Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  When the song finally ended, Angst waved the boy over to fetch a drink for the bard. Tori and Hedrynn approached them, walking across the tables arm-in-arm. Hedrynn fell into Tarness’s lap with a giggle, and Tarness nuzzled her neck with his nose while she grabbed a mead and drank deeply. Tori watched, and seemed to like the idea. She fell onto Angst. He panicked then relaxed as much as he could as she landed awkwardly, but safely, on his lap. He’d forgotten how light she was, and gripped her waist to give her a fond hug. Victoria’s eyes widened, she smiled drunkenly and kissed him sloppily on the cheek before quenching her thirst with the mug.

  “This is sooooo much better than tents!” Victoria slurred in his ear, the smell of alcohol thick with her every breath.

  She kissed Angst’s cheek again, making him blush and her giggle. He looked over to Tarness who was deeper into nuzzling Hedrynn (Angst wasn’t sure if it was passionately or desperately). He avoided looking at Victoria’s eyes or lips and turned to face the bard, who was wiping his mouth with the back of a tattered sleeve. The old man nodded gratefully for the mead, as well as the break. Angst tossed him a gold coin along with a hopeful gaze. Would that the bard was ready before Tori got tired of Angst’s cheeks. This thought made her giggle, and he sighed that, even drunk, she knew every desire in his mind.

  “Chicken,” she whispered huskily in his ear.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Angst called out to the old man, doing his best to ignore Victoria’s taunt.

  She practically bathed in his awkward reticence, and wiggled provocatively in his lap before downing the rest of her mead. Angst looked pleadingly at the tired bard, who smiled at him. The old man took a deep breath then started a new, quickly-paced song with his kendagar. With a loud squeak, Victoria found Angst’s cheek once more, kissed it for too long then stood on his lap. He winced while holding his hand out so she could brace herself. Hedrynn removed herself from Tarness’s lip lock and stood tall on his sturdy muscular legs. The girls leaped to the tables and once again began their hedonistic dance.

  “You didn’t have to do that so quickly,” Tarness said slowly.

  “Yes, yes I did,” Angst replied, his tongue thick from mead.

  “Chicken,” Tarness challenged, slapping Angst hard on the back.

  “You’re one of those men,” the innkeeper said from behind them. She set down two more mugs of the sweet tasty mead.

  “Who, me?” Tarness asked in fear.

  “I know what you are,” she said, staring him down over her jowly cheeks. “My daughter’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions. You just treat her well or answer to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tarness answered compliantly as he reached for a new mug of mead to hide behind.

  “I’m talking about the other one!”

  “Um, me?” Angst asked thickly.

  “Uh huh,” she said judgmentally. “Niece, huh?”

  “Well...” Angst said with a smirk. “Most people don’t understand that—”

  “Oh, I understand all too well,” she said, shaking a forbidding finger in his face. “Fifty-year-old man with an eighteen-year-old girl. You probably promised her her own kingdom while your pregnant wife sits home all by herself.”

  “His wife is pregnant,” Tarness confirmed slurriedly.

  “Shush,” Angst said to his friend. “You don’t understand. I’m forty!”

  It wasn’t coming out right, and his gaze kept left the innkeeper’s judgmental glare to lose itself in the dance of joy continuing on the tabletops nearby.

  “Ahem,” she said to get his attention. “I understand exactly what’s going on. Do you?”

  With that, the innkeeper stalked away to a back room, thankfully out of sight. His thoughts were too blurry to absorb the deeper meaning of her insight. Angst shrugged at Tarness, who smiled as though all was right with the world. Angst drank deeply, which seemed to make everything comfortably fuzzy, and smiled as he watched his blurry friend dance to her heart’s content.

  28

  “No!” Heather yelled, sitting up in a panic. She clutched her chest over her racing heart. “No.”

  Heather breathed quickly and looked around the sitting room, her eyes wide with shock. Janda rushed from the couch to kneel beside her. The younger woman held Heather’s shaking hand with one of hers. It was all coming back. Had she really done it? Had she sent Tori away? Had she sent the princess to Angst? Janda handed her a cup of water, Heather nodded gratefully and took a long sip. After a brief coughing fit, she let go of Janda’s hand, looking around the room for Rook and Jaden.

