by J. P. Ashman
The humans of Altoln, Sirreta and Eatri had signed a treaty centuries ago regarding black powder and black powder weaponry. After all, humans had not developed it; the dwarves of the Norlechlan Mountains had.
The elves had fought a long and hard war against those dwarves. Their blatant disregard for nature and their use of black powder weapons had sparked the war in the first place, and the elves feared that in the hands of humans, the use of black powder would prove far worse. Therefore, the treaty to never experiment with or trade in black powder or black powder weaponry was created and signed. Until now, that treaty had never been broken, overtly at least. The Samorlian Church and its holy warmongering centuries ago had seen to that when they chased all the dwarf traders, merchants and residents from Altoln. Since then, the elves had thought themselves safe in the knowledge that the dwarves, who could hold a grudge like no other, would never again trade with not only Altoln, but any of its neighbouring human nations.
‘Where did they come from?’ Errolas demanded.
‘I don’t have to answer, elf. This is the King’s business and I think you have asked enough questions. Now hand me the stone or light this tunnel.’ Correia was seething, and Fal had no idea what would happen next.
‘I will ask one more time, Correia… I think it slips your mind I have no problem seeing you in this dim light.’
Fal took that as a threat and wasn’t going to take any more. ‘Errolas,’ he said in a calm tone, ‘light the stone, please, we need to find the other two and tend to everyone’s wounds.
‘Correia,’ Fal directed to his side, ‘answer the damned question. He knows now, we all do, so you might as well tell us everything. If this mission, whatever The Three it is, is going to work, we all need to be honest with each other from the start.
‘And Sav,’ Fal added swiftly, ‘say nothing, before you start them off again.’
Sav started to say something, but wisely thought against it.
The tunnel fell into silence for a few moments; moments that felt like an eternity, before a bright light blinked on from Errolas’ direction. The beam of light pointed to the rough stone of the ceiling, illuminating the tunnel in a ghostly silver glow.
‘Thank you, Errolas.’ Fal looked around and let out a relieved sigh before continuing. ‘Sav, Mearson, tend to our companions. Correia, answer the bloody question and we can move on with this mission of yours.’
Sav and Mearson – the latter still clutching his bloodied arm – wasted no time in scrambling over to Starks and Gleave, who were both slumped by the tunnel’s entrance to the cave. Their groans indicated to all they were alive, and they came round with splashes of cold water from a deerskin on Mearson’s belt. Loud coughing followed. Rubbing at their dust-filled eyes, they eventually accepted a drink offered by Mearson, before taking in the destructive scene, whilst Sav checked them over for wounds.
‘Tom?’ Gleave asked, seeing a body part covered by rubble nearby.
Mearson nodded once and sat next to his friend. They said nothing more, falling into a companionable silence. Sav slumped down next to Starks and the two of them mirrored their new companions as they let what had happened sink in.
Despite the hard reality of what had happened, Correia finally answered Errolas’ previous question, albeit through gritted teeth. ‘Dwarves, Errolas,’ she said, holding the elf’s gaze, ‘Prince Edward managed to trade with the Norlechlan Dwarves.’
Chapter 26: On With The Mission
The thin, almost brittle girl breathed hard, her heart pounding away, as did the grubby man on top of her. She fought not to wince and instead somehow managed to feign a pleasurable moan – something she hoped she was becoming better at, despite the short amount of time she’d been practising. He grunted through his final, jerking thrust, before rolling away.
He sat on the edge of the bed then, his broad and scarred shoulders lifting up and down as heavy breaths left his gold-filled mouth.
She’d noticed those teeth as soon as he’d entered the room, not to mention the faint aroma of urine, and wondered how, or by whom, he’d had his original teeth knocked out.
She pulled the cover back up over her legs, but left her small breasts visible. They seemed to like that, the men, after they’d finished. She’d learnt the hard way – despite there only being a few – that covering up completely, angered some of them. They could see covered women without paying, so why whilst getting dressed, shouldn’t they be able to see what they’d just paid for and used. She could understand that. Didn’t make it any easier though, being thought of as something to be bought.
