I glanced back and saw the young red-head lowering her bow. She looked at me and waved.
Holy shit.
I turned back to see what else might be a threat, and in a short time dealt with the rest of the Dark One's lackeys.
It wasn't until the fight was done that I noticed my leg had been clawed too. The gash was significant, but not life threatening. I could walk still, but as my adrenaline lessened the sting of the wound became more noticeable. Cormac had taken a bad blow to his left shoulder. He put his axe down and placed his opposite hand over it to slow the bleeding. Alara had made it through unhurt, as had Nithia and the help she'd brought—having taken positions behind the front line.
I watched as Alara leaned against the rock wall behind her. She looked tired.
A few of the townspeople went to her.
"You, okay?" I asked her.
She held up her hand and nodded. I wondered if using the magic in her staff drained her somehow. I knew she hadn't fought any of the raiders directly.
Nithia walked toward me, with the red-head beside her. "They wanted to fight," she said, as she approached.
I saw a couple of the others go over to Cormac, one of them reaching to Cormac's injured shoulder. The last of the group sat down on a large rock, apparently to rest.
"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," she said, then smiled. "I can't believe we're all alive."
"Thanks in big part to you," I said, enjoying seeing her again. She's so amazing, I thought. And hot.
I looked to the red-head. "Thanks to all of you."
"Tara." The firm-bodied small-breasted freckle-faced young woman smiled. Then she curtsied, winking at me.
Oh, she's trouble.
Chapter 11
Later that evening nearly half the townspeople gathered at Cormac's inn, many of them spilling the celebration outside for lack of room. After Nithia properly attended to my wounds, she and I joined everyone downstairs. I left upstairs the cloak Cormac had given me. It was hanging over the side of the bed to dry. We'd been given a new wash basin, and I used the water to get as much blood out of the cloak as I could. I carried down the sword Cormac had loaned me, thinking he might want it back. The bottom floor of the inn was warm; a large fire burned in the fireplace downstairs. Alara was waiting for us at a table near the bar. Cormac was with her, Tara at the seat on his other side. He stood and offered his chair to me when I walked up.
I held out the sword for him to take, but he declined, shaking his hand and waving it away. I placed it on the table.
"I need to check on a couple of things," he said. I noticed the bandage on his shoulder as he turned and headed into the room behind the bar, which I guessed was the kitchen.
I made a point of keeping my glance to Tara as brief as possible before I sat. She was giving me eyes. Alara seemed to be less concerned than I expected she might. Nithia sat across from me.
The room was loud. Everyone was celebrating, having a good time. Drinks were flowing. A couple in the corner played music—the old man on what would pass as a homemade fiddle, the not quite as old woman using a delicate mallet against a row of metal bars fixed to a large wooden block hanging from her neck. The woman accompanied the music with vocals somewhere between humming and faintly singing—though I couldn't make out what she sang. It reminded me of some of the renaissance festival music I'd listened to while chowing down on a funnel cake. The thought of eating funnel cake with blueberry compote floated through my mind.
People were shuffling from one table to the next, talking to one another. A few got up to dance. Stories were already being crafted, telling how Cormac, the priestess, and a traveling warrior defeated the forces of the Dark One and saved the people of Darguna. More than one person had patted me on the back when I'd come downstairs. It was the exact opposite feeling I usually had when a party was going on. I wasn't only in the party, I was the reason for it—well, along with Cormac, Alara, and Nithia and the townspeople who stepped up. Okay, it was for all of us, but that didn't bother me. I was just happy to be on the winning team for a change.
A young girl, a child, had come up to me and handed me what looked suspiciously like a woman's shawl—the kind I'd seen on old ladies in church, a long time ago when I actually attended. She insisted I put it on, saying she'd been working on it for nearly a month and wanted me to have it, to say thanks for saving her family. It was purple-ish, a faded sort of color. Probably dyed with berries or flowers, I figured. Odds Darguna had a Hobby Lobby were pretty slim.
