Devin spun to see the man he hated most, standing a full head taller with blonde hair cut short and teeth gleaming white in a wide smile. In his eyes danced a horrible laugh, a promise of pain and malice.

“Are you harassing these two guards of the town of Mossglenn Depot?” Bronn asked, his voice dripping with conceit.

“No sir, we were actually leading them-” A withering glare from Bronn stopped Lefty short. Devin heard the gulp that came from the small man and could only imagine him shrinking under that glare. Bronn slowly turned back to Devin and let a smaller smile come back to his face.

“My eyes and those of my guards,” he motioned with his free hand at the two men flanking him, “Would be inclined to say you are. Plus, you seem to be out past curfew and without an escort.”

“Uh, actually Mr. Bronn, we are their escorts.” This time Jeff spoke up, his voice cracking slightly. Bronn dropped all pretense of his smiling façade and turned to look at the man behind Devin.

“Hmm,” he said. He released his grip on Devin's shoulder and raised his hand. With a snap of his fingers his two guards reacted in a blur of motion. Before Devin could respond, they pulled swords from their sides and thrust past him into the two guards. Devin spun back around in time to see the two guards faces in open shock, swords impaling their chests.

“Ah, ah, I wouldn't do that,” Bronn warned as Devin, Murton, and Griff reached for their weapons. Devin turned back toward him to see him gesturing to the rooftops around them. On each building around them figures stood, bows in hand. Devin glared at Bronn before shaking his head. He heard Griff and Murton's weapons settle back into their sheaths.

“Amazing how cheap and shitty their armor is, isn’t it? Nothing like the lowlifes and creatures around town seem to be acquiring, eh Devin?” A wild fire now blazed in Bronn's eyes. He bared his teeth in a smiling snarl. “I’m sure you’ve had hands-on experience with that. What I can't understand is how you managed to make it through two different contracts with creatures like that. Shows fortitude. Quite frankly, it's impressive.”

Devin glared right back into the face of his adversary. He debated letting everything spill, letting Bronn know he knew he was supplying them. The thought of seeing the shock on his face almost proved enough to do it. Instead, he shook his head, “Who knows, maybe some outside benefactor? Some wayward dragon or petty minor lord in the surrounding Wildens.”

The sneer faltered for a moment on Bronn’s face. Devin didn’t figure he would tell him anything, but he knew Bronn loved attention from anywhere. By failing to admit he knew Bronn was behind it, it would irk him. The hint of a smile spread on Devin’s face. Even if he ultimately lost to Bronn, he would go fighting and kicking the entire way down.

“Something funny, shitbag?” Bronn growled. He looked Devin up and down before noticing his hand. The sardonic smile came back easily, sliding greasily on. “What happened there? Another unfortunate accident for your illustrious career?”

Bronn grabbed Devin's hand with a flash, pulling it toward him. Fire and pain shot from the stump of his fingers up through Devin’s arms. He tried to fight back a grimace, baring his teeth in pain. Bronn’s eyes flashed at the grimace and he squeezed Devins hand a bit tighter, causing a small cry to escape.

Devin heard movement behind him and a soft thud. Glancing back he saw Griff bent over, holding his stomach. The large man holding Griff was unballing his fist, face expressionless. Murton was red faced, his arms held back by the second guard. Behind them, the two town guards lay in a pool of their own blood, the dark liquid flowing through the cobblestones like some sick mosaic.

Bronn held Devin’s hand up, turning it around to look at the dirty bandage now soaked through with blood and grime. He reached around where the missing fingers used to be and gave another squeeze, prompting a fresh wave of pain.

“Can’t call you Devin Tenfingers anymore, can they?” Bronn smirked. He dropped the hand and Devin withdrew it to his chest, cradling it with his good hand. He shook slightly with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and fury. Bronn turned his back to Devin and started to walk down the road.

For a brief moment Devin saw himself draw his remaining dagger and leap toward Bronn. Even with the archers above he could do it. He could make that leap and drive Blossom deep into the man's back before he was cut down. Before he could react, Bronn spoke.

“Take them to the dungeons. Lock them up for being out past curfew and the murder of two town guards. Oh,” he turned back towards his thugs and waved towards the bodies, “Clean up the mess.”

“No!” Devin snarled, stepping toward Bronn’s retreating back.

“Lookout, boy!” he heard Murton call before something struck him in the middle of his chest with the force of a solid punch. He staggered back a few paces and looked down to see a feathered quarrel sticking out of him. His head was a wash of dizziness before another quarrel struck him in the back. He fell forward to his knees as his vision swam.

