Emlyn gets a look suddenly, “I didn’t plan for enough weapons for more than the Temple staff. Benger, we have to tell Master Lokrag to double the quantities on everything.”
“Easily done,” Benger grins and bows his head, mumbling.
Suddenly, Atres feels the dread and fear about her upcoming mission lessen again and grabs the bar.
“Easy, there,” Kethas says, reaching for his arm. “You didn’t tell me you were having premonitions about her mission. You should have said. Did it release completely or just part of it?”
“Only part of it,” Atres says, sagging with relief, “but the worst part of it. It feels survivable now. Bad, but survivable.”
“Someone needs to explain all this to me,” Emlyn says, “Benger tried and I’m still not sure I quite understand it.”
“Hush, lass, and come here for a minute,” Atres heaves a huge sigh and wraps her in a hug. “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for coming back to Harito early. I know you don’t understand. We never really talked about this. I’ll explain it all to you once we talk to Argonath.”
Releasing her, Atres steps back and scrubs his face, shaking himself, “We have to go find Argonath.”
“Then go,” Kethas says, shooing them toward the door, “I’ll save your rooms.”
Leaving Nia and Benger to scramble after him, Atres heads for the door.
Kethas watches as the door closes. He heads into the kitchen and picks up some scraps he’s trimmed from the meat he’s preparing for dinner. Grabbing a length of twine, he ties them into two tight bundles and picks up a big, heavy, thickly padded leather gauntlet from just inside the delivery door. Throwing some more meat into a pan, he puts the lid on and tucks it under his arm. Pulling on the gauntlet, he steps out into the back courtyard of the inn and sets the pan at his feet.
Taking the first bundle of raw meat, he whistles and begins to whirl it over his head. Within a few minutes, all the common birds scatter, making themselves scarce, when the harsh cry of a hunting erne screeches out. Setting himself to absorb the impact, Kethas grins as the giant bird folds its wings and plummets from high above. At the last minute, it rotates, extends its taloned claws, and lands on Kethas’s outstretched arm, screeching for its treat.
“Ho, there, Sea Hunter,” Kethas grins, “I’ve got your treat, never fear. There’s more where this came from, if you’ll do me a favor and carry a message north to Dotara to the shaman that’s there. Do that and come back, and I’ll give you more still.”
Kethas repeats the message a few times to ensure that the bird has understood it before letting it eat its fill from the pan.
“Off with you now,” Kethas chuckles, “before you eat so much you can’t fly.”
A squawk of outrage greets this comment, and Kethas laughs, “Of course you wouldn’t. I was only teasing, old friend.”
Gathering itself, the great raptor launches itself into the air, wings beating as it climbs.
Watching it out of sight, Kethas sighs and begins the process again with a different whistle. Soon, the screech of one of the large fishing hawks that often patrol the shores of the Jolawaki River sounds, and Kethas sets himself against the impact. This bird lands more gracefully than Sea Hunter, but still demands its treat.
“Never fear, Fish Killer,” Kethas grins, “I have it here. I’ll strike a deal with you. If you’ll carry a message to my clan-kin in Snowhold, I’ll feed you now and feed you for a tenday when you return.”
The bird eyes him and screeches.
“I know it’s the wrong time of year for you to go north,” Kethas sighs, “but you’ve got the fastest wings. That’s why I’m offering to feed you every day for a tenday when you get back. No fish, either. Goat or beef.”
The bird seems to consider this, cocks his head, and screeches again. Nodding, Kethas agrees, “Very well, two tendays it is. Now let me give you the message.” Soon enough, Fish Killer launches into the air, winging his way toward the mountain village of Snowhold.
Once outside, Atres is walking so quickly that Emlyn is almost jogging to keep up as Atres heads for the King’s Guard Headquarters in Harito.
Looking around, Emlyn spots a carriage for hire and drags Atres to it, “Come on. This will be faster than walking.”
Fishing in her spending money, she tosses a silver coin to the driver. “We need to get to the King’s Guard now. If you get us there fast enough, there’s a gold one of those in it for you.”
“Get in, then,” the driver grins, “For a gold, I can afford to break all the speed laws.”
Emlyn leaps in to join the two men, and no sooner than the door is shut, the carriage is off at a breakneck pace, throwing Emlyn into Atres’s lap before she’s had a chance to sit and brace herself.
Laughing, Atres helps her into the seat, “Might I remind you that you paid the driver to do exactly this?”
Blushing again, she nods, “Speed seemed to matter to you, so I was trying to help.”
“You did well,” Atres says gently, “I just have a feeling that this is important, too.”
