Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1)

by Jason Halstead

Allie didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Grandpa?”

  “It’s supposed to be a cure-all sort of thing. Helps the body recover and all that. A potion, I guess. I never got hurt or sick bad enough to need it. I reckon he does.”

  “Is it still any good?”

  He shrugged. “Does magic stuff go bad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t make him much worse,” Bucknar said. He turned back to the elf and held the bottle to his lips. He forced them open and dribbled the liquid in slowly. The elf moaned and gurgled before swallowing. Bucknar kept pouring until the bottle was empty.

  “Well?” Allie asked when her grandpa climbed to his feet and stepped back. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “It’s in Saint Dice’s hands,” he said, referring to the patron saint of gamblers and luck. “You go wash those clothes up.”

  “Grandpa! I want to—”

  “Get your arse whipped for not listening? Just because I gave you a sword don’t mean I can’t take you over my knee.”

  Allie gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, and don’t be leaving them out to dry. We don’t need any nosy people wondering what’s what with clothes small enough to fit a boy. Mend them if you can.”

  “I know, Grandpa.” Allie sighed.

  He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. “Well? Get to it!”

  Allie jumped and turned to get to work. As she was heading out for the well and the washing bucket with a load of her clothes and his, she heard her grandpa chuckling behind her. She smiled. She knew he wouldn’t whip her no matter what she did. Still, it was a good idea to make him think he scared her.

  Chapter 11

  Allie finished washing the clothes and, after leaving hers to hang on the line, she brought the injured elf’s clothing back inside. The fabric was of a finer weave than any she’d ever seen before. The material flexed and breathed, but was dense and very strong. It seemed like simple cotton, but there was threading and stitching in the clothes she didn’t recognize.

  She went inside and gathered her grandfather’s sewing needles and thread and moved to the table to begin working on mending the stranger’s outfit. Her grandpa was sitting in a chair near the elf. He was supposed to be watching him but Bucknar’s chin was tucked into his chest and his breathing was heavy.

  Allie bit back a smile and shook her head. He’d worked hard today. The elf was heavier than he looked and her grandpa wasn’t getting any younger. Swimming in the river alone was more exercise than he would get in a day.

  Allie went to work, selecting thread as close to the green and brown colors as she could find. The torn fabric under his shoulder and in his pants was the worst. It had been cut by something sharp. A sword or a knife, maybe? Elsewhere the small tears were just that, tears that she could see happening from sticks and rocks.

  She finished patching his clothes and frowned. It wasn’t a very good job. They were obvious repairs and, for something she or her family would wear, that wasn’t a big deal. For this stranger, and an elf wearing fine clothing to begin with, she was embarrassed by the quality of her work. He deserved better.

  Allie set the clothes aside. She’d torn and reworked her stitches several times already. It was as good as she could make it. That left the man’s boots, belt, pouches, empty quiver, and the two daggers he had. She would have expected a sword too, but there wasn’t a sword or scabbard. Didn’t elves use swords?

  She glanced at the elf and her grandpa. He’d threaten to tan her hide if she pried into the elf’s things. She sighed and pushed them back. She fought the urge to at least open a pouch and see what was inside it. What did elves carry with them? Were they like humans? Maybe some food or flint and steel. Or did elves have some magical powders or potions or something? One quick peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  She started to reach forward when she heard the elf moan. She froze for a long moment and then turned to look at him. He had shifted in the blankets but he was still asleep. The tension in her back released and she let out her breath. Allie stood up and moved away from his belongings. She couldn’t trust herself near them and she knew it.

  She walked to the door. Some fresh air might be nice. Or she could double-check on the horses. She’d been in a hurry and if her grandpa saw the lousy job she’d done, he’d probably give her a hard time about it. Allie sighed and opened the door to head out.

  She stopped in the doorway, her eyes on Brownie and Stinkeye. Both horses were moving back and forth in the small pen. Something had them nervous. Both of them were staring to north and west.

