by Robert York
“What interest does that mark hold for you Solomon,” Baugrun asked curiously.
I placed my phone back in my pocket standing.
“Not entirely sure, but a lot of weird things have happened today and I wouldn’t want to return to Barnabas without having at least looked over the scene for clues as to who or what is causing this trouble,”
The doors of the shops opened here and there, various people and creatures timidly filing out surveying the destruction and carnage. Naga moved over to Baugrun sitting down next to him. His long tongue licking at the blood on his face and neck. Behind me to my left I heard a set of small newly shoed feet hurrying up to me. I turned to see Tilly decked out in a new dark brown suit and shoes. His arms were laden down with four large packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with coarse string. He also carried a few matching bags in each hand. He stopped a foot or two away from me out of breath, a concerned look on his face.
“Where were you,” I asked.
“I was being measured for my new suit of clothes when the fighting broke out Master and the shopkeeper closed the door… I wasn’t able to get out to help you... So I finished shopping,” he said in a guilty tone.
“He’s correct Solomon,” Baugrun said.
My eyes rising to meet his.
“Each of the shops have wards on the doors and windows preventing anything from entering when invoked, but they also prevent those inside from exiting.”
I nodded slowly taking in the information. I turned my attention back to Tilly, his eyes on the ground shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked scared and very guilty.
“I hope you got some new handkerchiefs to replace that old tattered one in your pocket,” I said finally in an even voice.
A smile washed over Tilly’s face, his eyes rising to meet mine.
“Yes Master, I did. I got new shirts, socks, I ordered two pairs of shoes and a pair of boots as well, but those won’t be ready till next week. I bought a new sleeping gown and hat along with a new belt...” He said excitedly.
“That’s very good Tilly, you can show me all your things when we get back to the magic shop,” I said cutting him off. Trying my best not to dampen his enthusiasm.
Human shaped forms appeared from shadows lurking between the buildings. Naga let out a threatening deep chested growl. Baugrun’s hand went reflexively to the hilt of his sword. It looked as though things might not be finished yet.
Chapter 10
Five Werewolves now in human form approached Baugrun and me, shrugging on various articles of clothing or wiping their mouths clean of pieces of flesh and blood. All of them I recognized, three I knew however by faces alone. Most werewolves aren’t the talkative types tending to be quiet loners. One of them pulled on a well-worn black leather biker’s jacket. Race, he was the one I’d seen in the reflection of the store window. The man walking to his left finished pulling a black t-shirt over his head tucking it into his tight blue jeans, I’d seen this man’s face more times than I could remember. It was Abner Dempke, leader of the Wolf Pack Barnabas and I frequently helped over the years. Abner was tall and skinny. When I say he was skinny I’m in no way implying that he was weak, far from it. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but Abner is made of wiry bands of muscle, which he developed over the years working as a garbage man. Even without being a Werewolf I’m sure he’d be a handful as a normal human if someone ever decided to pick a fight with him. Abner’s gray hair was cut short which he kept meticulously trimmed never letting grow out too long. He had a kind handsome face that was marred by three long scars, which started from under his hairline on the left side of his face, ending at his chin.
Baugrun turned to face the Werewolves. They stopped a respectful distance away from both he and Naga. There were few around that wanted to tangle with that pair. Of course there were always those misguided individuals that got it in their heads to test Baugrun’s skill with a sword or the sharpness of Naga’s teeth.
Abner inclined his head in a gesture of respect to Baugrun, the others of his pack mirroring his example. The Watcher returned the gesture, though perhaps not as respectfully.
“Greetings Abner, what brings you and your pack to Stumpwater’s today?”
“We’re here at the request of a very old friend that has helped me and my pack... We’re just returning the favor,” Abner replied.
