Warden
The damned Shellycoat is very tentacly. I might get one off, but another wraps around me. Fortunately, as the floor beneath us disappears, he relinquishes his grip, presumably to use those tentacles elsewhere. I allow myself to fall, bracing for the landing and making ready for the inevitable.
I hit the hard stone with enough force to expel much of the breath from my lungs. Being immortal doesn’t absolve me from the pain which spears through my flanks and radiates through the rest of me. Nor does it help with the complete lack of vision due to the amount of debris falling with us.
For a beat, there is no noise save for that of the remnants of the floor hitting the ground around me.
“I’m here,” I snarl back. “And I will still take the Thegn, no matter what you want, Beal.”
“Then you will lose what you hold most dear.”
“Not a chance, Shellycoat,” I snarl back. “I might not have my mortality here, but I promise you, if you make any attempt to touch my mate or my friends, you will lose everything.”
“What makes you think I have anything left to lose?” The Shellycoat looms out of the dust and darkness, his mouth filled with sharp, irregular teeth, his eyes bright, feverish, St. Elmo’s fire flowing over his body and scales. “Not when he took what was most precious to me.”
“You don’t have anything precious,” I retort. “You are the Shellycoat and you care for no one.”
“I cared for her,” Beal rages. “And he took her.”
I rise from my position.
“And the Thegn took my mate, from right under my protection,” I respond. “You, along with the rest of the Yeavering, know what happens when the Warhorse is called.”
“The Warhorse…” Beal takes a step back. “You became…it?”
I nod because I’m perilously close to becoming the creature once more. “The Thegn summoned it. It wanted all the destruction.”
“It said she was safe, that she would be released if I complied.” Beal glares at me. “All I needed to do was allow him to use my fortress.”
“He brought you a Warhorse,” I growl. “I doubt he was ever going to let your mate go.”
“Not mate,” Beal growls. “My sister. He cursed her, and he has taken her from me. I want her back and I want the curse lifted.”
“Then perhaps we can assist each other?”
Beal comes to a sudden halt, glaring at me with eyes like coals. He gets this glare returned ten-fold. The longer he delays me, the more time the Thegn will have to…
“Damn you, Beal!” I explode into my Brag form, galloping towards him at full pelt.
At the last second, he stands aside, and I see the rough-hewn tunnel he has been protecting.
“It’s gone,” Beal says. “And my agreement with it still stands.”
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” I snarl at him. “It has the amulet of Backworth. Unless I get it back, the Thegn will become the new force in the Yeavering, and we are all cursed.”
“It has the amulet?” Beal snarls. “How? It was supposed to be lost.”
I stamp my hoof. “My mate and I found it. We were going to use it to deal with the Thegn once and for all time. But your interference has changed everything.”
“I think you’ll find, Brag, I was not the one who interfered as I did not seek out the one thing which should have never been found and allow the Thegn to take it from me,” Beal growls. “If we are all cursed, it will be your fault, Gast Bona.”
With a thick puff of what looks like inky smoke, Beal is obscured from my sight.
I have no desire to chase after him. The slippery creature is irredeemable and unwilling to ever accept his part in all the horrors which have soiled the Yeavering and the Night Lands.
If he wishes to slink off without finishing what he started, then he is merely showing his true colours all over again.
My shoes ring out on the flags as I pick my way through the debris of the upper gallery to the passage beyond which leads me out onto the sands.
Before I can blink, my lady is running towards me, almost as fast as I am to her, and when we meet and her lips hit mine, I can almost forget the burning on my skin and the last words of the Shellycoat ringing in my ears.
It will be all your fault, Gast Bona.