Waking dispersed the dreams like mist. As Arynn lifted her
head from the pillow there was nothing specific she could recall. Only
conflicting colours, sensations, tastes. But even they drifted away with each
heartbeat, until all that was left was the unsettling knowledge that they would
come again when her eyes closed at night.
With what Selena had said, of Lyxa, Arynn knew these dreams
to come from that dark Goddess. Why, remained the question.
Dipping her hand in a bowl of water beside the bed, Arynn
splashed her face before running her hands through her hair. It wasn't as
chilly as she'd been hoping, but it was cool and helped chase away the
drowsiness she hated. A glance out the window, and she saw the sun just
starting to appear over the horizon. The city would only be just starting to
rouse itself into life.
Dressing was quick, in tunic and breeches, her armour left
carefully folded in a locked chest at the foot of the bed. Sometimes it helped
not to be seen as a hunter so quickly. Taking only her dagger she was out the
door, hesitating with her fist raised above the way into Selena's own room. The
hunter pondered a moment, before letting out a breath and leaving, moving down
the stairs into the inn's common room.
"Would you like any breakfast m'lady?" the
innkeeper's son called out from his position behind the bar, absently wiping at
the surface. There were only a few others in here, slowly eating their morning
meals and talking quietly amongst each other. They paid no attention to Arynn.
Most everyone was still sleeping.
"On my return, thank you," Arynn said to the man,
and earned a nod and smile in return.
Outside was brisk still, the last chills of northern night
clinging desperately before the sun rose to dispel it. Arynn let a shiver run
through her, skin prickling with goose bumps, and remembered the warmth of the
south for a moment. The sandstone trapping all the heat in their cities
decorated with streamers of silk for when night descended and plunged the deserts
into a chill. She remembered the scent of jasmine and the caress of gentle
hands along her back, before they started to curl around to her belly, and
lower.
Smiling at the memory, Arynn leaned against the thick stone
railing of the bridge. The princess of Xandera had been very pleasant company.
Her father was less so; especially after discovering how intimate Arynn had
become with her after saving her. Chuckling, Arynn looked down along the river.
The story had followed her across all her travels, for gain or ill.
Now she was here. To hunt heretics when she should be
fighting demons. Demons threatening her niece, and the last of her family.
Memories of warmth misted away, and Arynn sighed again, thinking of how she was
going to start. Demons hid, heretics did the same in plain sight. It was an
entirely different style of hunting; more an investigation.
A boat started to pass beneath the bridge beneath her, and
Arynn was about to leave, until she noticed the guards. Black robes, silver
face masks, barbed spears; Xanderan Scroll Guards. The city valued its
libraries and knowledge so much that one of the past Sultans had raised a
special guard to protect it. They answered to only the head librarians, making
even the Sultan unable to command them. What were they doing here?
She stayed, watching the barge drift into the ports, crew
leaping from the boat to tie ropes to the docks. There were four in the gold and black robes of Xandera's
libraries emerging from the barge's quarters now, pulling the tarp from a black
wooden box, bound by silver chains, and the golden sun of Ilimm painted upon
its surface. Arynn's hand twitched, almost snapping to her dagger; but she
stayed herself. She was no match for six of the scroll guards, especially
without her sword.
The box she had seen before. Had heard the tales of it, and
knew the truth of it. The box held a Vampyr; undead creatures that served Lyxa.
If for whatever reason the church or another organization wished to keep a
vampire alive, rather than slain as they should be, they were kept in crates
just like the one that Arynn was watching be unloaded now onto a cart, escorted
by city guards. The libraries of Xandera held more than one in their vault like
archives, all of them powerful.
Questions burned in Arynn's mind. Who was in the box? Who
had organized it to be brought up here? And why?
Frowning Arynn watched the crate lifted onto the cart, a
tarp pulled over it to conceal it from prying eyes. The guards looked nervous,
heads turning to and fro as they looked over the area. More than once Arynn
felt her gaze meet one of theirs, but it seemed like they were trying to make
this all seem normal; not one spoke out to get rid of her, or even brandished
their weapons. Nor did the Scroll Guard, who might very well think this was all
normal.