A few minutes later, the carriage pulls to a halt, and Atres jumps out, practically running into the building. Emlyn pauses long enough to fish out the promised coin and toss it to the driver before darting after Benger and Atres.
Atres comes skidding around the corner to find Argonath about to lock his office and leave for the day.
“Oh no,” Atres says, “open that door back up.”
Argonath sighs and opens the door just as Benger rounds the corner, almost plowing into Atres, and to Argonath’s unending surprise, Emlyn rounds the corner and plows into Benger, who absorbs the impact and laughs.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Sorry,” Emlyn says to Benger, “I didn’t realize everyone stopped.”
“What in the name of all the gods are the three of you doing back in Harito? And what’s going on that’s got all of you sprinting through the building like this?” Argonath asks.
Emlyn points to Atres, “It’s your premonition. I’m not sure how to answer.”
“Why don’t you come into my office and tell me everything?” Argonath says smoothly.
“It started right before I was coming back to Harito,” Atres says.
“You were supposed to stay there and keep an eye on her,” Argonath frowns, “Why were you coming back to Harito?”
“Oja’s not so fond of me.” Atres grins, “and the fair was over.”
“My foster-mother refused even to let him sleep in the barn,” Emlyn explains.
“Hmm...” Argonath nods, “Very well. Continue.”
“She told me about this mission that they’re to be sent on, dealing with the dragon-thing calling itself Divaros,” Atres says, “I made her swear to come find me in Harito before leaving. That made it a little better, but not much.”
“When was this?” Argonath asks.
“Yesterday,” Emlyn answers, and Argonath frowns.
“It’s a two-day ride from there back to Harito,” Argonath glowers, “but do continue.”
“My Goddess sent all of us back to Harito,” Emlyn shrugs, “and we got here today. I went to consult with the Temple smiths because I’ve had them busy over the break, making some weapons. I had some more things for them to make and others to go pull out of stores to pack up and get ready.”
“That made it a little better,” Atres confirms, “but it didn’t get much better until we were talking to Kethas, and Nia mentioned that she needed to increase the quantities of weapons she’s got the smiths making. It’s still bad, and I felt a need to come and talk to you about it – now, today.”
“He was practically running up the street to get here,” Emlyn confirms, “Once we got to the building, Benger and I were both chasing after him to keep up.”
Palming his face for a moment, Argonath’s pen stops scratching, and he sighs heavily. “Let me see... I have our newly consecrated paladin, a Goddess, a dragon, and one of my best Valkis all tangled up.”
“You’re the one who’s supposedly a general,” Argonath says, pointing at Emlyn, “What’s your plan for dealing with this thing?”
In answer, Emlyn reaches into her pack and pulls out a sheaf of papers and hands them to Argonath.
“Whatever is bothering Atres is something that’s not in there. It’s something that I haven’t accounted for, maybe can’t account for.”
Argonath flips through the pages, reading her plans.
“These are quite good,” Argonath says slowly, “I’m not seeing anything obvious.”
“If it were remotely obvious,” Emlyn replies dryly, “I’d have accounted for it already. Some of that isn’t particularly obvious, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Her thumb and forefinger tapping, Emlyn stands up and starts to pace a bit, “Let’s try this from a different perspective. Let’s assume that everything I’ve laid out is wrong, which is why this is still bothering Atres. If we assume that it’s not a dragon, not an infernal, not an elemental, not a mage, not a necromancer, and not a shapeshifter, what else does that leave?”
Argonath starts to say something and then goes pale before he says quietly, “Something you wouldn’t know about. Something you couldn’t have accounted for.”
“If I’m going to hunt this thing,” Emlyn growls, “You need to tell me what that might be. This concerns my entire cohort.”
“I break my oaths to tell anyone outside the King’s Guard,” Argonath shrugs.
“Shiva’s hairy balls!” Emlyn says, leaning over his desk, “I might have been born in the day, but it wasn’t this one. I’m not falling for your recruiting ploy. I. Am. Not. joining your boys’ club,” Emlyn shrugs, “Find another way.”
“Technically,” Benger shrugs, “We are all in the King’s Guard... well, the building at least.”
“Of course!” Argonath looks at Benger and nods, “Quite right. Let me find a blank contract, and I’ll just sign you two up.”
“Sign us up for what, exactly?” Emlyn frowns, “I already told you I’m not taking any more oaths.”
“You won’t have to,” Argonath shrugs, “We often hire... specialists for shorter-term assignments. That’s usually done with a contract. It also makes you, temporarily at least, a member of the King’s Guard. Say the next couple of months, while you hunt this thing.”
