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Liang walked down the centre of the deserted street, empty buildings with shuttered windows and barred doors looming like silent sentinels on either side of her.
The eighth day up in his eyrie, Krocus sat back with his feet on his highly polished mahogany desk, and a goblet of the finest vintage Amarian Pale in his hand. Glancing through his window, he saw what appeared to be the slender figure of a woman walking down the middle of the deserted thoroughfare. Standing, he moved to the window and slid it open. As he did, the woman's head swung up in his direction. “It isn't safe out there,” he shouted down. “It will be getting dark soon, and you'd best find some shelter.”
Liang paused, looking up at the man in the three-storey window. “I am looking for a man called Casca,” she told him.
Krocus frowned in consternation. He couldn't leave her wandering about out there, nor did he particularly want to dare the dangers stalking the city. Muttering to himself about stupid women, he tugged on his boots and hurried down the stairs. Removing the heavy bars and bolts securing the solid oak doors, he yanked them open, and stepped out onto the broad step fronting the building.
Casting a fearful look around, Krocus climbed down and approached the woman. Liang inclined her head in greeting. “I seek Casca,” she said.
“Yes...yes...I know Casca,” Krocus said, looking into grey eyes set in a striking finely crafted face. “What do you want with him?”
The woman's eyes grew that little bit chillier. Krocus stepped back, raising his hands in a conciliatory manner. “All right, all right, I'll take you to him. His tavern is not far from here, but we must hurry.” Krocus's head turned this way and that, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed nervously. “Those things will be out soon.”
Krocus hurried down the street with Liang following, eyes swivelling to watch every side road and alley. After a short while, Krocus turned into a narrow street. The buildings here were smaller and of rougher construction. Most had signs proclaiming residence of various trades such as blacksmiths, shoemakers, and bakers.
“We are almost there, it is...” Krocus said, glancing back at Liang. His words tailed off, his eyes bulging with fear as he looked past her.
Liang spun and saw two huge bone-white beasts with heavily ridged backs bearing down on her. Standing stock-still, she watched them approach, noting the baleful red eyes and fangs almost the length of her forearm.
The Bahktak leapt for Liang’s throat. Her hands flashed up, gripping the hilts of her swords.
The Storm Blades hissed clear of their scabbards and slashed out and across.
There was a flash of silver-blue steel.
Mouth open in astonishment, Krocus saw the heads leap off the necks of the beasts.
The headless bodies hit the ground with dull thumps. Legs splayed, they slid forward under their now dead momentum. The woman side-stepped, and flicked her wrists, droplets of yellow blood spraying from her swords. Sheathing the blades, she turned to face him.
“Ugly beasts,” she said, her voice calm. “You said we are close to Casca's?”
Krocus nodded, turned and hurried along. The short, swift display had stunned him. The woman had shown no fear, and her speed was beyond belief. A stench washed over him. Glancing back, he saw the bodies of the demon-hounds had decomposed into masses of fat maggots.
A short distance down, he turned left into a side-street and hammered his fist on the double doors of a good-sized two-storey building. Liang looked up to see a sign swinging above the doors, reading: The Philosopher's Folly. A quaint name for a tavern, she mused.
Pagan, nursing a cup of fruit juice, looked up as he heard the loud knocking on the door. Casca had roped-in Moon to help bring up a couple of casks of ale from the cellar. After all, the Axeman had been largely responsible for diminishing his stock over the last few days. Pagan could hear their guest complaining about having to carry the heavy casks up the steep stairs. “Hush now,” Casca chided. “My serving girls carry out the same task with a song on their lips.” Pagan chuckled as Moon responded with a grunted obscenity.
He walked toward the door. “Who is it?” he queried, raising his voice.
“It’s Krocus,” came the reply. “Open the door, damn your eyes, black man. I have someone here who wishes to see the tavern keeper.”
Pagan lifted the restraining bar, then slid open the bolts securing the stout doors, and had to step back hurriedly as Krocus pushed the doors open and dashed inside.
Another figure followed in a more sedate manner, making Pagan freeze in surprise, his mouth hanging open.
Liang ran forward and threw her arms around Pagan. He hesitated for a few heartbeats, then curled his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer.
