When he woke up, Huskar wasn't sure what had happened. He held his eyes closed for a few moments, trying to remember. There was pain, and nothing else.
Around him it was quiet. Eerily quiet. Not a single sound reached his ears. The air was cool and just a tiny bit moist. As if he was in a stone building with thick walls. Or a cave, somewhere where it was generally colder outside. Nothing like his homeland, then. Neither stone buildings nor cold climate.
That made no sense, but since he didn't remember anything after he had (how embarrassing) passed out, anything could have happened to him. Someone could've kidnapped him. Or taken him as revenge for one of the thousand things he had done.
Since he felt good, at least his body did, he couldn't imagine that this was some kind of revenge. He couldn't imagine any other reason, though. Why should someone take him and help him, just like that? Especially someone who wasn't a troll like him.
He opened his eyes, but that didn't give him any clues as to where he was and why. The room was tiny, not much larger than the bed he was lying on. The walls were built from huge stones, most of them grey with a few lighter ones mixed in between without recognisable pattern. A board was fastened to the wall on the foot-end of the bed. It held one book, a bowl which might contain something to drink, and a lamp. It was the light source of the room, giving off a soft yellow glow. Otherwise the room was empty. Not that there would've been any space to put things.
The door was at his head, so Huskar could directly look at it. It was made of wood, and it appeared to be rather sturdy. There was nothing more to see and he felt well enough to try and sit up. Everything fine so far. Not pain, not even soreness or anything.
While taking stock of his body, Huskar realized that he was almost naked. Someone had taken his armour off. And he had been so thoroughly knocked out that he hadn't woken during the process. Before he could get angry at whoever had taken his stuff, he saw it lying on the floor next to the door in the corner. Even his spear was there.
Definitely no kidnapping of any kind then. No one would be so stupid to give him his armour and weapon when they wanted to hold him hostage or wanted to hurt him. Not even the strongest of creatures.
Slowly, with rising curiosity, he swung his legs from the bed. The floor was cold beneath his feet, colder than he was used to from his home. It didn't bother him, though. There was still no pain, so he got up and put his armour on. No matter what he might think about this situation, he wouldn't go anywhere unarmed. He'd take no chances.
The door wasn't locked and swung open soundlessly. The corridor behind was as empty and as quiet as the room at his back. Nothing here gave the impression that the building was inhabited by any kind of creature.
That didn't change as Huskar walked down the first corridor or the second. What changed was the sense that he was being watched. He didn't detect anything, no movement, no smell, no sound. It was just a feeling of eyes on him. It didn't make him nervous, just careful as he moved on.
Whoever had taken him to this place would surely show themself sometime.
A shadow at the corner of his eyes mad him stop and turn. The corridor he was walking through was wider than the room he had woken in and he was sure someone or something had just slipped past him. There was nothing.
Just the dark walls. But he had seen such a shadow before. And he knew where he was. Just as he knew who was watching him. It were several whos probably.
He was in the domicile of the Veiled Sisters. The realization stunned him for a moment. There were too many implications following this thought. It was so strange that he almost discarded the thought again.
Before he could decide what this meant, someone entered the corridor at the direction he had been walking in. It was no other than the Phantom Assassin. She must've known that he was there, which was no surprise since he had been under observation since he had left the room he had woken in.
She didn't react, merely stared at him before she motioned for him to follow her. Not having any real other option, he did just that.
They entered a room and she shut the door behind him. The sense of being watched faded.
The room was as empty as the whole building seemed to be. The only difference to his room was that this one was big enough to include a desk with one chair in addition to the bed.
The Assassin flipped the chair around so the backrest was against the desk. She sat down, which left only the bed for Huskar, if he didn't want to remain standing.
His heart beat heavy in his chest as he watched the Assassin. She was beautiful as always but being here in her home made her appear more relaxed than usual. She didn't wear her full armour and she didn't give the impression of anticipating an attack every moment. Her expression revealed absolutely nothing of what was about to come next. At least that was as always.
"I would advise you not to go strolling through the rooms here. Right now you have seen little enough that I can bring you home. Or back to the platform, whatever you prefer."
Of course she didn't explain anything about the why of this situation. "Have you brought me here?"
"Yes." Huskar wanted to roll his eyes at this short answer. Couldn't she tell him anything without him having to pry it out of her?
"Why?"
She was silent for a long time, until Huskar thought she wouldn't answer. Her eyes were strangely distant when she finally did.
"I felt you. That you were in pain. So I located you and ported. I found you, unconscious on the platform. Our healer here patched you up. He said you should take breaks between the town wars or this will happen again. I won't rescue you a second time from your own stupidity."