So, there I sat, a great barbarian shirtless warrior, at a table with three insanely hot women, all of whom thirsted for my loins—yeah, Tara was still giving me those eyes—and I was wearing grandma's purple shawl. It barely covered halfway to the outer edges of my shoulders. I wanted to remove it, but I kept glancing to the other side of the room to see if the young girl had left. Every time I did, she was staring back at me smiling. She looked so damned happy. What was I supposed to do?
"I like your shawl," Alara said with a tone of condescension.
It is a shawl! I knew it. "Ugh." I rolled my eyes and shrugged, then glanced toward the young girl who'd given it to me. She waved at me. After a deep exhale, I waved back.
My table companions chuckled almost in unison.
"Okay. Okay," I said. "That's enough of that. What am I supposed to do, break the little girl's heart?"
"I think it's sweet," Nithia said.
Tara put her hand on my forearm. "I think it makes you look really sexy." She looked at me lustfully for a couple of seconds, which, I had to admit, worked for me. But then she laughed.
I half-considered getting up from the table and making an excuse to go, but I couldn't think of a good reason and I couldn't pull myself away from the three of them, despite their light-hearted ridicule. I decided to change the subject.
I looked at Nithia. "How'd you manage to get the townspeople to come to the fight? I thought the fear of the Dark One would've made that impossible."
Nithia shrugged and started to answer, "I-".
"She's very persuasive," Tara interrupted.
Nithia looked a tad uncomfortable for a second.
Huh?
Nithia glanced at Tara.
"I mean," Tara continued, "it's not a hard argument to make, when you think about it. Get your ass over there and help, or run and hide and lose everything you have in life…and maybe either way you end up dead."
"Uh, yeah," Nithia said. "I'm not sure that's exactly how I phrased it, but…"
"Well," Alara said, placing her hand on Nithia's, "I am proud of you. Your efforts probably saved the three of us, not to mention the town."
"I had help," Nithia said, glancing to Tara.
Tara shrugged. "You roused something in me- in us. Like I said, persuasive." She smiled and let an awkward moment build.
I got the sense I might've been getting only half of the conversation at the table. Knowing my inability to accurately tap into girl telepathy, I decided not to dig deeper.
"You're a damn fine shot," I said to Tara. But unfortunately, my lower brain then took over for a second, compelling me to run my eyes all too overtly over her athletic young body as I continued. "You nailed that last guy. Hell of a climax to the fight." I didn't realize it until I'd spoken, but the words rang of double-entendre to me. I hoped it'd slide unnoticed. Maybe they weren't paying attention to me. I shifted in my seat—more aware now of the fact that I was flying free under the leather flaps which were a poor substitute for shorts. My face felt a little warm and time seemed to slow down as I scanned each of the three women's faces for a telling reaction.
Each of them darted her eyes to the others. I felt like I'd stumbled into something I was about to regret.
I was going to talk my way out of the hole I'd dug. "I…uh…"
Alara placed her elbow on the table and leaned in, cradling her chin with her hand. She glanced to Nithia and Tara, then back to me and stared. Then the other two took up the same pose, all
of them putting the pressure on.
I felt more uncomfortable than I had been with the dark riders charging me.
After the three women tortured me a few more seconds with their stares, Alara broke character first, laughing. Nithia and Tara immediately did the same. Evidently I'd been holding my breath, because when they eased up on me I exhaled strongly and quickly drew in more air.
I was about to speak, to figure out what exactly had just happened, but Cormac came up to us right then. "Alright, you three," he said, holding three large pouches, two in one hand, one in the other. "Here." He threw them onto the middle of the table. I heard a heavy chink sound as they landed, closer to Alara, Nithia, and me.
"What's this?" I asked, looking up at Cormac. He was grinning, like he'd just spilled a secret he'd been wanting to tell.
"Go ahead," he said, pointing to the bags. "Open 'em."
