Chapter 17
seventeen
After two days in the woods, all Orelia wanted was a soft bed and a hot meal, but the closer they got to Fink, the more her hopes for either dwindled.
She smelled the swamp town a half mile before they arrived, and the stench only worsened as they entered the town proper.
Unwashed bodies, stale ale, and the potent scent of manure filled the streets.
She chose her footing carefully so as not to soil her new boots as they walked down the main street that appeared permanently muddy.
The hairs around her face curled in the humidity, and a hot line of sweat dripped down her sore back.
Vade had her practicing swordfighting for many marks over the last two days and her body still hadn’t recovered.
Orelia swatted at the cloud of mosquitoes buzzing around her head to no avail.
From what she could tell, humans and dwarves made up most of the town.
Their worn and tattered clothing hung off their thin frames, the wooden buildings leaned, the children didn’t play, and the animals hardly stirred.
There wasn’t a trulight in sight, only stubby candles whose glow couldn’t quite penetrate the mist.
She’d never seen a place so full of life yet devoid of it all together.
The sky, the clothing, even the shade of the townspeople’s skin all looked one color in the gloom.
Gray. Not a place she would have elected to stop for the night, but Vade had gotten a name on the stone pulling him this direction.
They stepped into a tavern with an unreadable sign hanging off a rusty chain. The smell was even worse inside. Dirty faces eyed Orelia as she passed, and a table of human men missing most of their teeth made flicking motions at her with their tongues.
Vade gave them a look she wouldn’t want to have directed at her, and they blanched, going back to their half-empty ales. He stayed close to her as they made their way to the back corner where two dwarves who looked like they hadn’t seen a bath in months laughed at something one of them said.
Vade stopped in front of their table. “Move.”
One of the men looked at her with a flicker of interest, then at the imposing fae. “We was here first. Get your own fuckin’ table.” He brought his mug to his mouth and nearly missed, swaying as ale sloshed over the rim.
“Take your whore and go somewhere else, bastard,” the other man said, scowling.
She’d been around Vade long enough to know when he was summoning his power. His fingers twitched in a barely noticeable movement at his sides, but she could feel the air churning. The drunken dwarves didn’t seem to notice.
“Move,” Vade repeated, his voice deeper.
When the men didn’t comply, Vade raised one hand, showing them the shadows peeking out of his fingertips.
Their eyes blew wide. “Death’s Shadow . . .” one of them whispered. They shot up from their chairs and bumped into the table, snatching their mugs before fleeing.
Vade took the chair with a clear view of the door, and Orelia took the seat across from him, hooking the straps of her pack on the chair back. “Even in this backwater place, people know you,” she said, setting Bute’s jar on the table.
Vade scanned the room, one hand gripping the hilt of his largest knife. “Last time I was here, I may have made a mess of the stables and reduced them to cinders. Seems they haven’t forgotten.”
Laughter rang out from the middle of the room, and a dwarven woman fell out of her chair, taking a human down with her. The crowd erupted, and she couldn’t tell if they were happy or angry, but they were all incredibly drunk.
“Why ruin the stables?” she asked. Probably some power move to make others more afraid of him than they already were.
Vade’s shoulders relaxed, and he seemed to finally take a breath. “It was when I first became executioner. Back when I was bloodthirsty and a bit less . . .discreet.”
She braced herself for a viciously violent retelling.
“A couple of drunks were fighting out back and I stood by, watching the show. When they got tired of swinging at one another, they grabbed a woman walking by and tried to take her coin. I killed them because it was fun, and I wanted her money.”
Of course he did. Orelia bit back her displeasure.
“But also because I could tell what else they intended to do to that woman had I not stepped in.”
She blinked her surprise, knowing exactly what he meant. “I thought you would have just taken her coin and left.”
He gave her a disapproving side-eye, then continued with his story.
“A ren had seen what I’d done and came after me.
We tussled for a while. I toyed with him, letting him think he had a chance at winning, but when he ran off, I chased him down into the barn.
When I tackled him, we rolled into the wall and a torch fell off its hook and onto the hay bales.
I tried to snuff out the fire with my shadows, but the stable hands wanted in on the action too and interrupted me.