  Allie turned her head and followed their gaze. Something felt off to her. She wanted to go and reassure them, but it was quiet in the town. Even given the sun had set, it was too quiet. She could make out the people in the tavern whenever the door would open or shut, but everything else was eerie. There was no evening wind or other sounds. The chickens, dogs, horses, and other animals in the town weren’t making any noises either.

  Allie dropped her hand from the door and brushed the sword still at her side. She jerked and looked down at it. She’d forgotten all about it. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt and felt better for it. Whether her imagination was getting to her or not, this meant her grandpa trusted her.

  She picked her eyes up and scanned the dark landscape of her grandpa’s homestead and then the city around them again. She froze and squinted, trying to pierce the darkness. Had she seen something move across the street? Was it real, or was it just a shadow? She didn’t feel any wind to blow anything. Her dad had accused her of making up stories for the sake of making them up many times. He’d always been right, too; she had seen things that weren’t there or tried to make more out of something than it was. Was this just her wanting to turn the elf’s rescue into something bigger?

  Allie jumped when a dog barked across the street and a little south of her grandpa’s house. “Finally,” she whispered and forced a laugh. It barked twice more and then she thought—but wasn’t quite sure—the dog yelped and went silent.

  Allie licked her lips and swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat. What was going on out there?

  Stinkeye whickered. Brownie snorted and stomped the ground. Something was going on. Allie wasn’t imagining it. The horses didn’t act like that without a reason. Strangers—or worse, a predator on the hunt—was out there.

  She backed up and pulled the door shut. She started to turn and thought better. She turned back and slid the bolt across to lock it. Satisfied, Allie turned and rushed to her grandpa’s chair.

  “Grandpa!” she hissed. She had to touch his arm and give it a nudge before he lifted his head and blinked his eyes open.

  “Huh? What? What is it? Did I—” He looked at her face and the fog cleared from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” Allie admitted. “It’s not right outside.”

  “Storm coming?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. The horses are acting funny and I heard a dog bark before it yipped and went quiet.”

  “Some drunk probably kicked it,” he suggested.

  “No, I don’t think so. Please come look.”

  Bucknar nodded and climbed out of his chair with a groan. He moved across the room, slow and stiff at first and then smoother as he neared the door. He drew back the bolt and opened the door, letting in the frantic whinnies of Stinkeye and Brownie. Bucknar slammed the door shut. “Sword!”

  Allie jumped and reached for the sword at her side.

  “My sword! Hurry. Leathers too.”

  Allie spun around and saw his sword leaning against the wall near the unconscious elf. She ran over and grabbed it and took it to him. Bucknar grunted and drew the blade before turning to the door and opening it enough to look out. “Grandpa, what is it?”

  “Get my armor!” he snapped.

  “Sorry! Yes, sir.” Allie turned and ran to open his trunk and pull out his armor.

  When she returned, Bu
cknar shut the door and bolted it. He took it from her and asked, “You know the bolt-hole?”

  “Grandpa? What is it?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted while struggling to tie and buckle his leather greaves. “But I got a hunch.”

  “What is it? Your hunch, I mean.”

  He finished with his greaves and tugged the studded leather jack over his shoulders. “Splisskin. I seen something like this once. A long time ago.”

  Allie’s eyes went to the injured elf. “What are they doing? Are they after him?”

  Bucknar frowned and glanced at the man. “Maybe. Funny timing if they aren’t.”

  Allie nodded, agreeing with him. But why would splisskin look for an elf? The splisskin were from the south and the elf came from the west. It didn’t make sense.

  “Anyhow, you get that elf down in that bolt-hole and you stay there too.”

  “Grandpa—no! I can fight with you. You taught me.”

  “You barely know how to beat up a kid. These are serious foes and they won’t be distracted by a pretty girl.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he pointed his finger at her and glared daggers at her. “Stop your whining and do it! Damn it, girl, this isn’t a game!”

