Warwielder - Book 1 of The Evernoth Odyssey

Chapter 11 - A Stranger's Proposal

Marschal could still hear Kollo's cry of despair from the day before. A piercing wail that echoed in his head as a waitress placed a mug on the table before him. He stared blankly at his beverage while he remembered the tears that streaked the bandit's face. Marschal could still see Kollo's broken eyes looking upon his son's corpse hanging from Juren's grip. A grip that loosened, sending the body falling onto the cold stones with a dead thud. Marschal could still remember squinting through the darkness to see blood pooling from the boy's slit throat. The Paravellan's eyes never left the boy's corpse as Juren walked over it like an abandoned and inconsequential object. From the corner of his eye he could see his friend approaching Kollo still hanging from his chains with the sound of his cries echoing off the dark walls of the prison.

"My boy." There was a deflated and resigned tone in Kollo's voice as Juren pulled his head up with a rough hair tug. The bandit's eyes were dazed and distant as though he were mentally retreating from a world that was now devoid of his son. "My boy...You killed my-"

His voice was suddenly cut off when Juren's steel blade slid across the bandit's throat, leaving a trail of red on Kollo's skin.

All the while, Marschal stood there frozen, observing the scene like an ethereal spectator.

"Hey...Marschal..."

Juren's voice broke Marschal out of his reminiscent thoughts.

Marschal had no recollection of standing up from his seat. So he was jolted when a crowd of familiar faces smiled and stared back at him expectantly. The prison in his memory seemed darker and more ominous than the pitch black of the previous night. Now the warm candlelit interior warmed his skin, welcoming him from a cold uncomfortable flashback. But despite that, Marschal still struggled not to think about Kollo's cries considering he was now standing and drinking in the same tavern that lured the bandit to his demise.

The crowd's voices were a dull murmur in the Paravellan's head until it was suddenly interrupted with a sharp "Hey!" from Juren. It wasn't until now that Marschal noticed his friend standing beside him with a mug raised to the air.

"What?" was the only word the Paravellan could manage to say.

"I was proposing a toast," Juren announced to the other denizens of the tavern. "For the man responsible for delivering justice."

This elicited a loud cheer from the crowd, a sound that was laced with a sombre undertone to Marschal's ears. Their loved ones were murdered by the same killer. His death was a moment of celebration. But their fathers, mothers, children and friends were still gone. Nothing was going to change that.

Marschal shook his head. "No. It was all you my friend."

"Nonsense. All of this was able to happen because of you."

The crowd cheered again in response. Juren continued, "This was your plan. You put your life on the line to bring down a very powerful and evil man."

Another wave of cheers rose up from the crowd.

"I wasn't the one who killed him," said Marschal.

The crowd cheered louder. However, the Paravellan didn't see the same jubilance in his friend beside him. Instead, Juren hung his head slightly before reluctantly raising his own mug. "To Marschal."

"To Marschal," the crowd replied in unison as they raised their glasses and downed their drinks.

Marschal hesitated to follow suit. But in the end he capitulated and drank from his mug along with everyone else.

After the toast, everyone enjoyed themselves as much as anyone could at such an occasion. As the night passed on, the loud riotous noises slowly died down into a contained and exhausted murmur throughout the tavern.