Warden
Ihave been struggling to contain my Brag form all evening.
The luscious female, Lady Ryle, did not reappear after she provided my food and was noticeable by her absence.
The small witch who showed me my room did an admirable job behind the bar, and I was bought several more tankards of cider by the Reivers as a show of no ill will on their part.
But I wanted the mistress of the tavern, and I was denied her presence.
Now I lie in the bed, doing my best not to become my Brag because I doubt the rickety piece of furniture will take its weight, staring at the ceiling.
Everywhere is dark and quiet. I am the only guest here for the night, the Reivers all long gone. The only sounds are from the rodents scurrying in the thick walls and the occasional fall of snow.
Tomorrow I will be gone from here. Tomorrow I collect my fresh cohort of Faerie prisoners from the Reivers in the Northern quadrant and take them to the Shadow Keep where I will have to contemplate my eternity, as well as obtain the information I require from creatures who still think they are in charge.
In the darkness, a smile steals over my face. I rather like that part of my job.
A job I’ll do until I get my mortality back. A task which I will never forget, not as long as the monster who took it from me still exists.
And the chances of her dying are as infinitesimal as mine. So, my quest is all the more important. I cannot let it be sideswiped by a fragrant female, even one as incredible as the lady of this establishment.
A long, low wail pierces my thoughts. Ones which have turned from the lightness of Lady Ryle to the darkness of my existence. Is this tavern haunted?
The noise cuts off as suddenly as it arose. It makes all my hide stand on end. Spectre or no, I will not have my rest disturbed.
I grab my weapons bag and pull out two daggers. They’ll do for a start in such a confined space. Creeping to my door, I open it slightly and look out into the darkened landing.
There is a pin prick of light from one of the other rooms, but nothing else. With all the silence I can muster, I slip out of my room and hold my breath.
The sound comes again, this time accompanied by a choking noise. I dislike it intensely. It wraps around my heart and squeezes at me, making my vision narrow. I shake my head violently.
A match strikes and a candle is lit. A witch stands before me in a long white shift, her violet eyes glittering in the flickering light.
“Go back to bed, Brag,” she says in a hushed tone. “This does not concern you.”
“I have paid good coin for this bed. I do not wish to be disturbed in this manner.” I pull myself up to my full height, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on the witch.
“And you will not be disturbed again,” she says, padding past me in bare feet, which seems rather reckless for a tavern of this age and decrepitude.
At the end of the landing, she turns left, and I remain where I am with the burning candle at the back of my eyes as the glow of the candle slowly disappears.
Silence blankets the darkened tavern once more, save for the slight creak of the floorboards where I stand.
Then it is wrenched open by a high-pitched cry which has me thumping after the witch, down the landing, round the corner to where I encounter a long passage with a light at the end. I increase my pace as the sound cuts off and the light increases.
“Brag!” The doorway is filled with the mistress of the tavern, wearing a long shift in a soft, billowy fabric.
With the light behind her, I can see she wears nothing underneath. There is the outline of her body, the swell of her breasts, and the curve of her ample hips.
There is her scent, which intoxicates me more than her cider could ever do.
I come to a sudden halt, my hooves scraping over the wooden floors.
“What the…?” The witch appears, holding a candle. “You can’t be in your Brag form here, Warden,” she yells.
“Why?” I growl, wanting nothing more than to protect my lady with everything I have.
“Because the floors won’t…”
Beneath me, there is a cracking, grinding, and a long, low groan. The ground gives way before I can do anything, and both my lady and the witch disappear in a huge huff of dust as I fall through to the bar below.
For what seems like a long time, there are no noises at all, save for the settling of the debris around me.
“Take your weight.” The witch peers down at me, my lady at her side. “Oh dear, Brag,” the witch says. “Now you’ve really done it.”