Krocus stared at the two, then scuttled back to the door and pushed it shut, setting in place the restraining bar. He glanced around with interest, for it was his first time in the tavern. He saw a long rectangular shaped room. A long wooden bar ran along one side of the room with several high stools ranged in front of it. About fifteen tables with chairs set around them, were spread about the large common room. Four curtained alcoves sat at the far end of the room. Opposite was a shut door, which Krocus assumed led to rooms upstairs.
He walked up to a table, pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked again at the embracing couple. For someone who came looking for Casca, the woman was certainly showing a lot of interest in the heathen. Whatever next? He wondered.
Pagan gently disengaged himself from their embrace, stepping back with his hands on Liang's shoulders. He looked into her eyes and saw they were moist with tears. The woman he had known had been initially cold and dismissive of him, then over time, warm and friendly. But this was something totally out of character, regardless they hadn't seen each other in years. Something in her had changed.
“Liang,” he whispered. “I never thought I would see you again. What are you doing here?”
“Xiang Tse…my uncle told me it was time to seek my own path, and suggested I find you. He also told me I wasn’t his niece, but the last in the line of Kyung-Su, a demon slayer of legend.”
Pagan was speechless at the revelation. Hearing movement behind him, he turned and led Liang toward the bar. Casca looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as they alighted on his new guest. “This is Liang,” Pagan announced. “She is descended from Kyung-Su.”
Casca moved from behind the bar. Stopping before Liang, he executed a low bow in the manner of a mid-ranking Cheng subject to a high-born lady. “It is an honour and pleasure to meet you lady,” he murmured in Cheng.
Liang’s brow lifted in surprise, then she smiled and inclined her head in acknowledgement. “My uncle told me you spent part of your early years in Chenghuan, but I’m fluent in the western tongue, so you don’t have to speak our language, though your accent is delightful, and your greeting, very flattering.
Moon, remaining behind the bar, was about to protest at the idea of a woman fighting alongside them. The words died in his throat, his mouth comically half open, as he stared intently at the striking woman in the silver-grey breastplate and twin sword hilts poking over her shoulders.
It wasn't her looks that cowed him, but the intuitive realisation this slender woman before him with icy grey eyes, was a warrior born. Shaking his head in some bemusement, he returned to the task of moving the heavy barrels to where Casca had indicated.
“You must be tired and hungry from your journey,” Casca said, smiling at Liang. “I was just about to prepare something to eat.” He glanced at Pagan. “Pagan will show you to one of the guest rooms where you can refresh yourself before dinner is served.”
Liang inclined her head in gratitude. “I am grateful for your thoughtfulness,” she said, favouring the clearly smitten Casca with a smile that made him blush.
As Pagan and Liang disappeared through the door at the end of the room leading to the guest quarters, Moon turned to Casca. “Fie, tavern owne
r,” he growled. “I don't remember you offering me a place to refresh myself before you serve a meal fit for kings!”
Casca looked at the huge man whose sheer size he still had trouble coming to terms with. “Aye, that's true, bearer of Ausak Demon Bane. But you don't have smouldering grey eyes, and a beauty that makes strong men go weak at the knees. And I didn't think foul smelling barbarians washed much anyway. As for food, you much prefer to drink my tavern dry.”
Moon laughed, his eye twinkling with humour. “Aye, can't argue with what you say. She is a rare beauty. Your friend is a lucky man. But I tell you what, she may be a woman, but I wouldn't want to tangle with her on the battlefield.”
Casca nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I think you are right my friend. The Cheng are some of the world's best warriors, and usually forbid women from carrying arms. Liang must be something special. And carrying Kyung-Su's swords makes her very deadly.”
“Who are these Cheng you speak of?”
“The Cheng are from Chenghuan, an eastern kingdom of over ten million people about seventy days’ distance across the sea.”
Moon's eyes widened. “Over ten million people? You lie, man!”
Casca shook his head. “It is hard to believe, but it is true. I grew up as a boy there when my father was an ambassador to the Emerald Court.”
The Axeman scratched at his beard. “A black man from the furthest corner of the world, a yellow-skinned woman from a kingdom of ten million people, soul-drinking demons, and giant hounds with spiked tails. I knew I would see some rare sights when I travelled south!”
Sitting alone at his table, Krocus theatrically cleared his throat to remind Casca of his presence. “Pour yourself and Krocus over there a drink, and sit with him,” Casca told Moon, nodding in Krocus's direction. “I have to don my apron and prepare some food.”