The cart began to move, turning quickly to roll along the
street, the single horse's hooves clattering on the cobbled stones as it pulled
along its burden. Two of the Scroll Guard and a single librarian accompanied
the cargo, with the guardsmen moving alongside it. It would raise a few
eyebrows, but no one would think anything outwardly suspicious. Still, a bold
move, as it would have been just as easy to keep the crate concealed and not
raise any eyebrows at all.
Arynn was starting to wonder if the heretics wanted to get
caught, or if this was some kind of official business. But what would whoever
organized the crate's delivery stand to gain from a vampyr's presence?
The cart was moving along the bridge now, and Arynn kept her
gaze ahead. Listening to the wheels rolling along the stones, she had to
suppress a shudder as it moved just behind her, a guard passing within grasping
distance. Her fingers flexed slightly, gripping the stone before her as the
carriage rumbled onwards.
A turn of the head, not a single guard looking her way,
Arynn watched the carriage and its dangerous cargo turn down one of the side
streets. The last guard was not even out of sight when Arynn started to move,
swiftly following the path laid out for her. Leaning against the corner a
moment she watched the carriage and its escorts moving. Those few awake already
and starting their days here on the waterfront watched with casual interest;
the Scroll Guards certainly had that effect on people.
And Arynn found herself easily blending into the city as she
followed behind, walking in plain sight, keeping her eyes always just off the
guards and the carriage. She noted a small box sitting beside a doorstep.
Picking it up, she didn't break stride, moving with purpose. Just a woman
carrying out her morning errands.
New faces meant little with so many living inside these
walls. Walls that had also recently seen such a sudden rush of those fleeing
the outlying towns and villages. And her quarry did not make for any difficulties.
It felt, too easy. Something felt wrong.
Soon enough they were driving the cart into a warehouse. As
she walked past, Arynn glanced in. The place was nearly empty, despite being so
close to the waterfront. There was a woman inside, in a dress too rich a colour
to be a commoner, and too plain a design to be a noble. A servant perhaps, from
the castle. Or a merchant.
If a merchant, it was possible they owned the warehouse that
Arynn walked past with little more than a glance thrown her way before the
doors were closed. However, if it was indeed a servant, the owner wasn't
showing themselves. Tossing her crate to the side, a panel snapping off as it
slid into an alley, Arynn kept moving.
Breakfast was going to have to wait for the moment. She needed
to find who owned that warehouse. If Lairdon was run as it was in the past,
that meant going to the castle. Turning back towards the river, Arynn picked up
her pace. Behind her, the hunched and cloaked figure in the shadows frowned.
~***~
Leaning back in her cushioned chair, sipping at a silver
chalice of rich red wine, Syndra watched the captain of the guard standing. He
was blushing a bit now as he tied his trousers and buckled his belt. The naked
woman who had just serviced him was wiping her chin clean of his seed and
moving to the other side of the room where her clothes were piled.
"Thank you captain, for your discretion in this
matter," the duchess said, and pointed towards the hunched figure standing
by the door. Niasha held a small purse in her outstretched gloved hand. The
captain took it, managing to suppress a shiver. He was thankful she had only
just arrived. The captain wasn't even sure he could get it up with the
hunchback watching.
With a final glance towards the duchess, a more longing one
towards the whore who was currently clothing herself, the man nodded slowly and
slipped out of the room. Niasha slowly stood then, despite the presence of the
half clothed woman.
"He still believes it to just be a fancy box. Though,
there were many other more subtle ways to bring the Blood Keeper into the
city," the advisor said, moving to stare out the glass doors that opened
to the balcony.
"Very true. And if it were not for this demon hunter,
Arynn's, presence, I would have taken such an option," Syndra said, taking
another sip of wine before her gaze snapped to the young woman about to leave.
"Stay Erika. I have another task for you this evening.
Hopefully one you'll enjoy more," Syndra said, and the woman paused a
moment, looking a little confused, before giving a slight bow and moving to sit
herself in one of the few chairs offered in Syndra's office. Slowly folding one
leg over the other, her skirt drawing up her thighs, she looked between duchess
and advisor.
