Chapter Three
Consequences Unforeseen
'Ugh,' Mirana snorted with disgust. 'Almost certainly the result of a drunken stupor. No doubt he felt the need to show off. He's lucky he isn't dead.' She glanced round. 'Stop staring, Marci!'
Marci looked away reluctantly, a hot flush spreading through her cheeks. She had been shocked to stumble across Davion out here. More so to find that he was completely naked.
Since she had become Mirana's handmaiden, Marci had experienced a lot of different things. Stumbling upon a bloodied man in the middle of the road had happened before. Stumbling across a naked bloodied man in the middle of the road was something new, and Marci was trying her best not to look—curious as she was.
She'd always been too busy to pursue men, and always ended up breaking the fingers or jaws of drunkards and lechers who came too close. This was a novelty for her. Her eyes were drawn back down because Davion was rather handsome in her eyes, and very well built. The scars spread across his body did not bother her. She actually found them impressive—silent litanies speaking of the battles he had fought and the monsters he had defeated.
It would have been hypocritical of her to disapprove of them anyway, since she had her share of scars too. Unlike Mirana, she wore a long-sleeved tunic. Scars on a man like Davion were not unexpected. On somebody like her, they were considered odd and drew attention. Why did somebody so innocent-looking have such marks? Who or what was responsible? Did it bother her that they made her unsightly in most eyes?
Take one look at Davion and you'd know that dragons and other monsters had given him his scars, and his bearing them made him seem brave and heroic, as well as attractively rugged. All of these were all qualities which Marci had admit that she admired in him.
She found herself wondering if her scars would bother Davion if he ever saw them, and felt her cheeks flush a deeper shade of scarlet at the thought.
In order to spare herself from further embarrassment, and Davion when he awoke, she removed her cloak and draped it across his body. Mirana had a point. It was rude to stare, especially since Davion could hardly tell her to stop right now.
Mirana's expression betrayed her disapproval. 'You didn't need to do that.'
Marci shrugged in response. It was a small sacrifice. That one time they had stumbled across a bloodied and clothed man in the road there had been little they could do to help—he had died long before they had arrived. All they had been able to do was bury the corpse.
Davion groaned.
Marci knelt down and slapped his face lightly. She had to be careful. He would not be grateful if she fractured his cheekbones. The stubble was not as rough as she had thought. His skin was surprisingly smooth.
Davion opened his eyes. They were unfocused at first, and his face was a picture of confusion and pain.
'He's going to have an awful hangover.' Mirana warned with a low murmur.
Marci could not smell any alcohol on his breath. From what she had seen at the inn, he could hold his liquor.
Davion blinked a couple of times before his vision swam into focus. He frowned. 'I know you. Marci?'
She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. He did not seem to be in shock, or suffering from a concussion.
'Where am I?'
'In the middle of the road to Haupstadt.' Mirana answered shortly. 'I assume you enjoyed yourself last night, drinking the local tavern dry?'
'I don't think I had that much.' Davion sat up slowly, one large hand pressed against his pounding forehead. 'Mind you, I feel like I've had too much.'
'You look like you lost a fight with something bigger too.'
Davion glanced down at the dried blood slathered across his chest. His eyes widened and he felt around his neck in a panic. Marci's cloak slipped and she quickly looked away, the blush intensifying once more.
'My fang!' Davion exclaimed, heedless of the exposure. 'Where's my fang? I had a necklace. Have you seen it?' He winced when he moved too quickly and clutched at his head again.
'I don't know.' Mirana frowned. 'What happened to you?'
Davion lowered his head and cradled it in his hands. 'I... I'm not sure. I remember... I remember fire. I remember a dragon.'
'You killed one the day before.'
'No. No, this one was different. Bigger. More powerful.' He groaned again. 'There was something... something else. But I can't remember anything more. Wait...' his eyebrows contracted. 'There were men on the road. I think they wanted to rob me.'
'Looks like they succeeded.' Mirana noted dryly.
'That's... embarrassing.'
