by Ed Montalvo
Mirehnah finished an Ork when she spotted Dregous spraying gray matte out of his mouth, webbing trees, and Orks, cocooning them where they stood. It was shocking to witness since she has never seen anything like it. It sickened her. The prince looked disgustingly diabolical.
Dregous stopped to breathe. The urge to vomit was not as strong, though the spell repulsed him. He was satisfied the one on Tatiana was cocooned.
“Holy hell, again?” Rem exclaimed as he readied himself for more.
Dregouss’ spell prevented Seeker from running into the woods, “Oh, nasty,” she whispered.
Some webbing got on Lehoneh sword arm and the Ork he fought. The spell surprised the Ork and glanced at the caster. The Grey Elf took advantage and shoved his blade into his neck. Lehoneh scanned and saw Seeker looking into the woods and expected more. To his surprise, from where he came, webs covered the woods.
Dregouss’ spell distracted the Orks long enough for the party and the Grey Elves to turn the tide. Lehoneh was surprised as one readied to strike him down. Seeker slid from behind and thrust up to his groin. He dropped to his knees, then stabbed his neck and pushed away, ripping the throat open. It convulsed before he fell. A female Elf killed the Cocoon Ork that was on the princess Tatiana.
“My gratitude,” Lehoneh said.
Seeker smiled, “Pleasure.”
Another barreled at Tuke as he blessed his kill. It caught the priest’s chest with a knotted hammer followed by a mace in his shoulder sending him against Rem. He broke Tuke’s fall and hastily released him. Then both charged, Rem struck his shoulder; the priest struck the gut. The combined strikes sent the Ork at the base of another tree.
Tatiana offered the Elf a grateful nod for her aid. When another charged in striking her back. He sunk his mace into the she Elf’s face, killing her instantly and continued for Seeker. He struck her rear shoulder stumbling the Dark Elf. The assassin’s back was wide open as he firmly gripped his battle-axe. Lehoneh shouted, “Behind you!” he warned
Tatiana stumbled forward against another Ork. He quickly struck her ribs, but the princess was too close and easily followed his swing to get closer. She shoved her plated knee to his crotch. It took a deep gasp as she pushed him back then thrust her sword into his chest.
The surprised Ork stumbled back. Tatiana booted his chest and freed her blade. He fell face-first on the earth with a groan, “Thy victory!” she said aloud.
Dregous was about to aid his Angel, then vomited a bit on the dead Ork when he heard the princess’s victory cry. Another was about to strike his ally’s rear. A quick missile cast struck the back of the Ork’s head.
The assassin recovered her daggers when she heard someone shout. She glimpsed the battle axe and hoped before her death she could see her house restored, when his head rapidly nodded with flashes as his momentum carried him forward onto her. His large frame pinned her to the ground. She managed to see Dregous lowering his hand.
The prince kneeled, pick up his staff then leaned on it. He scanned the area. She didn’t expect his aid, then again, he was her ally.
“Dregous?” Tatiana called her voice filled with worry as she rushed to him.
Tuke readied for more as he leaned against the tree, “Tatiana? Dregous?”
She saw he wasn’t injured, “We are well here,” she shouted while looking into the princes’ eyes.
“No Angel, I have not pushed myself.”
She stepped to his side and gently took his arm, “Please do not lie?”
He smiled, “I could not lie to you.”
The others gathered closer as they spoke. Tuke tended their wounds. The seriously injured received divine curing.
Seeker and Lehoneh scouted the perimeter beyond the webbing. They secured the area, then she approached Dregous, while the princess tended him, “Pardon Princess… Dregous,” she crouched before them.
The mage rested on his elbows, he cupped his forehead shielding his eyes. “I fear he feels unwell,” Tatiana explained.
“I am well princess.”
She leaned closer, “Are you sure?”
He nodded, “What is it Angelique?” he breathed.
Seeker looked at them. Tatiana misunderstood Seeker’s approach. She wasn’t going to allow her alone with Dregous. Looking to the ground, “I…” she started.