"If you mean to lure her to you through suspicion I'm
not sure it worked. She barely glanced at the warehouse where the Blood Keeper
was brought to, before walking back to the north side of the river."
Niasha said, twisting her form to look back at Syndra, making the hunches
pressing against her cloak ever more apparent.
"I'm surprised that you're so mistrustful of one chosen
by Lyxa. Do you think our goddess is mistaken?" Syndra asked with a coy
smile on her lips, but was surprised by the snort of laughter that came from
under the cloak. Even Erika tilted her head in confusion.
"You mistake watching for chosen. Lyxa chooses no one
unless they choose themselves," Niasha turned again to look over the city.
"If you so wish to bring this woman under Lyxa's wing, then you will have
to tread carefully. Lest she expose you before you are ready. However, should
she be brought to us, then you will no longer have need of your husband."
Syndra looked over to Erika then, and gestured to the table.
"This is where you come in my dear. I've heard the stories about this
woman and her passions. Arynn is staying at the Early Flame Inn. Go to her
room, and await her there. Tell her you are my gift for the evening,"
Syndra said, and smiled as she watched the interest cross the woman's features.
"Now you may go, do have a pleasant evening Erika, and
make sure someone who talks sees you going in," the duchess said, earning
another bow from the prostitute before she slipped out into the corridors of
the overly lavish Loran Castle. When the door closed Syndra sipped again at her
wine and looked to her advisor.
"You're investing too many resources and effort into
this woman, when she could well be attempting to hunt you down."
Syndra shrugged and rose to her feet, walking to stand
beside the cloaked woman. Together they looked over a city that was on the
verge of doom, overburdened with the sick and hungry.
"The hour grows far too late for small moves Niasha.
Our goddess has entered the fray, and I must gamble everything, or else watch
it burn away anyway. I need her to hunt me down."
"There are safer odds to place your efforts."
"Do not discount the hunter so quickly. She may well
have noticed you," Syndra said, and was amused at the stiffening spine she
saw beneath the cloak.
~***~
Breakfast had been a simple affair, though Selena wondered
where Arynn had gotten herself off to. The bar keep had said she was going to
come back for breakfast, but after waiting for nearly an hour by herself, the
witch had eaten and decided to explore a bit on her own.
Staying to the north side of the river, not wanting to risk
being uncovered by the priests and order knights, Selena found herself in the
market square. Though, it hardly earned the first part of that name anymore. As
before she stared upon the sight of tents and filthy people trying to eke out a
living without coin, clothes, and scarcely enough food.
A group of priests at one end of the square were handing out
bread, protected by a dozen guards who kept their hands on their clubs. Crowds
of people pushed to get more, some occasionally being beaten back by the thick
clubs.
Keeping back and watching, Selena thought of her travel
companion. Arynn had promised not to turn her over to the Order, but she was
still a demon hunter. And she would not be so lenient on others she saw as
heretics. Running a hand through her hair, Selena wondered what to do, now that
she found herself in this city of enemies, driven from her home once again.
The woman was being watched by Lyxa, and the witch knew that
the dark goddess had plans for her, but Selena wasn't so sure she could trust
Arynn yet. Especially since she was hunting heretics, which would include the
likes of Lady Syndra. Leaving Arynn unchecked could well diminish Selena of all
her allies before she even had a chance to find them.
Turning from the scene before her, Selena continued to walk
the streets of the city. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, if anything
in particular. This place was so utterly foreign to her in its very concept;
she didn't understand how people lived so crammed in to each other. Smells of
industry, sewage, and cooking all clashed with each other into something
entirely unpleasant on the nostrils.
On one of those back streets she found a man dressed in
filthy yellow robes. Bald and with a long unkempt beard he looked at the people
gathered around him with wild eyes. Selena stayed back; she'd seen eyes like
that before. Those were the eyes of a fanatic, and by the way spit flecked his
beard as he shouted, there was no doubt that he was one.
"Aalzgoth ravages our lands, slaughters our people,
rapes our women. He does this because our faith is weak. Our city is run from
the shadows by a harlot while her husband pretends to cling to power. We sin, we
commit debauchery, and then wonder why Ilimm does not descend from the heavens
to save us! We have only ourselves to blame," he shouted as people reached
up to the skies from their knees.
