“No other reasons?”
Trinity growls and clenches her fists that drip with yellow acid. “No and I’ll feed you to Weber if you push too far.”
The sound of something crashing through the underbrush draws the women’s attention to where the cursing mercenary is returning. The man drops a bundle of dead rabbits near the fire and tosses his longbow in front of the tent. Weber is about to sit down when he notices that the channelers are no longer tied up. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out another rope and walks toward the women while preparing a few knots. The thick cord reflects the dying sunlight, turning the beams into prismatic swirls.
“Stephen wants you two tied up until he gets back,” Weber says, stopping when he gets within a few steps of the prisoners. He walks in a circle while considering the best way to restrain the channelers. “Don’t make me force the issue. You might have magic, but you’re not allowed to hurt me. So I can do whatever I want to get you to obey. Now don’t struggle.”
“I didn’t know someone could sweat so much,” Trinity mutters, flashing the man a cruel smile. Not wanting to risk enraging Stephen, she holds out her hands and stares at the distant mountaintops. “Just be quick and don’t touch my skin. I hate cowardly worms that hide behind others.”
“Am I under the same rules as her?” Nyx asks, refusing to hold out her arms. “I never agreed to leave you alone. So I don’t have to listen.”
“Then maybe I should take you inside to teach you a lesson,” Stephen whispers as he appears behind the half-elf. He runs his fingers along her back and leans forward to lick the tip of her ear. “That made you quiver. I can smell how much you hated that reaction. Trinity was the same when she was younger. After a while, she stopped crying and fighting. It might take longer for you since you don’t have an entire race to threaten.”
Fire flows out of Nyx’s soles and wraps around her body, the flame rearing back like a threatened serpent. Her creation tries to strike at the man, but puffs into an embarrassing cloud of smoke when it hits his face. The connection between Stephen and Nyx flickers to life, sending a burst of electricity along the half-elf’s spine. With all of her muscles twitching, she falls to the ground and feebly flails her limbs in case he tries to touch her. A rough hand grabs the champion by the hair and violently hurls her into the door of the cabin.
“You’re going to consummate your victory in that hovel?” Trinity asks as she snaps the rope around her wrists. She slinks over to Stephen and wraps her arms around his shoulders, her nails scratching down his chest. “You’re really disappointing me, little warlord. When you took me for the first time, it was in the temple of Ambrosine. Is your precious champion not worth the same special treatment?”
“Why do you continue getting in the way of me breaking in this half-elf?” Stephen snarls before the chaos elf drives her nails deep into his flesh. He licks his lips at the sensation of pain and pleasure that ripples along his nerves. “Then again, you have a point. Her friends can still arrive at any moment, so we shall take her to a more secluded and . . . unspoiled region. Still I wish to occupy myself tonight.”
Trinity points at Nyx to release a web that snares the half-elf’s arms and chest. With a forced giggle, she throws the other channeler across the clearing and sticks her to a tree. The chaos elf uncoils from Stephen and pierces his chin with a long nail, which allows her to drag him toward the cabin.
“Let the inexperienced child sleep in the cold while I release some pent up aggression on you,” Trinity coos as they cross the threshold. She takes more enjoyment than she expects from punching her tormenter in the face. “This will be a new type of pleasure for you and it’s been a long time coming. I know you want it too, so how about letting your real favorite be the one to break you in?”
“You’re terrible at this type of seduction,” Stephen says before the channeler takes his hand and snaps his fingers. She releases a tickle of lightning along his nerves, transforming the pain into ecstasy. “Then again, I have an odd feeling that I taught you well. Maybe too well, but now I’m very curious.”
The cobalt-skinned woman playfully flings her companion into the cabin, the sound of him smashing against the wall echoing throughout the clearing. Trinity snaps her fingers to release Nyx from the webs before flashing the half-elf an expression that is a mix of fear, disgust, and rage. She enters the building and seals the door behind her, the shimmer of a silence spell covering the shelter from roof to foundation.
