I - One

Meet Shade and the Company

I

 

            It was only seconds before she saw the beast barrelling out of the thicket towards her, its massive claws gouging the ground and saliva spewing from its razor-toothed maw. A small manticore, the beast could still manage to slay an entire village without breaking a sweat. Shade sat on her haunches and waited. The demon’s scorpid tail lashed back and forth as it prepared to strike its opponent, but still, Shade waited. It wasn’t until the creature was within breathing distance that she stood to attack.

            The manticore let out a thundering bellow and that was her cue. With a cat’s nimbleness she leapt to the side, allowed the demon to skid past her, and just as it began to turn back around, Shade rebounded and pounced on its back. In feline form, she could easily stay out of reach of sluggish boars like this beast. Extending her claws, Shade dug into the manticore’s neck, finding her way through its thick amber mane. The creature writhed and stabbed around with its tail blindly, but she had already severed its spinal cord and it collapsed in a twitching heap onto the ground. Dust flew into the air at the impact, but Shade shook it off her coat and then stretched herself out, now human. She knelt down quickly to ensure that the beast was dead, and then pulled a small, engraved dagger from her knee-high boot. Leaning closer, she etched a symbol of a stag’s head and crossed daggers on the manticore’s haunch before detaching its tail.

            “This oughta be worth something,” she sighed, and threw the severed appendage over her shoulder, securing it with a belt from her belt-pouch. That done, she lit a tuft of the manticore’s mane with her flint and steel, and stepped back as its body lit up. Speeding up into a jog, Shade hunched over and was soon running on dog paws towards the nearest merchant town of Tinnigan. “Let’s see about dinner then.”

 

II

 

            A lanky, scraggly wolf dog trotted into Tinnigan, receiving no attention except for the enormous scorpion tail strapped to its back. It stopped in front of the Taxidermist’s shop and let out a brisk bark. Not minutes later, the Taxidermist emerged from his house and greeted the dog with a pat on the head.

            “Come on in then Shade, looks like you brought me something interesting today.” The dog padded on behind the man and the villagers were forced to go back to their daily tasks, still keeping one eye on the Taxidermy.

            “Don’t hide behind that fur, Shade,” the man sighed, taking a seat in an old, ratty leather armchair that was being supported on one side by piles of books and spilling stuffing around the floor. “We’re friends here. Sit, sit. Can I get you anything? Tea? A sandwich?”

            Shade stood, stretching her tight muscles and then lowered herself into a sagging wicker chair. “You ought to sell that old thing by now, surely your business is thriving these days with all the demon hunts about,” she teased, eyeing a curious set of pixie wings that sat in a glass box on her friend’s desk.

            “Nonsense, she’s in her prime!” The Taxidermist chuckled, patting the leather of the chair, spewing more clumps of stuffing. “Now, tell me, what are you doing in town? You haven’t been here in months.”

            “I want to sell this,” Shade announced, dropping the manticore tail onto the desk with a loud ‘thump’. “What can I get for it, Aard old friend?”

            The Taxidermist leaned closer to examine the specimen. “Well it’s in exceptional condition. I recon I could sell this one for a fair price at the market to a lord or some other pompous nobleman to add to their collection. How about, 50 shillings?”

            “Make it 60 and we have a deal. I do have to eat.” Aard chuckled at her straightforward attitude but then nodded.

            “Alright,” Aard said, extending his callused hand, “you have a deal. 60 shillings, but you’re robbing me!”

            Shay gave the old man a sly wink. “Be glad I’m dealing with you and not one of your competitors.”

            “True, but there’s not many who would willingly deal with a demon,” at Shade’s narrowed eyes, he corrected, “Sorry, half demon. I forget sometimes, I’m getting old nowadays. Anyway, where are you staying, I have a spare room out back if you want to save some coin.”

            Shade shook her eggshell blonde head. “No, you know I don’t like to sleep near people. It gives me nightmares.”

            Aard’s sizeable beer belly rose and fell at her remark. “Ever the loner, I see. Very well, suit yourself. At least let me buy you a beer and a hot meal at the tavern. We need to catch up, you know.”

            Unable to pass up the offer, especially due to her rumbling stomach, she nodded. “Alright old man, let’s go then. But we sit in the back.”

            “Whatever you say, friend.”

 

III

 

            Taking a hearty swig from his flagon, Aard stretched his long tree-trunk legs out underneath the table and began to idly stroke his thick chestnut beard. “So I’m sure you’re curious to hear about what’s happening in these parts, unless you’ve already heard the rumours?”

            Shade shook her head and adjusted the hood of her black cloak to hide her face. They were seated in a small alcove at the back of the old dusty Wild Hunter- Aard’s favourite watering hole. The atmosphere was relaxed, only a few patrons still lingered, most having gone home hours ago for supper. Candles had been lit around the tables, providing the only source of light, save for an old cracked lantern hanging by the door. Dark had already descended by the time the plump young barmaid had brought Shade her leek and potato soup, but they didn’t mind, the less villagers, the more freely they could speak without fear of being overheard.