Selena averted her eyes, quickly turning around and finding
another way to move. If only faith itself was enough of a shield to protect yourself.
She had the scar around her neck to prove it was no such thing.
A few turns away from the fanatic, Selena saw a woman
leaning against a wall. Her rags cut and ripped specifically to showcase the
curves of her flesh. She looked tired, and filthy, but still cooed and swayed
her hips at those that wandered past. Offering pleasure, for the mere price of
food. The witch had to pull her eyes from the woman, feeling pity, and not in
much a position to aid her.
When a familiar call pierced into her thoughts, Selena
started, heart pounding. She looked ahead, finding herself at the wall of the
city. Vines were starting to creep up their heights, untended at the moment. On
one, bright blue flowers were starting to bloom. The raven that had called out
was perched on the edge of a house, staring at her.
"What do you want of me?" Selena whispered, though
she wanted to shout it out. She knew better though. Lyxa demanded more than
blind obedience, and shambling through life. Her tenants demanded individual
strength, passion, thought. She promised nothing more than what you could
provide yourself.
The raven called out again, and its wings flapped once
before it took off into the skies, leaving Selena alone again. She had never
seen such direct influences from her goddess ever. It frightened her, if she
was honest with herself. And she always had to be honest with herself. Lying to
others was but one path through life, deceiving yourself was but one path unto
death.
The bright blue flowers caught her eye again, and the witch
moved up to them, running her fingers over the petals. The scent was clean and
pleasant. Another contrast to the city. Brows furrowing, Selena tried to
recount what these flowers were. She had never seen their like before in
Venshoft forest.
"Queen Igraine favoured the cora vines during her reign.
Felt they livened up her garden. Of course, the gardeners hadn't expected the
speed and aggressiveness with which they grew, and now we often have to trim
them from the city walls, generations later," a man said from behind her,
and Selena actually let out a short scream of fright, spinning on her heels.
The man was young, the starting of a beard growing across
his jaw. He held up his hands disarmingly, the sleeves of his cream coloured
tunic slipping down his forearms slightly, revealing hints of the dark ink of a
tattoo. She had seen the light brown vest he wore before as well, with the
small sigil bearing a candle and a heart beneath it emblazoned upon the breast.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. You just
seemed interested, and not many people who live in the city even know what they
are, much less anyone from beyond our walls."
Her heart and breathing slowing back to normal, Selena
blinked and looked to the man.
"How do you know I'm from outside the city?" she
asked, and got a shrug in response.
"That cloak your wearing, and the dress. Pretty and
fine enough to blend in easily on the southern shore. Yet your here, in the
north," he said slowly lowering his hands, which brushed a satchel hanging
at his hip. Similar to the one Selena herself carried. His words though caused
Selena to blush slightly, her eyes averting for a moment.
"That and your interest in the flowers. Anyone who
knows plants and are from the city knows the flowers rather well. We use them
to help ease pain," the man said, and gestured towards the vines. Selena
stepped aside to let the man walk up to the wall, where he pulled out a small
knife to start cutting the flowers free, and slipping them into the satchel.
"Your with the Covenant of the Sacral Hand," she
said, eyes widening a bit, finding herself face to face with another strict
worshipper of Ilimm. The man merely nodded in response as he collected what he
wished.
"I am. A novice apothecary. Do you know much about
healing? Specifically against diseases," the man said, closing his satchel
and slipping his knife away as he turned to regard Selena.
"I have some skills I've picked up along the way.
Why?"
The man sighed, and looked to the flowers again, a sad look
in his eyes. When he spoke there was pain in his words.
"Our chapel is nearly overflowing. The influx of
refugees and the crowded streets have brought much sickness. We're low on
supplies, and skilled apothecaries, some still being outside the walls tending
to those villages not yet fallen." the man shook his head.
"Come by some time, we could use another set of hands.
From the Covenant or not." the man said, and held out his hand. "I'm
Leon."
