Page 58 of A Curse So Vile
The man pitched it straight back. “Don’t need that here.” He repositioned the pole and started walking again, as though the interaction had never happened.
Dusklanders were known to be peculiar, unfriendly to a fault. Though he could hardly imagine any handing back a coin. Especially one as bedraggled as he.
He snapped the reins, and the horses started forward again, though they plodded along slower. They didn’t like this place, and he wondered if they somehow sensed Brenna’s kin. They were a little apprehensive about Fiona too, and she was typically a delight to animals.
Soon, they happened upon a sharp fork to the right, as the man had said. It was steep, forcing them to leave the horses behind.
“Remind me to have a word with Brenna once we get her back again,” Dorthea complained as she used Cole to steady herself during her descent.
At the mention of Brenna’s name, his muscles tensed.
“Oh, stop looking so sour,” Dorthea said as if she could read his mind. “With the way you’d described those monsters, if they’d wanted the lot of us dead, we’d be six feet under. They want Brenna for something, which means they don’t aim to kill her.”
“I can only hope that is true,” he replied without her confidence.
He didn’t know why the beasts had wanted Brenna, or what they intended to do with her, but he knew it couldn’t be good, and after seeing Fiona to the safety of the Den, he vowed to spend the rest of his days hunting down those who’d had a hand in taking her.
Hopefully, the Denithians would help.
The path leveled, and a cobbled pathway replaced the dirt they’d been treading upon.
“The craftsmanship is unlike any I’ve seen before,” Dorthea muttered. “Akin to the work in Gryndar.”
“Thank you,” a voice called from the trees. “Now, may I ask you what you’re doing down here?”
Startled, Cole’s hand went to his ax as he looked around for the source, his eyes falling on a man with a wry smirk and mischievous eyes.
“It is imperative we be taken to the leader of the Den,” Cole said, repeating Brenna’s words. “His name is Orrick, or so I’m told.”
The man sauntered over, sniffing the air around them with a scrunched nose as he glared at Fiona. “Who changed this one?”
“It is not you who I seek to hold court with. Take me to Orrick, or get out of my way.”
The man laughed. “You’re welcome to try and walk around me, though I don’t suggest it. The others in my pack aren’t nearly as nice as I am.”
“I care little for how nice your people are. I demand you take me to your leader, or else—”
“Or else what?” the man said with a teasing grin. He took a step towards Cole. “What will you do to me?”
“It’s not me you have to worry about, it’s the Ossorians, and the longer we sit here chattering, the more time they have to plan their next move.”
At the mention of the Ossorians, the man’s face went from gleeful to dour. “Come with me then.”
The Den was a sight he was not prepared for.
Brenna’s people slept in caves, which might not seem shocking with their beastly nature, but these caves were literal castles carved into the side of a mountain.
Perhaps the word castle was a bit of an exaggeration, but he had no other word for what the dwellings were.
“Typically, we don’t allow outsiders into our homes,” his eyes roved to Fiona, “though it appears that one of you would be given a place among us.”
Cole cut the man a hard gaze. “Just try taking my sister from me and see what happens.”
“Brave and foolish as any Heartlander knight I’ve met, though a tad larger than most. I reckon your mother got a good dicking from a giant.”
Cole stopped dead in his tracks to contemplate how he might murder the bastard that dared speak ill of his mother.
“Anders! That is not how we treat guests!” came a shrill voice. Cole looked over and saw an older woman rushing towards them, her face marked in grime. Beside her stood a wolf nearly double the size of any he’d ever seen before.