"Water is free with food." He nodded at the girl and she quickly filled up the cup that had been dangling in between her fingers.
"What are you serving? I'll need a room as well." I noticed that the conversations behind me resumed.
"Lizard steaks with mushrooms. Also have fish stew. Rooms are an iron piece a night. Two meals are included, with water. Anything else and you have to pay extra." He peered at his daughter with an evil smirk. She hastily turned away and made busy with cleaning what looked like the only pair of glasses left in the place. I now assumed that she probably wasn't his daughter. Or he was a really sick fucker.
"I'll take a room for three nights. The stew now. Where do you get the fish from?" I knew the lizard meat to be repulsive, but I was also a bit put off by the idea of how fish got to a desert. I rummaged through the inside of my pack to where I carried a few pouches of various solid blocks of metal. I could twist the Earth and pull off a piece of whatever I wanted easily. On my second attempt my fingers recognized iron and I pulled off what felt like the right amount.
"The river," he said it as if I asked what color the moon was.
"Ah yeah. They said one runs under the city?" I handed my three iron pieces across the table to him. They were each about the size of my thumbnail. He looked hungrily at them and put them in a pocket of his dirty apron. I had guessed the right size.
"First time in Deadflats, eh?"
"Yeah." I drained the cup of water in a single swallow. It was surprisingly cool and I didn't taste any salt.
"What brings you here, kid?"
"Trade. Mining. Adventure." I smiled through the lie. "How about that stew?" The man looked over to the girl and barked a name I couldn't understand. She set down the glasses and scurried into the kitchen. When she returned, two of the men playing Stones bid their friends a good night and left the inn. I noticed the bartender watch them leave with a frown.
"Something wrong?" I said before I swallowed the next cup of water.
"Naw." He smirked at me and poured a foul-smelling potato based alcohol into a mug. Then he drank it as quickly as I had swallowed the water.
The girl came out with a steaming bowl that didn't smell as fishy as I expected. She set it in front of me with a shy smile and scurried to the far side of the bar. She would have been pretty if she had not grown up under such harsh conditions. Life had not improved for everyone, even with our enslavers gone.
I had other things to worry about.
I expected the stew to be salty, and it was, but the flavor did not overpower my tongue. The fish tasted fresh and it was mixed in an orange-colored cream sauce with spicy mushrooms, dense potatoes, and some sort of green vegetable that tasted sweeter than carrots. I hadn't eaten in a few days, but I wasn't famished and slowly savored the meal. When I roamed the wilderness I didn't have to worry about food. I could put my spear through the heart of a boar from five hundred feet away, stalk prey with the stealth of a mountain cat, and run faster than most horses. I just had to find Iolarathe and avoid anyone sent after me.
I heard Shlara scream again. It echoed in my brain hundreds of times. I saw her body bend backward as the sticky fire enveloped her. I smelled the scent of her flesh burning.
"You alright kid? Look like you are about to puke. Most like the stew." The innkeeper's words pulled me back from the distressing thoughts.
"I'm fine. Can I have another bowl?" I hastily scooped up the last two bites and raised an eyebrow.
"You're supposed to get only one bowl per meal." The door to the inn opened and several pairs of boots entered. The innkeeper's oily skin turned the color of piss and he wrung his hands on his apron. "I'll get you another though. Since you are new in town." He scurried back through the doors to the kitchen.
For a second, I assumed the men who had entered were the local law enforcement, or town bullies, as was usually the case. I had run into a few of these types in my travels. Most of the time I could talk my way out of whatever conflict they had concocted as an excuse to fight or detain me. Others had to be paid off. Twice I had killed them when we failed to come to an agreement.
I knew from their footsteps that these were not mere humans. I felt the Wind displace from the room with their bulky frames. Their steps were careful, calculated, and smooth. No, these were my kin, and I cursed myself for having journeyed to Deadflats. They must have suspected that I would eventually get here. They must have guessed that this town, past the edge of whatever civilization they were trying to build, would be a tempting sanctuary to a traitor.
