Page 5

Talac had envisioned this day going very differently. He’d frustratingly been unable to learn anything new in regards to the Beast. Whilst the hunt had turned out both wildly successful for some and wildly unlucky for others.

Brandth, along with four others, was currently ensconced in the Lair infirmary. Of the five patients, Brandth was by no means the most seriously hurt, though he was still unconscious. Probably a good thing, given the healers had had to secure and strap the broken bone in his lower left leg.

The man who had been gored in the chest would likely not make it in Talac’s opinion, his injuries deep, most probably rot would set in. Perhaps sooner than Talac thought, watching on as two healers piled a heap of different herbs and plants into a large pestle, grinding the contents together before slathering the disturbingly dark green paste all over the gored man’s chest.

The two other injured men from their hunting party had a collection of vivid bruises, one with a fractured wrist, the other with gore marks across his hips and back. More of that foul smelling paste applied to the latter, despite his vigorous objections.

And lastly was a fifth man, who’d been assigned to the second hunting party that day. He’d twisted his ankle falling over a moss covered rock when he paused to take a piss. Once his ankle was securely wrapped, he was quickly escorted back across the courtyard to the Keep.

Talac’s expectation that he would remain by Brandth’s bedside and watch over him were dashed by an ancient looking female healer with stern hazel eyes, who had more wrinkles than a twisted sheet. She was bent with age and barely came up to Talac’s waist. She’d shooed him out with impatient hand gestures. Advising he was just in the way right now and that she understood he had better things to do with his time. Which was news to Talac, as the oaks doors closed in his face with a resounding thud.

Turning, he’d been surprised to find the gangly mute lad waiting for him, fresh clean clothes and boots that belonged to Talac piled in his hands. With a follow me gesture, he’d led Talac back towards the stables, veering off at the last moment to enter a large stone hut with a blue sign posted above the doorway; men’s bathing house.

Entering the steam filled room had been a revelation for Talac. Several bathing attendants hovering, one of whom the mute lad passed his clothes to. Talac invited to step into one of the three tubs - each large enough to hold ten men - full of crystal clear water, steam curling gently from their surfaces. There were four men currently using the tubs, rubbing themselves down with wet cloths, dipping them occasionally into nearby buckets full of foamy looking liquid that smelled of the woods, but in a crisp pleasing way.

As a tactician the idea of getting into all that water without a weapon had Talac hesitating. Yes, it looked inviting but he couldn’t place himself in such a disadvantaged position willingly. Reading Talac’s assessing look, one of the attendants, a slim man, middle-aged, with a peg leg, gestured for Talac to follow him.

Through a stone archway they emerged into a cobblestoned room that had six metal protrusions positioned at various points around the room, all located above head height, a chain dangling beside each of them. The attendant walked up to one such metal rod, placing Talac’s clothes, boots and a large square of blue fabric on a stone shelf off to the side. The man then leaned over, grabbed the chain and tugged on it. To Talac’s surprise, water immediately spouted forth from the metal protrusion.

Damn, what a clever contraption. He leaned forward to test the water, finding it pleasingly warm. Hells, he wished the Pallene battalion headquarters had such a facility. Stripping fast, laying his blade on top of the pile of clothes within easy reach, he stepped under the falling water. Thanking the attendant as the man kicked a bucket full of that foam and a fresh clean rag Talac’s way before retreating, leaving him alone.

Keeping his gaze on the doorway, Talac made use of the rag and the foam, finding it helped get rid of the mud splattering his arms and face that much easier. He even used it on his hair, watching as mud, bits of leaves and twigs hit the cobblestones, only to be carried off to a nearby runnel carved into the floor. Ingeniously, the runnel sluiced all the water away from Talac. Like a small stream the water travelled to a nearby hole carved into the base of a wall and disappeared.

Talac could have stayed there all day, but the mute lad appeared in the doorway and made a hurry up gesture. Hhmmm, seems Talac was expected somewhere, or perhaps they just wanted to kick him back to the Keep so he wouldn’t uncover any more mysterious Lair secrets, with its large well-staffed healing facility and this beyond sinful and clever bathing house.

Well, Talac would just see about that. And he had the perfect excuse, Brandth. He would probably have to play that card in order to stay.

Dressed in dark grey breeches, matching boots and a lighter grey short sleeved tunic with the royal crest sewn over his heart, Talac stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine. Surprised when his mute guide didn’t immediately head for the portcullis but instead, turned in the opposite direction, heading deeper into the grounds of the Lair.

It would be pointless asking his guide questions, and that would only give away what he found curious, so Talac remained silent, taking the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. The Lair was effectively a vast rambling stone four storey mansion. Different coloured stone signalled where extensions had been made to it over the years. It looked random but at the same time somehow cohesive. Like the Keep, the windows were narrow but there was a lot more of them in evidence here.

