Chapter 3
Tyeradal,
Market district
Even late in the evening, the market was still bristling with life and business. Merchants, travelers, and traffickers packed closed together exchanged untold amounts of money for goods and services.
Ororo smiled slightly to herself. The way the Humans led their life with so much haste, it was a wonder they lived as long as they did. It was one more thing she missed about her home, the quiet serenity of the Dallenwood. Ororo frowned then, thinking of the way the Ironwood trees reached into the heavens, and the way some of them would be turning the warm golden brown of the coming Harvest season.
The city was an exciting and breathtaking place, that she could not deny, but the thought of home was already starting to eat away at her.
“Thief, stop him, Thief!!!”
So engrossed was she in her own thoughts, Ororo never heard the cries or saw the oncoming man running toward her. Before she even had the chance to raise her head, two strong hands grasped her about the shoulders and pulled her into the adjacent alley.
“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, then he kissed her.
Ororo’s eyes went wide with shock. Struggling to dislodge this stranger from her lips, she noticed a portly man wearing the apron of shopkeeper run past the alley in a fury of curses.
Finally disengaging the kiss, the man looked at her and smiled. “My lady,” he said with a devil-born grin, “I think I am in love.”
Ororo slapped him, hard. “Who in the hells do you think you are?”
The man rubbed his cheek softly, but never once did the grin leave his face. “Full of fire too, Remy knows it now, he is definitely in love!”
Ororo was outraged, she slapped him again, this time on the other cheek “I could have your head for this,” she said, still flustered; she kept telling herself it was from the shock of it all and not the warm sensation that fluttered in her belly.
The man who called himself Remy grinned again “You already have my heart, my lady, you might as well have my head, too.”
Ororo looked at the smiling man and was shocked to hear herself laugh. She could not deny the man’s charm. “Who are you?”
He swaggered a bit closer to her. “A man of the world, my Rose, both above and below.” Pulling back the hood he wore, Ororo saw his eyes, orbs of darkest midnight with a drop of crimson in the middle, and she felt her breath catch “You’re a Daemon??”
Remy quickly shook his head. “Daemon touched,” he corrected, pulling the hood back over his handsome face “Remy just have the bad luck of being born under unusual circumstances.”
Ororo still felt uneasy. “But you are a thief.”
He laughed. “Not at all, Rose, I am much more than that.”
Before she could respond, the sounds of approaching footsteps rang in their ears. Remy ducked behind a small crate of rotting fruit.
“Excuse me, my lady,” said a voice; Ororo turned and saw it belonged to the shopkeeper she had seen running past them earlier. On either side of him stood two city guards. “We were looking for a man, a thief, tall with long brown hair and a hood pulled low over his face.”
From the corner of her eye, Ororo could see Remy stiffen. All of what she had been taught in her upbringing screamed for her to turn him in. However, as she glanced into those strange eyes, she could see fear and something else. Was it pleading?
“No, I have not,” she said, facing the irate shopkeeper.
The keeper looked unconvinced. “Are you sure of this?”
“I believe I would have noticed.”
“May I ask what you are doing in an alley way, then?”
Ororo knew she could always pull her station as royalty, but decided to keep to her own wiles; she did not need her status to save her from situations. “Can’t a lady step out of the hot sun and rest for a moment?”
Still looking unconvinced, but knowing this was not going anywhere, the keeper and guards moved on, muttering and cursing.
When he was sure it was safe, Remy came out from behind the crates and fell to his knees before Ororo. “My Rose, just when Remy thinks he cannot possibly love you more, you shower him with a thousand more reasons why he must have you.” He kissed her hand.
Ororo laughed again. “On your feet, brigand!”
Remy rose and bowed low. “My lady is owed a great debt of gratitude, and the gratitude of a king is always worth its weight in gold.”
“You’re a king?” Ororo asked, smirking all the while.
Remy frowned. “Does Remy not look the part?” he said, striking a very over the top, dashing pose.
Ororo laughed and shook her head.
Remy glanced at her from the pose he was still holding. “Well, my lady, believe it or not, but you stand before Remy LaBeau, King of the Thieves Guild of Aldriah.”
He bowed low and kissed her hand again “Now,” he asked, “what number of coins is it worth to you for saving the life of a king?”
“I have no need of coins, sir” she said, but gave some thought to it a moment, “but perhaps a favor.”
Remy grinned devilishly again. “Remy gives a grand foot massage.”
Ororo snorted a laugh and swatted his arm. “Keep it all in your fantasies, LaBeau.”
Remy acted disheartened, but pulled a small vial from his coat pocket. “Very well then, my Lady, if Remy cannot convince you of the worldly gift of his love, then he offers you this.”
Ororo took the small vial and studied it. “What is this?”
“Whenever you wish to call in that favor, simply crack the vile, and Remy will know of it, and he will come in all haste to make your dreams come true.”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “You never stop, do you?”
That devil grin appeared again. “No, my lady, I never do.”
Remy looked out of the alley, making sure the coast was clear, and he bowed before her. “Until next time my Rose, do not miss me too fondly.”
And he was gone.
Ororo grinned and shook her head, putting the small vial away.
Glancing up at the sun, she cursed and realized she was going to be late for the supper. In all haste, she started a run back for the palace.
The Gray Woods:
Screams.
Loud, pain-ridden screams.