'Well, if you were drunk it would have been easy.'
Marci shot a scowl at Mirana. Mirana ignored her.
'I feel terrible!' Davion grimaced. 'I need to... to...' He gagged. 'I can taste blood...' His voice tailed off. His eyes rolled back, the eyelids closed, and he fainted. Marci slapped his cheek again, without success.
Mirana huffed and shouldered her pack. 'Come on. We're not far from Haupstadt now.'
Marci stood, shook her head and pointed down at Davion.
'No, Marci,' Mirana sighed, 'it isn't up to us to save people from themselves.'
Mirana had not been quite as attentive as Marci had been. She had assumed that Davion had passed out due to drunkenness, but Marci still could not smell any trace of alcohol. Regardless, leaving him here was not right. Who knew what might happen to him if they left him defenceless and vulnerable? Though he did not appear to be wounded, the blood clinging to his skin might attract scavengers. Unconscious, he would be an easy meal for wolves and other predators.
Marci met Mirana's icy eyes and cocked an eyebrow.
'Don't look at me like that, Marci. We haven't the time for this.'
Marci tilted her head and torso back and folded her arms.
Mirana sighed again, knowing that this was an argument she was not going to win. Although Marci was sworn to serve her and was devoted to her, she could be incredibly stubborn. And when Marci decided on something, she usually got her way.
People said that arguing with a mute was impossible. Mirana knew otherwise, but it was hard to argue with Marci because she was so determined—and Mirana did not like to hurt her feelings.
Mirana closed her eyes briefly. 'Very well. We'll take him with us.' She had barely uttered the words before she saw that Marci had already picked Davion up and slung him across her narrow shoulders. 'You don't have to do that, Marci. Sagan can carry him.'
Marci shrugged despite Davion's weight pressing down on her, eyebrows lifting slightly. Her back was not even bent under the pressure. Of course it was no trouble for her, but Sagan was there to carry things. Once again though, Marci had made her mind up. Arguing was pointless.
Mirana sighed yet again and continued up the road. Marci followed, balancing a man more than a head taller and significantly broader than herself across her shoulders. If anybody was watching, they would have been baffled by the sight. The thought amused Marci and she smiled.
At least this had been a more pleasant diversion than yesterday's. Her bruised knuckles still throbbed from punching that mail-clad bandit who had foolishly tried to stop her by trying to grab her hair.
Davion felt his senses swim as he drifted back into consciousness. A fuzzy heat washed across his torso and light stabbed at his blurry eyes. He blinked a few times until they refocused. A small fire was burning before him, the flames flickering merrily. The ground under his legs and backside was soft and springy with pine needles.
He still felt sick, and not hangover sick. This was something churning deep in his guts. What on earth had he eaten last night?
The disturbing thing was that he did not recall much of yesterday besides waking up. Everything else was a blur of flame, crimson scales and blood. His head throbbed just trying to think about it.
'Awake at last.'
He looked up. A woman was sat across from him, dressed in grey, white and blue. A silver tiara set with a single red stone adorned her brow, and her long brown tresses flowed across her shoulders and down her back. She was attractive—beautiful even—but there was a coldness in her blue eyes which warned Davion to keep his distance.
'I think I've asked this before, but where am I?'
'Not far from Haupstadt.' The woman answered.
Where had he seen her before? Of course! She was the enigmatic Princess whom Marci served. This revelation begged a question as Davion realised that Marci was not present. 'Where is Marci?'
The woman raised an eyebrow, surprised by the query. 'Hunting.'
'Right.' Davion pressed his knuckles to his aching forehead. 'I'm Davion. I never caught your name. I know you're a Princess, but that's about it.'
'That needn't concern you.'
'Oh, come on!' Davion chided lightly. 'I know Marci. I know she's your handmaiden. I know you're a Princess. And you know all of my... secrets.' His eyes darted downwards meaningfully. Marci's cloak was still wrapped around his torso and it was only just long enough to preserve his modesty. Not that he had any left to preserve where the Princess and Marci were concerned.