Outside, the stable and bathhouse were located across a paved courtyard, backing onto a stream, explaining where they sourced their water from. Beyond the stables the grounds opened up. Covered large single storeyed buildings snuggled up beside the stables. Talac guessing they would be used for training purposes, as what looked like stone barracks were built on the other side.

They were walking on grass now, past all the buildings, everywhere wooden posts decorated the landscape, colourful flags flapping in the slight breeze. Perhaps most people wouldn’t notice the five foot lances that protruded from the top of each of them, but Talac did. Whatever danger stalked Gloomenthrall definitely came from the skies.

Talac scented hops in the air, and the slight whiff of a tannery, along with the metal taint of a smithies. It seems the occupants of the Lair were an industrious lot. And self-sufficient. Talac could see far off orchards and vegetable plots. Those sharp tipped wooden posts and their gaily coloured flags everywhere.

Now that they were walking down a slight grassy incline, Talac could see their destination. Several large puff willow trees hugged a bend in the stream, casting shade over a grassy expanse dotted with wildflowers. The space currently full of milling people, chatting and drinking. There were trestle tables off to the side laden with an array of tempting platters of food. And a large man serving goblets of mead off to the right.

A party. No, Talac noted the bald headed priest who’d performed last rites over the hunt standing on a raised small podium beside the stream. A wedding. Talac unsure what he was doing here as he recognised very few familiar faces from the Keep, except for several of the ladies, milling about in their bright silk dresses, flower crowns on their heads, smiling and chatting. They mixed with the Lair residents with ease, who tended to wear more sombre colours made of materials more hard working. Several of the women wearing breeches, swords at their hips. More interesting was the number of Lair residents who were missing a limb or had incurred some obvious injury sometime in the past. Yet, no one here treated them any differently than anyone else in the crowd.

And amongst the partygoers children ran and gambolled about in packs. Girls, in both dresses and breeches, outnumbering the boys by a good margin.

Ah, there was another familiar Keep face, Master Kinnith rushing up to Talac. The man dressed in a dark green tunic, black breeches and boots, a yellow flower pinned over his heart. His face flushed with high colour, the man positively vibrating. At first Talac thought he was gripped by tremors of fear, but given the broad smile on his face he quickly revised that to excitement.

The smaller man coming to an abrupt halt before Talac.

“She said yes!”

“So I see.”

“The very first thing I did upon our return was find Gretani and propose. After… after an experience like that out in the woods, I realised the only thing that mattered was cleaving myself to Gretani. That even if we were to live a simple, modest life, as long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, I’m a blessed man.”

Kinnith’s eyes shifting to rest upon a lady standing amidst a group of hovering younger ladies who were tweaking her pale blue dress, and adjusting the yellow and white woven flower crown on her head. Gretani was not young, there was a hint of grey at the temples of her plaited dark hair, but her eyes shone with happiness, a smile clinging to her lips. Her gaze likewise kept shifting in Kinnith’s direction.

“I think you may be right. My felicitations, Master Kinnith.”

“Yes, yes… but you see your Lordship-”

“Captain. Or Talac if you like.”

“T… Talac, I do not wish to start my married life with a lie. There appears to be a misapprehension, everyone assuming that I made the death strike during this morning’s hunt. They have gifted me… us, with a commensurate dowry. I attempted to explain what happened... that it was you… your spear. But my claims were brushed aside in the rush to see to the wounded and the horses upon our return. Then the preparations for the wedding took precedence.”

“And you wish me to…?”

“Tell… the Bea… tell Poulth the truth of what happened out there. You’re the one who threw that spear and made the killing strike, not I. You’re the one deserving of the monetary award, not I.”

Gods, here before Talac stood a good, humble man. One who’d been prepared to face his fears and risk his life for the woman he loved. And despite his timidness and slight stature, he rigidly adhered to honourable principles. Men like this deserved to be rewarded, although Talac was guessing from the fine lines that etched the edges of Kinnith’s eyes and brow that life had rarely done so. But that had not deterred Kinnith, who quietly, in his own way, lived by a noble code.

“I acknowledge that you’re in a delicate position Master Kinnith, but you must understand the position I find myself in. I have dedicated my life to my career. From the moment I could hold a sword I studiously earnt and was awarded the title of a King’s man. My loyalty and devotion to the crown has never been questioned. But… if I do as you ask, I stand to lose everything I’ve worked for.”

“You do?”

Kinnith’s eyes widening in surprise.

“Lord De’Luca, thanks to this assignment of escorting him across the Realm, currently holds power over my future. Don’t get me wrong, Brandth is a loyal and devoted follower of our King. But he’s also an aristo… and his… ego can sometimes be a little… fragile.”

