The Empress of Beasts, page 67
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“It’s not bad. Just a bit infected. I’ve had worse.”
Pus and blood. That was what she’d see if she opened the gauntlets. Ksmvr stared at her arms and Yvlon looked away. The Antinium’s voice was serious.
“It is not good, Yvlon. Infections are very bad for a [Warrior]. A healing potion will make it worse. That is how potions work.”
“I know. I know, Ksmvr. I just can’t take a bad injury, that’s all. And if I used a potion, it might clear up.”
Or grow ten times worse in the flash of an eye. Ksmvr was pointedly quiet. Yvlon cleared her throat, looking away. He was the only one who knew about the infection, and that was because he had walked in on her dressing the wounds. She and Ksmvr were—friends. More than he was with anyone but Pisces. But only he called her ‘Yvlon’ and not Comrade like Pisces, or Captain like Ceria.
“If I need to, I can use a healing potion. It’ll make this worse, but the rest of my body will still heal, Ksmvr. Look. I’ll talk to Ceria about it, okay?”
“Does it hurt? If it hurts—”
“It doesn’t hurt. It’s strong.”
Yvlon made a fist with her right hand and pounded it into her left palm as hard as she could, feeling the shock run through the metal gauntlets. Inside her armor, her arm didn’t flex or break as it would have before. That was thanks to Pisces. He’d used his necromancy to reinforce her bone with artificial pieces. What he couldn’t do was fix her flesh and tissue, hence the infection as the metal and skin rubbed at each other.
If only he could fix the underlying bone issue. He’d told her he was working on it. But it was beyond complicated, even for a [Necromancer], apparently. A lot of Yvlon’s bone was just—gone. And the metal wasn’t exactly solid steel; it had all the strength of a…a…really thin bit of metal. A lock pick. But even they were stronger than…
Yvlon Byres stopped. She stopped thinking about her arms. She stopped worrying about them because that was an endless cycle. She stood straighter, sighed, and smiled at Ksmvr. It was her life now. And once, she had had another team. But this was hers. She turned as she saw a familiar half-Elf striding towards them. Ceria’s robes were shimmering and the half-Elf’s pointed ears were twitching with nerves.
“Yvlon! Ksmvr! Am I late? Something wrong?”
She stopped, panting slightly from her jog. Yvlon shook her head as Ksmvr opened his mandibles.
“It’s nothing. Ceria, everyone’s here. Stan and Alais are there. And some others. Let’s go in!”
She wanted to go inside with no further fuss and just do her job, which was be an adventurer. But Ksmvr lacked subtlety. He raised one hand.
“Hello. We are not late. Good to see you again, Captain Ceria. Before we engage in our mission briefing, I would like to interject a pressing fact about Yvlon’s health, Captain Ceria.”
“Huh? What? Did you break your arm again, Yvlon?”
Ceria looked alarmed as she adjusted her robes. Her eyes went to Yvlon’s arms—the woman stopped feeling at them and smiled weakly.
“I need to talk to you later. About my arms. They’re okay for fighting. Just—complicated with healing potions.”
The [Ice Mage]’s eyes flickered. She could guess what Yvlon meant by that. Still—she looked at Yvlon and the [Wounded Warrior] tried to convey that it was not a problem. Ceria nodded slowly.
“We’ll talk. Today’s supposed to only be reconnaissance. We’re not getting anywhere near the Bloodfields. Come on. I don’t want to be late.”
Together now, they pushed into the Guild. Pisces was still absent, but Yvlon felt better with Ceria by her side. She had been in the crypt too.
The three Horns of Hammerad paused as the adventurers gathered together looked at them again. They were mostly Human, mostly from up north. Ceria and Yvlon had talked to Stan and Alais about getting in on the Bloodfields contract, and word had spread. Yvlon looked from team to team.
All of them were Silver-rank. She knew some teams personally, others only by reputation or in passing. The Boltspitters. Thunder’s Solace. The all-male team of Ensoldier Shields, predictably armed with their classic shield-and-mace combination. The Whistling Bows—looking decidedly mismatched with their new recruits filling the gaps. Ceria took a breath.
“Well then. Let’s say hi. Ksmvr, be nice! Don’t say anything—follow our lead, okay?”
“Yes, Captain Ceria.”