All Kathreyna could hear were the screams of the slaughter that was taking place around her. Dragging the wounded body of one of her kinsmen, she ducked into a small thicket as she felt the ground beneath her thunder with approaching hoof beats.
The Aldriahn forces had broken their lines, and were now in pursuit of the fleeing Northerners.
May the Father devour you for this, Tinol, Kathreyna thought as she tried binding the wounds of her clansman. Tinol had been the warlord in command of this incursion to take back the Grey woods, and in his ignorance, many of their people were going to die.
“Kat, leave me I cannot make it,” Warren pleaded, all the while coughing up a river of blood.
“The Hells be damned with you, you’re coming with me,” she said as she tore the leather strips from her leggings and tried her best to bandage the gaping wound on his side. “I am not about to explain to Bettsei, that I left you behind.”
Warren bit his lips to suppress the scream that was building. “Father Beast devour you, will you stop acting like your brother and go!”
“We do not leave one another behind, Warren,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “You would expect me to be able to face my father and brother knowing that I had not tried?”
Warren tried to shake his head, “Still always trying to prove something, huh, little Kat?”
Kathreyna smiled at him. “I have much to live up to, coming from my family.” She had finished tying the strips on, but she could tell the blood was not stopping.
“Tell Betts for me that I am sorry,” Warren croaked out.
“Tell her yourself,” Kat said, tying another strip to his wound.
“Just tell her, Kat, please!” He grabbed her hand and held it.
Kat tried to force the tears down, but they dripped from her eyes all the same and she nodded.
A Horn split the air and Kat raised her head out of the thicket. Again the horn blew.
She smiled brilliantly. “Warren, do you hear that, that is my brother’s horn!” She looked back down at him and realized his chest had stopped moving. A sob tore from her throat, and she reached down and closed the lifeless eyes that stared up into the sky.
“Drink your fill at the table of our Father, Kinsman,” she said, and she started to move.
As the horn blew again, there was no doubt from the sounds of the screams that roared through the air who had come.
Kathreyna moved as fast as she could toward the wonderful melody of the baying horn. Her bow had been lost in the initial attack, but she still clutched the hilts of the twin long Daggers strapped to her hips, hoping to use them before the day was done.
In the clearing ahead, she saw what was taking place.
The cavalry and infantry that had been pursuing them were now in the jaws of chaos. A line of fire, made from the special oils and fats by their mystics, cut off any retreat as arrows rained down upon man and horse alike.
And through the smoke and flame and blood, Kathreyna could see him.
Standing along a line of his own handpicked men stood her brother.
Dressed only in dark brown leather pants with a long flowing animal skin adorning him from the tip of his head down his back, clutching two large axes in either hand, he waited a moment longer before signaling the archers to stop and for his men to move in.
A roar louder than any man or beast had ever reached sounded from his throat as he charged into the thick of the fray. A blow of the horn, and his men flowed behind him.
Swords cut, shields were splintered, maces crushed and axes tore. Kathreyna saw her brother plow through the bodies as a farmer would rich soil. The Red Haze had settled over him, she could tell by the look in his eyes and the merciless way he struck.
It was over in moments. Thanks to her brother, even though they had lost ground, many of their people were saved.
Bodies were being cleared away and weapons collected; all the while he stood there, axes still clenched firmly in hand, not moving.
The wind blew the blood-drenched pelt about his back. Kat knew she must wait a moment before approaching him. Suddenly he fell to his knees as the Haze left him, even from here Kat could see the various cuts lining his body. Still, with caution, Kat walked over to him.
He did not move.
As she eased closer to him, he finally raised his blood-stained face to her.
Their eyes locked for a moment.
“Hey, little Kitty,” he said, his voice a horse whisper.
She walked to him and dropped to her knees beside him. “Always there to be the hero, aren’t you, Logan?”
“Someone has to watch over your scrawny ass,” he said, never breaking a smile, but his eyes shone brightly with humor.
Kat wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Like I needed it,” she said, teasing “you didn’t even leave any for me.”
He grunted as he strapped the axes back to his thighs.
“So we fall back and regroup?” she asked.
Logan gazed over the horizon and said nothing for a moment. Slowly he shook his head. “No, I am taking my group down to the east, and cut off their supply lines before they get fully entrenched.”
Kathreyna sighed, “Father would want us to regroup, you know.”
“I’m not gonna let them gain any more ground on us,” he replied, still never taking his eyes away from the skyline. “Besides, we could use the food and medicines.”
That was it, she knew. She knew that tone, so there was no point in arguing it. “Don’t suppose I could go with you?”
He turned his gaze toward her. “And hear you bellyache the whole time? Hells, no!”
She punched him in the arm. “Bastard.”
He chuckled silently.
“Can I at least get your promise that you will be as discreet as possible, no trail of bodies for anyone to follow?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “At least come back home, and don’t make me come and find your hairy ass.”
“That’ll be the day.”
She reached up and hugged him. “Be safe, brother.”
He patted her back. “Hey, it’s me.”
She let go of him and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Gods, that is what worries me.”
He smiled at her and then turned and signaled to his men. A small group of twelve followed him into the Forest and were gone an instant later.
Kat whispered a small prayer. “May the Father grant you his Claws, brother, and keep you safe.”
She turned to those that remained and prepared for their journey back.
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