  Allie clamped her mouth shut and nodded. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” he snapped. “Go! Now!”

  Allie spun and rushed to grab the iron poker from the hearth. She took it to Bucknar’s room and jammed it into a split between logs of the floor under his bed. She used the iron bar as a lever and forced the bed up and out of hollowed-out notches in the floor. Once it was out, she grabbed on to it and yanked on it, sliding it across the floor. She had to use the poker again in a knot in a board and pulled up a trap door in the floor.

  Allie backed into the main room, breathing hard from all the work. She grabbed the elf’s things and tossed them in the hole and then went over to the elf. Bucknar was gone and the door shut. She grabbed the elf’s blankets and leaned back, tugging on them and dragging him, blankets and all, across the floor. He groaned and moaned, shifting and forcing her to change her grip twice.

  Allie had to bundle him up in the blankets, wrapping him like a swaddled baby, and dragged him to the dark edge of the hole. She rushed out and grabbed the lantern Bucknar had used to better see the elf’s wounds and hurried down into the hole. Another door, this one half as high as a normal one, was built into the tunnel dug into the ground. It smelled musky inside but the lantern lit it up to show a small room. It wasn’t tall enough to stand in, but three or four people could fit inside with room to spare.

  Allie set the lantern down inside and went up to drag the elf inside the hole. He rustled a little but remained asleep. Allie wanted to kick him for bringing this down on them on her way past, but figured she’d gone through too much saving him to hurt him. Instead, she shut the tunnel door and turned the key in the lock. She pocketed the key, climbed out and lowered the trap door back in place. She shoved the bed back until it fell back in the notches and stood up to study the job she’d done. She was breathing harder than ever and she knew she was supposed to be down with the elf. If her grandpa saw her, he’d spare the splisskin the trouble of skinning her alive.

  Allie moved back to the door of the house and cracked it open. The yard in front of her grandpa’s house was lit up with flickering lights. Shadows moved and turned into figures slipping from one building to another. She opened the door enough to stick her head out and saw the neighbor’s buildings on fire.

  Allie gasped and leapt back. She stopped. Where was Grandpa? She moved to the door again and looked for him. She saw him outlined by the flames of a burning barn. He was gesturing and shouting at people. He held a sword in his hand while others were rushing with buckets of water. Allie shook her head; it was pointless. The barn was a lost cause and too many other buildings were burning.

  A hissing noise to her right made her spin and then scream. A man emerged from the shadows beside the corner of the house. Except he wasn’t a man; he was covered in scales and had a spear in his hand that he thrust at her. Allie leapt back, dodging the spear. It struck the door and knocked it open farther.

  “Allie!”

  She heard her grandpa’s shout and knew she was in trouble. Well, that was if she was still alive to be in trouble. She fumbled her sword as she tried to draw it out and finally managed it while backing away from the door. The splisskin stepped into the doorway and hesitated when it saw the sword in her hand.

  Allie stood still, paralyzed by her first sight of a splisskin. The snake man noticed her terror and made a horrible noise that she realized was a hissing laughter. He stepped in and shifted his spear, readying it to thrust at her.

  Allie remembered training with her dad and seeing him attack her with a wooden stick they were pretending was a spear. She jumped forward and swung her sword, striking the spear and knocking it out to the side. The splisskin’s laughter died as he tried to recover and yank the spear back. Allie’s foot followed her movement and kicked inside the snake man’s knee, knocking it out and causing him to fumble and stagger back to try to recover.

  The splisskin stumbled into the doorjamb and grunted from the impact. Allie clenched her teeth and lunged forward, jamming the tip of her talwar into his thigh and cutting through his scales. The sword felt like it vibrated in her palm, tickling her hands.

  The shaft of his spear crashed into her shoulder, knocking her to the side. She lost her grip on her sword and bounced off the wall of the house. The splisskin snarled as he yanked the sword out of his leg and tossed it to the ground. Blood darkened the mottled yellow and brown scales on his leg.

