Questing Sucks (Book 1) (44 page)

“Mistress Cah’lia, Mistress Cah’lia!”

Cah’lia spun at the sound of Rina’s voice. “Rina? How did you find us here? We were actually going to come looking for you.”

The little Human looked alarmed, and she continually glanced at Sehn, and then back to Cah’lia. “Rina has things she wants to say, but she can’t say them to you right now.”

“Things? Rina, what’s wrong? Where are Wolly and Shina, and my brother?”

The question was soon answered. Shina and Nero trotted into the Inn, followed closely behind by a panting, gasping Wolly. “To,” he panted. “Too much,” he breathed. “It be too much walking for one day.” The dwarf crawled over to a nearby couch, drenched with sweat. He plopped down and closed his eyes.

“What’s going on around here?” Cah’lia asked.

Shina did the same as Rina, throwing cautionary glances at Sehn. She looked behind her at Nero as well.

Is there something they’re not supposed to know?
Cah’lia wondered.
Is that why no one’s telling me anything?
It must be
.

Cah’lia raised her voice. “Sehn, Nero, I’ve got something for you two.” That caught their attention. Nero marched forward the same time as Sehn, a pleading look in both of their eyes.

“It’s money, isn’t it?” Sehn said licking his lips. “I demand you give none of it to Nero, all goes to your God-King.”

“But Sehn,” Nero moaned. “I want Cah’lia’s money too!”

“Silence, Nero! You shall receive ten Elvens of it, and you will be grateful for even that much.”

Cah’lia was in no mood for their childish bickering. The mayor, while not overly generous, had at least provided her with enough money to keep things in order. She handed each of them a relatively equal amount. She gave her brother five hundred Elvens, and Sehn five hundred and one. She knew it was the only way of keeping peace. They were gone an instant later.

Shina and Rina approached, waiting until Sehn and Nero cleared the inn door before speaking. “Let me tell her,” Shina said. Rina nodded.

“Rina has just stumbled into someone.” Shina pulled Cah’lia close—the young Elven girl’s face was a mask of determination. “Patrick and Saerina,” she finished in a whisper.

Cah’lia straightened. She looked around to ensure no one was within earshot. There were only a few guests in the inn lobby, and none seemed to be paying them any mind. One played a few games of chance at a nearby table, while another young woman booked a room for her small family.

“What is it?” Cah’lia whispered.

Shina told her what happened. Rina spotted and chased down Patrick, and she in turn gave the message to Shina. “You don’t have to be a genius to know what this means,” Shina whispered. “The army is on the march to Hahl, and they’ll be here soon.”

Cah’lia filled with apprehension. She didn’t have to think long on what course to take, there was only one option. “We need to find those two and leave. Damn it all, we can’t get a break. I want us out of Hahl within the hour. Rina, you did very well, and I’m very proud of you.”

Rina’s face brightened, an innocent smile forming across her lips. “Rina is happy Mistress Cah’lia is proud of her.”

 

 

“Damn,” Sehn muttered. “How did we manage to spend a thousand Elvens just like that? I blame
you
, Nero.”

Nero pouted. It was a disrespectful gesture Sehn would discipline him for later. “It’s not my fault. You said we’d win for sure.”

Sehn wanted to break something, he was miserable. They were inside of a vast stadium not far from the center of Hahl. There were rows of seats, extending as high up as some buildings. Horses raced around the center track, and bets would be placed on the winner. None of this was Sehn’s fault, though. He’d been tricked.

“You agreed with me, fool!”

“Well, I thought we were being smart.”

The plan was simple. Bet on the weakest-looking animal. Sehn figured the Humans would dress up one of the horses to look weak, so that people wouldn’t bet on it, and the few who did would become rich. Apparently, things didn’t work like that as the horse not only came in last, but it actually died in the middle of the race.

“Do you have any more money, Nero? The Great Sehn demands more entertainment!”

Nero emptied the pockets of his woolen trousers, exposing nothing but lint. “I’ve got nothing.” He bolted up from the stadium seat. “I’m gonna go look for something else to do!”