The half-Elf put a smile on her face. She strode forwards.
“Walt! Is that you?”
“Ceria? I heard we’d be seeing you. Is this your new team?”
The Captain of Ensoldier Shields got up, and more team leaders drifted over. Yvlon saw Ceria shaking Walt’s hand. Yvlon turned and a slight woman with a rash of scales along one cheek looked up at her. She was Human, but for that one sign of cross-speciesism. She didn’t smile, but that wasn’t her way.
“Yvlon. Good to see you.”
“Kammy.”
“Please don’t. It’s ‘Captain Kam’.”
“My mistake.”
“Who’s this?”
Yvlon smiled, and Captain Kam’s lips tried to move a bit. She turned and stared at Ksmvr. He was staring back. Yvlon prayed he wouldn’t mention Kam’s sign of distant Drake ancestry. She was…touchy about it. Yvlon was amazed she’d come to Liscor at all.
“This is Ksmvr, one of my teammates. He’s a—unique member of the Antinium. Ksmvr, this is Captain Kam, leader of the Whistling Bows. She’s a [Bow Rider]. Ksmvr’s our [Skirmisher], Kam.”
“Hi.”
“Hello, I am Ksmvr.”
The two shook hands. Yvlon turned and saw more adventurers she recognized lined up to say hi. One of them, a former [Raider] with two scars along his cheeks—self-inflicted, she knew, for appearance’s sake—reached out and slapped her on the shoulder.
“Dead gods, is that an actual Antinium? I heard Liscor had ‘em. Hey! Yvlon! It’s us! Do you remember the Reddogs? We might actually buy some war dogs if we get paid enough from the Bloodfields! There’s this [Beast Trainer] in Liscor and he’s got a wonderful animal—”
“Drakes, Antinium, and Gnolls. Dead gods, this is weird. We went through that door and the inn. Yvlon, Ceria.”
“—Travelled sixty miles to get here. Just because we heard this was good work. And, well, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about! Not disappointed yet! We should have come here earlier, but we were hunting this damn Ogre for…”
“…lost six on my team. To damn Ghouls. There were twenty of them and they just leapt at us. It was just five weeks ago. I still remember it. If we’d just had caught them. Terrica was on duty and I just couldn’t work with her any more after that—”
It was a familiar scene, chaos as everyone talked and caught up on the news. And it made Yvlon feel good. This was what she’d hoped for in Celum’s guild before it had gone so wrong. If the other teams wanted to talk to her and Ceria about the loss of all the other teams—well, word had either spread about the previous incident or they were holding back.
In fact, they treated Yvlon as if she was still a team captain. Yvlon was listening sympathetically to Captain Kam’s tale of her own team’s losses. Maybe that was it. Some of these teams understood. She looked around, seeing familiar faces, new ones.
Silver-rank teams. Yvlon had been among their number, jostling for the position of ‘top team’ with the others. Now? It might be arrogance, but she felt like the Horns were above them in raw ability and magical items. Above, but below Gold-rank. Yvlon knew her brother’s team, the Silver Swords, still had that extra edge.
The gold would change that. Once they got it changed in Invrisil with the contacts the Halfseekers and Griffon Hunt knew, the Horns could gear up even further. All this was just keeping themselves busy. Some of the other adventurers were admiring her armor. Walt came up and tapped on Yvlon’s breastplate with one knuckle.
“Fancy gear, Byres! Better than our stuff. You’re not doing bad, are you?”
She glanced up. The [Armored Warrior] wasn’t trying to be mean; Walt just lacked all tact. And a way with women, hence his team. She forced a smile.
“Not bad right now, Walt. But you’ve got a new shield.”
He looked proud, gesturing at his shield.
“It freezes whatever hits it. Cost us a fair bit, but it’s solid! Your armor do anything fancy? I saw this Drake wearing high-grade magical armor! Dead gods, but I’d trade Kelvin and his useless ass for it and all my gear!”
Yvlon laughed politely as the luckless Kelvin enjoyed the punches and jeers from the Ensoldier Shields.
“That’s got to be Keldrass you saw, Walt. Captain of the Flamewardens. He got it from this dungeon. The Raskghar, actually. You heard about them? And it’s worth a lot more than that!”
“The Raskghar? I heard about them. You fought those things, Yvlon. A new monster type? No—wait, some sentient species? Tell us about it! And this dungeon.”