Wait a second. “A request from a very old friend.” That sneaky bastard, he knew something was going to happen here. He knew all along and didn’t tell me. That’s what Zeg meant when he said someone would be there. Barnabas sent Zeg to Abner and the Werewolves with a message asking them to look out for me. Goddammit he knew. Barnabas used me as bait to draw Lord knows who out into the open to see what they’d do. He didn’t want me to get hurt so he sent the Werewolves to shadow me once I got here. The question I kept asking myself was how did he know they’d try and get the crown from me here in Stumpwater’s? No one outside of Barnabas, Oswald, Mari, Glum and me knew what was said in the shop. Well, there were the Vampire twins, but they were bound and asleep through the whole thing. They weren’t able to get a message to anyone. Barnabas even placed a spell over Blackmane’s while we talked and I’m relatively certain that none of us had time to contact anyone. The more I thought the more questions were raised. If I kept this up I’d burn out a few brain cells. I needed answers, badly. When I saw Barnabas again he and I needed to have a talk.
“By old friend I assume you are talking about Barnabas?” I asked interrupting.
“Who else would I be talking about Sol? We’ve never known a friend like Barnabas Blackmane. He takes care of our sick, makes sure we have food, clothes and a place to sleep... We owe him more than we could possibly repay.” Abner said with a fiercely proud tone in his voice.
“When he asked us to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t get hurt, we didn’t hesitate. You’ve been a friend to our kind Sol and we won’t forget that,”
I glared at him. Am I the only one that sees something wrong with using someone like a pawn in dangerous games that is more than likely to get that person killed, which in this case was me. The Bible is full of people that God used as instruments of his will and most of the time things didn’t turn out so well for those individuals. Even in our favorite stories we see the manipulation of main characters by mentors that have their best interests at heart. I screw up my life well enough on my own; I don’t need someone like Barnabas helping me along that road.
“Well whatever the reason for your presence, it’s greatly welcomed today.” Said Baugrun.
I felt a gentle nudge at the back of my leg.
“Master,” Tilly said in a whisper.
I turned glaring down at him. He took a step or two back. I assumed my face still showed a reflection of my anger mulling over Barnabas’s actions regarding my life. It took a moment to soften the hard scowl I had going, but I managed it. I knelt down on one knee in front of Tilly.
“What can I do for you Tilly?” I asked.
Feeling a little more comfortable he took a step in my direction leaning close.
“Master,” Tilly began. “Don’t you think it would be prudent to make the delivery while things are somewhat quiet at the moment?”
With all that’s been happening, I completely forgot I had the crown still slung over my shoulder. It’s always good to have someone else around thinking with a clear head to help get you back on track. Tilly was right. That’s what Barnabas asked me to do, deliver the crown to Reb Ironbolt and then return to the magic shop. The fact that he’d arranged extra security - Abner and his Werewolves - speaks volumes for how much he cares for me. The cynical and skeptical part of my brain however was screaming,
IT WASN’T BECAUSE HE CARES ABOUT YOU; IT WAS BECAUSE HE DIDN’T WANT YOU TO LOSE THE CROWN!
I think it might be best for me to concentrate on the latter, but keep the former in the back of my mind.
I stood facing Baugrun.
“We
have to get to the Laughing Goblin, that’s why I’m here. I have something very important to give to Reb.”
Baugrun nodded thoughtfully surveying me and the others with a suspicious eye. He patted Naga on the side; the Gog turned his head nudging Baugrun affectionately.
“Naga and I have work to do,” he said glancing at the ceiling. “I trust Abner and his pack can escort you the rest of the way to Reb’s safely?”
Abner spoke no words he just acknowledging the subtle order given by Baugrun with a nod.
“And Solomon, when your intrigue is over,” he started to say then amended his statement with. “That is if you survive it of course… you and I should get together to talk about all this.” Baugrun said. Then he added. “Over a nice pint of ale,”
I nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll buy the first round,” I said.
Baugrun and Naga turned, walking toward the Main Door. He waved a hand without turning back, in a loud booming voice he said.
“Until then!”
