back to the far end of the cage. “It was worth it.”
Ok, maybe it wasn’t, but it had been fun watching the black beast tear through the camp, doing as much damage, if not more than she ever had.
Still, after the Satyr’s gathered her up and took her aboard the yacht, she had to second guess the statement. Leaving her tied spread eagle on a bunk, they made doubly sure she couldn’t move or see or speak or do anything to ease the situation. She tried rubbing the bag off her head, but it wouldn’t budge in the slightest.
She relaxed and with nothing better to do, passed the time in whatever way she could find.
She hadn’t had a chance to get the ceremonial dagger from the trees and that grated on her nerves. Things were coming to a head and soon. She could feel it.
Most of the ships in Golix’s fleet were ready, gleaming brightly with their new armor and even newer guns sticking out of various ports.
The black bastard had created an Armada, one ready for war and it scared her because she’d let it happen. She should have continued, with Mithrin’s help, doing what she could to interfere until rescue came…
The rumble of engines dragged her out of the darkness and she blinked under the hood. The bunk rattled under her cheek and she lifted her head off the covers, trying to figure out what was happening now. Clearly they were moving but to where and for what purpose she hadn’t the foggiest idea. And she probably wouldn’t know until they arrived.
Laying alone in the dark, she wanted Mithrin, or to at least know he was close by. But he wasn’t. She was on her own and it would be up to her to get out of this.
She shuddered, unnerved, because she’d never had to rely totally on herself before. She’d always had Terra, at least the reassuring presence of her twin in the back of her mind. That and the knowledge her sister would come along to save the day, had always been a source of strength.
But, Terra wasn’t coming. And neither was Mithrin. At least not yet, if ever. He said he would return and she believed him then. But the ugly self-doubt monster that had sat on her shoulder her entire life chose right then to return.
Only it wasn’t some fictional little green dude. There was something sitting on her shoulder. Something round and by the softness tickling the back of her neck, quite furry.
Furiem? Surely not. If it was, he’d have spoken by now.
The cat he’d ridden? Again, it should have made some sound.
So, what then?
She murmured into her gag and a wet, slobbery tongue eased itself under the edge of the hood. It wriggled, leaving a trail of goop in its wake as it worked the material up and off her head. When she had a clear field of vision again, it bounced off her shoulder onto the bed and she met with a pair of bug-like round eyes of brown and fur the color of thick storm clouds.
She blinked.
It blinked back, then seemed to sense her desire to speak and that tongue worked its magic again. It slipped its slobbery self under her matted hair to work the knot loose.
She spit the cloth free and smiled. “Hi there.”
It trilled, the tone low and soft. Scooting forward on two stubby little legs it nuzzled her nose then tucked itself under her chin, purring softly.
Whatever it was and wherever it had come from, she was thankful for the company. Its soft purring, combined with the rocking ship, lulled her back to sleep in short order and she let it. Frankly she’d not had a lot of it lately and she accepted the demand of her body to
rest.
If she had any hope of getting out of this, she was going to need it.
***
Rygan watched from outside the portal and only pulled himself back to the deck when he was satisfied Lanni was in good hands. At least for now.
“What are you doing?”
Golix’s voice startled him but he kept that off his face. “Checking the ship.”
“For what?”
He turned and leaned back on the railing. “You said you had a saboteur. I was ensuring the integrity of the hull.”
The Unicorn snorted, pawing the deck. “I do not pay you for such things. Get below.”
Feeling just a little more snarky than usual, he snapped off a salute. “Aye, Aye Captain.”
“I should put you in irons,” Golix muttered. “Such insolence.”
Not wanting to tempt him into doing just that, he headed down the stairs. Careful to avoid the room where Lanni was, he made his way aft and found an empty one for himself. Offering up Tollo for company was the best he could at the moment. Anything more might give away his intentions to help the first chance he got and that would get them both killed.
But, he knew his plan had gone wrong when the door opened a few heartbeats later and a Satyr crossed the threshold, a set of heavy chains dangling from one misshapen hand. “Turn around.”
He rose off the bunk and did as commanded. “This is not necessary.”
“The Master seems to think it is. Arms back.”
He followed the order, trying a second time. “I have not done anything.”
The Satyr snorted once, clamping the metal tight around his wrists. A rustle was followed by more cold steel locking around his ankles. The minion said nothing to his comment, but locked the door behind him.
Fingering the links running from his wrists toward the floor, he sighed and shuffled slowly toward the desk on one side of the room. Surely the drawers would contain something he could pick the locks with before they got wherever it was they were going…
To Save The Broken Heart: Dragons, Griffons and Centaurs, Oh My! (Dragons, Griffons, and Centaurs, Oh My!) Page 15