I glanced to Alara and Nithia. They both shrugged, apparently not having a clue what was going on either. Then I looked at Tara, who didn't have a bag in front of her. She looked like she was in on it—like she knew what Cormac was doing. She nodded toward the bags.
I pulled one of the bags closer to me and untied the leather string, unwrapping it from around the cinched top. Alara and Nithia did the same.
"Holy shit." I had the top open a few inches and inside I could see gold! I cradled the side of the pouch, pushing against it a little to feel the weight. I guessed there must've been several hundred gold coins in the pouch, each about the size of a silver dollar. But they were fucking gold!
I looked across the table to Nithia and over to Alara. I knew by the expressions on their faces they had the same jackpot in front of them.
I turned to Cormac and searched for words, only shaking my head with my mouth open instead.
Alara spoke. "This is…too much."
"What?" I said. "No."
"Thank you, Cormac," Nithia said.
Cormac was laughing now.
Tara giggled.
"I mean," I said, "this is insanely generous. No. Not insane. I mean, this is so… Holy shit. Wow!"
Cormac placed one hand on my shoulder and the other onto Alara's. "You three deserve this."
"Well, this is awesome," I said. "Don't get me wrong, but I don't see how…"
Cormac glanced around the room. I did the same. No one had noticed what we had on our table.
"Go ahead and close the bags," he said. "These are good people, but you don't want to make anyone too envious." He grinned, like he was having the time of his life.
We each closed the bags. I wrapped the leather strap a few times around the top of mine and then tied it again. Cormac grabbed a chair from a nearby table and pulled it over. Tara scooted a little so I could make room as Cormac put his chair between Alara and me.
He sat down and leaned in, as if he now wanted to be more discreet. "You three stood up for Darguna. You didn't have to. It wasn't your fight."
"Standing against the Dark One is everyone's fight," Alara said.
Cormac nodded. "Fair enough. It's just that I've seen many a man run when the time came." He looked disappointed, casting his eyes downward. "Maybe that's what I finally did…when I came here."
Tara grabbed Cormac's hand. "No! You were the bravest. You spent years fighting. Everyone deserves to eventually have peace."
Cormac regained his composure and looked at Tara. "Maybe you're right." He turned to Alara, Nithia, and me again. "You deserve this." He gestured toward the bags of coins.
"This is…" Then it dawned on me. How much is this bag of gold coins worth on this world?
"More than most people see in a lifetime," Nithia said.
Okay. Sweet. Thought so.
"True," Cormac said. He leaned back in his chair. "But I've probably lived a dozen lifetimes worth of fighting."
Metaphorically speaking, right? I figured that's what he meant, but I wasn't sure, since this world had crazy-ass magic and shit.
He waved his upturned hand at the three bags. "This is but a small amount of what I've gathered over the years." He raised his eyebrows briefly as he tipped his head slightly to the side for a second. "Taken over the years."
"From those working for the Dark One," Tara added, looking reassuringly to Cormac.
Wait. Is she into him? I thought…the way she looked at Nithia…yeah, trouble alright.
I glanced around the room again. Everyone was still in party mode. I had to check because I had the sense the room had gotten quiet, but I realized the sense was just from the fact I was so absorbed by what Cormac was saying…and by the bag of gold in my hands…okay, and wondering about the one girl at the table I hadn't seen naked. What can I say? Raging hormones, and I was definitely in my prime now.
It hit me—why Cormac wasn't pissed when I told him I broke his bed. He probably had enough loot to buy a new bed every week if he wanted to. Though there's probably not a Rooms-To-Go anywhere nearby.
"But this is what we always did," Cormac said. "The men I fought with, we shared the spoils."
"Yes," Alara gestured toward the bag in front of her, "but this is yours. We didn't take it off the dark riders."
"No," Cormac said, leaning in again. He looked at the three of us one-by-one. "But that's where it came from. Not these guys, but others like them." He smacked his hands on the table. "Anyway. I have more than I'll spend before my time." He looked around the room at the townspeople, who were still laughing and talking. The two musicians, who had taken a break, were playing again now. "This is all I need now. My thirst for treasure is gone." He leaned against the back of his chair again. "I am happy here." He patted Tara's hand.