Taking his hand and introducing herself, Selena looked back
to the flowers as he wandered away. If the flowers eased pain, she might be
able to use them to concoct a sleeping draft, or even a poison. The only
problem was that she didn't know the doses. The local Covenant chapel would
have the texts she needed to get that information.
On top of that, trapped and stranded Apothecaries might be a
way to divert Arynn's attentions from her hunt. She had been complaining about
not hunting demons. Of course... rumours of a heretical healer might draw her
away from her main task as well.
Time. That's all Selena needed, to buy time for whatever her
goddess was preparing. Now she just needed the right ear to whisper into the
start spreading these rumours.
With a deep breath, she steeled her heart. Selena began to
walk back to the fanatic on the streets.
~***~
The outpost was not large enough to hold all the soldiers
the Baroness Desdemona was bringing to Lairdon with her. Many of them had to
camp in erected tents just outside its palisade walls. The former mercenary
captain turned noble of Aenkleth was of course accommodated in the outpost
commander's personal chambers. It was not as comfortable as her rooms in
Waentes, but she spent years sleeping in tents on hard ground. It was only to
further cement her position that she even took the offered room instead of
sleeping with her troops, most of whom were from her old company.
The letter from the king asking for her soldiers if she
could spare them had her mobilizing her forces before the letter from Syndra
had arrived. She remembered reading the later dispatch with growing dread; she
had no wish to get ensnared in the duchess's games once again. Even if she did
owe all she had now to the shrewd woman. In the end, it was what she had seen
in the mines to the north that had her moving.
Laying in a bed that wasn't hers, with a voice not her own
swirling through her mind, Desdemona found sleep difficult to come by. She
tossed and turned, getting more frustrated, trying to ignore it. When it spoke
with perfect clarity, breaking through her stubborn resistance, she shot up in
bed.
"They're coming."
The baroness did not need to question; she knew exactly what
the voice meant. She moved to the door and crossed the hall, finding her
lady-in-waiting. A quick push with her hand, and Hannah was rousing herself
from sleep quickly, blinking.
"My lady, what is it?" she asked.
"Rouse the troops. Now," was all Desdemona said,
earning a quiet 'shit' from the woman. Her time in Desdemona's service had
certainly made the young noblewoman's language more colourful.
"And don't forget your own armour," the baroness
said, turning to leave the room, a look of fear starting to pass over the
woman's features, but she did as she was bade.
Back in her borrowed chambers, she pulled on her own armour
and the dark blue tabard, marked her own crest: a raven perched upon a sword. Strapping
the belt with its sword to herself, she heard the hurried footsteps of Hannah
leaving to rouse the soldiers that all bore Desdemona's sigil.
Desdemona took her time, knowing Hannah would do her job
well enough. Stepping out from the confines of the barracks, and looking about
the small little courtyard penned in by palisades, towers, and two gates,
Desdemona looked to the soldiers of the royal army. There were a few awake,
standing guard at this post but a few days ride from Lairdon. Some playing dice
by a campfire, a few glancing towards the now closing western gate that Hannah
had just rushed through.
She looked to the soldiers playing dice, who paused as they
saw her.
"Get the others up. We're about to be attacked,"
she said, not waiting to hear their response as she continued on the way
towards her own soldiers. The two soldiers glanced to each other, and not ones
to draw undue ire from nobles, left their game behind to wake the entire
outpost.
Nearly at the gates, Desdemona stopped as a great roar ripped
through the night. Nothing natural could have made the sound, both guttural and
smoky. Cold shivers ran down Desdemona's spine as the cry carried on. Something
was pounding upon the earth then, galloping, but far too heavy to be a horse.
"Demons!" one of the sentries shouted from the
tower, before a spear burst through his throat. A scarlet spray rained down to
the ground as the weapon was pulled free. The second guard was dropping his bow
to go for the sword at his hip, and Desdemona called out a warning, but it went
unheard; all across the walls the emaciated forms of the druden were crawling
over the pointed tops of the palisades. Their screeches filled the air, mixing
with that unholy roar that was only getting closer.