The woman sighed. 'Fine. My name is Mirana.'
'Mirana.' Davion repeated, wondering. The name did not ring any bells. If she was a Princess, she came from a place he likely did not know. 'How have you been carrying all of that stuff?' He indicated what appeared to be a mass of saddlebags and an accompanying saddle of unusual design. If they had a horse, it was nowhere to be seen.
'You'll see soon enough.'
It was almost amusing. Here he was with a woman who could speak, yet he had found it much easier to communicate with Marci in spite of her muteness.
A shrill whistle issued from behind him. Mirana jumped to her feet, took up a bow, nocked an arrow, bent the bow and released the arrow all within the space of a few heartbeats. The arrow whizzed past Davion's ear and hit something in the bushes.
'Erm...' Davion stared at her, unnerved. 'What was that?'
'Dinner.'
Davion heard rustling and turned his head. Marci emerged from the bushes, holding a dead rabbit in one hand and a hunting spear in the other. He instinctively smiled as she caught his eye, then stared as a large grey and white furred cat-like creature stalked after Marci. It was obviously not a threat to them, as neither Marci nor Mirana tried to stop it. It had another rabbit in its jaws, which Marci and Mirana allowed it to eat.
Marci knelt close to the fire and pulled her dagger from her boot. She quickly and expertly skinned the rabbit and inserted a skewer, then left it to cook over the fire. The cat-like creature watched with interest. Davion supposed this answered one of his earlier questions. This was their beast of burden. He had to admit that it was certainly more impressive than a horse.
Its presence also made him realise something. 'You're from the Nightsilver Woods, aren't you?'
Mirana frowned, but Marci nodded in response to the question.
'You know, the only people I have seen handle a bow so well had points on their ears.'
'Maybe we are from the Nightsilver Woods. Maybe we aren't.' Mirana suggested evasively.
'Really? You're wearing the right clothes, and the big cat is a giveaway.'
Marci glanced at Mirana and shrugged, her gaze questioning and her face adopting a look of curiosity. Mirana shook her head. Marci gave Davion an apologetic look and sprinkled some herbs on the cooking rabbit. Despite having eaten, the big cat was watching hungrily.
'Where are you going?' Davion asked.
'Haupstadt.'
'Can you take me there?'
'Why should we do that?'
Marci frowned at Mirana, pointed at Davion and made a chopping movement with her hand.
'I know he's unarmed, but he can look after himself.'
Marci's jaw clenched visibly and her eyes narrowed.
'Fine! We'll take him to Haupstadt, but no further. We've wasted enough time as it is.'
'Thank you.' Davion acknowledged gratefully, more to Marci than Mirana. Once he reached Haupstadt, he could try to get a message to Dragon Keep. He wondered if Bram was looking for him. He would struggle to find him out here, which was why he needed to go to the city. Bram would make for it if he failed to find Davion in Barreltown.
Marci divided up the cooked rabbit as well as she could, handing out the bowls. She kept the smaller portion for herself until Mirana stepped over and swapped their bowls. The night-beast rested his head on his paws and watched enviously as they ate.
Davion was not as hungry as Mirana and Marci. He must have eaten something substantial recently, and it did not agree with him.
Mirana ate with slow, quiet dignity, and wiped her hands clean when she was done. Marci was the opposite. She gobbled her food up as if she had been starving for days, then licked the grease off her fingers.
His stomach still churning, Davion offered a rueful smile and held out his half-finished portion. Marci looked wonderingly at him, her face slowly assuming an affronted look.
'Sorry. I'm feeling sick. Must be something I ate.'
'Insulting Marci's cooking?' Mirana looked up with half-lidded eyes. 'That's not a good idea.'
Marci still looked affronted, and curiously threatening.
'No, it must be something I had at the inn.' Davion said quickly by way of placation. 'It's good, really, but I can't eat it all. You look like you need it more.'