The other adventurers crowded around Yvlon. She was looking for a seat to explain and hoping no one was smelling her armor when a voice burst through the hubbub among the mostly-Humans team.
“Hah. Look at that. The backup to the backup’s finally arrived. Dead gods, but what a crowd.”
Everyone fell silent. The drawling voice had come from another team who’d entered to find the overcrowded tables. It was a Drake, and he and four members of his team were looking around dismissively.
Those were fighting words. Walt instantly reddened. Yvlon recognized the Drake and bit her lip.
“Hey! You have a problem with us being here, asshole? We were invited to come here.”
“And you’re in our seats and causing a fuss. Who got into a fight with the Scaled Guard this morning? Kicking around local Bronze-rank teams and claiming all the seats?”
The Drake had bright orange scales and he was looking unhappy at all the Human guests. Yvlon saw Walt hesitate. But another team captain spoke up.
“The best teams have arrived, whoever you are. We’re having a reunion, so if you’ve got a problem—take it up with the [Receptionists]!”
She gestured to the desk. Yvlon saw the Gnoll behind the counter duck. It wasn’t Selys on duty today. She bit her lip. This wasn’t good. All the teams present, from Alais’ to Stan’s to the rest were used to being fairly big fish in their local guilds. But the Drake who was talking just sneered at them. He put his hand on his side and exposed a shimmering sheathed blade. The other adventurers fell silent as his team laughed.
“Best teams? Let me introduce myself. I’m Gold-rank. Lifwail Blades. We’ve been here a month. You lot? You just swaggered in like you own the place. Funny. I haven’t seen your faces around. Or in the dungeon. Something holding you all back? Horns of Hammerad excepted, obviously.”
He nodded casually at Yvlon, Ceria, ignoring Ksmvr. And the other teams…fell silent. Gold-rank. Yvlon knew how they felt. Gold-ranks were rare around Celum and the area. But this was an exception. The Drake went on, casually putting one scaly foot on a chair.
“We’re Pallass’ team. What did I hear you say? You were contracted? For what? The Bloodfields job?”
He laughed. So did his team. The Human adventurers hesitated. Walt blustered, face red.
“Yeah? What about it? You taking it too?”
“Us? We’re too busy killing monsters in the dungeon to shepherd a bunch of [Bricklayers] making a road around the Bloodfields. You all want the safe stuff? Go ahead. But whichever one of you hazed our Drake team this morning, we’re onto you. You Humans all look alike, but you can apologize properly or we’ll get one later.”
The Drake glared around the room. Yvlon saw Ceria slap her forehead. Walt. He was an idiot about rank. Had he really started something within a few hours of getting to Liscor’s guild? Without even checking to see what the score was?
“Is that a threat?”
Oh, and he also couldn’t shut up. Walt blustered as he pushed his way forwards. He looked at the other Silver-rank teams. There were a lot more than Lifwail Blades’ team. The Drake raised a brow.
“What’s that, third-stringer? You picking a fight? Or are you trying to start something with all your Human friends here? You do realize this is our city, right?”
He gestured at the Drakes in the room. Yvlon noticed the non-Human adventurers were sitting far from his team. She wanted to slap her own face. What had the teams here done already? She counted two more Gold-ranks in the room. Walt’s face was red.
“Respect’s respect. We didn’t start anything. Some assholes want to poke fun at us, we slap them a bit.”
“Really? Well, some Humans come into a Drake city and think they can hit a few Drakes and maybe we decide to do the same.”
The Drake leaned forwards. He had muscle, even if he wasn’t as burly as Walt. And he was Gold-rank. Yvlon looked for Ceria. The half-Elf was opening her mouth, clearly wondering if she could defuse or if it was better to get back, when a loud, dry voice interrupted the rising tension.
“Adventurer Bessr. If anyone’s slapping anyone in this Guild, it’s me.”
An old, short Drake walked down the stairs. She had a little wooden cane, greyish scales, and a very irked expression. Everyone turned and Yvlon exhaled in relief as she spotted a familiar, irritable face, following the nervous Gnoll [Receptionist]. Guildmistress Tekshia glared at the Drake, Bessr, and Walt.