I beckoned everyone to follow me.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Abner and his Wolves fanned out around me like the President’s Secret Service detail while we walked to Reb’s place. The streets were coming alive with activity. Dwarf craftsmen and engineers were already at work clearing away debris, measuring holes in the stone street and examining the storefront facades and windows for any damage. Cob Elves were hard at work cleaning up the remains of the Vampires, while patrons filed past all this orderly chaos bustling in and out of the shops once again. It was a truly amazing site to see how fast they got to the repairs. Dwarfs are fastidious in their work and absolutely hated it when things are broken or dirty.
We made it to the Laughing Goblin with no incidents. Looking at the old place I felt at ease, I’d spent many nights eating good food, drinking ale or just losing money playing cards. It was one of my few frequent hangouts and I know that what I’m about to say might sound silly, but I actually felt like I belonged there. The dark heather green facade with large gold gilded letters above the wide paned glass windows and shutters spelling out the name “The Laughing Goblin” looked the same now as it did the day I first laid eyes on it nearly fourteen years ago.
We filed into The Laughing Goblin; I noticed that the “CLOSED” sign was still in the window. I paid it little attention as our noses were assaulted by some delicious smelling food, which caused my stomach to growl. When you first walk into The Laughing Goblin Maura, Reb’s wife greets you. She collected coats, cloaks and your weapons. Reb doesn’t allow weapons in his place; he says it’s hard on the furniture. Today for whatever reason, Maura was absent. Every time I’ve come here she’s always met me at the door. It was a weird feeling not hearing her tell me to please deposit my weapons in the nearest empty cubby hole.
I led the way into Reb’s place. It was conspicuously empty, which was unusual because the Laughing Goblin was a happening place in the magical community. I’ve never had an easy time getting a table. Even the bar was so crowded at times you had to elbow your way through to order a pint. The place was dark, however the bar was lighted with a few candles. Even though the light was sparse I could see the inside of the Laughing Goblin well. It was similar in style to an old world Irish pub, wall-to-wall dark hardwoods and brass adornments. There was a large mirror built into the wall behind the bar, bottles of all manner of spirits stood on recessed shelves in front of it. A large mantled fireplace was on the right side of the bar; above it hung the mounted head of a Club-tailed Dragon. Speaking of the dragon’s head, Reb claimed he’d killed it on a hunting trip to Mid-Realm. I however have always suspected that story was nothing more than malarkey. It was my firm opinion that Reb purchased the head in a resale or oddities shop and the story came later because of all the attention the head garnered. Heavy chairs were stacked on the tables, which were arranged symmetrically around the bar. The curious thing was that the chairs hadn’t been placed down on the floor after last night’s cleanup for the afternoon rush. Something was rotten in Denmark.
Reb stood behind the bar wiping a stack of bar glasses one by one with the whitest towel I have ever seen, the thing practically glowed. Reb was a Dwarf and a fairly standard specimen of the species. He stood around forty inches high and was stocky. He had a long red beard, which was tucked under a white apron he always wore. His eyes were bright blue and a jolly smile could always be seen on his face. Today however, the smile was absent, replaced by a hard line. His eyes were red and puffy under a set of deeply knitted brows. Something was wrong here and after the day I’ve had thus far this wasn’t good. As we got closer to Reb a few of the Werewolves fanned out weaving their way between the tables positioning themselves around the tavern just in case something were to happen.
“Hello Reb,” I said in a friendly tone.
“Solomon,” he replied.
Abner and Race took up positions behind me. Tilly stayed behind us, standing by the door. I placed my boot on the brass footrest leaning on the bar.
“Bit dead in here. Did the commotion outside scare everyone off?” I asked.
“Things like that are bad for business nary a man nor beast likes to eat or drink around them that fight. It upsets the appetite and closes money pouches. Bad for business.”
Reb wouldn’t make eye contact, his eyes stayed focused on the glass he was cleaning. Though the light in the tavern was almost nonexistent I noticed a few things. The first thing I noticed was that Reb had a large nasty bruise forming on his right cheek. The second thing I noticed was that the heavy door leading to the kitchen and winery was closed. I could see fresh gouges and scrapes in the wood where someone forced it closed. Reb noticed my roving eyes and started cleaning another glass more vigorously.