            “I haven’t spoken to another soul since leaving Mohann a fortnight ago. The only people I’ve seen along the way were a few hunters and a passing caravan or two, but you know I keep to myself,” Shade took a hearty spoonful of soup to her mouth and blew to cool it down. Her stomach growled at the smell of the delicious dish, and she ate it up greedily.

            Aard nodded pensively. “Yes, I know.” Then, he leaned forward and motioned Shade closer. “There are rumours going around town, and from passing tradesmen, that the old Witch King is back. I don’t know whether to believe it- at first I didn’t. I laughed it off and told the merchants where they could stick their old wives tales. But then the boy stumbled into town.”

            “What boy?” Shade asked, anxiety growing within her at this news.

            “A young boy, not older than his first hunting season. He was dazed and disoriented when we found him, kept mumbling something about a spell and that something was back. We took him to the infirmary but he died that night. Suffocated on air the nurses said. Now I’m more inclined to believe these tales.” Aard’s expression had grown grim, mirroring Shade’s.

            Finishing the last spoonful of soup with a dried hunk of bread, Shade cleared her throat. “It’s impossible that he’s back. He was banished to Ovengard and no one escapes from there. Men sooner die than escape, and that’s if they’re lucky.”

            “I know,” Aard nodded. “I thought the exact same thing. Some say he had someone on the inside, some say he used magic. The latter must be false because Ovengard has a spell-siphon. His magic wouldn’t work there. However, there was one more opinion circulating the marketplace, and that is that Walhorn made a deal with Rohadan the Rotten. I don’t know how the King would have managed to contact a demon of that magnitude in Ovengard but it is a possibility.”

            Shade considered this a moment, her brows furrowing. “What could he benefit from dealing with Rohadan?”

            “Power, his freedom? I don’t know, but the rumours don’t stop there. Supposedly Walhorn has started building a fortress in the Kalecien Mountains to the north. It seems he took over the abandoned dwarven mines and has used their skeleton to begin forging weapons of war and practicing black alchemy.” Aard took another hefty swig of his ale, shaking away the droplets of beer that dribbled into his beard.

            “This has to be nonsense. What could Walhorn want now? Surely he’s got nothing left after the War of Kings?”

            “It’s said he’s after his brothers, the Seven who put him into Ovengard originally. I don’t know how that is possible, however, because as long as the Seven are still in power, Walhorn is effectively powerless against their armies. Especially on his own.” Aard had all but forgotten about his drink at this point, and their candle flickered, threatening to go out.

            Shade pondered the news she had received for a moment. “What is to be done? If Walhorn does go after the Seven, and manages to destroy them, he will be able to open all the demon gates he desires, there will be no one to protect the people.”

            “This is why I’m glad you came. I have a plan.”

 

IV

 

            “You expect me to do what?” Shade glared at her old friend, her blind eyes narrowed to slits. She wasn’t actually blind- she could actually see a hundred times father and in twice the darkness that normal humans could- but as a half-demon her pupils no longer existed and a cloudy silver film had enveloped her eyes. It gave most people a fright when they saw her, but people like Aard were used to such sights and no longer flinched.

            “I’m not saying you should take down Walhorn yourself, I’m just saying someone needs to go find out once and for all what is actually happening in the mountains. If the rumours are true, the Seven will need to be informed immediately. I’m sure you’ve noticed the increased number of demons flooding towns and villages and their outskirts in recent times? It cannot be a coincidence and if the Witch King is indeed opening demon gates to build an army then the brotherhood needs to be prepared for it.” What Aard was suggesting was absurd. Despite Shade’s aptitude in battle and her experience fighting demons- not to mention that her sole purpose in life was to rid the world of demon-kind-  there was not a chance in hell that she would be able to infiltrate the Witch King’s domain unnoticed and alone.

            “Aard my friend, normally I respect your opinion and counsel, but this time, you can stick your head up a hog’s backside. That’s a suicide mission at its best.” They had returned to Aard’s humble taxidermy shop, and were sitting by his quaint fireplace with tumblers of elven whisky.

            Aard’s bushy brows furrowed and he stared into the flames a good long while before speaking. “It’s been ten years now since my Anya died. Since then I’ve always wondered when my time would come. For me, it doesn’t really matter. I could go tomorrow and be content in the fact that I would be in her arms again. However, the people of these seven kingdoms don’t deserve the gruesome death they would receive at the hands of the Witch King. I want to have faith that the Seven would dispatch of him as skilfully and painlessly as they did during the War of Kings, but this time he wouldn’t be off guard. He’s preparing himself, and I fear what he has in store. There’s not enough of you half-demons to protect us should war erupt at our doorsteps, but you can help prevent it.”