Frowning, Emlyn crosses her arms and stares at Argonath for a long while. Turning her back on him deliberately, she looks at Atres, who shrugs and nods.
“Fine,” Emlyn barks, “I’ll sign the damned thing, but you and your lot are coming with us.”
Argonath looks up sharply, sighs heavily, nods, and keeps filling in blanks.
Behind her, she hears Atres’s sharp intake of breath and turns, “Better or worse?”
“Better,” Atres nods, “still bad but lots better than it was.”
“Hmm,” Emlyn thinks, “We needed the extra weapons and extra people. What else do we need? More magic? Different people? Other weapons?”
Atres shrugs helplessly, and Emlyn nods, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
Argonath reaches the portion where he has to fill in the payment and decides to have a bit of fun, asking, “How much do you weigh?”
“Right at ten stone, in all my kit,” Emlyn replies without thinking, and then a beat later, “What in the name of the ninth layer of hell do you need to know that for?”
“I have to calculate your rate of pay,” Argonath grins at her, “per your previous request.”
“Gods above!” Emlyn groans, “I’ll never hear the end of that from Prince Armeniel.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Argonath grins back, “I’m deducting the costs of all the other King’s Guard staff that you requested from that. That’ll offset most of it. Once I deduct Atres’s pay for the last tenday from it, it will be quite reasonable.”
Emlyn sees Benger and Atres both snickering quietly.
“That’s where I draw the line,” Emlyn shakes her head, “I am not paying you to have my suitor spy on me.”
“You told her,” Argonath says with a frown.
“She can detect motives and lies,” Atres shrugs, “What did you expect me to do? If I don’t and she catches me, I’m out on my ear with her cohort and all her brothers hunting my hide in the bargain. This way, I can remain close and follow orders.”
Argonath’s frown deepens at this for a moment before his eyes go wide as he feels magic swirling around him. Laughing helplessly, Emlyn doubles over.
When she can finally breathe a bit, she gasps out. “THAT’s why you wanted to recruit me so badly?” before dissolving into more laughter.
Argonath has the grace to look embarrassed while Atres and Benger stare at the two of them. Finally, Benger shrugs and looks amused.
Argonath finishes up the paperwork and offers the contract to a still giggling Emlyn, who signs it. Emlyn reads it before scratching out something that looks vaguely like her childhood friend’s signature. Reaching into her belt pouch, she pulls out Nia’s seal and dumping some of the wax next to the signature, stamps it and hands it back to Argonath who looks surprised at the seal, but files it away, before completing the same process for Benger at a much-reduced rate of pay without the additional reductions.
“Now that’s done,” Emlyn says, still grinning, “Tell me what we’re hunting so that we can equip ourselves properly.”
“I suspect that the thing you missed is a Fey,” Argonath says, “It can morph, almost the same as shapeshift at will. It seems like a dragon because it’s morphed into a dragon.”
All her former mirth suddenly evaporates, and Emlyn sits down hard in her chair and says, “Well, now.”
Atres looks at her curiously and puts a tentative hand on her shoulder. He can feel the tension radiating off her.
“That likely explains why doubling the weapons made things better,” Emlyn says slowly, “All the mithril, silver, and gold dipped bolts and arrows would likely have had some effect on it as it changed shape to try to escape.”
“Any ideas on how to kill it?” Benger asks.
“Only one,” Emlyn shrugs, “It’s a long shot, at best. I’ve never faced such a thing. My people’s stories say that the only way to kill a Fey is to trap it, bleed it into blood runes, and then use up the magic from the blood runes as fast as you can. I don’t even know that the old stories are right, or if they are, that they tell the whole tale.”
“What’s a blood rune?” Argonath asks.
“Let me back up a bit,” Emlyn says, “Mind you, all this is myth and legend. The short answer to your question is that I don’t think anyone knows, but let me give you the longer answer. Our stories suggest that Fey are essentially magic incarnate, so their blood is akin to liquid magic. A blood rune is something that a Fey would sometimes give a human so that the human could call on the Fey’s magic, using a bit of the Fey’s blood. According to one of our old stories, one of our ancient heroes was married to a girl whom a Fey prince stole. Our hero refused to give up on his wife and went hunting. He found a hag who hated the Fey prince for spurning her. Since she hated the Fey prince, she told our hero how to trap the Fey and make empty blood runes. He covered the floor in blood runes, trapped the Fey, shot him full of arrows, which made him bleed everywhere, and then his whole clan started burning through all that magic by casting spells. The more they cast, the smaller the Fey prince got until it finally just winked out of existence.”
Should Atres settle the "tribute" problem for her?