Dregous interrupted, “No need… think of it as a mutual benefit,” he gazed at her, then glanced at Tuke tending to the injured. “…Is that not what friends are for. Besides, you aided me earlier.”
Seeker never expected the Ducal prince as her ally, let alone call her friend. Though she did assist him, he helped her more. She owes him beyond than he accepted credit for. She grinned gratefully at them. Tatiana returned the smile, “I guess I should help Tuke,” Seeker said.
Lehoneh stepped beside his sister fearing she was hurt, “Are you injured?”
She ignored her brother as she studied the prince, “Did you see that?” she whispered to him.
“See what?” he hugged her.
She chinned over his arm, “The Drouwen.”
“I did not.”
Surprised, “You did not see the webs?”
“How could I not, some spread upon my arm and sword….”
She glimpsed Dregous, “How he did it,” then glanced over her brother’s shoulder.
Lehoneh followed her gaze, “Juilan.”
“Twelve fell…,” he paused.
Mirehnah discretely caught her breath as a cold numbing feeling came over her, “There is more.”
Juilan lowered his gaze, he steadied his breath and looked at her, “…Gwenlynn is among the fallen.” Lehoneh grimaced, his sister’s eyes were fixed staring into nothing as they pooled, “Apologies Mirehnah…,” Juilan whispered. Her betrothed name sounded alien and distant. A void slowly tore its way through her chest.
“Mirehnah…” Lehoneh began.
She felt her tears on the verge of spilling and interrupted him, “No… do not say it,” she pleaded, “do not say it.”
With a deep sigh, he hugged his sister. She held him tightly as her heart sank and tears streamed.
“That hurts,” Rem grimaced.
“Oh, quit your bellyaching,” Tuke scolded. “Look at the princess. You do not see her whining.”
Rem studied Tuke with a strong urge to make a comment but thought better. The princess would most likely knock him into next week.
“No comment? My, that is stunning,” Tuke said, as he finished tending him.
“Are you not supposed to keep the peace?” Rem asked.
Tuke smiled approaching the princess. Tatiana liked Rem’s witty comment. “Now princess…”
“Please…,”
“Of course of course, no titles. Now, it is your turn.” He unfastened and removed her chest plate, exposed her shoulder and arm. “What do we have here?” Tuke examined the injury, cleaned it then bandaged her.
“How bad?” Dregous asked.
Tuke glanced over his shoulder, “Pretty bad.”
Tatiana bit back the urge to smile. He still cares, she thought. “The others first.”
“None are as bad as you and Rem…” Tuke began. She studied the priest. “A curing will do you.”
Tatiana grimaced with a nod, “As you say, dear Tuke.”
He began chanting. Moments later he sighed, “There you are.” He stepped behind Tatiana to aid in refastening her padding. The princess unintentionally flashed her right breast.
Dregouss’ heart skipped, “She will be fine,” Tuke informed him, after seeing his wide eye expression. The priest was unaware of Tatiana’s unintended flash.
Mirehnah finished bandaging an Elf’s shoulder. She looked to aid another to distract herself from her fallen betrothed.
Dregous silently sat beside the princess. His momentary spell drain disorientated him. He looked up and saw Mirehnah, crouched before Tatiana. “I will tend the fallen,” she said sorrowfully.
Dregous studied her when a sudden wre
nching pain wrapped his heart. An overwhelming urge to cry came over him. He discretely grabbed his chest. The unusual sensation confused him and wondered if he felt Mirehnah’s pain. It took all his mental strength to keep his composure.
Mirehnah began the unpleasant task of burying her betrothed. Lehoneh and a few others joined her, the others bid their woeful farewells and retreated into the woods. Dregous managed his composure as he approached, aware to maintain a respectable distance.
Mirehnah noticed the Dark Elf watching. Lehoneh realized the princes’ presence. He wanted to lash out when he recognized the Drouwen was paying his respects. His sister noticed the same. “May I help you?” Lehoneh asked.
“May I… please,” he knelt beside her. “I wish to pay respects for your fallen…, my lady,” Dregous said gently. He sensed her heartbreak and compared it to his own.
