CHAPTER NINETEEN

*~~~**~~~*

Wicket

*~~~**~~~*

21st of Decepter, 935 PC

Wicket’s arms began to tremble just before he lowered himself enough to kiss Lilly’s forehead, then toppled over onto his back and let out an exhale. A wave of satisfaction and release washed over him as he closed his eyes and focused on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The coarse linen sheets rubbed against his skin as Lilly pulled them over her bare chest. Been needing that for a while. Her hand slid along his arm to his shoulder, her head pressed against it as she nuzzled closer to him, leg crossing over his waist. Her lips found their way to the rough stubble on his cheek.

“I missed that,” she said. That seductive voice. Always had a thing for an eastern accent. Lilly Pattick hailed from White Hall; the capital of Serelle. And like most women from the far side of the Eastern Wall, she spoke with a smooth, deep voice for a lass and enunciated every syllable of every word slowly and smoothly when she chose to. Which was often.

“I reckon it was, wasn’t it,” he replied. Her finger slid across his chin and turned his face to hers. Her long eyelashes batted. Her forest green eyes stared briefly. Their lips touched gently.

“I hope we get to do that while we’re on the road.”

I hope we survive the road. “Aye, that’d be real nice.”

His heartbeat was coming back down to its normal rate, his interest in lying still dying quickly. Ya got shit to take care of before we leave. And I reckon Alaric has a list twice as long. And Cora. Shit. You have to check on Cora. You haven’t seen her in hours. Three hells, where did you see her last?

He began to move away from Lilly. She resisted, pulled herself closer to his body. “No, don’t go yet.”

“Now, now, Pattick. No gettin’ attached.”

She kissed his neck, just below the jawline. Worked her way up slowly. Nimbled gently on his earlobe. He smiled, felt the rush of a woman’s touch coming back in full force. Damn her.

“I have to check on Cora. I don’t know where she’s at.” His purpose was betrayed by the laughter in his voice, brought on by the tickling sensation on his neck.

Sensing she had won. Lilly climbed on top of him, pinning him to the bed playfully. The sheets draped over her shoulders, a hint of her breasts visible beneath her long brown hair. For a moment he resisted, but the feel of her soft skin against his own was too satisfying. He relaxed, let his head fall deeper into the pillow. Cora’s fine. Half the inn knows she’s my daughter. Nothin’ will happen.

“Just a bit longer,” he whispered as he slid his hands up her legs and gripped her hips. She smiled and lowered her lips to his.

*~~~**~~~*

An hour later, Wicket was standing naked at the end of the bed. His back to Lilly. He plucked a piece of cold pork from Lilly’s dinner plate.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she said from behind him.

He reached over his shoulder and touched the bandages that covered his wound. Lucky. He remembered the pain of getting the arrow out. He laughed to himself. Call me anything but lucky. Goose quills. Who’da thought it? Made pullin’ the thing out easier, but gettin’ ‘em placed on the tips of the barbed head. Diggin’ and proddin’ around in me. Lords.

“Aye. Takes more than an arrow to end me.” Even he didn’t believe himself.

“Oh yea, the invincible Mr. Wicket.”

“Not invincible, just damn near impossible to kill,” he said. Some part of that may have been true. A lot of men and women had died from far less than the trauma Wicket’s body had been through. Broken legs and arms from falls. Got hit in the head so hard once he didn’t make up for hours. Couldn’t even remember what hit him. Just woke up in the house he was robbing for Alaric with no one around. Still a mystery to him. A spear through the thigh. More like along the thigh. Still left a nice, puffy scar. Even that wasn’t lucky. Never should have gotten hit in the first place. He was still thinking about his wounds when he sat down in a wobbly chair at the nearby table and put one foot across the other knee. Rain pounded the window outside. Hope this storm passes before we head off on our adventure. He looked at Lilly, still resting in the bed peacefully. A cute smile on her face made her look more innocent than he knew her to be. Could never imagine that gal would put an arrow through your heart and not bat an eye about it. Course, ya might not feel so bad when you can sense danger. I reckon I wouldn’t feel so bad about the people I’ve sent back to The Creator if I knew all of ‘em wanted me dead.

Lilly was an Intuitionist, capable of sensing danger, bad luck, bad intentions, all that which wanted to kill the unsuspecting. Real important tool for a man like Alaric.

He pulled Lilly’s play closer and continued to finish her half-eaten meal. Damn good meat. Even cold.

“You gettin’ nervous?” he asked. “About the mission.”

“Not at all.”

“Ever been to Locke?”

“Never.”

He tried to smile but there were too many bad memories. He had no interest in returning to the port city. “Not missing out on much.” He bit down on a red potato.