Blackness came in around the edge of his vision and started to swallow everything up. The last thing he saw was a pair of large boots walking over to him and a large hand reaching down to pick him up before everything went black.

~~~~~~

Teryn dragged Shia through the door into the darkened Apothecary. She kept a hold of the young woman as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The man who let them in, Grundled, kept only a few small candles lit in the far corners for means of illumination. Teryn’s half elven eyes quickly adjusted, and she knew Grundled would have no issues with his troll eyes, but she was concerned for Shia.

The dim candles revealed a room in extraordinary disarray. Bits of furniture, at least, what she assumed used to be furniture, and broken tools of the apothecarian were littered everywhere. There was no discernible path through the mess. Even the walls were disorderly, lined with shelves upon shelves, each holding glass jars with various items and ingredients inside of them. As she held onto Shia’s arm and picked her way through the mess toward the troll in the center of the room, she swore several of the jars held moving things.

“Grundled,” she said simply as she neared the withered being.

“Teryn,” he rasped. “Who is this delectable morsel you have brought with you? Perhaps a snack, some sort of offering? Oh yes, we accept dearest elf friend, we accept!”

She heard Shia’s soft gasp and held up her hand, “She’s not a snack or offering, she is a friend of mine and under my protection.”

“Oh, how her heart beats, how it thuds in her chest, pushing, flowing, coursing blood through her veins.” A small moan escaped the troll as he edged forward toward Shia. Teryn knew she could not see anything but felt her recoil as the troll's breath hit her outstretched arm.

“Enough,” Teryn demanded. Ice began to coalesce around her right hand and arm as she started to summon an icicle. The dim candle flickered as the room started to drop in temperature. The troll stopped moving forward and glanced over to her. He stood for a few moments, watching her hand as a foot long spear of razor ice formed.

Finally, after several tense moments, the troll acquiesced. “Very well,” he mumbled, bowing down and stepping away from Shia.

“And turn on some lights in here,” Teryn said.

The troll bumbled over to the far wall and fumbled with a few switches. There was a clicking sound and an oddly clean and resplendent chandelier burst into light, each of the tips holding a bright flame. Teryn squinted as her eyes readjusted.

She turned to see Shia looking around with wonder. She covered her mouth with her hand when her eyes fell on Grundled as he waddled back towards them. He caught sight of her looking and a wicked grin split his lump like face, revealing rows of tiny, razor sharp teeth.

“Do you like what you see? Hoodsth knows I like what I see. Two delectable morsels in my home, one so cold and aloof yet full of ageless doubt, the other so young and naive, eager yet so scared to see the world for what it really is.” The troll smacked his lips as he looked over the two women.

“Grundled, I really don’t have time for your games right now. Let me get what I’ve come for and pay you for holding it, or I will take it by force.” The icicle still sat in Teryn’s hand. She noted with some satisfaction his eyes glancing between it and herself, his face frozen in that stupid grin.

“Fine,” he voice flattened and he nodded slightly. “We will let the elf lady get what she wants and leave her be. Be warned I will hold stuff for you no longer, seeing the bully that you truly are.”

Grundled turned and waddled through a small door by the switches on his wall. His voice carried through as he kept grumbling, “Poor Grundled only wants to discuss things and the horrid elf woman shouts at him. Not his fault she brought in such a young human...” his voice faded and he delved deeper into his hole of a shop.

Shia leaned in close to Teryn and whispered, “He’s not actually dangerous is he? I didn’t know they let trolls into the city.”

“Trolls are cowards,” Teryn whispered back. “Stand up to them or threaten any sort of harm and they will acquiesce. They will always try to worm or sneak their way out of something though and will sell you out to anyone stronger.”

“So why do you use him for whatever you are getting?”

“It’s a pack of rare herbs and medicines I brought from Shelvar, my homeland. I keep it here since he won't be able to use it and my threat of magic is enough to keep him in line. I told him I cast a spell of watching that keeps an eye on my stuff at all times.”

“Is that real? A spell of watching like that?” Shia asked, glancing around the room as if they were being watched now.

“Not really, no. Some spellweavers can scry an area, but something that is always watching and reporting is not doable as far as I know. A spell takes immense concentration to maintain and cast. Scryers use some sort of glass or crystal to focus and channel it to see things.” She rubbed her chin, “I suppose someone could use a Scrying Orb and watch an area, but that would require their undivided attention on that area for all time.”

A rustling sound came from within the doorway and both women turned towards it. Grundled shuffled out, still muttering to himself. He stopped and gave Teryn a sly smile as he approached. “Here’s the satchel you asked for, elf woman.”

“Thank you, troll monster,” Teryn shot back, dropping the icicle and taking the satchel. After feeling it to make sure nothing was missing, she tossed him a small bag of coins.

Grundled sputtered and hissed, “Nasty creature using that word. We trolls are just as civilized as any of you other beasts that inhabit and take over this continent. Filthy long ears with their dangly eyebrows.” His narrowed eyes turned to Shia. “And you, the worst of them all. Humans come strutting in and taking everything from us inhabitants. Leave, leave now!”

The troll flicked his fingers at the women and started to advance toward the door behind them. “Nasty things get what's coming to them,” he muttered as they turned.

“What was that?” Shia asked over her shoulder as they picked through the mess towards the front door.

“Nasty beings get nasty outcomes,” he hissed at them.

“Thanks again for holding this Grundled, I’ll visit again when I need your services,” Teryn said with a slight smile.

“Out, out!” he gave them small pushes in their back towards the door. Teryn opened the door and managed a glance back at the troll. His face was a twist of anger, but the nasty grin kept flicking back up through the furious frown. What was that troll hiding?

Teryn stepped through the door into the night air and came face to face with a gleaming, pearly smile flanked by a scar running up a chiseled face.

“Hello, Teryn,” Bronn said, eyes dancing in the torchlight, the color of the ice of the far north in the flickering torch light.