The mage surprised them, she blinked, “My gratitude.”
Dregous nodded then cast a spell. The earth shifted aside as the fallen slowly descended. The princess, Tuke, and Seeker guarded them during the burial.
Upon completion, Dregous stepped towards the princess. Mirehnah silently watched him.
The mage walked passed Tatiana without an upward glance. He discretely signaled her as he pulled his hood over. His throat burned with a lump, and chest ached.
Lehoneh’s anger swelled when the Dark Elf departed from his sister as though she weren’t there. He grabbed his shoulder and forced him about, surprising Tatiana. Words failed her, but not her desire to shield Dregous. “Ignore my sister not, Drouwen,” he growled. The prince couldn’t reply. The pain he experienced was too difficult to shield. With teared eyes, he looked between Lehoneh and his sister. At that instant, he realized the Drouwen was withholding his own pain, a profound sorrow that radiated like candlelight. Guilt quickly consumed him and released the Dark Elf as though some of his sorrow passed on to him. Dregous stepped beside Tatiana.
Mirehnah pulled her brother, “Lehoneh?” she whispered. He looked at the Drouwen somewhat dazed. She saw the way he stared at the Dark Elf. “Lehoneh, you frighten me, what is the matter?”
“Him,” he whispered.
She noticed a difference in the Drouwen. “What of him?”
Lehoneh took a step back, “He appeared greatly troubled.” She glimpsed Dregous with an odd look.
“Princess,” Dregous whispered. Tatiana noticed his tears. “…Please,” he hissed.
“Certainly…,” she whispered, and discretely glanced at the others.
He used his staff for support, “Angel…,” he muttered.
Seeker noticed the prince’s difficulty walking, then nudged Tuke and chinned their direction. Tuke’s chest swelled with sorrow, a deep pain as though it was eating his friend alive. He couldn’t speak, all he could manage was watch the couple walk away.
Rem sat against a tree brooding his wound. He looked up and noticed Tuke and Seeker, “Is all well?” she shrugged her shoulders, “Would you…” the assassin started.
Tatiana interrupted, “Gratitude, we will be fine.” Tuke made to speak, “Please Tuke… …truly,” she lightly dismissed him with a gentle wave.
The priest managed a smile and watched them as they vanished in the woods, when he found his voice, “I do not like this,” he confessed.
Seeker leaned in, “As do I…, he could barely walk.”
Rem came up behind them with a grim expression, “You know…” he started while fastening his leather armor, “I fear he may be going through it again.”
“Dregous, what is happening?” Tatiana asked.
He ensured they were out of earshot and realized his walking grew more difficult. “I know not Angel,” his voice wavered as he stepped behind a tree. Tatiana aided him. “Gratitude,” his strained voice broke. He gently pulled away.
Her heart stung as she studied him. Dregous bumped against the tree. His raised hand restricted her aid as he slid down weeping uncontrollably.
A sense of loss and confusion came over him, mixed with a cold emptiness growing within. His echoing heartbeat made him wondered if death was near, then hugged himself tightly. “Please…. Do not leave me…,” he blubbered and tried to squeeze the emptiness away. Dregous was unsure what caused his sudden but unknown agony.
Tatiana slid beside him recalling when he fell from the mountain. “Dregous…” her voice wavered, “Sweetie… what is happening? You frighten me,” she glanced over her shoulder ensuring privacy and felt his deep grief. The princess has never known such anguish and wondered what he was experiencing.
***
“Was anyone apprehended? The Curator asked while folding his hands and extended his index fingers, tapping them gently to his upper lip near his nostrils.
Gunther paced while rubbing his chin, “Nay. However, what I find disturbing, we are no closer to solving this than when we started. And, we have one witness who is a supposed member of the clergy. Yet no one has seen her before that day of the murder.”
“Perhaps she…” the Curator started.
Gunthar interrupted, “As thought I. The priest who spoke to her, claims he is empathic and sensed genuine concern for the young man. Hence his quick response when she informed him. Lord Gunther studied his friend. “I fear another threat will transpire.”