The only thing Huskar could do was stare. Not because she had saved him. But because this was her admitting they were bound somehow. She had felt that he had been in pain. She had to know what this admission meant, which was probably why she had hesitated.
She didn't add anything else. Huskar felt as if this situation wasn't real. He couldn't fathom why she'd admit something like that, right after she had offered to bring him away from this place. Suddenly his heart was heavy, because it could only mean that she didn't care. She knew they were mates, had to know it since she had seen Huskar's mark often enough. Still she wouldn't say it, wouldn't stay with him.
He didn't know if it made everything worse. He was a little relieved that his own feelings had been real, that he hadn't imagined the pain and the despair. In the end it meant nothing. If she didn't want to be with him, he couldn't change it.
"Thank you. Back to the platform would be nice." There was nothing else left to say. He stood up and gripped his spear tighter. The pain in his heart had been gone for a few moments, being here with her soothing him in a strange way. Now that it was back it seemed to be worse. His throat burned and his eyes stung. This wouldn't get any better. Every time he saw the Assassin it hurt anew. Every time it hurt more. He couldn't think straight, he just wanted to leave.
The Phantom Assassin hesitated. It was barely discernible, but it was definitely there. Huskar grit his teeth. He needed to get away from her, as fast as possible. The problem with it was, though, that she obviously needed to touch him to get him away. She reached out towards him, her fingers brushing his upper arm. He hardly felt it, but simply the knowledge of her hand on his body made his head spin. He could barely breath, this being the first time they touched.
He wanted so much to lean against her hand, to increase the contact. Then he wanted to lean away from it, to make it stop, because it would only bring him more pain. Ever more.
The teleportation took too long, it should be over way quicker than it actually lasted. As soon as Huskar had the sand from the platform underneath his feet, he stepped away from the Assassin. Her hand hung in the air for a moment, before she lowered it to her side.
She should've immediately left again, but when she didn't, Huskar stared at her with a frown. "What?" He sounded absolutely rude. He didn't care.
"I'm sorry." When he would've growled another impolite thing at her, she raised her hand. "Wait. Yes, you are right, I am your mate. But as I said the first time we met, I am a Veiled Sister. We don't have mates. I can't change that, even if I wanted to. I can only hope that the passage of time will make it easier." Her eyes flickered, as if she actually felt something and wasn't as emotionally dead as her features suggested. "Please, refrain from getting yourself this close to death a second time." She hesitated. "I'm sorry." Then she left. And with it came the pain.
For a moment Huskar wondered if she felt it, too, this pain. It had to be, with them being mates. Except, she'd said she didn't have a mate. It didn't seem possible, but there was seldom something not possible in their world.
Mate. He had been right. Not that this knowledge gained him anything. It changed nothing, either. He could still do nothing, he was stuck. In a way, it was even worse now, because there was no chance for him to be wrong. He would forever be without a mate, forever alone. He would forever feel this pain. It was possible that it would lessen over time, though considering the amount of town wars he had been in and that it hadn't gotten any better during this time, he didn't hold much hope.
It would be sensible to find a solution for this problem, but Huskar was frustrated. And angry. At the Phantom Assassin and at the world for doing this to him. He wanted to get as far away as fast as possible. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to kill, to scream, to bring fear and destruction. A town war was available.
He lost the war. But at least it had given him time to think and to calm down. Fighting in the wars all the time would get him killed eventually. No creature could do this forever. As he himself had learned. He was tough and it was almost impossible to kill him. Nonetheless the wars had nearly achieved it.
Outrunning the pain was no option, then. Not like this at least. Thinking was easier with something to drink, so Huskar made his way over to the inn. He took a small and empty table and ordered something with a lot of alcohol. The beer from the dwarves was the strongest drink the inn had, the liquid rather bitter and dark brown. Huskar didn't care. Drinks from the trolls didn't taste any better.
The inn was astonishingly quiet, only a few creatures present. Probably because of the hour. It was too early in the morning, even the waitress looked a little sleepy.
Huskar downed half of the beer before he leaned back and closed his eyes. The situation was crazy. He had found his mate, but she refused to be his mate. That couldn't be new. Not the reason for the refusal, but the fact itself. There had to be others who had to live with the pain of forever being alone. Of knowing who would complete their soul but never being able to have it.
There had to be a way to get rid of this constant pain and someone had to know it. It was only a matter of finding this someone.
He would try his luck with the Shadow Priest first. He loathed the troll shaman on a fundamental level, but he knew a lot of creatures and he was a shaman. He'd visit him tomorrow and tell him about his mate refusing him. Nothing more. It didn't matter anyway, what his mate was or why she refused him. He didn't want advice in how to get her, either. First, he didn't think he could, and second, he didn't think he should. If she wanted him as mate, she could decide that without him having to pressure her into wanting it. He wasn't an arse.