Marci's expression softened and she accepted the bowl. She tried to give it to Mirana, but Mirana pushed it back at her and insisted that she have it instead. It disappeared in moments. Marci sat back against the night-beast's flank, contented and licking the grease off her fingers again. She seemed to have accepted Davion's explanation, since she offered him a grateful smile.
Mirana was not interested in talking and settled down to sleep after unstringing her bow for the night. Davion wanted to ask questions, but he did not want to pry either. Mirana had told Marci not to say too much if anything about their mission, he had figured that much out for himself.
He thought of something else to say and opened his mouth, only to notice that Marci had fallen asleep too.
He sighed and settled down himself, his guts still whirling. Whatever this was, he hoped it passed soon. He had no desire to vomit all over the campfire.
Davion had a terrible night.
He woke several times, roused by nightmares involving green, fathomless eyes, pools of spreading blood, fire and red scales. And he kept reliving the horrible memory of his father burning alive before his eyes.
The third time this happened, he woke to find Marci awake and sitting closer, watching him with concern written all over her oval-shaped face, her pale brown eyes tinged with worry. She indicated herself, then mimed carrying something, then mimed wringing a cloth over his head. She was asking if there was anything she could do for him.
Davion shook his head, feeling it pound with each movement. His forehead was burning, but he dropped off again before he could tell Marci that he had changed his mind.
The fourth and final time he awoke, he found that Marci had draped a damp cloth over his head anyway.
He did not feel much better. He actually felt worse. His head had stopped pounding, but he had the awful, ceaseless rising feeling which he felt just before he was going to be sick.
Marci was sat next to the smouldering campfire, mixing something in a bowl. She noticed him propping himself up and shuffled over, holding out the bowl and tipping it towards his mouth. She wanted him to drink it. Whatever it was, it had a floral taste and felt gritty. He drank it anyway. At this point, he would eat or drink almost anything if it cured whatever malady had struck him. Besides, he had no wish to hurt Marci's feelings or annoy her.
'Davion?' Mirana was stringing her bow again. 'Any better?'
Davion grimaced and shook his head. 'Hopefully whatever Marci just gave me will help.'
'Hopefully, yes.' Mirana was watching him keenly. Maybe she thought he was carrying something contagious. 'Marci thinks it's food poisoning. I'm not so sure.'
'Nor am I.' Davion concurred groggily. If he had food poisoning, he would have vomited by now. He also would have been stuck inside the nearest outhouse, assuming he could have found one.
Once they had bundled their gear onto the saddle of the large cat-like beast, who Mirana called Sagan, they set off. It was a pleasant day at least, even if Davion still felt like he was about to throw up. He was steadier now, and Marci's concoction had at least reduced the churning sensation in his stomach.
Mirana was in the lead, her bow in hand and her quiver swinging at her hip. Marci was leading Sagan by his reins, her gaze ranging from the trees, to the road, to Davion and back again.
Definitely more than just a handmaiden. From what he had seen last night, she could at least handle a spear.
He found it curious that she carried no other weapons other than her dagger when she was not hunting. Surely the bodyguard of a royal would have been equipped with a sword. It occurred to him that perhaps Mirana did not want Marci to look like a bodyguard. Maybe potential foes would overlook her as a result, allowing her to catch them by surprise.
When they neared a shallow river, Mirana suggested that Davion take the opportunity to wash the blood off his skin. It was a good idea. Walking into Haupstadt covered in blood would not do them any favours.
Mirana and Marci turned to watch the road as Davion removed Marci's cloak and set about cleaning himself. The cool water was refreshing, and feeling clean again went a long way towards improving his mood.
When he stood and turned, he saw that Mirana was still gazing in the other direction.
Marci was not. She was watching him. Her eyes were rather wide and she had a dreamy smile on her face. How long had she been enjoying the show?
Marci blushed and turned her head when she realised that he was aware of her gaze. Davion was not offended though. He actually felt amused. The blushing was also very cute.