There were four of them. Two took seats next to me at the bar to my right. The other pair sat on my left. I steadied my heartbeat and breathing. Maybe they wouldn't know who I was through the beard. Only the highest ranked soldiers and generals knew what I looked like. The rest only recognized my armor and my name. The girl saw them take a seat and practically ran into the back room.
"Round of drinks, Tos!" the man to my left yelled. The doors to the kitchen opened and the innkeeper emerged with another bowl of stew for me. He set it in front of me with a nervous flick and grabbed four wooden cups and filled them with the vile potato brew from the barrel.
"You new?" the man to my right asked when I took my first spoonful of the new bowl. I chewed slowly and glanced over at him before answering. He looked just like his companion: muscular, with a shaved head, thick jaw, and hands crisscrossed in countless scars.
Just like mine.
These were Thayer's men.
“Yeah. I’m not looking for trouble. Maybe I can buy your next round?” I licked my lips nervously, and it was not a bluff. My spear was on the other side of the room. They were not armed, but it would not matter. Thayer’s troops had been my heavy infantry and could defeat any other soldier in my army nine times out of ten. They were hard men and women and took the Bear banner of Thayer very seriously.
"What is your name?" the man to my left said. He was the biggest of the four and he looked like he shaved his face and head with a wood saw.
"You haven't even bought me a drink yet." I smiled. The conversations in the inn had all stopped and the patrons were watching the scene unfold at the bar. Luckily, I didn't recognize the four men and they wore no armor. They were clothed in salt-covered gray working attire. Perhaps they were here for some other purpose than to find me.
"Do I look like I have a sense of humor?" Sawface gave me a dead stare.
I raised my hands. "Leotol is my name." I had never told anyone about my brother. Or my father. Or Iolarathe. The name was safe.
Sawface stared at me for a few seconds and then turned back to his drink without a word. The warrior behind him sniffed and looked down at his cup as well. It seemed like the situation had relaxed, so I turned to my fish stew and returned to eating. I had only taken a few bites before the man on my right spoke again.
"You came in at night." It wasn't a question, but I took it as one.
"Yeah."
"The guards at the gate say you didn't have a torch." He looked at me, but I concentrated on my next bite of food.
"Moon was bright. Didn't need one." I focused on relaxing. "Can I have another cup of water?" I asked the greasy innkeeper. He was poking his head out from behind the doors to the kitchen.
"You have torches in your bag, then?"
Fuck.
"Of course." I smiled at the man. "What is this about? Can't I eat in peace?"
The innkeeper took my cup and filled it with shaking hands. I heard his heart pounding like a rabbit's. I wondered what he knew about me, the O'Baarni, or if he only knew these men were here to find someone wandering alone.
"We are looking for someone. Someone like you," Sawface said with a grimace that made him look even uglier.
"Someone eating fish stew in a broken down inn at the end of the world?" Sawface still didn't laugh. I should have attacked. It would have given me a slight edge that might have helped me get out of this alive.
"Someone who fits your description. Long hair, beard,
body of an O'Baarni, traveling alone and doesn't identify himself to his kin. Someone that doesn't want to be found." Sawface carefully set his cup down on the bar.
"What if I am not the man you are looking for?"
"No one comes to this town unless they are running. Only one man would be here." He stared at me and gritted his teeth. "Kaiyer."
The four men stood up from their stools the mention of my name.
I took another bite of my stew. It was halfway eaten, but I pushed the bowl away and wiped the side of my mouth and beard with the back of my sleeve.
"If you really thought I was Kaiyer you would have brought more than four of you."
I turned to look at Sawface. Our eyes made contact and I stared into his pupils. I saw into their depths and his soul. I saw his fear and his doubt. He was a hard man. They all were. But I was a legend. I created them. I alone had slain two of the dragons that almost annihilated my army. I wore the tortured demon armor that gave our enemies nightmares.
"Don't make this difficult on us, sir." His face broke and revealed the terror in his eyes.