“Thanks, Trinity. I promise I’ll return the favor,” Nyx whispers as she walks to the tent. She sees Weber take a step toward her, so she hits him with a paralysis spell. “I hope a starving bear decides you’re an easy meal. Good luck getting sleep.”
9
“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Pelo states while he stares down the hill at the strange sight before him. The mercenary takes a deep breath while his friends fight to restrain their laughter. “What are we looking at here?”
The others smile and wait for someone to speak, but several minutes of awkward silence pass. Scorpion eventually clears his throat and admits, “I think we were so busy trying not to laugh that we didn’t think of a good insult. That’s obviously a . . . I don’t think it’s a tribe settlement or a Serabian encampment. What is that place, boss?”
Delvin rubs his chin, wincing at a few spots where he cut himself trying to shave earlier. He vaguely remembers what the collection of large tents and wheeled stalls mean, but his exhaustion makes it a challenge to focus. Distant shouts are carried on the wind along with the smell of fresh food, the mixture of delicious scents making it hard to concentrate. The constant rumbling of Tavris’s stomach forces him to take a few steps ahead of his friends and clear his head. Crouching out of sight, Delvin examines the deep furrows that are in the soft ground, the markings so fresh that he is surprised the springy grass has recovered from being trampled. A sharp whistle makes him jump to his feet and he looks down the sloping land to see that the encampment is getting busier by the second.
“It’s a bazaar, which I’m surprised to see is still operating during a time of danger,” Delvin says as he returns to his friends. They all watch as a train of bound people in dirty clothes are led out of a caged wagon and into a pink tent. “Then again, they might be benefiting from the chaos if their main trades are weapons, food, and slaves. More than likely, the Dawn Fangs are leaving these places alone. They could get easy snacks here and nobody would really notice a few people vanishing, especially slaves.”
“Is it strange that there are no tribe settlements in the vicinity?” Gerdo asks while he takes a sip from a flask. Noticing the tense look on Tavris’s face, he gargles the liquid and breathes out the smell of strong whiskey. “Contrary to popular belief, Dawn Fangs can eat real food and get pleasure from it. No nourishment, which is why many of us carry blood vials that we can pick up from one of the thousands of suppliers. If things get bad, we take a sip from someone and go on our way. I should point out that my people can feed without killing, so only a glutton or anarchist would cause disappearances.”
Tavris slaps the vampire on the back, grinning at the way the man pretends to collapse to the ground. “That news is surprisingly comforting. I was worried we’d be fighting ravenous eating machines that could tear us in half with a pinky finger. Though that does mean they’ll be harder to locate. A savage monster would leave a path of bodies in its wake. There could be a bunch of Dawn Fangs down there and we’d never know.”
“It wouldn’t matter because we promised Mab we would stay out of her way,” Gerdo reminds his companions, sweat dripping down his nose. “How about answering my question, boss? I don’t see any other encampments around here. How is this place still busy or even profitable?”
“Tribes send envoys to get goods through purchase or trade,” Delvin explains as he watches a group of drunks stagger away from the bazaar. The trio collapse into the tall grass and he sees enough movement to know that they are crawling back to the bar. �
�There are also those without a tribe who attend the bazaar with whatever money they’ve managed to earn. There might even be some outsiders who came in from the docks that the Pelican Tribe maintains in the east. Keep all of that in mind when we go down there.”
“You’re kidding. We shouldn’t go anywhere near that place,” Tavris argues with nods of agreement from the others. “I thought we were going to stay away from the locals until we found your tribe.”
“We’ve wasted enough time wandering. We need a guide and that’s where we’ll find one.”