Mirana glanced over her shoulder, carefully avoiding Davion, and noticed her handmaiden's spreading blush. She rolled her eyes and muttered, 'Marci, get a grip.'
Marci looked over at her and raised one eyebrow, the dreamy look still on her face.
'Fine, I agree, he is. But you shouldn't have been watching.'
'What was that?' Davion asked, picking up Marci's cloak.
Mirana glanced down at him, forgetting that he was in a state of nature. She flushed and looked away. 'Nothing. Don't worry about it.'
Davion wondered about the exchange as he wrapped Marci's cloak around himself as best he could. He would look like an idiot when he walked into the city, but at least the guards would not demand to know who he had killed along the way.
Had he killed someone? He could vaguely remember meeting people on the road, indistinct but unfriendly.
Mirana reckoned that he had been robbed, but there had been no marks other than old scars on his body. No bruises, no stab wounds, nothing. He was also certain that he had not been drunk that night.
Marci remained slightly flustered and distracted as they continued. Davion offered her a reassuring smile to show that he was not bothered by her behaviour, which seemed to both ease her worries and fluster her further.
He had to admit, he would be sorry to part ways with her in Haupstadt.
The great walls of the city loomed before them that afternoon. Even from where they stood atop the rise, Davion could see sentries marching to and fro across the battlements. As strong as the walls were, they would not have withstood the fury of the Eldwurm if it had awoken.
Eldwurm? Where had that come from?
Davion thought hard, his brow furrowing. He did recall something to do with an Eldwurm. Yes, he had discovered one slumbering near the lair of the dragon he had slain. He had sent Bram to report it, hadn't he? He must have done, which explained why Bram was not with him now. This still did not explain why he had ended up naked in the middle of the road, covered in blood.
'What is it?' Mirana had noticed his frown.
'Nothing. Just thinking.'
'If you're done, let's get going.'
Davion watched as Mirana took the lead. 'Is she always in such a hurry?'
Marci nodded. The blush crept up her neck as she looked at Davion, and it was obvious that she was trying not to avert her gaze. She was still embarrassed about being caught watching him bathe.
'Don't worry about it, Marci. I'm not offended.'
Marci smiled. She turned to Sagan and whistled, this time issuing a warbling tune. Sagan turned and padded into the forest. His presence near the city would only cause alarm. Mirana and Marci would collect him when they done doing... whatever it was they were doing.
Marci had indicated that they were searching for something. Clearly it was not groceries. If Mirana was royalty she could have sent servants. Come to think of it, she could have sent servants on this quest of hers. Why was she here in person?
As curious as he was, Davion did not pry. Mirana obviously did not want to explain, and he had no wish to get Marci into trouble. He set off after Mirana, with Marci trotting along behind him.
The guards had given Davion some funny looks as they entered the city, but otherwise they did nothing to impede their progress.
Mirana had to admit that Davion's predicament had actually made things easier for her and Marci. Many of the people here seemed to know him, and were paying more attention to him than the two strangers in fine garb walking with him. Mirana had thrown up her hood. Marci had not bothered. It was Mirana who was more likely to be noticed and recognised. People frequently overlooked Marci, which worked in her favour.
Out of gratitude, Davion guided them to an inn he knew. He had claimed that it was a fine establishment. 'The beer is good, I can vouch for that personally.'
'Do they have Icewrack Whites?'
'I'm not even sure what that is.'
Mirana exchanged a disappointed glance with Marci, who looked no happier. Davion, on the other hand, had perked up at the thought of beer.
His definition of "fine establishment" did not match Mirana's. She frowned at the lopsided sign swinging squeakily outside.
'Yes, I know, it's probably not what you'd expect.' Davion admitted. 'But the beds are soft, and there aren't as many fist-fights as you might think.'
Marci raised an eyebrow.
'No, Marci.' Mirana told her quietly.
Marci pouted. Davion just looked confused.