  “I’m so embarrassed. How long was I unconscious? Where is everyone?” Heather blurted.

  “You’ve been out for several hours,” Janda answered, placing the cup of water on the table. “You were obviously exhausted.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well since Angst left,” she said quietly, “I keep having a nightmare I can’t seem to remember.”

  “I’m sure you just miss Angst. Not to mention being pregnant and home alone. It’s completely understandable,” Janda said with a broad smile. “As for the boys, after screaming at Jaden almost to the point of making him cry, I sent that idiot back to the castle.”

  She did miss Angst, and worried for his life, but now she also had to worry about the two of them out there, together. She wrung her hands together as though squeezing the concern out of her fingers. Heather saw the younger woman balling up her hands as though Janda was also on the verge of worrying. She reined her emotions in as best she could.

  “Oh, that wasn’t necessary. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything,” Heather said, forcing a smile.

  “After you passed out, I thought he seemed to enjoy your reaction a bit too much,” Janda said through clenched teeth. “He’s arrogant and rude, and I have no patience for thoughtless people.”

  “Thank you, Janda. I’m glad you’re here,” Heather said gratefully. “What about Rook?”

  “I sent him to fetch firewood.” Janda smiled broadly and nodded at the crackling fire.

  The stone fireplace in the middle of the room matched the stone path and stone exterior of their house. Heather looked at the fireplace and smiled thinly. It was ugly, but Angst had created it and that made her miss him more.

  “But I thought Rook needed rest?” Heather said.

  “This is rest for him!” Janda said with a laugh. “Rook is a dear, but he was in a panic when you fainted. Now he’ll come back in, eat something, and then snore us both out of the room.”

  Heather chuckled politely and shook her head. Her thoughts battled between the guilt of putting Victoria in danger and the jealousy of Victoria and Angst spending so much unguarded time together. She crossed her arms and sank back in her seat.

  “May I ask you something, Heather?” Janda asked, her face looking overly concerned.

  “Of course.”

  “I guess, well, I didn’t realize you hated the princess so much,” Janda said carefully.

  “I don’t hate Victoria.” Heather avoided eye contact with Janda. “I don’t hate her at all”

  “But your reaction to the news...” Janda let her question trail off.

  “It’s complicated,” Heather said as she considered how to avoid discussing her part in Victoria’s departure. “I don’t hate Victoria, I just don’t particularly like Angst and Victoria. They’re so close. They spend so much time together. He adores her, too much, and that sort of concentrated time together... It’s just trouble, and it makes me angry.”

  “You think that bastard is cheating on you!” Janda stood abruptly, knocking over the mug of water. Her red hair shone bright as the nearby fire blazed in response to her ire.

  “No, no, not at all.” Heather held out her hand to stop Janda from causing more damage or storming out of the room to hunt Angst down. She took a deep breath to calm her emotions so they wouldn’t affect Janda’s. “He wouldn’t cheat, like that, it’s not in his nature. He just... I just... I wish sometimes he would talk ab
out me the way he does her.”

  Janda sat back down. “I’m sorry for overreacting. I do that.” She rested a finger in the puddle of water on the table, and it quickly evaporated. “Maybe he just needs to tell you more?”

  “What do you mean?” Heather asked, her cheeks flushed. She took a deep breath and concentrated so Janda wouldn’t become tearful as well.

  “The few times I’ve been around Angst, mostly at the Wizard’s Revenge, he didn’t stop talking about you,” Janda informed her sincerely.

  “Really?” Heather asked, almost hopefully. “But he does that about Victoria to me. Every time he meets with her he can’t stop talking about her.”

  “Really? He says a little about the princess, but I assume that stuff is confidential because, you know, she is royalty and such,” Janda said. “He always talks about how beautiful you are, about his projects for your home, and about being a dad. Some of it is small talk, but it’s always about you.”