  “Weak. Ssoft,” he hissed and then staggered as he approached her. The splisskin bared his sharp fangs and held his spear at the ready. She backed away, trying to circle to reach her sword or at least a knife in the kitchen. The splisskin stepped to the side, blocking her off and keeping her trapped.

  The door slammed against the wall of the house as someone new filled the doorway. Allie looked up and saw her grandpa in the doorway. She gasped, causing the splisskin to turn in time to meet the crashing edge of Bucknar’s sword across the side of his face and neck. He fell, twitching and bleeding, one hand reaching to cover the gash while the other flopped on the floor.

  “Are you hurt?” Bucknar asked.

  Allie opened and shut her mouth. She hugged her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice shaking.

  “Then you get your arse in that hole now!” he growled. “You seen enough!”

  Allie nodded. Bucknar glared at her a moment longer and then spun away. He hurried back out the door and slammed it shut behind him. She stared a moment longer and then rushed to pick up her sword. As she straightened, she heard the muffled sound of metal striking metal. Someone was fighting outside, close enough she could hear through the thick wood and stone walls of the house. It had to be her grandpa. And he was fighting more of the splisskin.

  Allie couldn’t stop herself from opening the door and staring out into the yard. Her grandpa was surrounded. Two of the snake men were on the ground already but more were running to overwhelm him. She saw a splisskin with a sword thrust at her grandpa from behind. He moved to the side, somehow knowing what was coming, but she saw him stagger and reach for the cut on his side.

  “Grandpa!” Allie shouted. He’d told her how important it was to protect your back and flank in a fight. If she could attack the splisskin from behind, she’d help him. And this time she wouldn’t drop her sword. She’d been shocked the first time. This time she’d be ready!

  “Stay back!” he shouted as he spun and hacked the arm off a splisskin. He twisted back, driving another snake man back. He slipped on the tail of a dead splisskin and tried to recover. A spear bit into his hip, earning a grunt and curse.

  Allie whimpered and took her first step. She meant to run but her hair was grabbed and pulled on, yanking her head back. Her feet w
ent out from under her and she fell, hitting the ground and losing her breath. She stared up and saw the flickering light from the fire on the smoke that filled the sky and blocked out the stars. A shape filled her vision: another splisskin. She gasped, sucking in air to her stunned lungs, and tried to sit up.

  The splisskin’s foot crashed into the side of her head, rolling her over and driving her sense from her.

  Chapter 12

  “Gildor, you sure you don’t want to come all the way?” the wagon driver offered. “It’s twice the gold.”

  Gildor shook his head. “Less than a day from Almont and you’ll be in Shazamir. The guards will keep you safe from bandits.”

  “Ah, but who’s to keep me safe from the guards?”

  Gildor chuckled. “They’ve been better since the new king took over.”

  The driver cut off another section of tabas root and slipped it in his mouth to chew on. “It’s only a matter of time,” he muttered around the root.

  Gildor laughed at the driver’s skepticism. “You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m longing for a home-cooked meal. That’s worth its weight in gold.”

  “I’ve met some barmaids like that,” Dakota, the other caravan guard, reminisced.

  Gildor smirked and kept his thoughts to himself. His reputation as a guard and pathfinder was what earned him easy pickings for work and top rates. The last thing he needed was word getting out of any questionable habits or rumors about his behavior.

  “Come by the Silverdust. I’ll buy your meal and talk you into it,” the driver said.

  “Hey, what about mine?” Dakota asked.

  “You’re already coming the whole way; I don’t need to bribe you.”

  “Maybe I’ll change my mind!”

  “Go back on a contract? I don’t think so.”

  Dakota cursed. “Hey, why not a bonus for having the goodwill to go the length with you?”

  The wagon driver laughed. “Keep dreaming.”

  Dakota opened his mouth to try a new tack but Gildor waved him silent. Gildor narrowed his eyes as he scanned the countryside ahead of them. “You smell that?”