Not waiting for any arguments, Delvin tucks his hands in his pockets and heads down the hill. The others trail behind and try to copy their leader’s casual approach even though they feel a festering anxiety in their guts. Several people stop and watch the warriors before disappearing among the tents. Excited children flock to get a view of the odd strangers, many of them pointing at Tavris, who towers above everyone else. As they move beyond the first row of tents, a wall of noise envelopes the mercenaries and they are stopped at the edge of the marketplace by spear-wielding guards. Delvin signals for his friends to behave since the armed plainsmen are not wearing armor and their only distinguishing mark is a forehead brand shaped like a jagged-edged feather. It takes nearly ten minutes for the amused guards to finish checking Scorpion and locking all of his daggers in place. Before they are let through, each of the warriors are given a silver and white shell with a number etched into the smooth underside.
“These places like doing hourly raffles,” Delvin explains, stopping at a butcher’s booth. He drops some money on the counter to buy some smoked ham. “The color of the shell is changed every day, so you can’t cheat by holding onto one. Callers will be wandering around shouting the winning number, so maybe we’ll get lucky. If you find any supplies that you think we need then feel free to buy them.”
“What about haggling?” Pelo asks, earning a growl from the barrel-chested butcher. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but I was curious.”
“Only envoy leaders can do that and outsiders are lucky they don’t get cheated,” Delvin replies with a friendly smile at the merchant. He offers a few silver coins for five pieces of jerky that he splits among his friends. “We both know people do that, sir. Could you tell us where the guide booth is located? We are really hoping to hire someone that could show us around Yagervan.”
The dark-skinned man pushes two of the silver coins back to the warrior, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m very sorry, outsider. Due to the unrest, we have no guides who are willing to travel. Too many have been lost to . . . it’s best that you don’t know about that. Ignorance has proven to be bliss lately. Still, if you’re desperate and lack morals then you can try buying someone at the Slave Tent. Don’t expect to do much business with the other merchants if you follow that path.”
“Why does the bazaar have such a place if people hate it?” Pelo inquires, putting up his hands when his friends stare at him. “How am I supposed to learn things if I don’t ask any questions?”
“I like him. His face is funny, but he has an honest tongue,” the plainsman replies, handing off a package of steaks to a passing woman. The attractive lady stops to wink at Tavris, who blushes and bows his head. “There’s not really a central structure here like those fancy marketplaces you’re used to in Serab. We have various factions that get along for the most part, but there’s always tension when it comes to flesh peddlers. They’re immoral and always looking for a way to get new victims. Still, that’s the only way you’re going to get a guide. Now I have business to attend to. Good luck, outsiders.”
“Thanks for your help,” Delvin says before buying a chain of sausage links. His friends surround him as they walk among the barking merchants and shoving customers. “I hate the slave trade and I’d love nothing more than to give them some grief. Unfortunately, we might have to use them to get a guide who we will free as soon as we can.”
Tavris nudges his friend to get him to enter a narrow path between two ivory tents where he can whisper his plan. “Let’s take stock of the situation, boss. We need supplies, information, and a guide. I say we split up with one group handling the first two and the other going to the flesh peddlers. That way we can get everything without a hassle. Once we’re done, you can cause some trouble that will probably get us run out of the bazaar. Unless you really want to come back here one day.”
“Honestly, they’ll always let me back in unless I steal something or kill someone,” the brown-haired warrior admits. Leading his friends to another collection of merchants, he stops to let a man run by screaming a number. “Tavris and Pelo will get enough supplies for six people to travel for about three days. Try to find oils and pieces for gear maintenance and healing items because we’re already running low. Gerdo, Scorpion, and I are going to . . . buy a guide and throw a disturbance into today’s business. We’ll reunite on the hill, but don’t go charging out of here unless you’re sure people have connected you to us. Now, Pelo, ask a question that I know is on your mind.”
“I’m actually good this time,” the weasel-faced warrior says, earning overdramatic looks of shock from his friends. With a roll of his eyes, he stops to watch a wandering merchant pass with a rack of spoons on her back. “You need more tricks to get what you need while Tavris and I are more than capable of shopping. If you can’t think your way out of trouble then you have the charmer and the poison master. Although, Gerdo would probably help us get some deals with that gift of his. I assume your habit of getting what you want is more than your smile and nimble tongue.”
