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

Chapter 13: Hypothesis

It was starting to snow again by the time Brand and the rest of the Vangen left the cozy inn. Wet, fat flakes plopped and spattered against his face and cloak, feet quickly churning the road into chilly paste. They were led towards the stable by the innkeeper, his two boys watching warily as they pulled the doors shut.

"Wait here," The man grunted, gray mustaches twitching with worry. "And don't do nothin' to startle the horses. They spook easy."

Brand stared up at one of them, a huge looking charger with a coat like black velvet. It looked keen enough to eat him if it suited the creature. He took a cautious step back.

"Well, get comfortable everyone. I fear we may be here awhile." Libro sighed as he took a seat on one of the crates lying around, stretching out a leg that had once been a mangled mess of meat and bone.

Brand still didn't know how the Captain had done it. One minute he'd been limping around the Iron Round like a cripple with a death wish. The next he was walking like the Empire's ordained champion. And all it had cost him was an arm, and a set of strange marks burned into his flesh.

It was still a mystery how it'd happened. No one was inside the Inner Sanctum of the Iron Round save for Libro and Raylein when the Golden Heart had detonated. The Captain had been tight lipped on the subject from the start, and, well, dead men tell no tales, as they say.

His thoughts shifted as he moved on from the grim subject, seeking new directions, settling over his memories in the tower. The light from Libro's arm. The faint resistance of the monster's magick fighting back. The unstoppable pull as it was ripped out. It made him wonder. What else could the marks on his arm do?

"So what? We're supposed to sit here and wait until someone fetches us?" Cent plopped down on his own seat, annoyance boiling out of him with every snorting breath. "More like they're having us sit here in the stables like a couple of arseholes while they laugh it up back at the inn. Look at the outsiders, sitting with the beasts."

"I don't like the way that horse is staring at me," Moss added, jabbing one finger at the sleek coated charger. "Looks hungry."

Brand took another cautious step back.

"All right, that's enough moaning for one day, I reckon." Elba stepped between the two of them and threw her arms around their shoulders, eyeing Cent first. "Do you really think that bitch of a witch would play a prank on us so early in her grand scheming?" She swiveled her head around, eyeing Moss now. "And do You really think after proddin' our asses for days on end babbling on about needing to be in this town since yesterday, that she'd stop to have a fething lark?"

"Well, not really, now that you mention it," Cent said, eyes rolling over the scars along her shoulders, where many a wound had left its sharp reminder. "Although, Moss did try to stab her with a spoon."

"I regret nothing," the man shot back.

"Regardless of intentions or...regretful past actions, we still know better." Elba shook them ever so ungently, as a big sister would her younger brothers. "The Captain knows better, and I know better." Brand blinked as she turned to look at him, blue blue eyes fixed on his. "And you know better, aye Brand?"

"Aye," he said, too scared of spooking the horse beside him to argue over his name. Cinnis could put up a fiery resistance if he wanted to, but Brand did not want to experience being bitten by a jaw made entirely out of molars.

"So let's have a little faith then, and hope for the best." Elba planted herself on a hay bale, arms folded over her chest. "And if things get ugly we'll just kill the bastards. Dare say I haven't seen a man you two couldn't turn to meat in a timely need."