It was relatively quiet when they stepped inside, until the barkeep recognised Davion. He called out happily, waving him over. 'Davion! It's been too long! What happened to that fine armour of yours? Have the Dragon Knights issued a new uniform?' He indicated Mirana and Marci, a knowing grin spreading across his whiskered face. 'I bet the ladies like it, eh?'
'It's a funny story. Or it would be, if I could remember it. I uh... lost my armour. I don't suppose you can spare some clothes?'
'Of course, of course,' the barkeep shouted for one of his staff. 'Might be a little tight on you, but it'll be better than... is that meant to be a cloak?'
Davion jerked a thumb at Marci. 'She wanted to preserve a little of my modesty.' He did not notice the scowl Mirana had adopted. She had not wanted Davion to draw more attention to them.
Marci did not seem to care about that right then. Her attention was straying to Davion once more, and Mirana cleared her throat quietly to get her attention.
'They part of your order?'
'No, just some travellers who helped me out.'
'Any friend of Davion's is a friend to me. Can I get you anything?'
'Some beer would hit the spot.' Davion answered.
Marci tapped his arm and he looked down at her. She patted her stomach meaningfully, adopting an expression which put him mind of a puppy begging for food at the table. 'And some food, if you can spare it.'
'It's on the house, for you and your friends.'
Marci beamed at him. Mirana tried not show her impatience. She was hungry too, and they had plenty of time to find Nikdo.
'I can spare a room for you and your friends,' the innkeeper announced. 'Best I've got, but there's only one bed.'
'Two rooms.' Mirana responded. Marci subtly tapped her hand and Mirana quickly added: 'Please.'
As they waited for their food, a buxom redhead sauntered up to Davion and stroked his arm brazenly. 'Davion, my Knight,' she purred, 'remember me?'
Davion faltered. 'Erm... maybe?' When she frowned, he hastily added: 'Yes, I do. You're... Brita?'
'No, but close enough.' The woman leaned closer. 'Shall I... attend to you tonight, my Knight?'
'Not tonight, sorry.'
The woman was clearly bewildered. Her gaze landed on Mirana, who was pretending not to listen will an ill-disguised look of disapproval on her face, and Marci, who was openly envious. The bewilderment gave way to annoyance. 'Oh, I see. Not enough room for me, is there? Just how many women do you need, Davion?'
'What? No! They're not—'
The slap was sharp and unfortunately loud in the quiet common room. Every patron looked up as the redhead stormed off.
Davion offered the room a sheepish smile. 'Forgot her birthday.'
Mirana doubted that they really believed that, but they all either chuckled or shrugged and went back to what they were doing.
So much for not attracting attention.
The clothes for Davion arrived before the food did, and he went up to the room the innkeeper had offered to change. Mirana and Marci followed him up the steps to drop off some of their gear.
Davion stopped halfway up, his attention caught by a grimy portrait of a man in dark plate. There was something bestial and grim about the armour. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be made of dragon scales of varying size. The man himself was weathered and heavily scarred, with greying black hair and a stern, strong face.
'I forgot he had this.' Davion murmured.
'Who is it meant to be?' Mirana asked.
'Kaden. One of the greatest Dragon Knights in history. He's the only one to have slain one of every type of dragon, even the void and chaos types. I met him once, when I was a squire at Dragon Keep,' he smiled proudly at the memory. 'I was his cupbearer.'
Marci tapped his arm and made a motion with her hand, lifting and dropping her fingers.
'She wants to know how many types of dragon you have defeated.' Mirana explained.
'Oh. Five.' Davion answered.
Marci looked impressed.
Davion disappeared into his room to change. Mirana and Marci were shown into their room by the innkeeper, who looked pleased with himself and ushered them in as if he was showing them around a palace. Their room, however, was small and dingy by Mirana's standards. Marci seemed oddly bemused.
Mirana took one look at the single bed with its lumpy mattress and shook her head. 'Do you have anything else?'
The innkeeper frowned. 'Just the stables.'
Mirana sighed. 'Never mind. This will do.'
