CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO #2
“Yes, that much was clear,” the man said, chuckling. He offered a broad charming grin and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Vesper replied in his best princely voice, though it was worn from misuse. He clasped Thorrin’s hand with a hearty shake. “There are things we must discuss. A pactum, should you be interested.”
Thorrin raised a dark brow. “Oh? If it’s business, then I know just the place.”
According to Thorrin and the others, the tavern was the superior location to form a pactum, so Vesper sat with these strangers in a place they built with their own hands and nursed his embarrassment with a stiff drink.
Thorrin gave him a lengthy lowdown of his crew, and how they’d acquired those dragons.
Apparently they’d found a vacant nest atop Bereslam peak that had been either tragically hunted, or the poor creatures had fallen ill.
Either way, when Thorrin had stumbled upon it, it had felt like a sign from the gods.
Since the bloodlace swept into the land, they’d learned its weakness, and with the ability to put the dragon's flesh back on its bone, they were able to recreate their fire as well.
And among those bones, Kyrith had found Stiggy hiding beneath the skeleton of his mother.
Vesper didn’t know much about dragons, nor their breeding or nesting grounds, but to his surprise a dragon’s egg could go unhatched for tens, sometimes hundreds, of years.
And as it appeared, Stiggy had just emerged from his shell when Kyrith stepped foot onto that ground, as if the two were destined to find one another.
In only a few months the bloodlace had emerged and spread like wildfire to strangle the land and run them belowground.
Thorrin revealed that he and Kyrith had built this safe haven many years ago as an escape for Hollows from Delmira’s unrelenting regime.
Morana and Tsillah less strictly abided by the words of Kahlia, but cast Hollows into the darkness for the light of the Fallen.
Seems it was inescapable, even in this far-off land.
Vesper became entranced by Thorrin’s stories about his companions.
His cousin, Rainna, sat at his side with her wife, Aelita, their marriage bonds etched into their upper biceps in a series of feathers and swirls and wings. Where Aelita’s skin was a rich, dark smoke, Rainna shared the same tan complexion as Thorrin, her eyes a startling jade against his hazel.
The two others, Gaelen and Dimitri, tucked themselves quietly aside, and downed an impressive amount of ale in silent competition with one another.
Vesper kept an eye on them as he listened.
The brothers shared the same pronounced noses and warm brown eyes, and just as the others, they too sported dusty gray locks, though Gaelen’s grew to his shoulders and Dimitri’s cropped close to his head.
For privacy, Thorrin led Vesper to a back room, one he likely visited often by the worn dart board mounted on the wall and the seat he easily claimed as his own.
Thorrin waved two fingers at the barmaid, a pretty, slender woman with blonde hair on the cusp of white, as Vesper took a chair. “So, what is it you want?”
The barmaid returned and placed a half dozen shots of some clear liquor in front of them, a blade nestled between the glass. They studied each other, both hesitant to lay their needs on the table. But Vesper didn’t have time to lose.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” he started.
“I’ve come to request aid for my sister.
To bring her back from the afterlife.” At the skeptical twitch of Thorrin’s brow, he continued hastily, “I’m also in search of answers for this prophecy.
An Oracle pointed me here.” His eyes dipped to the blade glimmering in the lowlight.
“And my friend—she’s sick with the bloodlace.
I suspected some time ago but now I’m certain.
Kyrith confirmed it. So—” Vesper’s pulse thrummed as if he’d just run the perimeter of the moon. “I need to help her. Find a cure.”
“That’s a tall order,” Thorrin said. He stroked a thoughtful hand down his dark stubbled jaw and turned his skeptical gaze back to Vesper. “Your sister is an unorthodox request.”
Vesper’s heart beat his ribcage with desperation.
“It’s for the greater good, I assure you.
My best friend—” He swallowed down Emmery’s name as his throat filled with shame.
“If you’ve heard anything about this prophecy, she needs to find her disciples.
To rid this fever. And I’m trying to help.
Not doing a bloody good job at it, but I’m trying.
” He offered a weak grin he hoped would spark some sympathy.
Thorrin watched him with both intrigue and skepticism.
“We’re a bit wary of the prophecy. For a few reasons.
And we’ve been working on a cure for the bloodlace for some time.
We’ve found a tonic that slows the spread, but it’s only a bandage.
Not a cure.” As he tilted his head, Thorrin said, “But, first, I need to know what you offer in return.”
Though a voice inside him screamed imposter, Vesper said, “I can help rid this bloodlace. But I only have a month. And I need answers for my sister, for the prophecy. And fast.”
Thorrin sipped his shot like some sadist who revelled in the burn. “A month? Are you out of your mind? That’s barely a whisper in our lifetimes.”