“Can I help you,” Reb asked nervously. I could see beads of sweat forming on forehead. I leaned in close to him.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said in a whisper. Reb’s eyes opened wide, he nearly dropped the glass.
“I don’t need no help,” He said quickly. Any non-interested observer might have said a little too quickly.
“Uh Huh,” I said pausing for a moment in thought then asked. “Reb, where’s Maura? Why isn’t she here today?”
He slammed the glass down hard onto the bar.
“Her and me ain’t been seein’ eye to eye lately so she toddled off to her sister’s.” He replied in a tight voice.
“That where you got the bruise on your right cheek?”
“Aren’t you the observant one,” He slung the white bar towel over his shoulder gesturing to the bruise.
“Nah sonny, this here was cause by piece of rock that hit me when I stuck my head outside my door to take a peek at what all the fuss was about. Good thing for me I wasn’t an inch or two shorter. That piece of stone might have cost me my eye,” he said.
“Where are all the servers today?” I asked. “They couldn’t have toddled off with Maura to her sister’s.”
In the mirror behind Reb I noticed Abner and Race were inhaling deeply. They moved slowly around the tavern sniffing the air searching for the source of the smell. They were on to a scent and by the bristling of their hair I’d have to guess they didn’t like it all that much.
“Ain’t any customers here, so there ain’t no reason to keep em round. I done sent them all home,” he said in a angry tone.
Reb picked up another glass then slammed it back on the bar agitated.
“You’re supposed to be givin’ me somethin’ from Barnabas and not asking questions that ain’t none of your business.”
Reb noticed the way the Werewolves were sniffing the air as well and I could see more drops of sweat forming on his brow. Something was definitely wrong here and it was my hunch that Reb’s wife Maura was in danger. Hell for all I knew she was being held behind that closed door. I had to keep Reb talking for a little while longer. I didn’t have a clue of what I was going to do, but talking seemed the right thing at the moment.
“If you got somethin’ for me,” he continued. “Lay it right down on the bar and go... If you got nothing then just bugger off! I wasted too much time with you already.”
I nodded considering his words, finally I asked.
“Sure, I have something to give you from Barnabas. This might sound a bit off subject, but can I get a pint of Rothgar’s Ale first?” I asked, pulling a gold coin from my coat pocket, slapping it down on the bar then pushing it toward Reb.
“What?” Reb asked and then shook his head. “No, Bars closed.”
“Come on, I’m parched. You could practically strike a match on my tongue, see.”
I stuck out my tongue so he could examine it more closely.
“Can I just have a pint of Rothgar for old times sake?” I asked as persuasively as I could. I got a little smile from him that seemed to ease his tension slightly.
“Yeah, alright. One pint comin’ right up,” Reb said moving over to the cask of Rothgar ale and away from the door.
Truth be told I was thirsty and could’ve used a drink. As far as ale goes I’m a Pinhurst man. Rothgar ale is horrible. It’s thick, it’s heavy and has a pungent smell with a bitter after taste. Rothgar Ale is almost like drinking a Pastrami sandwich, a drink in my opinion that’s only fit for Trolls or Goblins. The only reason I wanted a mug of that horrible ale was because it was the farthest cask away from that door. I needed Reb out of the line of fire for what I was about to do. The Werewolf near the fireplace cautiously made his way to the bar sniffing the air just like Abner and Race. He stopped, standing to the right of the closed door. I glanced first at Abner then to Race getting their attention. I made a movement with my head indicating the door hoping that they’d understand my meaning. They did, they backed away from me fanning out. I flexed my hand. Making the wand spring out from the mechanism attached to my wrist. My fingers closing around it, I leveled the wand at the door. A mote of red light glowed at the tip. I gave my wand a flourish speaking the words of the spell in a loud clear voice.