She waited until he had gone before removing her cloak and draping it over the back of the only chair in the room. She sat heavily, trying to ignore the ominous creak, and removed her tiara. She ran her thumb over the silver, wondering how much longer they would be forced to chase their quarry.
Marci perched on the bed, bouncing slightly and smiling wistfully. Mirana knew what she was thinking and felt a smile on her own face. Her father might not have been amused to witness the aftermath of that pillow-fight, but it had been fun. Mirana could not recall laughing so hard in her life. She could remember how Marci had been crying with silent laughter, feathers fluttering around them like falling snow.
Childhood had been a different time. A different life.
It was so easy to take joy for granted when you had it in abundance. But when it was gone...
Marci must have noticed her expression grow sad, because she approached, knelt before her and laid a consoling hand on her shoulder. 'It's all right, Marci. I just... I miss it. I miss the life we shared before we had to flee. That's all.'
Marci nodded understandingly. She held Mirana's hand and rested her forehead against hers, words unspoken as ever but her meaning and sentiment clear. We're in this together. I'm here for you. I always will be.
Mirana was not sure she deserved such a loyal and kind friend. But she was more than glad to count Marci as one.
The knock on the door shook them from this tender moment, and they heard Davion speaking on the other side. 'The food's ready.'
As much as Mirana might have wanted to hurry, she was glad to eat. At least Davion was dressed properly now, but the innkeeper had been correct: the tunic in particular was a little tight on his muscular frame. Marci kept glancing at him, that dreamy smile on her face every time. She understood her handmaiden's fascination, but it wasn't like they were going to be around Davion for much longer.
'What did you do with Marci's cloak?' Mirana asked, picking up her knife.
'I gave it to the innkeeper's wife for washing. I thought you'd like it back clean.'
Marci gave him a grateful nod, then set about devouring her food.
Davion managed more than he had last night, but his stomach was still stormy and he ended up sliding the rest onto Marci's plate. He watched it vanish, amused. Marci stuck out her tongue to lick the gravy off her lips and settled back, comfortably full. He wondered if this further debunked the handmaiden story. Perhaps Mirana was not as frigid as she seemed, at least not with Marci.
Davion requested more beer, and the innkeeper happily refilled his flagon.
'You can't eat much, but you'll drink yourself stupid?' Mirana demanded, disgusted.
'I still feel queasy.'
'And beer will make you feel better?'
'That's why I'm drinking.' He took a long draught.
And then he bent, coughing, hacking and retching, his flagon clattering to the ground. Everybody looked up in alarm. Davion's face was turning red, and not from embarrassment.
Marci jumped from her chair and slapped Davion on the back. He jolted with a yelp of pain, then heaved and puked. The patrons groaned with disgust.
Something small and golden rolled across the wooden floor.
'Urgh!' Davion straightened and rubbed his stinging back. Marci had hit him harder than necessary, but that was better than choking to death. 'Thanks, Marci!'
'Did this...' one of the patrons, a lanky man with thick red hair and a freckly face, had bent down to examine the object: a golden ring with a ruby embedded into the band. 'Did you just spit this out? Did this come out of your belly?'
Davion stared at it, startled and puzzled. 'Did it?' He glanced at Marci. 'When did I swallow a ring?'
She could only offer an uncertain shrug. She certainly hadn't fed it to him.
Davion looked back at the man, whose face was turning red with apoplexy. 'This is my cousin's ring!' he exploded. 'And it was in your stomach!' He advanced on Davion, fists clenched and a vein throbbing in his forehead. 'What did you do to him?'
'Nothing!' Davion exclaimed. 'I don't know who you're...' he broke off, a memory swimming in his befuddled mind. A man clamping a rough hand on his shoulder. A man who had been wearing that same ring. 'The road...' He looked to Marci and Mirana. 'Was there anybody near the place where you found me?'
'Not that we saw.' Mirana answered.