"You can turn and walk away. Let me continue on my path." I slid off of my chair and the four men took a small step back.
"We have our orders. Come with us peacefully, please." But his voice did not plead. It was resolute. He was one of Thayer's after all.
A few of the patrons sitting at their tables stared in mute horror. I guessed they wanted to leave the inn, but I imagined they were so paralyzed by fear that they couldn't move their legs, or perhaps they didn't want to bring attention to themselves.
"If I surrender; what is the plan?" I glanced around at the four warriors and then to Sawface.
"We'll take you to Primary Camp."
"Then what will happen?" I smiled.
"I am not privy to such information, sir. We are tasked with bringing you there."
"Primary Camp is at least a month and a half travel from here. How are you going to prevent me from escaping during the journey?"
"You taught Thayer, he taught our leaders, we will do what is necessary to bring you back sir." They stood comfortably but their hearts began to beat quicker. They were prepared to fight me.
At one point I knew everyone in my army. There were only a few thousand and I always had a good memory. But when we swelled in size, it became too difficult to remember everyone. I wanted to know the names of these men. This assignment had to be difficult. If they succeeded, they would spend the rest of their lives thinking about this moment, when they had apprehended the man who had destroyed their enemies, freed their people, and betrayed all of their values within the same hour.
But if I knew their names, it would be that much harder to kill them.
The right side of my forehead connected with Sawface's nose and shattered his skull like a cracked egg. I didn't think the head butt would harm his brain and kill him, but I hoped it would. The blow would at least do enough damage to keep him out of the battle for five minutes. In a fight with the O'Baarni, five minutes was enough time to do plenty of damage.
Sawface tried to step away, but he either didn't actually expect me to attack him, or he didn't realize I could move as fast as I did. My blow sent him spinning across the inn, scattering the salt-worn tables, breaking the flimsy chairs, and smashing dozens of half empty glasses.
I moved my left arm up automatically and blocked the jab that the warrior on that side intended for my face. Our limbs collided with a sharp slapping sound and resonated like two blocks of wood slamming together. Then I twisted my body to the right and dodged the committed front kick that the man in the center of the group had aimed at my hips. I threw out my knee and caught the side of his thigh while my right hand slid across his chest, up to his neck, and forced his chin up to the sky. The momentum he put into his kick and the way I adjusted his torso made him lose his balance. I pulled back on my arm and helped his upper body slam into the dirty floor of the inn. The wood cracked into hundreds of pieces upon impact.
Or maybe it only sounded that way because, at the same time, the third man's sidekick hit me square in the chest and broke half of my ribs. The blow launched me backward in the air, through the wooden wall of the inn, and out into the salt-covered street. I rolled four times before I came to my feet. My ribs had already healed, but the hole my flying body left in the side of the dilapidated structure was a critical injury. The leaning building began to moan a sigh of death and I saw it tilt dangerously.
I ran north, through the dark streets of the city and toward the cropped mountain. I didn't have a plan beyond escaping Thayer's men, but I figured if I bought myself a few minutes to think I would come up with something. As soon as I made it half a mile up the main street, I jumped up into the hayloft of a stable to assess my surroundings. I didn't hear my pursuers but that didn't mean they had given up their chase. I did hear the sounds of the Lizard Breath's Inn collapsing and the final screams of the patrons trapped inside.
Now I wondered if Iolarathe had ever been in Deadflats. If Thayer’s men were stationed here, waiting for me, they would have noticed her. She had probably realized this, avoided the town and moved on. If I lost her trail now, it would mean another year or more of lost time.
One of the men sprinted down the street faster than a horse and skidded to a stop. I ducked back into the shadows, away from the window, but it did not matter. They could hear me, smell me, and track me now that they knew me. I was trapped.
I remembered the underground river. It was a desperate move, but it was the only choice I had to avoid killing Thayer’s men. I could hold my breath for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I could lose them in the current and let the water take me away. I just needed to find the river.