  Heather swallowed hard and dabbed the corner of her eyes. Rook walked into the room, his pale cheeks red from the cold and a pile of wood in his arms. He looked with concern from Heather to Janda, who was patting at the wetness in the corner of her own eyes.

  “Do I need to go get more wood?” he asked in a tired voice. “I really don’t want to cry right now.”

  “No, butter, come on in,” Janda said sniffling. “Do you ever hear Angst talk about Heather?”

  “All the time! He doesn’t stop,” Rook said rolling his eyes. He put the logs in a stone box next to the fireplace. “No offense.”

  “None taken, Rook, and thank you,” Heather said, now smiling and happy.

  “For the wood?” Rook replied, misunderstanding her gratitude. “Of course. I had to keep your fire going.”

  “My fire?” Heather said in surprise, looking at Janda. “That’s not mine. The house is always plenty warm without one.”

  “That’s the one fire I haven’t started today,” Janda said. “Maybe the ass did it before leaving.”

  Rook looked forlornly at the empty biscuit plate as his stomach growled loudly, but he flopped into a seat without saying a word. Heather gripped the armrests of her chair and began to pull herself up.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Janda asked sternly.

  “I was going to start making dinner,” Heather said. “I’ve got chicken ready to cook.”

  “I’ll take care of that. I promise I can cook anything much faster than you can,” Janda said with a wink. “Besides, I’m sure Rook will soon be providing you with loads of entertainment.”

  They both looked at the man already nodding off in a nearby chair.

  Time seemed to slow as she stood and waited on the snow-dusted woodland trail. Branches creaked as the cold gripped them, attempting to strangle the life from them. Rose shivered, but not from the chilled air, as something unnatural always kept her warm. She appreciated privacy but had never felt as alone as this. The magic within Chryslaenor had forced her into exile, driving her away from her friends. Solitude was poor company, and this made her shiver.

  She concluded there were three different forces at work. What she wanted, which seemed not to matter, the black lightning that fed her, dragging her in every direction, and Chryslaenor, which seemed to be losing its battle. The black lightning often looked like blood coursing through the metal filaments, at times she heard the echo of a distant, painful song, and Chryslaenor no longer stopped Rose from lifting it. The sword wasn’t resisting; it merely felt heavy.

  “You’re taking longer than usual to provide me breakfast,” Rose said aloud. “Don’t we have somewhere to go?”

  As though on cue, the black lightning leaped from the blade and struck the ground. A burst of light surrounded Rose and spread out to the trees as though a rock had been dropped in water, rippling out in waves on the ground. The circle of dust expanded, kicking leaves and snow into the air as it sought prey.

  “Very fancy,” she yawned, “for whatever good it does.”

  Something clicked in the distance, followed by a loud crack. Chryslaenor dragged itself along the forest floor, turning her to face the direction of the noises.

  “Finally, something to eat. I just wish it were something normal,” she said warily. “It should really be bread. I miss bread.”

  “Help!” cried a voice that sounded young and scared. “Please someone, help!”

  “No,” she whispered in panic to the sword.

  Two small legs pumped desperately as a curly-haired girl ran toward her. Rose was bad at guessing kids’ ages, but she looked about seven. Maybe eight? Certainly too young to be alone in the woods. The girl’s dark curls bounced about her shoulders with every step and she wore layers of burlap to fend off the cold. Balls of steam puffed rapidly from her mouth as the run stole her wind. She tripped over her own feet, stumbling as she slowly regained her pace.

  Chryslaenor rose into the air, black lightning licking hungrily from the tip.

  “Please, no. Please!” Rose begged. She tried pushing and then pulling the hilt in any other direction but it was like trying to swing a mountain, and she couldn’t.

  The girl stopped suddenly in front of Rose, clutching her chest, tired and panic-stricken. There was a desperate moment of helplessness, when the black lightning charged the air around the sword and the tip pointed directly at the young girl. Her eyes were large deep pools, just like Rose’s, and they widened in fear. She stood very still, entranced by the sword’s hungry baiting. Rose looked into those eyes, her eyes, and deep inside decided she wouldn’t let this happen.