‘Ye’ll get used to it,’ Mother had said. Well, she hadn’t yet had she, and the witch had sent enough through since their fight. She had to admit the pain wasn’t what it had been though, but that was because she felt almost numb to most of them now…most of them.
The man stood and pulled up his braes, before doing the same with his filthy hose, which he tied to his belt before turning to face the girl, who arched her back and smiled sweetly back at him, cringing inside.
‘Ye enjoy that, girl?’ Longoss asked.
She fluttered the lashes over her large, grey eyes and nodded, her smile staying the same, almost too sweet to be true.
Aye, and that’s it ain’t it, lass, too good to be true, that’s you, because it ain’t true is it?
‘Don’t lie to me girl,’ he said, pulling his baggy shirt over his head, but not before noticing her flinch at his words. Head through the hole, Longoss noticed the cover being pulled over her cute breasts. Her knees following the cover up as she swallowed hard and looked away from him, clearly searching for the right answer.
‘I won’t be hitting on ye, girl, that’s me word and I don’t break me word.’
She looked to him then and he sat on the end of the bed, facing her. She pulled her legs back a little more and looked to the door briefly, before looking back into his eyes.
‘Others hit on ye, girl?’
She hesitated, before nodding.
‘Aye, that they will. Cowards, ye see. Reckon they’d hit on the likes of me?’
She shook her head.
‘Hah, no, ’course not. Cowards they are,’ he said again. ‘Well as I say, girl, I’d never hit on ye.’
She smiled ever so slightly, like she’d think he’d want to see, but he knew the truth in that, and it was only then, when he looked at her properly, that he noticed the bruises here and there.
‘I ain’t saying this to own ye neither, girl, nor for any free favours. No, I’m saying this because I won’t hit on no woman and that’s the truth of it. A man? Ha, oh aye, I’ll kill any man and worse, because they probably deserve it for something or other and if they don’t, well, their fault for not being tougher, plus, I get paid for it ye see; well for most of ’em, and paid well.’
Just like Mother said, some people get paid to do this and some people get paid to kill. Well Mother, since ye locked me up in here, I’m for thinking the latter is the better way to be… but I don’t think that do I? Not really, because if I did, I’d figure a way to kill the witch and I’d feel no badness in doing it neither. So why the hell can’t I? Instead, I’ve already started learning to give men what they want and for what, to end up like Coppin… to end up sold? No… to hope they don’t beat on me, like the third one did.
He was still looking at her she noticed, but his eyes met hers and hadn’t wondered lower, not once. Wasn’t normal that and she wasn’t sure if it made her feel less, or more, afraid of him.
‘Ye’re safe whenever I’m here. Not that I promise to be here often, but when I am girl, ye’ll be safe wi’ me. I give ye me word there. No reason ye can’t enjoy yerself once in a blue moon, eh?’
She smiled a little more and nodded again.
‘I ain’t no looker, ’morl’s balls that’s true, but ye tell me what ye want next time I’m in and I’ll try to do as good by ye as ye did me. How’d that be sounding to ye?’
‘Aye,’ she said sweetly, h
er voice barely audible.
‘Aye,’ he said, nodding, ‘and I tell ye, any man hits on ye again, ye tell me next time I’m in, girl, agreed? For I’ll kill any man as I telled ye, and any man hitting on a cute little thing as you, ain’t no man at all, but a rat and rats are for killing, ain’t that right?’
Nodding again, she looked to speak and then stopped herself, smiling sweetly again.
‘Go on, speak it.’
‘Ye’ve killed men before?’
Gold teeth shone.
She relaxed ever so slightly then, yet she didn’t know why.
‘Aye girl, many men and one woman,’ Longoss said, his smile slipping at the end.
Her legs tensed once again, with her arms wrapped tight about them.
‘An accident?’ she asked, barely audible over Longoss’ heavy breathing.