“No one’s fighting here. You want to settle it? Take it outside and no one breaks any bones! Do it later and stop pissing around like little hatchlings. Stop starting Lizardshit, Bessr.”
Bessr immediately backed down. That was the difference between Celum and Liscor’s Guild, too. In a similar scene—Yvlon flushed—Celum’s Guildmaster, a former Silver-rank, hadn’t even appeared when the altercation between her team and the adventurers there had erupted. Here though—she saw Alais and Stan were still tense.
But Tekshia was Tekshia. Bessr raised his claws.
“Outside, Guildmistress. Got it. We just wanted to send a message.”
“Received. And you, Human, no one pulls rank in my Guild. And no one starts a fight, got it? You start another fistfight, and we’ll pour you onto the road.”
“And what if—”
Walt got no further. Tekshia Shivertail didn’t argue. She just threw the cane like a javelin. It flashed across the room so fast that Bessr was still leaping back when it hit Walt in the chest. His armor didn’t bend around the point of impact; rather, the impact turned into pure momentum and sent him flying backwards.
[Launching Strike]. Or something like that. Yvlon watched Walt crash and lie on his back, winded and stunned on multiple levels. Tekshia walked forwards.
“Anyone else want to waste my time?”
“Ow. What was—”
Someone kicked Walt. Tekshia looked around. No one spoke. The Guildmistress walked forwards and fixed Bessr with a look. He winced as his team decided to take a seat out of the line of fire.
“Lifwail Blades, eh? Well, Bessr, I haven’t ever seen you in the Bloodfields. If it’s so easy compared to the dungeon, mind strolling through it for an hour or two? That’s how Gold-rank teams in my day proved they were worthy of the name.”
“Uh—”
Flushing, the Drake retreated. Tekshia nodded. Then she whirled around and snapped at the Human adventurers.
“You lot! Listen up! I’m Tekshia, Guildmistress of the Adventurer’s Guild. You’re in my Guild, so stop making a damn mess! You’re here to take on the Bloodfields contract. Well, we must be truly desperate, but you all qualify for the job.”
She accepted her cane as the Gnoll brought it back to her. She rapped the floorboards, scowling. No one spoke. Yvlon admired the old Drake. This was a proper Guildmistress.
“This isn’t a game. Liscor needs experienced adventurers to protect our workers and scout ahead, hence you all getting the offer. But if any of you are Bronze-rank incompetents masquerading as Silver, get out. The Bloodfields are nothing to joke about. Your job is to stay away from the Bloodfields, but even that can be dangerous. And any idiot who thinks they’re tough enough to wander too close and get their team killed and everyone they’re guarding? Step on up if you’re that tough and I’ll save us all the headache.”
She glared at Walt. He decided to remain sitting. Tekshia looked around.
“Alright. Today you get to listen to a wonderful explanation of why the Bloodfields are so important and help us scout which way we’re going. East or west! Then, when all of you have put your heads together to come up with this difficult answer, we’ll begin actually preparing a road. You all report here each morning or you don’t get paid. Bevussa? Get these rookies out of my guild!”
A Garuda who’d been sitting at a table stood up with her team.
“Yes, Guildmistress Tekshia! Issa, get the [Scouts] and [Master Builder] Reikhle. You all, with me!”
She gestured, and strode towards the door. The Silver-rank adventurers paused a moment before they realized Bevussa was moving. Then they scrambled to grab their things and rush after her. Yvlon knew where they were going and made her way to the back door. She saw Bessr waving at her and paused.
“Bessr?”
The Captain of Lifwail Blades was still flushed from his dressing down from Tekshia. But he growled at her as Ceria and Ksmvr paused with him.
“Heard some of the teams who gave yours shit for the crypt were here. They give you any trouble?”
Yvlon stared at him. She managed a startled response.
“No—uh—no. It’s fine.”
“Good. Don’t let teams who haven’t taken a beating do that. I heard yours went down holding the line. Not a lot of teams do that, disaster or not. Stay safe; Bevussa knows what she’s doing with the Bloodfields. Gold and glory, Horns.”
It was an old phrase, but maybe not among Drakes. Yvlon was so startled she clapped an arm across her armor reflexively.
“Silver and steel.”
She left with Ceria and Ksmvr. The half-Elf gave her a wide-eyed look. Respect? From a Gold-rank team? It filled Yvlon’s chest.