He just wanted to get back to his life, to not being in pain all the time.
He ordered another beer. It was probably not very wise to do so, the alcohol already blurring his vision and making him reach for his second drink rather unsteadily. Not that he cared very much, though. He'd simply take a room and let one of the bouncers carry him up there when he was too drunk to stand.
A sound plan. The last thing Huskar could remember was him paying for the room in advance, as well as the two drinks before he had finished the second one even half. Next he woke up in a small room, on a hard but clean bed. His head hurt only a little, and his body felt heavy and relaxed. He rolled from the bed, intending to get on his feet that way.
His face hit the floor first, which was a feat in itself. With a grunt, he tried to get his limbs to function as he wanted. That took him quite some time, but he was able to sit up and lean back at the bed. He stared down at his feet with a frown. Damn dwarf beer.
A knock on the door made his frown deepen. "What?" His voice was rough and scratchy but the door opened without pause. A small satyr stood on the threshold.
"You ordered breakfast for the morning." The creature looked at Huskar, propped against the bed and probably looking like he wasn't able to get up. Which he wasn't. Yet, he hoped. It raised its eyebrows. "You are the Sacred Warrior, right?"
"Yes."
A flick of a hand, almost dismissive, definitely not polite. "Breakfast is ready downstairs." The satyr was gone a second later.
Considering his state of body at the moment, Huskar decided not to get up yet. He didn't even try, well aware how futile it would be. He lay down again, on the floor since he didn't get his body to obey enough to get back into bed, and tried to sleep some more. Breakfast could wait.
After a few more hours, it was better. No headache and when he tried to get up, he was actually able to get to his feet. A little wobbly, but good enough.
Breakfast.
Not sure what to do with his day afterwards, Huskar ported home. He debated about doing some more town wars, but he was afraid he'd get stuck in them like before and he really didn't want to get knocked out like he had been a second time. It had definitely not been pleasant and he was sure that the Assassin wouldn't rescue him again. If he were more suicidal, he'd consider that she had lied and that she'd always save him, but then he didn't want to take that chance.
At least the anger and frustration at the Phantom Assassin as well as the world in general had almost vanished. What remained was sadness and the pain in his heart. And his thoughts constantly circling around the Assassin. The most frustrating thing was that he couldn't do anything at all. He was helpless, stuck in this fucked up situation.
In his house, he took a deep breath. The air smelled of dust and wood. It made him feel at home, though the dust wasn't usually there.
When he had last been here, the Assassin had been as well. She had threatened him, while she had been absolutely calm, her face expressionless. She had known that he was her mate, back then. She had known it and still had said she'd kill him. Even after all this time, he was sure that she would have gone through with it. She'd probably still do it now.
A strange and very lonely concept, to be forever without a mate and even to consider killing one's mate for whatever reason. Huskar wondered if they had a choice in the matter or what would happen if one of the Veiled Sisters didn't want to live by this rule. Would they be banned? Or maybe killed together with their mate?
That was definitely possible, with what he knew from them. He grimaced. What a luck he had, to have a mate who didn't want or wasn't allowed to be tied to anyone.
Exhausted from everything that had happened since he had left his house, Huskar fell onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, thoughts drifting. He wished the Assassin was here with him. He couldn't really imagine how she'd be as a mate, but that didn't matter. He just wanted her to be around. He thought he could be happy just to watch her fight every day, to have her sit on his floor and clean her weapons, or train in front of his house.
His imagination was so lively, for a moment he thought the Phantom Assassin was actually in the house. He sighed and closed his eyes. He knew it wasn't true, that it was just his mind playing tricks on his senses. But he enjoyed the trick for as long as his head was willing to keep it up. And he was able to fall asleep before it ended.
In his dreams she was present as well so when he woke up, he buried deeper into his pillow to maybe fall back asleep and have the dream continue. He didn't.
Frowning, he stood up and, following the growling of his stomach, raided his kitchen for something eatable that hadn't gotten bad during his absence. He found enough at least for this meal. He'd go hunting later. After he had visited the Shadow Priest. He was reluctant to go to him for help, because he didn't like him. The shaman had a way to do his job that was creepy at best. Shaman stuff was always strange, but what he did was the worst Huskar had ever seen from any troll he had met. It was all highlighted by the appearance of the Shadow Priest. Too much paint on his face, too much grinning and too much stuff tied to his staff and his belt that had been living once.
Still, the Shadow Priest was the best shaman known in the troll world and Huskar wanted the best for his problem. He didn't want to walk around and tell his story every shaman he could find. So the Shadow Priest it was.