Lilly looked surprised. “What are you talking about? Everyone knows Locke is incredible. The architecture, the culture, the food.” I reckon that is one good thing about goin’ to Locke, delicious food. First thing I’m gonna do is get some fresh fish at Aggie’s pub. Oh, but there’s Beglio’s. Can’t beat Beglio’s. Then he thought about a place he had once held dear to his heart, in some ways, he still did. Wonder if Penelope’s Place is still open.

Lilly rolled over, the bed squeaked obnoxiously. Part of him enjoyed the idea of having Lilly around on the road. She was a fun gal, always up for adventure, and a romp. But another part worried that if they spent too much time together he’d find himself developing real feelings for her. They were already swimming around in his mind and they had only met a few weeks before. Would that be such a bad thing? She’s nothin’ like Iris. No one’s like Iris. His contemplations were interrupted when Lilly spoke.

“Do you think Alaric knows what he’s doing?”

Wicket was caught off guard by the question. He shoved another piece of meat in his mouth to buy himself time to think. Do I think Sampson knows what he is doing? I think Sampson knows what he wants. Everyone knows what he wants. And he sure as the three hells makes it look like he’s got it all together. But no. I think the man is too far down the path of revenge to make good choices.

“Never seen no one pay more attention to detail than Sampson. And now he’s got the Yilan. Everything will be fine,” said Wicket, refusing to out the man who had picked him up when he was down. Way down.

Lilly made a face that told Wicket she was suspicious of him. “Aye. Narah has an answer for everything.” She said it in a way that made her skepticism in Alaric undeniable.

“There ain’t nothin’ for ya to worry about. We’re gonna get to Locke, eat some of the best food to ever find its way into that pretty little mouth of yours and then break into the university. Simple stuff. He’s got everyone he needs to do the job. And quickly. We’ll be right back in that bed before the next moon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Now don’t go sayin’ that, Pattick. The creator don’t exactly shine bright on me or my opinions. “Course I am.” He stood from his chair.

In a flash a pillow was flying at him. “Cover up, you fool!” said Lilly with a laugh.

“What?!” He snorted as he caught the pillow.

“Put your pants on.”

Wicket grinned. “Fine.”

He found his pants, pulled them up to just below the bulge in his belly, made sure his belt was just loose enough not to be uncomfortable, then put his brown tunic on.

“Don’t forget your daggers,” said Lilly. “This place is horribly skeevy.” Aye. Damn sure is.

“What’s wrong, don’t like the company here?” he asked. She shook her head in disgust.

“If Alaric didn’t think so highly of this place, I never would have come here.”

Reckon that’s fair.

When he was ready he leaned over the side of the bed and kissed Lilly’s forehead.

*~~~**~~~*

As Wicket walked across the catwalk above the pub he caught a glimpse of something that made him stop and put his elbows on the banister. A group of people had gathered at the front entrance of the pub, weapons drawn. Not unusual to see a few brawls in here, but this is ain’t quite normal. Harsh words were being exchanged, tempers were escalating quickly. Suddenly, the crowd spread apart abruptly. A man fell to his backside then flat on his back, his head hitting the floor with a loud thud. The man on the floor used his hands and feet to scramble backward quickly in search of a way to disappear between the legs all around him. Wicket expected the crowd to erupt but instead the room fell silent around the body, patrons backed further away slowly, timidly, their eyes on the door.

The sound of heavy boots on wood filled the silent void, accompanied by a light clink of armor. Then he spotted them. Five men dressed in black curaisses ornamented with swirling engravings and red cloth belts wrapped around their waists. Gauntlets on their hands, arms covered in flaring armor at the shoulders. White capes hung down their backs and an H was planted firmly in the middle of their chests. A thin green vine wrapped tightly around the letter. Hounds. Where’s Diedro? These Hounds were not just ordinary soldiers. Their armor and belts indicated they were high ranking officers. He spotted one he recognized. Rhyne Camdrie. That prick.

He moved along the catwalk, quietly enough to not bring too much attention to himself without looking out of place. He tapped on the door to Alaric’s room as quietly as he could, hoping Diedro was inside. The lock sounded inside the room a moment later. A dark-skinned man named Tripelthin opened the door. His stomach bulged beneath the navy blue scholar’s robe he wore so often. The drooping frown that lived on his face was particularly rounded tonight. If his eyes were not constantly bloodshot, Wicket may have wondered if something was wrong.

“Jameson,” said Tripelthin in his deep, arrogant voice. “What can I do for you?”

