Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 4: The Crone of Crooked Creek

Elba watched in abject horror as her man stepped from his jail cell and towards the monster. "Are you out of your fething mind? Five seconds ago I was pulling your sorry ass from the fire and now I find you trying to waltz back in? Get back here you damned idiot!"

Libro stopped mid stride like a frightened deer. "Please, my love," he started to say, pausing as he realized the full extent of his words. He cleared his throat sheepishly. "I mean, Elba. This may be the one and only chance to figure out what happened to me back in Middengard."

"What happened is that you were damn lucky." She snapped him a hard look, tapping her spear against the cobbles as her father would have when negotiating with the other men of her tribe. She winced as she realized the folly of her thoughts. They were not her men of the tribe anymore. "And I'm not about to watch you die a second fool's death."

"I won't," Libro said. "You and I both know what I've already lost." With a rustle of cloth, he revealed the stump of his right arm, swaddled in checkered yellow and black velvet, bound together with leather and buckle.

"But this is important to me," he continued, his voice a smooth, velvet feeling to her ears. "I need to know if this is something I can use to protect you. To protect all of you," he added quickly, eyeing the other three in the room.

Elba sighed. Damned, but the man could be stubborn sometimes. More hard headed than Sigismund used to be. Her stomach clenched at the memory and she turned away.
"Fine then. Just don't get yourself killed."

Libro nodded as he turned back towards the monster, still flailing uselessly at the metal staff pinning it in place. "Cinis, hold it down for me."

Brand blinked as he came back to attention. "Yes sir!" His eyes narrowed as he called upon his magick, Stelecasting it was called, loose weapons rising from the floorboards. There was a loud thwack as the creature let out a howling wail, a sword ramming into its open palm. A second later and its other arm was equally pinned. A third wrapped over its legs, tip and pommel digging into the crumbling stone.

"Tucked in tighter than an oarsman in a storm," Moss muttered.

"My glove, if you would?" Libro held out his left hand and Brand made quick to pull it off, revealing pale flesh beneath. A webbing of dark scars ran down the back of his palm in twisted, geometric patterns. He winced as he tested his grip, puckered flesh pulled taut against the knuckles. He puffed his cheeks out, ignoring the slavering creature as he suddenly lunged, grabbing it by the temples. It croaked out an angry burble, former humanity lost to whatever possessed it now.

Elba grit her teeth, bracing for Libro to lose his other arm when a flash of light made her pause. It started at the tips of his fingers, glowing brighter by the second as it surged from his hand and into the cuff of his sleeve. Fingers of light bloomed from the holes in his armor, an opposing glow rising from the creature. It slithered out from the monster's throat, cold light the color of sea ice.

Slowly, it began to glide towards Libro's fingertips, resisting ever so gently against his pull. He reached out, motes of tiny light flickering as he touched it before they were reeled in by an invisible force. The air wavered above his shoulder like heat shimmering from a campfire, before it too disappeared.

With a rasping croak the creature's head fell limp, body going slack, eyes fading dull and lifeless. Libro took in a shuddering breath and stepped back, staring at his hand as he turned it this way and that. Not a speck was out of place.  The same smooth flesh. The same chewed fingernails.

"Seems your theory was right after all," Libro said, nodding over to Brand. "Whatever's come over this land, it's definitely magickal in nature."

"More than you could ever realize, my Captain." A voice called out from behind. Elba whirled about, reaching for her sword, only to realize it still embedded in the creature's guts. Cent and Moss, however, were not as unlucky. They moved past her, shields and axes at the ready as they closed in towards the danger.