Chapter 22. Blood for Blood.

  "What’s your business stranger, why should me and my men not kill you for spoiling our hunt, after all, it would be fair" Darren yell over the stomping feet.

  Reaching down he grabbed the axe and handed it to the goon who never left his side. Darren clapped his hands twice, and the kicking blitz stopped. He smiled to himself listening to the deep groans that fat man produced.

  “What was that, I didn’t hear you?” Darren came to a squat grabbing that stupid braid Sid wore. He lift the round face so he could hear the heavy man.

  "Blood for blood, you took from the forest, showing no respect towards her or her children, I'll trade three more of you before we’re done.” Sid said from behind a swollen lip and dusty blue eye.

  “Bah!” Darren barked, looking at his men who all roared with laughter.

  He let go of that dumb braid and Sid’s head fell into the grass. Darren stood and laughed with his men.

  “Are you a guardian to these-Wah-oomph.”

  Darren attempt to continue a threatening monologue but Sid was not about to listen to it. Not when that creature was still running scared. Sid may be outnumbered but he had to try at the least. He rip Darren to the ground and climb atop the man while he struggles to break free.

  Darren’s comrades all punch and kick at big Sid but now were all weary about stabbing the man as his blood had a very destructive property flowing through it.

  Sid however was very content with the one who was under him, and he let his heavy fist fall with dramatic slams. Darren’s face begin to blotch with color as Sid slammed a fist. Then it swell, that deep color swelled abysmal color. Sid’s heavy fist slammed again and that beautiful swell rupture with a wonderfully wide gash.

  The blood from Sid’s ripped forearm found places along Darren’s face and he begin to smolder with a dull yellow sizzle while Sid continue to slam fist after fist against the man.

  Sid got his hits in before a cold pain found his back. There was a shock of untold arcane that coursed Sid’s veins while a new primal sensation took control. A cold sweat ripple through the heavy man, and he sat straight up on his knees, completely ignoring Darren as he was pulled from under.

  Many punches still found a rosy cheek, the fat nose or bruised eyes, but Sid accepted every single one of them.

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  The pain in his back was a numbing reminder of history, and an ancient force hiding within made an appearance that was long overdue.

  Another punch landed right under that brave mustache and Sid seen spots.

  The stinging in his back was cold, and he could feel his shirt cling as it start to soak through.

  There was an ember of sickness that sparked in his core. It was a gross feeling. Sid’s mouth salivate as that warmth grew hotter and hotter. His eyes felt red and began to blur with heat. His stomach turned with a bile motion, and the grass start to wilt around his hands.

  Sid’s beady eyes opened wide with a glossy black stare, and a bile yellow ember deep within.

  Birds flocked the sky in a panicked frenzy; handsome brown eyes couldn’t depict each species while they fly over but there were birds in that group that don’t be flying together.

  It just wasn’t natural for the predatory raptors to fly with the smaller seed birds. Not only that but there was a haunting series of screams that followed the birds.

  An ear flicked, it was an odd flick that didn’t feel right but it was what he had. Those lovely brown eyes watch the birds fly into the distance before; a sturdy leg lifted and kicked a wagon wheel.

  “Who be yer plank papa.” Abram grumbled sitting up blinking the sleep away with half hooded eyes.

  Mysterious eyes that swirl like a hurricane, broken blues and stormy grey swirls. His eyes look just the same anytime of the day as ones should, but those sights see absolutely nothing because he had fallen asleep.

  “Haw.” That chamming mane waved with a handsome waggle.

  “How long ago Arieo?” His master asked. Patting for his pal. “Arieo c’mon we aint got time for games if you be hearing stuff like last night.”

  His master was right, and Arieo had to focus every muscle in his body. It took a lot of energy to kick the wheel, and now after that shard-crash his master expects him to wheel his wagon to right there. He never understood why his master never just slept in the wagon.

  The desire for speed drove that little donkey, he need that bit of bitter resin. That rickety old wagon wheel squeaked.

  Abram tremor in the grass, just arms away from the donkey. He swallow rigid and dry fighting hard, but the chill forced him to curl. He gripped his sides and heaved it was a dry cough that ached deep while he wretch.

  The beautiful sound his donkey pal made was soothing and he reached for those fuzzy legs. Thank the god’s Arieo was actually standing right there for his reaching.

  “Oh-ho-ho Arieo thank ya ye be a sweet boy.” His master praised.

  Abram felt those strong stout legs while he found his balance. Slowly making his way to the wagon. Splintered hands found their way into the bed and felt the mental memory of the layout. Reaching his pouch and mortar, Abram carefully feel the inside of that leather bag removing one of the remaining two shards.

  Shards from the stallitusk. Some would tell you the shard was a scale; others would say its a seed. The creature they grew from was floral, and its back sprouted many of these seeds. Others would say that it was a bunch of phooey and that the shards were actually a scale because the beast was cold-blooded and reptilian.

  But who really knows, only the high priest of Briareos’s first church would have the answer. That church is responsible for mass producing the things. Not the stallitusk the shard, and Briareos is not letting his siblings in on that formula, it’s what holds his power in the game.

  “Tell me again what way it was buddy.” Abram said, lifting head resting it along the wood railing of the wagon.