He shook his head and for the first time, his eyes dropped, but not to her body; to another place entirely.
She cursed herself, knowing then she’d pushed too far, at least, that was until he smiled sincerely – no gold – before answering her question.
‘No lass, not an accident, least not the way me da told it. Killed me ma, ye see. First person I killed, me own ma.’
She swallowed hard and for the life of her she didn’t know why, but she asked how.
Longoss looked to her grey eyes again and shrugged. ‘Don’t remember. What’s yer name?’ he said quickly, raising his eyebrows a tad with the question.
‘Elleth.’
‘Is it short for owt?’
She shook her head and for the first time, he noticed how shiny her black hair was as a few strands fell across her face, before she brushed them aside with delicate fingers.
‘Well Elleth, I don’t remember killing me ma, ’cause I were being pulled from between her legs at the time. But me da never let me forget it and he would beat me proper for it year after year. Her deathday he called it, not me birthday, like the other kids in the keep, but me ma’s deathday… the day I killed her.’
Elleth had relaxed fully at this point, and although there were no tears on either side of the bed, her eyes at least, felt moist. She smiled sympathetically; the first genuine smile in a long while.
‘No pity though gir… Elleth, no pity. The bastard’s dead now. He were the second I killed ye see, and I might not remember me ma, but I remember me da, and oh did that bastard squeal when I stuck him wi’ his own sword.’
Swallowing hard again, Elleth saw the two men Longoss could be, and as much as he scared her to the core, she couldn’t help hoping she’d see him again, even if it was just to hear his calming voice; a voice that wasn’t demanding anything of her, calling her all sorts or threatening the worst.
‘Anyway,’ Longoss said, as he stood, ‘questions like this of other bastard men will get ye hit on, or worse! And I’m telling ye for the last time, Elleth, and I mean it now, any of those shites do anything that makes ye feel like sticking ’em wi’ a blade, then ye tell me and I’ll do it for ye, understood?’
‘Aye,’ she said, a little more confidently this time. ‘Aye, I will at that too.’
They both shared a sincere smile and Longoss picked up the rest of his things and moved to the door. He turned just before opening it and looked upon Elleth.
‘Pull yer cover up, girl, I can see yer tits, and I’d much rather look at yer eyes when we’re talking.’
She hadn’t even realised the cover had fallen so she looked down, blushing slightly – for reasons she couldn’t fathom after what they’d just done together – and when she looked up, cover back where it had been, Longoss was gone.
The smile on her face then was the most genuine she’d had in a long time and despite herself, she thought she would look forward to Longoss’ next visit, even if only for the fact he'd talked to her as a woman, not a possession.
***
It had been almost as dark as the tunnels whilst the group recovered what was left of their belongings at the back of the rubble- and meat-strewn cave. Correia had advised against lighting the star stone in case, for whatever reason, the Norlechlan opened fire on their position again. She also recommended moving on swiftly before a landing party of King’s marines arrived to assess the damage to their cave, and to examine whatever had attacked them. Although they were all part of the King’s forces, except Errolas of course, Correia did not want the inconvenience and wasted time that would come with explaining all that had happened, or as much as she felt necessary, to a ship’s officer… or worse, the prince himself.
The group had swiftly worked out if there were any serious injuries – fortunately there wasn’t – before heading out onto the shore and north along the beach.
Fal had been pleased to find his seax knife along with his falchion. His maille coif and mitts, alas, had not been picked up by Correia’s pathfinders when they collected his weapons. Sav had found his short-sword and so was fully equipped with that, his yew bow standing almost as tall as his shoulders, and a near full quiver of his own broad headed arrows.
The pathfinder, Mearson, had an open wound across his forearm, but Sav had bound it well and Mearson insisted he was fit for action, despite the dubious looks from Correia, who, after her argument with Errolas, was in a foul mood indeed. Neither her, nor the elf, had not broached the subject of dwarven weapons trade and broken treaties since the cave, and everyone in the group was silently thankful of that.