Gunthar’s suspicion alarmed him. His eyes narrowed from behind his desk, “Tread with care old friend, that is a frightful prediction. We can ill afford a witch hunt,” he warned.
Gunthar straightened and leaned on his knuckles against the mage’s desk. “You surmise as I?”
The Curator nodded then glanced away, “Alas, I do…, I do,” he worried.
Gunthar gently pushed away, “Then what are we to do?”
“Then there is the princess,” the Curator stood from his desk and stepped to the window watching the passersby. Gunthar remained silent. “As you say, however, the rumors of Ayrian mercantile stimulated our economy followed by a host of questions regarding their merchandise.”
The Knight was surprised. His friends’ concern for the economic status of the city was unexpected. “Pardon?” he breathed with obvious disbelief.
“No, dear Gunthar. I have not switched loyalties… think a moment. It is a basic necessity for our city. An increase in our economy would help the merchants to sell more merchandise. Perhaps aid the Taverns as well, the farmers' livestock and others.”
Gunthar admitted the sense of it all. He rolled it in his mind, “More thieves, crimes and assassins will infiltrate our alley’s and shadows,” he replied absentmindedly.
The seasoned Knight’s quick analysis surprised him, “That is correct,” he glimpsed at him, “Tell me, how long has that occupied your mind?”
He smirked, “Oh, it is expected when coin is involved, thieves and assassins follow.”
“Interesting….”
“I am on the side of the law, am I not?” Gunthar said.
“I see your point,” the curator sighed. “All that said, what of Wil’s murder?”
Gunthar resumed his leisurely pace, “I will continue diligently to unearth the vile scoundrel.”
“I doubt not you will find him my friend. In the meantime, Dregouss’ life will still be in jeopardy.”
“With respect, I pray lord Dregous is as cunning as we believe Drouwens are.”
“Agreed, however…”
Gunthar interrupted, “He will need every bit of our aid, till I find the architect.”
“I agree,” he nodded with a sigh, “I agree.”
***
A middle-aged man rushed through the magistrate’s mansion with dreadful urgency, fear masked his aging face. Servants stood aside. They knew full well his old appearance was deceiving and murmured as he passed. He ascended the stairs with far more vitality and agility than others half his age. He darted to where Ceron entertained political agents.
With the door closed, he heard voices within as he crashed through, “My lord…”
Startled, Ceron whirled abo
ut, “By the gods, what is the meaning of this?” he shouted, then noticed his expression.
“Forgive me, I have urgent news.”
Concerned, “Go on?”
“You have delegates downstairs,” his eyes widened as they shifted, “She states urgency.”
He stood, “Her name…” he paused when it dawned on him, “Oh,” Ceron stretched, his face pale, “Shall we,” he motioned Henry.
“Of course my lord,” he held the door for Ceron as the magistrate marched through with Henry in tow, then took the lead. They rushed across the walkway and downstairs to his office toward the back.
Ceron wondered why he was visited as Henry led him to the basement. The old man lit a lamp and descended. The plump magistrate closed the door and followed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “My lord,” he illuminated the stairs for Ceron.
“About time magistrate,” a sultry voice wisped through the darkness.
Ceron immediately recognized the accent, “Hahniah…?” but the voice was different.
“No… sweetie. Hahniah will not be joining us any longer.”
A coldness filled the pit of his stomach. He remained calm, “And you are?”
She dismissed his question, “My sources tell me the Prince was here.”
He maintained his composure, “What have you done to her?” The question cramped his chest. Ceron had a good working relationship with the Drouwen merchant. He was one of the few that dealt with them.
“She over stood her welcome…,” she chuckled maliciously.
Ceron realized his Hahniah was killed. The loss filled him with grief as it did when his parents died. Their haunting deaths chased him relentlessly. They killed my sweet Hahniah, Ceron thought as his heart cried, but buried his sorrow deep, and replaced it with fury. He regained himself quickly, though it felt like an eternity, then gently cleared his throat, “So what brings you here?” he asked mildly.
“Hahniah was right, you are straight to the point… I like that,” she mused. “I will not repeat, the rats' son?”