Oh, okay. So that is a thing. I felt disappointed that Tara evidently was with Cormac, whatever that meant in this world. Then I felt like a jackass for being disappointed that exactly one of the three scantily-clad blood-rushing hotties wasn't riding the Dennis Express Train of Love. Wait, express train? That's not right. Not express. Ah, fuck. Whatever.
Tara chuckled. "You weren't at first, though. Remember?"
Cormac's face relaxed as he remembered. "Yes. And you were such a little pain in my ass. I remember that too." He looked at her with affection.
"Hey," Tara said. "I was only nine."
Wait! What!
"You two met when you were nine?" I asked. Oh, that's all sorts of wrong. It wasn't like she was nine now, but something about them meeting when she was that young and the two of them now…
"Wow," Nithia said. "You two have known each other that long?"
"Yes." Cormac said, placing his arm around Tara's shoulders.
I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"Ever since he came to town," Tara said.
"That's great," Alara said.
No. That's not great. It's creepy.
"She's like the daughter I never had," Cormac said.
"Little sister," Tara said, elbowing him in his side.
"Okay," he said, feigning pain from her elbowing. "Either way, we're like family. I look after her—make sure some guy doesn't mistreat her." He looked at me, but I could tell he did it jokingly.
I felt the ick feeling quickly drain from my body. Okay. I get it. Phew. I just had to make sure. "So, you two aren't…" I glanced back and forth to the two of them.
"Ew! No!" Tara said. "He's like my father."
Cormac pretended to look offended. "Older brother."
In retrospect, I think I must have looked really relieved or a little too happy upon hearing the clarification.
"Why so interested?" Alara said, definitely talking louder than she had been.
Oh, shit.
"Uh, no reason."
I didn't want to look directly at Alara in that instant, and I certainly didn't want to keep looking in Tara's direction. I turned my gaze toward Nithia, thinking she was neutral territory.
I was wrong.
She puckered her lips, then winked at me.
What am I getting myself into?
Chapter
12
The gods smiled on me—or whatever it was people said in this world—when three people approached our table before I had to face further inquiry from Alara about my intentions with Tara. It wasn't like I had done anything, nor was it the case that Alara and I had decided to go steady. Okay, I know, not what people call it nowadays, but my experience with women in the flesh was a big zero as of last week. Still, it was a conversation I didn't want to continue and the three townspeople were there to save my ass.
It was pretty obvious they'd been drinking for a while. Wait. Why haven't I been drinking? I'm the one who nearly got trampled to death by hairy hell-creatures.
The trio was a woman and two men, all probably in their mid-thirties. She'd had a kid or two and went with it. The two guys had cancelled their gym memberships years ago, if they ever had one in the first place. What they lacked in physicality they all made up for in character. If Norman Rockwell had gone on a cocaine and alcohol bender then somehow stumbled into the wrong apartment around 2am, only to pass out on a cheap dog-hair-matted area rug, and awoken an hour later to find a child's easel and paint set in the next room, these are the three people he would've put on the flip-over-the-top paper.
That being said, they were friendly, and partly due to their timing, I decided they were my kind of people.
"We were wondering," the man on the left said. He had tan pants kept up with a belt holding on for dear life and a shirt which let me know it'd been a while since laundry day. "We were wondering," he started again, "if you killed all of those blackened riders-"
"Black riders," the woman corrected him.
"Right," he nodded to her then looked at me again. "Black writers with your muscles or with your sword."
The other man gestured in front of the first one, as if he was wiping his friend's words from the air. "What he means is could you have taken them on without a weapon. I says, yes."
The woman leaned forward past the two men beside her, apparently so she could get a better look at my arms. "I say you're damn right. Yes."
Dennis the Conqueror: A Harem Fantasy (Sword and Sorority Book 1) Page 9