The man below whistled, and I recognized it as a signal that he had found me. I turned to dash across the loft, but two of the warriors crashed through the roof above me. The impact of their heavy landing on the hayloft crushed the thin wood planks, and I leapt out through the wall of the barn behind me. It crumbled as if it were made of brittle paper. I flipped over in midair and landed on my feet on the road below. The warriors on the street ducked low and swooped beneath me in an attempt to knock me down and wrestle me on the ground.
His right shoulder contacted my right hip. He lifted and slammed me into the mud. I snaked my arm under his chin as we fell and wrapped my left leg over his so that he could not shake loose to gain a better position. He fought my choke hold, but his was an inexperienced move, and I took advantage of it by tilting my upper body, forcing my legs down, which put his neck into an acute angle that cut off his air. I felt his lungs fight and suck against nothing. It would take ten minutes to choke an O’Baarni into unconsciousness, and I did not have that much time. I had five seconds or less before the other two men would emerge from the ruins of the barn to assist their fellow warrior.
He continued to pull and fight against my choke, I pulled him tighter and then pushed back as he fought against me. The sudden release of his head sent him spinning away from me and I aided his travel with a kick to his chest.
I rolled to my feet in time to almost block a punch from one of the other men. His right fist slammed my nose into hundreds of fragments. His left hand came around in a hook that I dodged by half an inch as I stumbled away from him. He pressed his attack, throwing two jabs with his right hand and a short uppercut with his left. I knocked the jabs away, but the uppercut was unexpected, and it caught me in the stomach. The pain was remote though, and by the time he threw his next rounds of attacks, I had healed from the broken nose and managed to parry them.
I heard the other warrior from the stable run up from behind me. The man who had tried to grapple with me rose. I backed away to keep them from circling me. Once I got a few feet of space between us, I sprung up and backward to land on the rickety roof of a home nearby. I ran across it and jumped just before the roof collapsed. I landed on the side street behind, slipped in some of the mud there, and dashed around the corner away from the warriors
. But they were on me instantly and kept within five feet as I ran westward through the city. I would not be able to lose them without taking drastic measures.
I gathered the Earth to me and pivoted. The power released through me in the form of Air. I added a spark of Earth, and the magic erupted in a blaze of green and anger. My pursuers jumped to the side in a frantic attempt to escape oblivion. Two of them were successful, but the one closest to me moved too slowly. His death scream cut through the air of the city for only a brief flash before his body turned into ash and scattered. The fire continued another five hundred feet away from me, devouring half a dozen homes and the innocent people sleeping within. Then the flame crashed into the flank of the hill and bounced upward toward the stars. Every surface in the city was covered in crystallized salt, and for a moment, Deadflats shone brighter than the moon.
My torso bent to the side and my breath exploded out of my lungs. Sawface had slammed me to the ground on my back with a jump kick that would have snapped an oak tree in half. He was instantly on top of me, but I managed to buck my hips and dislodge him from gaining a favorable position where he could have pummeled me easily. The warrior grabbed onto my left arm and fell to the side next to me in the hardened mud of the street. He locked my wrist with both hands and spun his body around to leverage his hips against my elbow and break my arm.
One of the remaining warriors crashed on my stomach with a knee that I was too preoccupied to avoid. It probably would have rendered most humans incoherent and perhaps knocked out any of the O'Baarni, but I had a high tolerance for pain and I registered the damage as if it had happened to someone else. As soon as he landed, my right hand came up in a knife's edge formation and struck his throat. The windpipe collapsed and he gurgled out in agony. He was a better grappler than Sawface, and he squeezed his legs together around my hips when I tried to buck him off of me.
The third attacker stepped from my right side and aimed a booted toe kick at my face. I brought up my right elbow and blocked the attack, but the kick carried so much momentum that I felt the impact register through my whole body at the same time as Sawface's strength won out over my left arm. He bent it back against his leveraged hip lock and broke the elbow with a wet sounding tear that sent a numb shock of alarm through my chest.
The Destroyer Book 3 Page 7