Wicket stepped inside and closed the door halfway. The room smelled like vomit. What in the three hells is goin’ on in here? Then he spotted it. Nathaniel Ames was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. No sympathy took form in Wicket. Traitor. Nathaniel’s lap was covered in the black bile that Lotus threw up when deprived of their false magic. Alaric was whispering into his captive’s ear, his hand on the back of the chair. There was a cigar in his mouth. How is he not vomiting himself? Nathaniel looked as though he was on his last legs. The ends of his severed fingers were wrapped in bloody bandages. His head was hanging low but Wicket could tell his eyes were fixated on the purple capsules in the middle of the table.

Alaric looked toward him. He stood up and straightened his clothes. “James, how are you?”

“Is Diedro in here?” Wicket was already looking around the room nervously.

“No. I sent him off with Manaya… on a task.”

Wicket relaxed slightly, but he knew that didn’t mean they were in the clear. The Hounds would want to speak with someone of influence. Not the drunken thugs and lackeys downstairs.

“The Hounds are here. At least five. Didn’t see if there was more,” said Wicket.

Alaric cursed as he made his way toward his disheveled looking dresser. He put his cigar in a well-made brown box and let it slam shut. He glanced at something laying beside the box. Is that a mirror?

“Trip,” said Alaric.

“Yes.”

“Gather up Garth. We may need him.”

Tripelthin nodded and made his way toward the door.

“Either of ya seen Cora?”

Alaric waved toward the door. “She’s with Garth and Coyne.”

Garth. Shoulda known he’d be with the pups.

*~~~**~~~*

Wicket glanced over the banister before entering Garth’s room. The Black Boar Inn was as quiet as he had ever heard it. Only a few of the harder looking commoners remained, mixed with a few of his fellow Purists, Kovey Walber, the Ambrose girls, and the Patterson brothers, Lace and his older brother, Ashe. The Hounds were sitting at the horseshoe-shaped bar. Diedro will be fine. He knows ‘em as well as anyone. Won’t be catchin’ him off guard.

“Coming?” asked Tripelthin from the doorway. Wicket turned and followed him into the room.

Both men stopped when Garth raised his large palm from across the room. Cora had the small wooden daggers Wicket had made for her in her hands. She lunged toward Coyne, who was holding Cora’s wooden sword awkwardly. His hands spaced too far apart on the hilt, the tip standing nearly vertically. Goin’ through her cadences. Her foot planted as the blunted tip of her weapon came up just inches shy of Coyne’s chest. Rather than blocking the thrust he had he simply stepped back carefully. Cora took another slow step with her other foot, planted, spun slowly in a circle, her long blonde hair swung around her face ever so slightly. She brought a backhanded swing across the wooden sword with her other dagger with a thunk. She stopped and looked at Garth, shocked she had hit the wooden sword. Coyne turned also, a look of surprise on his face, like they had done something wrong. The brute smiled at the girl and pointed toward Wicket and Tripelthin. Cora turned.

“Father!” she said as she ran toward him. “Did you see me? I stepped and spun and I even hit Coyne’s sword. I think he was surprised by my spin.” She looked at her new friend. “Weren’t you?” Coyne nodded his head in silence.

“I reckon you’re a little assassin,” said Wicket as he picked her up. Cora had seven years to her name but her personality was far closer to a girl with twice as many.

Tripelthin made his way across the room to Garth. Wicket could barely hear his deep whispers to the brute.

Wicket gently rubbed at a red spot on Cora’s cheek.

“Coyne bumped my face with my sword.” She rubbed the spot hard as if trying to get rid of it. “He didn’t do it on purpose and he said sorry.” She nodded her head excitedly. “Yep. He spoke to me.”

“That’s even more exciting than your swift moves,” said Wicket. She scowled at him.

“No it’s not.”

He laughed and set her back down.

Garth gathered his enormous axe. Coyne stepped away in fear. The friendly monster smiled at the boy and put his large arm out. Coyne just stared at it, then at Garth.

“Gimme your arm, boy. I don’ got all day.”

Coyne extended his arm cautiously. His entire forearm disappeared beneath Garth’s hand as the man took his arm in the ancient grip. Coyne’s tiny hand was unable to wrap around Garth’s forearm. The brute shrugged.

“Good ‘nuff for me.” He patted the boy on the hand and moved across the room. “See ya later litt’l lady.”

“Bye Garth!” she said happily.

Tripelthin followed Garth out of the room, and closed the door behind them.

He walked to Garth's bed, which looked as though it had seen better days. I reckon I’d give up if that behemoth was laying on me every night too. Cora climbed onto the bed beside him and tucked herself under his arm. Coyne stood uncomfortably by a chair across the room, Cora’s wooden sword was laying on the table near him. Got no idea what happened to his mum. Wicket’s guilt tore at him. You led her right to Alaric, you monster.

“Hey Coyne. Ya wanna learn how to use that thing?” he asked.

Coyne looked at him for a few seconds. Then smiled and nodded.