The Dawn Fang grins and is about to reveal his fangs when he remembers that the locals might panic. “To be honest, my natural charm is not always effective. Strong wills give me trouble and merchants always seem to have those when money is on the line. When dealing with someone who sells slaves, I might find a little extra power behind my words. It’s all about confidence and drive.”
“Then we-” Delvin starts to say before a man runs by shouting the number on his shell. He raises his hand and waves the trinket in the air before chasing after the tribesman. “I’m over here! Wait up!”
Tavris shakes his head and urges Pelo to walk in the opposite direction of the slave traders’ tent. Both of the warriors turn their heads to watch Gerdo and Scorpion hurry to catch up to their leader. A chorus of laughter ripples through the entire crowd at the sight of Delvin tackling the raffle caller. Insults are fired out of both men’s mouths as they wrestle on the ground, the determined champion jamming his winning trinket into the bazaar worker’s hand. The last Tavris and Pelo see of the incident is the heated argument and a pair of guards advancing on their friends. Before anyone can tell the guards about their connection to the others, the whistling pair duck into a tent and attend to their errands.
*****
“I can’t believe they let me choose a prize,” Delvin says while he admires the chestnut box holding eight simple rings inside it. He takes a deep sniff of the aromatic jewelry before closing the container. “It must have been an apology for being ignored by the caller. Guess they aren’t used to outsiders winning or even knowing what the shell means. Why are you guys looking at me like that?”
“You could have taken the longbow or the food,” Gerdo replies as they walk through the crowded bazaar. All of his senses are searching for telltale signs of other Dawn Fangs, but the mass of bodies acts as constant distraction. “Even the hunting cat would have been better than a set of enchanted rings. I know you have a love of coffee, boss, but this decision goes down as one of your worst.”
“Each ring creates a different flavor and comes out at the perfect temperature,” the champion argues before tucking the box into his bag. He sips at his flask that he filled with a chocolate-flavored brew. “I really needed this drink to clear my head. Besides, the longbow was poorly crafted, the food was nearly rotten, and I’ve no idea what to do with a civet. Those cats can be mean if you don’t have experience with them.”
A
slender woman bumps into Delvin and smiles as she pats his shoulder. The calico bows her head in apology, but looks up when Scorpion stumbles into her. She is about to say something when the masked man holds up his friend’s stolen money bag. With a shrug, the beautiful thief disappears into the crowd to find a new, less aware victim. Scorpion tosses the pouch back to Delvin and subtly checks his own belongings, relaxing when he is sure that everything is where it should be.
“Perhaps we should hurry to our destination,” the chaos elf whispers, following his friends out of the mob and into a less traveled part of the bazaar. “I’m sure we’ve given the others enough time to get most of their shopping done. They’re probably drinking in a tavern and looking for information by now. How much further until we reach the flesh peddlers? I want to get this over with.”
“The tent is right around the corner,” Delvin says with a yawn. His mask of laziness is in place, which helps his companions relax. “We’ll stick together. I’ve never been to a slave auction before, so I don’t know what to expect. Don’t react to anything. Just look for someone we can hire. For example, a person who seems to be the most in need of freedom. If you see a way to cause a disruption then let me know before you do anything.”
“What if we already have a plan that we wish to try?” Gerdo asks, revealing his fangs with a cunning grin. He runs his hand over his mouth to secretly retract his teeth when a drunk couple steps out of a tent. “Just something I want to attempt. Best that you not know the details, but I’ll wait for you to get a guide. I need to uncover a little more information, so I might wander away for a bit. The results will be very entertaining”
“You’re rather scary now that we know your true nature,” Scorpion admits as they get closer to the pink tent. He puts his arms up while the guards check him for hidden weapons. “Let us know what you find out before we make our choice. We need to be on the same page or our boss will be upset with our purchase.”
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 20