Echoes of the Reach

[4.2] | Unseen

    "I said hold your fire, idiots!" Salahara's cry stormed from the breached entryway, thundering harder and louder than any battery of crossbow bolts. Her punctuating scoff, too, lanced through her assembled soldiers like a well-aimed spear. "Trigger-happy bumpkins. Don't you know how much paperwork wounding civilians creates?"

    "But Captain, she just burst in here all magical, like," one of the crossbow-wielding soldiers said. Like the state of the mess hall itself, scuffs and dents riddled his armour, and their crossbow's frame sat unevenly in their grasp. "Who knows what else this witch has got up her sleeve?"

    Salahara bristled, and the rest of the room held its collective breath. "One more word out of you, Lang, and 'this witch' will be the least of your problems."

    The blur of panic ebbed from Talwyn's vision, and she climbed to her feet with her arms lifted. The captain's gaze pinned her to the spot, as did the savage edges of the half-dozen armed soldiers that flanked her. At their feet kneeled her friends, their expressions perfect pictures of discomfort.

    With a nod, Kerensa gave out a weak, deathly smile that needled the nerves of the young soldier that held her. "Welcome back, darling," she said, nerves rattling through her usual cadaverous composure. "Are you alright? I'd offer you a hug, but it seems we're a little tied up right now."

    "Don't worry. I'm fine...or I feel fine, anyway." It was true. Whether genuine or simply a lingering high from her shield-shattering lightning bolt, not a shred of fatigue fettered Talwyn's muscles. She even faced Salahara's intense stare without flinching. "You've got to let us go. All this mess? This was self-defence, I swear!"

    "I don't have to do anything, and I definitely don't take orders from civvies that wreck my base." Parting from her troop, the captain paced past each of her detainees, the crack of her falling spear providing a cutting metronome to her step. "Now, one of you headaches better start talking, and fast," she said as she paused by Arlo's side. She kneeled to fall in their eyeline, and her bronze talon-like nails brushed their scaled cheek. "Or I can think up a way to motivate you. Your choice."

    Excitement flared in Arlo's eyes despite the captain's threatening tone – or, perhaps, because of it.

    Talwyn did not share her ally's desire to test Salahara's patience. "The Friese you brought us to wasn't actually him," she said, reliving the madness of the recent past as she gave it language. "They were some kind of monster, and they were planted by a Fey to help them smuggle...stuff into the city."

    "A monster? From a Fey? For smuggling?" The gradual tightening of Salahara's tone hacked against Talwyn's chest. She laughed to herself and stepped forward, hanging her head low. "If you wanted to waste my time, you could at least come up with a decent lie."

    It was a reasonable response. An hour ago, Talwyn would have been similarly sceptical regarding any stories of supposed Fey encounters, let alone those with a petty crime spin. Material concerns, after all, meant little to the Fey, blessed as they were with bountiful resources and magic throughout their home plane, the Far Reach. What use would a Fey have for smuggling into an Eilosian city?

    "She's telling the truth!" Darius removed his hands from behind his head, earning a heavy smack from the pommel of a soldier's sword. For a stolen moment, his gaze landed on Talwyn, and the twinge of offence in his voice grew thicker. "Why would she lie? Do you really think we called these duskclaws here ourselves?"

    "I think you need to shut it, Lord Loudmouth Fake-Name," Salahara snapped as she turned on her heels. With powerful elegance, her spear darted through the space to pierce the ground between Darius' folded legs. Splinters shot across his front, and the captain flicked her head towards the spear-wielding soldier beside her. "The truth, fast. And trust me, I don't miss twice."