Gleave and Mearson had briefly argued with Correia about their fallen comrades, but the Spymaster had inevitably won and the two pathfinders conceded the point that they didn’t have the time, or light, to find and bury their friends, or what was left of them.
Fal felt for the two men, and Correia when he thought about it, realising it would be like leaving Sav or Starks behind without a proper burial. He also realised, however, that whatever the mission was, it was extremely important to Altoln, and if the two pathfinders and their commander could stoically accept their friends deaths and soldier on, then so too could he if the horrific situation arose.
As they'd left the cave – travel sacks stuffed with whatever supplies they could find – Errolas had heard the sound of oars in the water, so the group had swiftly made their way along the rocky shore, where they could creep away from the landing craft of the King’s marines unnoticed.
The voices of the marines carried on the sea breeze for a while after coming ashore; their gasps, curses and shouts evident of their discovery of what was left of the monster and its victims. Eventually those voices died away as the group forged on, following Gleave blindly as he searched for an apparent route up to the cliff-tops above. Starks brought up the rear with his crossbow, whilst Correia and Errolas kept a wary distance of each other, making light, whispered conversations with anyone close to them, to try and hide their anger and frustration with one another.
‘We’ll stop when we find a safer spot, and I think it will be time then to explain our mission,’ Correia announced, to Fal’s surprise.
He hadn’t expected her to offer any more information after events at the cave and her argument with Errolas about the ship, which he still couldn’t quite believe. He certainly hadn’t wanted to broach the subject with her or Errolas, and assumed her pathfinders, as friendly as they seemed, wouldn’t offer any information without her say so.
‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to hearing what it is we’re all up to,’ Fal said eventually.
‘It is of the utmost importance to both Wesson and Altoln, sergeant, and so is a serious business indeed.’
‘Absolutely, ma’m,’ Fal replied, intrigued all the more.
As the group walked on, watching their footing on loose stones and slippery rocks, all those behind Errolas noticed the elf suddenly stop dead. He turned his head slightly as if listening to something, and then held his hand up. All those behind stopped. Gleave looked back just a few heartbeats later and he too stopped, motioning for Sav and Mearson to do the same. Both pathfinders drew their we
apons ever so quietly, as did Errolas, Correia and Fal. Sav swiftly and silently strung his bow and nocked an arrow to the hemp string, whilst Starks turned and crouched to assume the same defensive position he'd been adopting throughout the journey from the prison.
Just as he did so, a grey seal called out and slid from the water – which was coming in quite close to the group at that point – before shuffling behind a large rock they'd just passed.
Errolas held up his hand again and walked slowly towards Starks, who'd lowered his crossbow and was looking on – along with the rest – to catch another glimpse of the creature.
Before Errolas reached Starks, a handsome, naked man with an extremely toned physique, long silver hair and ocean blue eyes strode from the same rock the seal had shuffled behind.
Starks nearly fell over backwards and in doing so hit the crossbow’s trigger, which sent the loaded bolt skipping across the rocky floor, barely missing the shocked man, who covered his face and ducked instinctively. Fal rushed forward as Starks scrambled back and drew his short-sword, dropping his crossbow as he did so.
Errolas spun to face Fal, both hands held out, his curved sword in one – which no one had seen him draw. ‘Hold!’ he said swiftly, and Fal skidded to a stop, turning to see the group’s reactions. Sav was reluctantly easing the string of his bow, whilst Correia and her pathfinders stopped dead in their tracks. They too lowered their weapons.
‘I’m sorry, Errolas,’ the naked man said in a strange accent none of the humans recognised. His arms still covered his head.
‘It’s alright, Furber. I’m sorry you almost got skewered, but I failed to inform anyone you may be paying us a visit once we hit the shore. We have had quite the journey so far.’
Everyone relaxed a little more now, and Fal, to show he meant no harm to the strange man, slid his falchion back into the scabbard at his side.
Errolas lowered his arms and nodded to the naked man. ‘How about covering something else, my good friend, it’s not a custom here to walk around naked.’