'Liar!' The man seized Davion's tunic. 'You killed him, didn't you? Nobody's seen him since yesterday. You killed him, and then you bloody ate him? You fucking cannibal!' He sank his fist into Davion's stomach. The blow made Davion double up and retch. Vomit spattered onto the floor, followed by more groans of disgust from the other patrons.
There was also a brooch amongst the chunks of food.
What the hell had happened on that road?
'Fuck me!' The man grimaced. 'I'm gonna make you pay, you monster!' He drew back his fist.
Marci shoved him.
Davion was not the only one who was surprised.
It had not looked like a strong push, but the man was thrown back a good five feet and landed heavily on his back. Davion heard the breath rush from him and he wheezed, trying to draw in air.
Marci stood with her feet apart and her fists raised. Her pretty face was now fierce and forbidding.
The man struggled to his feet and snarled, advancing again.
'Marci!' Mirana warned, standing and reaching for her dagger.
Davion did not think that Marci had heeded Mirana. The truth was that she did, because she did nothing more than break the man's nose with an abrupt jab of her fist. She could have killed him if she had put more power into the strike—though Davion did not know this.
The man staggered backwards and collided with a table, his curses muffled by the hand clamped over his bloody face. He struggled to his feet and glared at Marci. His pride demanded that he attack her next.
A flash of steel drew his attention to Mirana, who had drawn her dagger. He knew that the odds were against him. Davion was recovering, and he was much larger and stronger than the aggravated man. Mirana was ready with the dagger, and he was unarmed. And Marci knew how to throw one hell of a punch, and he was ashamed to realise that she actually worried him the most.
He spat and wiped the blood off his lips. 'We'll sort you out, cannibal freak. My brother and his gang will gut you. You'd better be outside the city gates before nightfall, or I'll make sure the guards know what you are, and they'll cut your entrails out!' Marci advanced on him, her hands curled into tight fists. He backed towards the door. 'And if these two are with you, we'll kill them too!' He turned before Marci could reach him and ran out into the street.
Davion lowered his head and retched feebly. Nothing emerged this time. Mirana was staring at him, obviously alarmed and disturbed.
Marci wiped the blood off her knuckles and approached Davion. She knelt down, pulled a clean cloth from a pouch on her belt, and wiped his mouth.
Davion straightened up. 'Thank you.'
She looked up at him with concern and puzzlement plain in her expression.
'I don't know what happened. I really don't.' He coughed and straightened up. 'I'm going to need a sword.' He stood up gingerly and picked up the discarded ring. 'It might be better if you both kept your distance from me.'
Marci touched his arm and shook her head, her expression now edging towards forlorn.
'I'm sorry. Really, I am. But you were going to part company with me anyway,' he looked to Mirana, 'weren't you?'
Mirana sheathed her dagger and nodded. 'He's right. We need to carry on.' She exhaled heavily, reading the look on her handmaiden's face. 'I'm sorry, Marci. There's nothing more we can do.' She approached the very rattled innkeeper and placed a single silver coin on the bar. 'Do you know where we can find the black market?'
'Erm... look, this is a decent establishment, lady.'
'I'm not saying that it isn't. But you must hear rumours. I just want some directions.'
The innkeeper pursed his lips. 'Three streets over. There's a house with a black door. Ask there.'
'Thank you.' Mirana slid the coin towards him. 'For your trouble. Marci, let's go.'
Marci squeezed Davion's arm gently, her eyes full of worry. Then she let go and followed Mirana through the door, sparing him one last look.
Davion sighed and looked at the ring in his hand. Had he really eaten somebody? Surely he would have remember that.
He shook his head. He knew that he was unlikely to see the next sunrise now. Either the brother and friends the lanky man had spoken of would gut him, or the city guard would disembowel him.
He would rather go down fighting. He had his honour and the honour of his order to maintain.
He was the next through the door, setting out into the city in search of a weapon for a battle he could not possibly win.
My thanks to annbe11 (author of the intriguing High Priestess Marci) and Talik Sanis (author of the very well written Let Words Be Few) for a little inspiration. If you haven't read their stories, check them out. They're both well worth a read.
