A/N: Dalamar Nightson: Thanks for the reviews! 'Unstable' is always much more fun to write, anyway. And as to Thieves, I did have little markers when I switched POVs, but they didn't load and I'm too lazy to fix them at the moment.
Chapter 20 - The Keep of Lord Dumarse
"It is true, then," Rhapsody whispered under her breath as the Three jogged along behind the dark woman, "what Phyla said about her hearing voices?"
"Well it certainly appeared that way to me," Grunthor replied.
"I don't like it," Achmed growled. "This is the second time she's lost control like that. I'm not so certain she's not the one possessed."
"She's done that before?" Rhapsody asked in horror.
"After the house on the hill was attacked," Achmed explained. "After we'd escaped all those damned tree-men. We went into a pub. Some man made a comment about her 'murdering a lover' and she strangled him, burnt a hand print into his neck. When we left she started pacing and waving her hand around in the air like she was trying to swat a large fly. She started screaming; she clawed at her arm, like something was on it. Then her eyes went blank a moment before I snapped her out of it." He paused.
"Oi guess all those muttered curses and orders should 'ave tipped us off," Grunthor said.
"That poor woman," Rhapsody breathed.
Grunthor grunted. Neither he nor Achmed quite agreed to that. Worthy of skepticism and a close eye, yes; worthy of pity or compassion, not so much.
The woman ahead stopped. The others slowed and pulled up behind her.
"Would you kindly refrain from talking behind my back?" she rasped. "I can't tell if it's you or the voices in my head." They did not miss the sarcasm in the woman's voice. "Not to mention it is quite rude." Rhapsody blinked at the dark woman, ashamed, before the mentally unstable woman set off again.
--
They ran for what seemed like days. The sun was just beginning to touch the sky with a hint of pink when the unnamed woman halted them behind a small rise in a field flecked with random patches of trees. She beckoned them closer and directed their gaze over the knoll toward a large stone castle eight hundred yards away.
"The keep of Lord Dumarse," she declared, "better known as the Seat of Lord Dumb-ass."
Grunthor snorted.
--
"What do you mean 'the Duke moved right by us?'" demanded an average height man on the stocky side of build.
"He and his men just kept going," the wiry young clerk repeated. "They rode right on by the keep without stopping or making any indication of interest in the castle."
"That no good whoreson," the stocky man, Lord Dumarse, grumbled. "What is he up to?"
"It looked like he was headed in the direction of the Valley, my lord," squeaked the clerk.
"What? How do you know that?" the lord asked.
"Well, it lies in the general direction our scouts saw him headed," replied the clerk, patiently answering his slower-wit lord. "They followed him for a while, and should be reporting back soon with more information about his destination or direction."
"What? Oh, good, good," Dumarse grumbled. "See to it they report directly to me when they arrive."
--
"Dumber than dirt," the woman rasped. "No self-respecting F'dor would inhabit an idiot like that. Although, I suppose being stupid could allow the demon more control over its host," she added. "But I'd be more wary of his Captain…General…Commander…or whatever the hell the title is these days. He's manipulative and sly and arrogant, though not so much anymore after I rendered that general region useless," the dark woman leered. Grunthor and Achmed shifted uncomfortably.
"Are we going in to meet the bastard then, or are we just going to wait for them to find us?" Achmed growled, the sandpaper quality of his voice scratching bitterly at the air.
"Go on ahead, Snake Man," the mutilated woman said. "Go sniff the sucker out." She stepped aside and made a great sweeping bow to the Bolg king. Before the Dhracian could curse her or take a step forward, however, two riders came galloping across the lawn in front of them; their horses frothing and champing on the bits.
--
"My lord," bowed one of Dumarse's servants. "The scouts have arrived."
"Scouts?" Dumarse repeated. "What scouts?" The wiry little clerk whispered in his ear. "Oh, yes, yes," he said. "Show them in at once." The servant bowed low out the door and returned a few minutes later with the two out of breath riders.
"My lord," they breathed together, bowing slightly.
"Speak," Lord Dumarse commanded.
The one on the left, brown eyed and slightly taller than the other, spoke. "My lord, Duke Eli's men have bypassed the Keep. We followed them, at a distance, so as not to be seen, to the Valley. They stopped then, and appeared to circle around something, though we could not see what. And then a small wooden shack appeared from out of nowhere. The Duke's men then began to attack the shack. They broke in and hauled something else out with them, though we could not see what. Then they set the place ablaze and set off again northeast, back to the Duke's castle, no doubt. That is when we turned 'round and came back, as fast as we could."
Lord Dumarse furrowed his brow in contemplation. "He attacked a shack?" he asked. The man who had spoken nodded. "Narwhal!" he shouted. The clerk scurried forward and bowed. "Find Commander Ferrington and bring him here. Immediately," he ordered. The clerk bowed and rushed off to find the Commander. "He'll know what to make of this mess."