Before I could kill them all, the barn was ablaze. ”
She felt a pang of guilt for assuming he’d done it on purpose. “I bet that woman was thankful you were there, though. Even if you did take her money.”
“It wasn’t much. Everyone is poor in this shit town.” Vade reached into his pocket. “I’ll get us some ales.” He was about to get up when his eyes latched onto something over her shoulder.
The king’s executioner paled.
Orelia turned to see the crowd had gone quiet.
A group of fae men in dark cloaks covering white and gray furs filed in through the door, weapons strapped to their back and ready in their hands.
Even without their heavy presence filling the room, same as the kind that radiated off Vade, she still would have known they were fae.
The left sides of their faces were tattooed in black lines and symbols, their hair pulled tight into a topknot showing off the sides of their heads that had been shaved to the scalp.
Typical features of fae, according to Morton’s books.
Once they were all inside, the shortest one in front looked directly at their table.
They cut through the crowd in a single-file line.
How the men weren’t suffocating under the thick furs, she had no idea.
Each of them wore a severe expression, eyes dark as night, and skin in varying shades from moon white to umber.
Their pointed ears were decorated in silver rings, and scars littered their faces and hands. None of them looked at her.
The entirety of their focus was on Vade.
When the group reached their table, the shortest one spoke. “So, it’s true. Death’s Shadow is the chieftain’s disgraced son after all.”
Vade had gone rigid. “Never thought I’d have to see you again, Balor. To what do I owe the displeasure?” The last word came out through his teeth.
Balor’s mouth was hidden under an unkempt black mustache and beard, but his eyes told her he was sneering. “Figured someone would have killed ya bastard ass by now, but here ya are, alive n’ well.”
The others shifted behind Balor, wearing the same look of disgust that came from their leader. Orelia noticed the pins fastening their cloaks were all the same. A simple copper triangle pointing at their throats.
“Still here,” Vade said with his trademark cocky grin. He lazily tapped his fingers on the table, but a quick glance at his other hand revealed a white-knuckled grip on his largest dagger.
“Aye. Still fuckin’ here,” Balor seethed.
“Though you don’t deserve to be after what you done.
” The fae’s barbed focus shifted to Orelia, and she shrunk in her seat.
He looked her up and down with indifference.
When his nostrils flared, he leaned forward slightly.
A sinister smile crossed what little she could see of his mouth.
Vade draped his arm around her shoulder. She tried not to look surprised but knew it didn’t work as devious smiles spread on the other’s faces in succession.
“Interesting . . .” Balor drawled.
Vade pulled her closer, her heart quickening from the warmth of his proximity.
Balor’s eyes went to Bute, and he picked up the jar before Orelia could protest. The man tilted his head as he surveyed the frog, his large hands nearly covering the entirety of the glass.
All Orelia knew was she wanted him to put Bute down immediately. Her breath caught as she waited for Balor to smash the jar and squeeze the life out of her little friend.
Vade’s presence became so heavy her shoulders felt physically weighed down by it. “You hurt that frog, and I’ll bury your body so far beneath these floorboards not even corpseworms will know your flesh.” The look he gave Balor promised blood if he didn’t obey.
The two fae stared each other down, not moving, barely breathing.
Orelia wasn’t sure she was either.
Slowly, Balor set the jar on the table. “Let’s go, lads. Surely there’s another spot in this shit town for a drink.” He tossed her a disturbing wink, and the group of fae sliced through the crowd together like a harmonious knife as they made for the door.
When the last one left the tavern, the patrons let out a collective breath, and their volume was quick to resume. Vade removed his arm from around her shoulder, and she found she missed its protection.
“What in the hells was that about?” she asked.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Nothing. Now—”
“Oh my fuckin’ gods, is that who I think it is?
” An enormous man with hair as pale as ice and skin almost the same stood in front of them with a massive axe resting on his hip and a hunting knife on the other.
His broad shoulders were draped in furs, covered by a cloak bound with a bone pin in the shape of a horn.
Icy hair sat in a knot high atop his head with his blonde beard twisted into three braids, each a few inches long.
Sapphire eyes locked onto Vade’s, accompanied with a lopsided grin showcasing a missing front tooth.