Desdemona turned, rushing towards the gates to get to her
soldiers. The mirroring gates suddenly shook violently as something large
crashed into them. The baroness looked over her shoulders as she pushed open
the gates and saw a large, elongated head of dark gray rising above the walls.
Thick boney plates ran down its snout, where a thick horn curled slightly from
just above broad nostrils and a fanged maw.
"What darkness is this?" she muttered to herself
as the massive creature tossed its head, something dark and acrid billowing out
of its mouth like smoke, the large curving horns behind its head scattering the
stuff. The wood the smoke touched immediately began to decay, the creature's
hands rising upwards, a massive axe clutched in those meaty fists.
Arrows flew from the other side of the outpost, as archers
on the towers above Desdemona loosed upon the demon, and the druden crawling
over the walls, dropping down into the courtyard where the royal soldiers were
gathering to try and form a defensive line. Their comrades upon that far wall
already slain, their corpses slumped and bloody.
The arrows bounced off the massive creature's snout, and
buried into thick flesh, but it gave little regard to the damage, its axe
coming down upon the rotting wood, its smoke washing over the bodies. Desdemona
watched armour rust, rotted flesh running down the walls as the bodies were
consumed by the foul magic.
Moving quickly now she left the outpost, finding her own
company of three hundred soldiers already awake and geared up. Hannah stood
before them, looking at the outpost with mouth agape. Behind her the garrison
of the outpost screamed, all them being cut down. Desdemona's eyes glanced to
the side, at the forests around then, shadowy figures moving with startling
quickness.
"Hollow square, archers in the centre," Desdemona
shouted, moving with Hannah to the centre as the soldiers all around her formed
up, three ranks of spear armed soldiers making a square, the archers making a
third and fifth rank in the centre.
Tents and cooking stands were knocked over, uneaten meals
spilled across the ground as soldiers prepared, many of them seeing the druden
slinking through the woods, surrounding them.
"Archers, loose only when you have clear shots,"
Desdemona called out, her lieutenants carrying the commands across her ranks.
The side of the square facing the outpost watched as druden
scampered over the walls, screeching at the soldiers that dared to stand
against them. Then the gates were smashed open, the beast that had first broken
into the outpost now storming out, its bulky body carried on four thick legs.
It let out another roar, and all the soldiers felt cold fear running through
their veins as this mighty beast stood before them. For a moment all was still,
then three archers loosed at once, their arrows sinking into the flesh of the
beast's chest.
Then it charged.
"Hold!" Desdemona called, her lieutenants calling
the same as the front rank braced itself, butts of their spears steadied
against the ground as the great demon and the druden charged forward. One with
the force of a stampede, the rest moving like shadows, jerking and smooth all
at once.
All the archers were loosing their arrows now, letting them
fly at the rushing enemy. Druden fell and picked themselves back up, though
many were also falling permanently. Black skull shaped clouds rising above
those slain, but the charging beast was only getting angrier the closer it got,
body riddled with arrows.
When it hit the line, spears snapped in two, only some of
the points sticking into that thick hide. Desdemona's eyes went wide as she
watched men crushed under the beast's feet, its axe smashing through shields
and cleaving into soldiers who tried to stand firm. One man was cut in half,
upper body falling backwards to the ground, strands of greasy intestine
streaming out from his stomach as he screamed in agony. While his legs toppled
uselessly to the ground, he clutched towards his ruined half, trying in vain to
shove it all back it.
The line shattered, the druden slipping in where the beast
was wrecking havoc. Leaping upon the soldiers, plunging blades down through
brittle rusted mail, or driving straight into their faces. Blood spurted
outwards, seeping through linked steel and soaking into the ground.
The other three ranks were holding, fighting back the
druden, the fallen men of the company replaced by those waiting behind them.
Those soldiers had no idea what was happening behind them, though the
commanding officer's faces were pale whenever they glanced back, waiting for a
command, knowing they were doomed once the line was finished.
"Hannah, ensure the other commanders hold, but should
this line fall, get them to pull back. Retreat to Lairdon," Desdemona
shouted above the din of battle, before turning to swing her blade, cutting the
head from a drude as it burst into the centre.