Hah, Brandth was going to howl when he woke up and Talac shared this story.

“I… I’m unsure…”

“He’s not a man partial to his underlings outshining him. If I were to take credit for today’s kill… then he might see fit to…”

“Punish you?”

Kinnith queried, his words tinged with shock.

“No, nothing so extreme, but he might see fit to… derail my next promotion. Negating in a moment of… displeasure, all my hard work and years of training. I realise it’s a lot to ask, but Master Kinnith, would you do me the immense favour of not pursuing this matter?”

“Lie?”

The word sounded like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“No, not as such. Just don’t speak of it. Let the facts, as people believe them, stand as they are.”

He could sense Kinnith was wavering.

“Besides, I fear that if the word was to get out, then Master Elliott would insist upon a sunlion’s share, and I don’t believe a man such as that should be rewarded, given the chaos and pain his actions wrought in the end.”

Kinnith released a pent up breath.

“Yes, yes. If by merely saying nothing I can aid you, then so be it. But if there is ever anything you need, you come to me… Talac. It would be my honour to provide assistance to you.”

Wincing, the man looked up one more time, hesitation dogging him before he took another deep breath and said what he needed to say.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you stand up with me today, as my witness?”

Talac blinked, in all his years none of the men he’d trained with or who reported to him had ever asked him to act as their best man. It didn’t seem a tremendously difficult role, he foresaw no danger in consenting. Although perhaps he should take into account that very few outcomes were turning out as planned today.

Except, Talac had wanted access to the Lair, to the Beast. And now he had two avenues, this wedding, and Brandth’s injuries. Perhaps the Gods might not have forsaken him after all. Although in his head he could hear Brandth drolly muse that Talac should be careful what he wished for.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Talac followed Kinnith to the altar, turning to face the party-goers, pleased with this excellent vantage point. Now, where was this Beast? He had questions for that legend, and what better place to ask them than at a party where the spirits were high and tongues were loosened by free flowing mead. Lookout Beast, the hunt isn’t over yet.

“We are-”

“Father.”

The bride interrupted.

“We’re not quite ready yet.”

“Oh.”

The grizzled priest frowned, his gaze abruptly shifting to the empty space beside the bride.

“Well, where is she?”

This provoked numerous responses from the crowd. Who claimed to have seen the missing bridesmaid in the kitchen, the stables, the infirmary, the pigeon roost and at the blacksmiths.

“Here she comes.”

Talac lifted his gaze, watching as a female raced down the grass covered incline. She wore dark navy breeches, tan knee high boots and a long sleeved, high collared tunic that clung to robust full curves. She was tall for a woman. Hah, she was tall for a man.

She wasn’t beautiful by Court standards, but Talac couldn’t seem to shift his gaze from the newcomer. There was something arresting about her features that made them striking and regal at the same time. The edges of her full lips tilted upwards ever so slightly in not quite a smile as she hit the edges of the crowd. Impatiently allowing the party-goers to fuss over her as she used those broad shoulders of hers to push her way forward.

A hand reaching out to pluck a chicken feather caught in her plaited golden hair. An older lady grabbing her by the arm to pause her progress just long enough to spit into a hanky and use it to scrub a black mark away from the woman’s cheek. And then, just before she broke free of the crowd, another of the Keep ladies slammed a crown of woven white flowers down upon her head.

“Thanks.”

She acknowledged absently before taking a few more steps and stopping beside Gretani.

“Sorry. You look beautiful.”

She smacked a loud kiss against Gretani’s cheek before turning to look up at the priest.

“Come on, Father. Time’s a wasting, let’s get this wedding done.”

Her voice low, husky, yet at the same time musical.

The sound of it wrapped around Talac like a fur rug on a bleak winter’s night. He found he couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes matching her tunic, deep and endlessly blue. Her gaze direct and assessing. Talac knew instantly it would be hard to keep a secret from this woman.

Her stance mirrored his own he noted with surprise. Shoulders back, legs set slightly apart, at parade rest, but ready for trouble. Her left hand absently resting near the hilt of a short sword she had belted to her waist. And it wasn’t a ceremonial or pretty weapon. The blade was broad, meant for cleaving foes larger than its owner. Reflexively Talac checked the skies, noting ten guards were standing on the walkways of the high fortified wall just across the stream. All had cross bolts in their hands.

It looked like someone had already thought about what a tempting buffet the wedding crowd might make to any aerial beasties. Given the number of guards and weapons, Talac allowed himself to relax somewhat. Reaching over to clap Kinnith on the back in congratulations as the priest announced the couple married in a much appreciated brief ceremony. The crowd clapping and cheering, flowers raining down over them in a shower of colour.