--
"What was that all about?" asked Grunthor once the two riders had disappeared into the keep and the horses led away to the stables.
"Scouts," the dark woman said. "Lookouts, spies."
"Do you think they saw us?" Rhapsody asked.
"No," the other woman replied, shaking her head. "Stay here," she whispered, taking a step out of the woods. Grunthor hauled her back.
"Just wait a second, missy," he said.
The woman pried Grunthor's fingers from her cloak with her uncanny strength.
"What is it exactly that you were planning to do?" Achmed hissed. "Walk in and ask for a chat with the Lord of the Keep in his conference room?"
"You're sarcasm amazes me," the woman replied. "And no, that won't be necessary. Dumb-ass will let me into his 'conference room.'" The woman then turned and headed toward the stone castle. "Stay here," she ordered as she left. She took a few steps, then stopped. "On second thought," she rasped, "Snake Man, with me. I don't trust you out of my sight.
The woman and the Dhracian approached the castle silently; two shadows fleeting shadows in the growing dusk. The woman took out a long rope from inside her cloak (she'd apparently found some things to re-outfit herself with). She looped one end and then threw it at on of the outcroppings on the lower parapet. She pulled the rope taught and tested her weight.
"You can climb, Snake Man?" she hissed. "Or must I carry you?"
Achmed glared at her, but she tied them together anyway, and the Bolg lord soon found himself half climbing, half dragged up the wall. As soon as they reached the top the dark woman hit the two guards on duty over the head with the hilt of her sword. They dropped to the ground without a sound. She then untied the rope connecting her and Achmed, and coiled the climbing rope and attached it back at her side. She nodded and the two set off along the wall.
--
Commander Ferrington was in his rooms, enjoying a nice drink and a smoke when someone rapped on his door.
"What is it?" he demanded, taking the cigar from his mouth.
"My lord wishes to speak with you, Commander," came the weak voice of the wiry little castle clerk. The Commander huffed.
"Tell him I'll be right up," he said, placing the cigar back in his mouth.
"It is urgent," the clerk continued.
"Worthless prat," the Commander grunted. "Lord Dumb-ass…"
"Sir?" came the squeaky little voice.
"All right, I'm on my way."
--
The dark woman led Achmed through the dank corridors of the all-but abandoned keep of Lord Dumb-ass, as the woman so fondly referred to him. They dodged a few servants and knocked out a few guards before they rounded a corner and came upon a skinny little man talking to a door.
"My lord wishes to speak with you, Commander," he squeaked. There was a muffled replied from the other side of the door.
"If you smell it," the woman whispered, "inform me, otherwise I'll kill him."
The woman began to creep up behind the clerk, pressed close to the wall. "It is urgent," the little man insisted. Another gruff reply from the door.
The woman stepped out from the shadows as the small man turned and knocked him over the head. He fell instantly, out cold. The woman beckoned Achmed forward and dumped the small man into his arms. Achmed almost dropped him out of repulsion, but resisted.
The dark woman knocked.
"I said I'll be right there!" shouted the man. The woman then turned the doorknob and entered.
--
"What the hell do you…?" Ferrington began as the clerk opened his door. He stopped short when a tall dark shadow, followed by another one carrying a small body, entered instead. The second shadow promptly dropped the unconscious clerk on the floor. "Reproduced, have you?" he snarled.
"No more than you have, my good ferret," the woman sneered. The man looked glared at her, disgusted.
"I thought you'd had enough of Lord Dumb-ass and his escapades?" Ferrington said.
The woman grinned in her grotesquely demonic way. "I have," she replied.
"Then what are you doing in my chambers?" he asked.
"Been a while since you've had a woman in here, eh, Ferret?"
"Is that your new boyfriend?" asked the Commander. "Seems an awful lot like you, dressed in black, trying to hide who he is. Watch yourself, friend, rumor has it she kills 'em once she's done with 'em."
The woman's eyes blazed momentarily. "If that were the case, at least he'd die happy, which is more than you can hope for." The woman flicked her finger and the man fell dead, burnt to a crisp.
--
"What the hell is taking the man so long?" demanded Lord Dumarse. The two scouts hung back and tried not to look anxious. Their liege could be a bit of an idiot at times, but he was also very dangerous. Stupid men with horrible tempers always were.
"Taking his sweet time," Dumarse growled. "Lord knows he hasn't got a woman in there! Hasn't for years…poor unlucky bastard…Narwhal!" he shouted. There was no answer. Then there came a knock upon the door. "Finally!" he roared, striding to the door and throwing it open. On the other side stood a tall hooded figured in black.
"You are not my General," he said.
"Nope," the figure rasped. Then all went black.