While the skull cloud rose upwards, wafting over her arm,
Desdemona glanced to her lady-in-waiting long enough to see her nod and shout
out: "Yes Baroness."
With Hannah running to fulfill her orders, Desdemona took a
breath, and plunged into the melee. She kept the right of the great beast,
moving through the chaos of battle, her blade dancing amongst the fiends that
stood before her while the great demon rampaged, twisting to slaughter any who
dared stand against it. Broken spears and arrows jutted from its hide, yet
still it stomped and cleaved. A pair of archers pulling back on their bows felt
the bite of that axe, their armour providing no protection against its unholy
strength.
Moving over mutilated corpses of her own troops, careful not
to slip in the slick blood and severed limbs around her, Desdemona bent to
grasp a spear still unbroken. A sword clanged against her side, nearly sending
her to the ground, the pain of the impact sinking into her ribs. With a swift
drive of her elbow backwards, she send the attacking drude stumbling, where a
soldier grasped its mouth and raised a dagger, all other weapons lost. Despite
the fangs sinking into his hand, the man roared out in defiance, dragging the steel
edge of the dagger across the creature's throat, black blood spraying across
Desdemona's back.
Pushing forward, she came up behind and to the side of the
great beast. Looking up at its thick neck and the skull, she saw the sharp
ridge of bone that ran in a hoop over its neck. Letting it move freely.
Gritting her teeth, she took two steps forward, and thrust the spear upwards,
aiming for the inside of that ridge.
Even along the long shaft of the weapon, she felt the crunch
and ripping of tissue as the blade of the spear sank inwards, scraping across
the inside of the creature's skull. A roar of agony burst out from its maw,
making Desdemona's blood run cold, smoke billowing outwards to swarm over the
soldiers before it. They screamed as their bodies rotted away while still
alive, falling as putrid mockeries of themselves in life.
Yet still Desdemona pushed that spear deeper, sinking into
the monster's brain, until it gave a great shudder, collapsing to the ground,
knocking all nearby from their feet.
A great screech pierced the ears of everyone still living,
as the druden suddenly stopped the attack, slinking back into the shadows with
their major advantage gone. Getting slowly to her feet, ears ringing, fingers
numb, Desdemona backed away from the fallen demon as its body began to
decompose before her eyes.
As she stumbled back towards the centre, there was no
cheering, no celebration. The baroness looked at those still standing, and
despaired at how few the number was. It appeared to be only half, of the three
hundred she had brought out with her.
"Officers, on me," she called out, weary and
tired. But they could not stay. The druden were watching from the ruins of the
outpost, staring over the corpses of the royal soldiers once stationed there.
~***~
The smell of dust and old parchment filled the dry air of
the archives. Candles flickered within glass containers, the few librarians who
worked here careful to keep even these small flickering flames from the brittle
pages of some of the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Shelves that
strained with age and weight.
Arynn was not here for history however. She was here for
more current records. This half of the archives was cleaner, the pages of the
books less brittle, more white than yellowed. There were not many in the
archives at the moment, leaving Arynn to her own devices as she looked through
the records of land deeds through the city.
She glanced over unfamiliar names, of places she'd only
glanced at. The organization was horrendous, jumping from one street to another
and back again, with no real indication of how, or why these deeds were shoved
in here. She had been here hours already, her stomach grumbling her protest.
She regretted not getting breakfast.
Finally, she found it. The warehouse deed she spent way
longer than necessary looking for. What was the point of organization and
records, if it wasn't organized. Shoving her frustrated thoughts to the side of
her mind, Arynn looked over the deed. Complete ownership, private, owned by
Lady Syndra Loriak. Duchess of Lairdon.
Frown creasing her brows, Arynn stared at the deed, before
slowly closing the book upon itself. If she wanted, this could be more than
enough to hand over to the Burning Blade and be done with this damn hunt. But,
this was no solid proof for Arynn. There were still possibilities, and she had
no desire to hand an innocent woman to her death. The memory of Selena's
accusation roused itself, and Arynn winced despite herself.
A sigh spilled from her lips as she slid the book back from
where she'd taken it. She walked out from the castle and into the courtyard,
frowning as she noticed the darkening skies. Avoiding the trail she'd picked up
at the warehouse had taken some time, and it seems she spent much longer in the
archives than she had anticipated. No wonder her stomach was protesting.