A short time later, all five enjoyed a meal of fish broth and dark rye bread. Much to Casca's amusement, Moon had had a wash, combed his beard, and donned a fresh jerkin. His table manners also showed marked improvement. He didn't slurp noisily, belch or pick his teeth with his dagger.
Ripper, the huge wolf-mastiff cross, ambled into the room from behind the bar. Coming up to the diners, he looked up at Pagan with hungry eyes. “Don't feed the greedy devil,” Casca advised. But Pagan relented, holding out a piece of fish that was swiftly gobbled down.
Ripper moved over to Moon. The Axeman grinned, put out a hand to pat the dog on the head, and swiftly pulled it back with alarm as the large hound barred his canines, growling deep in his chest.
Moon looked aggrieved for he had always believed he had a way with animals. He shook his head in disgust, as Ripper curled on the floor, pushing against Liang's legs.
“Another male making a fool of himself before a woman,” he muttered. As Liang reached down to scratch him behind the ear, Ripper turned his head and licked her hand. Moon looked disgusted, Liang smiled sweetly at him, while Casca and Pagan tried to muffle their laughter.
After the meal, Casca advised Krocus it would be safer if he stayed the night. The head of the Council didn't argue and requested to be shown to a room. The numerous goblets of Amarian pale he had drunk earlier, combined with Casca's ale, were making his head swim.
Casca led the councillor upstairs and opened the door to one of the guest rooms. Sparsely furnished but clean, it boasted a good-sized bed, a small table, a hard-backed chair, and a small chest of drawers.
Krocus fixed Casca with his watery eyes. “You don't like me much do you? But I thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is nothing,” Casca replied “We will get you home safely tomorrow. Perhaps you should consider taking shelter with the others in the temple.”
“Yes, I might do that.”
Casca nodded, spun on his heel and left Krocus to his own devices. He doubted the man would take his advice, for he was a singularly private and aloof man, who didn't seem to enjoy the company of others. He considered he had never seen him smile or laugh.
Returning to his other guests downstairs, he saw that one of them had cleared the table of the dirty platters. He guessed it was probably Pagan. Moon naturally had a tankard of foaming ale before him, while Pagan and Liang nursed cups of fruit juice. Casca poured himself a cup of the same, and joined them.
Glancing at his companions, Casca mused that the Philosopher's Folly had never before housed such a seemingly mismatched assemblage. He sincerely hoped they were all up to what lay ahead.
Liang raised her cup to her lips and took an experimental sip. Raising her eyes in appreciation, she looked at Casca. “This is very good. What is it?” Casca lowered his cup. “It's the juice of three berries – red, blue and purple, with some water added. I find it...revitalizing.”
Pagan nodded in agreement. Moon set his half-empty tankard down, licked the froth off his lips, and regarded his three associates with a bleary eye.
Casca once again told all he knew about the Gualich and their servants, and his encounter with the long dead mage, Castillan. Liang wrinkled her nose in disgust when he described the demons’ lust for human souls, and symbiotic linkage, which ensured all derived some nourishment when each fed. “They are indeed foul creatures, and cannot be allowed to return.”
“Yes, they are,” Pagan agreed. He looked at Casca. “You said they are drawn by the soul-fire generated by large gatherings of people. Those taking refuge in the temple will be at great risk. We must protect them.”
“Aye” Moon rumbled, grinning at Casca. “Our resident magicker has told us we must stop these demons from feeding, as it increases their strength and brings more through the gateway.”
Casca glared at the Axeman. “I told you I know no magicks. I am no sorceror, mage, or magician. I study ancient writings and run a pigging tavern. But, Castillan says he can cast spells using me as a conduit.”
“Sounds like you are a sorceror to me,” Moon responded stubbornly.
The three listened intently as Liang told her story; her surprise when Xiang Tse revealed her true antecedents. Moon nodded knowingly. “Aye girl,” he said gravelly. “I too was shocked when my dying mother told me the man I had called father all my life was not my father after all. Such news does something to a person...makes you wonder who you really are.
Watching Liang closely, Pagan noticed a certain tension and tightening around her eyes when she spoke about Kyung-Su. He knew she was omitting something.