A fiddle and a drum began to play, picking a lively, merry beat. Space instantly cleared nearby on the grass, Kinnith leading Gretani out, wrapping his arms around her waist and jigging his new bride around the makeshift dance floor with little regard to grace, but getting a ton of points for enthusiasm. The newly wedded couple smiling broadly, with eyes only for each other.

“Come on.”

Talac never considered himself much of a dancer but it appeared he had little choice in the matter, given the firm unbreakable grip of the sturdy bridesmaid as she grabbed him by the arm, dragging him out into the clearing. Talac stood there for a moment facing her, that not quite smile of hers taking on a slight mocking tinge.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those highbrow muckety mucks who won’t dance and wouldn’t know a good time if it smacked you on the nose?”

When was the last time anyone had challenged him? But dancing? On the other hand, it was the perfect excuse to get his hands on those enticing curves. Reaching out, Talac yanked the robust maiden towards him, promptly lifting her high off the ground, causing his dance companion to release a surprised husky gasp. Damn, he liked that sound.

Feet back on the ground, he twirled her to the left, before pulling her back so she was nice and close, those full firm curves pressed against him in several places that were very appreciative. The two of them setting off at a slightly more sedate pace behind the bridal couple.

The bridesmaid laughing softly, a rough brief sound that Talac almost thought he’d imagined. Now that he was this close to her, face to face, he couldn’t help but note the smudge on her cheek was still faintly there. And a number of wisps of hair had escaped her plait, dancing in the slight breeze. Whilst the crown of white flowers had slipped a little, sitting now at a jaunty angle.

Thanks to his time at Pallene, the seat of the Golden Palace, and all his years of accompanying Brandth on his mission to find the Prince a bride, Talac had encountered a vast number of ladies that came in all shapes and sizes. But there was something about this particular woman… her careless disregard for her appearance, direct gaze and commanding ways, he found himself intrigued… and surprisingly amused.

“You know, it’s generally customary for the gentleman to lead.”

Readjusting her grip on him.

“And yet every man wants to be led on a merry dance by his lady love. You men should make up your fickled minds.”

The bark of laughter that escaped was a further surprise. Talac rarely found others amusing. Pulling his companion in a little closer as more couples crowded onto the grassy space set aside for dancing.

“I’m Talac.”

“Alia.”

He lifted her again, depositing her to the left so as to avoid a collision with the bridal couple who were just too oblivious. Setting them off in the opposite direction.

“We appear to be missing a number of grooms and their would-be-brides.”

“Surviving the hunt is life altering for many. Most race to the mead barrel. To celebrate their success and commiserate the imminent end of their bachelor days. One or two will kick up a fuss that their dowry portion is not reflective of their contribution.”

“Let me guess, Master Elliott is unhappy.”

The edge of Alia’s lips quirked slightly higher, still not an outright smile though.

“He’s in high dudgeons.”

“Whilst others return from the hunt realising what is most important… like our Master Kinnith.”

Talac surmised.

“We have a saying here, that the hunt reveals the true man. A pretty visage, even skills - though they help - none of that matters out there in the wild woods. Master Kinnith has the spine of a hero, and the heart of a gentleman. And he’s made a wise choice in Gretani. She’s gentle, but can be fierce if someone she loves is threatened. She doesn’t crave opulence, and is a hard worker… not that the two of them will be wanting for money now… thanks to you, it seems.”

Twirling Alia gave Talac a brief moment to school his features. He needed to squash this rumour now, before it got out of control.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re very good at keeping secrets at the Lair. Only a few are aware of the role you played out there today. Poulth. Several of the hunt team assigned to your group. And of course, our master butcher.”

“Your master butcher?”

“She was the one to withdraw the spear from the boar’s heart. One of our apprentice blacksmiths adds discreet numbers to the spears you see. We note them down when we distribute the weapons.”

“Smart.”

“Very. We started doing it three years ago after the Clintock twins attempted to use the chaos of the hunt to kill their first cousin, and cast blame upon another suitor.”

“Clintock twins? Darvey and Himrah? Nasty pieces of work. I heard they were dead.”

“No, they just don’t go out much anymore.”

“I’m betting there’s a story to tell as to why.”

“Lair justice.”

He couldn’t allow Alia to leave it there.

“The Beast, I presume?”

Talac glanced out over the jigging couples, who were swirling and twirling. Searching for the legend.

“Not much of a dancer, this Beast of yours?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Alia spun away and then back, smiling for the first time, a spike of yearning firing in Talac’s gut. The song ending, Alia breaking Talac’s hold on her, stepping away.

“I’ve never had any complaints before.”