The journey back to the inn was not an overly long one, but
her gait was slower with her mind running over what she'd learned today. None
of it good. She had to look more into this duchess, into her friends and
contacts. And more into that warehouse. Tonight though, she could use a good
meal, a stiff drink, and the company of a lovely woman.
Smiling to herself at the last ticket on the list, she
admitted to herself it was much more likely that she would collapse into bed
and sleep away her eye strain. How did scholars do it, staring at words
scribbled across parchment so much.
The inn's meal was simple, and thin. A broth with bits of
pork floating in it, the broth more water than spices, the pork not as much a
helping as she would have liked. It spoke to the city's state; if they were
running so low on food already, how were they going to last in a real siege.
Arynn sighed, trying to ignore the strange look the innkeeper was throwing her.
"Have you seen my companion?" she asked, hoping to
get some conversation and information out of him if he was going to stare.
"She left this morning according to my son. Hasn't yet
returned." Those were all she was getting out of him it seemed. Dropping a
few coins on the bar top, Arynn gave the man a nod and started up the stairs to
her room, trying to ignore his grin.
When she stepped into her room, the reason for the grin was
made all too clear. Closing the door behind herself, Arynn looked to the naked
woman laying upon her bed, clothes folded neatly upon her trunk. Judging by the
amount of makeup around her eyes and the colour of her lips, this was a
professional woman of pleasure.
"Get out," Arynn said after admiring the view a
moment, but the woman didn't move, just smiled.
"No price for me tonight. A gift, from someone who's
taken an interest in you." Both statements got Arynn's attention, the
hunter moving over to the bed to look down at the woman, who propped herself up
on an elbow. Her blue eyes were beautiful, only made more striking with the eye
shadow. Her body smooth, curvy. It was tempting to run her hands over the
woman, to feel the heat of her skin, taste the tips of her breasts. Instead,
Arynn made a show of loosening the strings of her tunic, running from her neck
to her chest.
"And who would that be?" she said, noting the
whore's keen interest in watching her clothes come loose, eyes dipping into the
shadow of cleavage. So, it seemed the woman did this for more than coin. And
had an interest in more than men. At Arynn's question, the woman's lips curled
into a smile.
"The Duchess Syndra."
Gently, Arynn climbed onto the bed, the woman falling again
to her back as the hunter straddled her. She leaned close enough that the cloth
of her tunic brushed the woman's breasts, could feel her breath upon her face.
The subtle perfumes that would be too expensive for any other commoner to
bother with.
"And who are you?" Arynn's voice had dropped to a
whisper. She held herself up with one hand, the other gliding down the woman's
side to her hip, feeling the heat of her soft skin.
"Erika," the woman said, biting her lip as Arynn's
hand lifted from her skin, looking into the hunter's eyes. Yet the scrape of
steel against leather didn't frighten her as Arynn's dagger lifted up, the edge
of the blade gliding over her throat until the flat was resting beneath her
chin.
"Don't think I threaten so easily hunter. You'd be far
from the first to draw a knife on me," she said, her own hand lifting the
bottom hem of the hunter's shirt, nails dragging over the hard flesh of her
abs. It sent a shiver through the warrior, who gasped softly, yet didn't relent
with her knife.
"Nor am I the first not to trust you, or your lady, I'm
sure. I have questions," Arynn replied as her tunic was lifted ever higher, until she felt a finger sliding
under the bottom band of her brassiere, sliding over the bottom curve of her
breast, lifting the undergarment.
"You think I have answers then?" Erika's fingers
continued to rise, until her hand was gently cupping a breast, earning another
soft gasp from the woman above her.
"I have none. But, I can arrange a meeting," Erika
continued, her hand moving from Arynn's flesh, to the dagger pressing against
her own. Gently, she eased the steel away, and the hunter, still straddling
her, moved it back to its sheath.
"In the morning," Arynn finished, leaning in then,
pressing her lips to the other woman's own, as hands slid to her hips and slid
inwards to work at her belt.
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