  “I said no!” Rose commanded.

  With all of her strength, and all of her will, she fought and pulled and slowly forced the blade back to the ground. Angry lightning leaped from the tip of the blade to surround Rose like a swarm of vengeful wasps. Each strike created black sparks that bit her, punishing her for attempting to fight, and the blade inched up toward the girl again. In spite of the pain, Rose knew she would heal and continued willing the sword back to the ground.

  “Please stop!” the girl squealed, confused and frightened by Rose and her sword. “It’s coming!”

  She could barely hear the child, but the warning was enough to make her look up and see it. A grotesque abomination of failed living ran toward them. Two long stick-thin legs struck the ground, soon followed by the other three legs, giving the creature an odd, lopsided gate. Its torso was a transparent cocoon that provided horrific glimpses of dinner and breakfast. The monster had two ape-like faces that met at a deep indentation, like a crease in a pumpkin. In spite of its four eyes, the monster had one enormous mouth, which wailed loudly at the sight of its next meal. The creature looked like it was in pain just to be alive, and Rose decided it shouldn’t be.

  “That’s what we’ll eat for breakfast,” she said to the black lightning, licking her lips in hungry anticipation.

  Without urging from the sword, she lifted it, pointing Chryslaenor at the raging monster. The creature was held mid-leap, its five long spider-like appendages flailing desperately as the black lightning surrounded it. The monster’s life drained into Rose, feeding her great hunger and quieting the lightning’s rage. When she finished with her meal, the lightning stopped, and a husk of flesh and goo fell to the ground.

  She lowered Chryslaenor slowly and looked down to see the girl attached to her leg. The child pulled back slowly, her fear of the monster now seemed directed toward Rose, but Rose wasn’t hungry and knew the girl was no longer in danger.

  “I’m Rose. You’re safe now, I promise,” she said as calmly as she could. “Are you far from home?”

  “I left the house to get water from the well,” the girl said between sobbing breaths. She pointed a tiny finger down the path. “I feel like I was running forever.”

  “I think that’s the way I’m headed. I’ll see you home safe,” Rose said, hoping it was true, trying to pry the kid from her leg.

  “What was that thing?” the girl asked, unwill
ing to let go. “What did you do to it?”

  “Probably another monster from the Vex’kvette,” Rose said, despite wondering the same. She looked at the kid’s confused face and smiled. “What does it look like I did? I ate it.”

  “You...you...” she stuttered in fear, jumping away from Rose. In a very small voice she asked, “Are you going to eat me too?”

  “Not if I get you home before lunch,” Rose answered, realizing just how honest her statement was. “We’d better hurry.”

  The girl nodded and took Rose’s free hand, quickly leading her down the path. Rose was dumbfounded—was she gaining some control over the foci? Had she actually just made the giant sword move?

  The girl stopped suddenly and turned to Rose with a quizzical look. “Did the monster hurt you?” she asked, pointing at Rose’s ear. “What is that?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Rose reached up to her ear and felt a small trickle of something warm and sticky leaking out. “It’s probably just blood.”

  “Then why is it orange?” the girl asked.

  29

  “Rose!” Angst and Victoria said at the same time as they both sat up in bed.

  The abrupt awakening from his alcohol-induced coma, followed by sudden movement and the shock of his dream, brought his throbbing head into precise focus. Angst wondered for a moment if he was going to be sick. Victoria flopped back onto the bed with a fwump and rolled to her side. Angst took a deep breath and swallowed hard, fighting an alcohol-thick burp and forcing his stomach to stay in place. He smacked his dry mouth and squinted at the painful light sneaking in through the curtains. The room was becoming clear, as was his predicament.

  Victoria’s hair was mussed by sleep, her golden curls a tangled web that caught his eye, pulling his view to the smooth skin of her back.

  Skin?

  Angst’s heart stuttered. Fearful to look down, he frantically grabbed at his chest and was grateful to find a shirt. Without being overly conspicuous, Angst reached down to his legs and felt that he was wearing linens. He sighed deeply.