Sehn grabbed him by the shoulder the moment he tried to run off. “Fool, what did I tell you about running off alone? Not that I care or anything, but your sister would annoy me if I let you get lost.”

He tried to conceal the agonizing pain creeping into his back from the sudden movement. Something was going wrong with him, and Sehn was becoming more confused with each passing day. At first, he thought it was simply his body testing him, making him prove he was worthy of it. But it was getting worse, and worse, and on some days, Sehn struggled just to breathe.

There was a loud whistle, and another series of horses took off, running around the track while the crowd cheered from all around. Sehn climbed the steps leading out of the stadium, glancing over his shoulders to ensure Nero was following. Each time his foot landed on another elevated step, a shooting pain entered his knee and Sehn struggled to remain on his feet.

I’m fine,
he told himself.
Nothing hurts the Great Sehn!

 

Ghell grew agitated, it was almost time. His force would arrive at Hahl by sunrise the next morning. The sound of marching soldiers, stamping horses, and clinking armor drove him forward. He looked behind him at the legion of men under his command. Sixteen thousand men, ready to die at his word.

“Halt!” he cried.

Any farther, and the Kingdom would see his advance. He’d rest the men until sunrise, and then come early morning he’d begin the assault. In all honesty Ghell only needed half the men he’d been given. The Kingdom would never expect him to attack Hahl. By all accounts, they should believe him to be heading towards the Kingdom’s capital city. Still, it never hurt to be careful. If for some reason the kingdom caught wind of his troop movements and prepared some form of defense, his men would be more than capable of handling them.

And to think, this is only a part of the man’s army, the piece he’s entrusted to me.

He leaped off his mount, deciding to check on his champion. He knew he was being overly cautious, but in the worst case scenario, the man would be needed to turn the tables. Ghell didn’t know where their glorious leader found such a beast, but he was grateful for it.

He was in his cage, where he always was. Ghell looked on him with awe—his eyes alone sent shivers down Ghell’s spine. The man could break out of the cage with ease if he wanted, which made Ghell wonder why they even locked him up in the first place. Though, from everything Ghell had seen, the caged-man seemed to enjoy staying inside.

“You’re awake, I see,” Ghell said. “How are you feeling?”

The champion’s eyes were closed, but Ghell knew from his rapid breathing he was merely meditating. His eyes opened slowly, revealing the cat-like slits that glowed with such burning rage and intensity. Yet there was a slyness too it, a disturbing intelligence that forced respect into Ghell’s voice whenever he spoke to the man.

“I…desire battle,” he whispered. “I’m going to kill him. He will come to face me, I have seen it.” A smile formed on the champion’s lips. “His blade and mine, clashing together. It will be glorious.”

Ghell shrugged, the man’s words never made any sense. “Kill who? You know what, it doesn’t even matter. As long as you’re in good health you can ramble all you want.”

“My health is just fine.”

“I can let you out of the cage if ya want. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I am fine, thank you. As you were, commander Ghell.”

Ghell felt like slapping the champion in the face for his show of arrogant disrespect, but thought the better of it. The champion was intimidating, and Ghell knew on an instinctual level that commander or not, the champion would rip out Ghell’s intestines and coil them around his neck. It was strange, because the champion was a scrawny man, with a body that was the opposite of intimidating. Yet, all it took was a single glance into his thunderous eyes, and Ghell wanted to flee for his life.

“First Lieutenant!” Ghell called.

A young boy, no older than seventeen by the look of his slowly growing stubble, rushed to stand beside Ghell. “Yes, sir?”

“Have the men rest the remainder of the day, and give them wine. I want them to enjoy the night before battle.”

“As you command, sir.”

Ghell had his tent erected and he unrolled his area-maps on top of his mobile command-desk. He laid out the maps, the same way he did every time they halted for the night, always looking for some type of advantage, something he could use. It always came to the same end.

Hahl was a well-defended city, with no weak points to be found anywhere, no holes in the defenses, or tactful points of entry. A modest number of heavily fortified archer towers spread around the city at equally distant points. Between the spikes, the burning oil, and the other perilous defenses the city issued, Ghell was glad to have such a tremendous force under his command.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, I prove my worth.”