            “And you expect me to do this alone? Just waltz into Walhorn’s domain and demand he crawl back into his worm’s hole?” She emptied her crystal tumbler and placed it on the old upside down crate Aard was using as a coffee table. “It’s absurd and I value my life enough not to consider it.” She began to stand up but Aard grabbed her slender arm and held her with a firm grip. He continued to stare into the fire but his tone of voice had changed from serious to grave and gravelly. He spoke barely above a whisper and Shade had to step closer to hear what he was saying.

            “The people of the seven kingdoms deserve a chance to live. Go to the Whispering Mermaid in Foxwynn. There are some people there that I believe will be of use to you.”

            “How do you know this? What could some drunkards possibly do for me?”

            Aard released her arm at this point and stood up to walk Shade to the door. “Don’t be so quick to call your own kind by names.”

            Shade spun around and faced Aard head on. “What do you mean my kind? Most of the other half-demons are either in hiding or died. Warlocks stopped the turning rituals a long time ago.”

            “I’m aware of this. That doesn’t change the fact that I met a few the other day, told me they were going to Foxwynn to find work since we had nothing for them here. They could be your best bet for this mission.”

            “And what makes you think they’ll just offer themselves to join me? I have no gold to offer them.” Shade crossed her arms and scowled at Aard again.

            “Do you realize what will happen if the Witch King’s power grows? Not only will he be able to control all demons in the realm, but also any beings with demon blood inside them. That remind you of anyone in particular, friend?” Shade’s face grew even paler than it already was, and she felt a chill go through her spine. Only one master had controlled her in her life, and the warlock had used her for an entire slew of unsavoury tasks, not least of which being in his bedroom. Warlocks loved to toy with half-demons, experimenting on them, playing with them, even forcing themselves to battle each other for amusement. Some used them for protection; others for company, but most simply drove them into slavery. After the War of Kings most warlocks that survived receded to their archives, burying themselves in ancient tomes and scrolls, no longer bothering with the petty trials of man. The idea that some half-demons were still roaming the land was almost unheard of, especially due to their lack of popularity among mortals.

            “I see. Fine. I will leave for Foxwynn at dawn, and see about these companions. I can’t promise I’ll be successful in this task, it still smells rotten to me. For now, however, I’m going to go sleep. Goodnight Aard.”

            “Goodnight Nightshade, don’t let the field mice bite. And good luck, old friend, may the stars and sun guide you.” With the Taxidermist’s behind her, Shade, once more in dog-form, padded down to the edge of town and laid herself down in a soft patch of grass. She stretched her tired legs and then curled up, her tail tucked tightly under her maw. She breathed in deeply, smelling the midnight dew and soft dirt of the fields around her, and fell asleep to the hum of the torch bugs.

 

V

 

            When the sun broke on the horizon, Shade was on the move. She stopped by the old Hammerhead inn by the water where the old owner usually set out some spare meat and potatoes in an earthenware bowl when he knew she was in town. He still thought she was a dog after all this time, and took pity on the fact that she looked blind and malnourished. This worked fine for her, because it spared her the few shillings she managed to scrape together for herself.

            Shade eagerly dug into the bowl of meat and veg, and even wagged her tail obediently when the old man hobbled out on his cane to come give her a pat and scratch behind the ear.

            “Sweet dog you are. I would keep you if my wife wasn’t allergic, you know, but she’s terribly old and it wouldn’t be good for her health. You understand, right pup,” he cooed, and Shade licked his gnarled arthritic hand as a thank you. “That’s a sweet dog. Come by any time now, and you take care.” Once the old man was back inside, Shade licked up the rest of the scraps in the bowl, placed it on the porch for him, and then trotted off onto the village road, heading towards possible doom.

 

VI

 

            The town of Foxwynn was much more built up than Tinnigan. Instead of small huts and dirt roads, Foxwynn boasted a powerful central keep and spiralling cobblestone roads that wrapped around it like a shell. The outer walls of Foxwynn were also very robust, with battlements stretching along its entire perimeter and towers every few miles or so. In word, the town was enormous compared to most she compared to visit, and could almost be classed as a city rather than a fortress or a town. Foxwynn was also surrounded by water, which made it ideal for defence and tourism alike. It boasted grand maritime festivals and the keep also entertained many of the world’s most prominent diplomats from each of the seven kingdoms. Shade avoided places like these; the sheer amount of people bustling along the narrow streets made the hair on her neck stand on end. She preferred to remain in human form here, as she didn’t want to risk being trampled underfoot.

            The Whispering Mermaid sat in the centre of the market square in Foxwynn, and she found it difficult to believe that her kind would ever quarter herself in such a bustling social hub. Despite her doubts, Shade stepped into the din emanating from inside. She had not stepped two feet into the room when someone grabbed her arm.

            “Come with me,” a deep raspy voice whispered in her ear, and she followed a cloaked figure into one of the private snug at the rear of the inn, separated by a thick, beer-stained velvet curtain. The lighting inside the room was much darker than that of the adjacent bar room. This didn’t matter to her, she could see perfectly fine. She noted that there were four people seated inside, now joined by her escort. There were four males and one other female, who was very petite and frail. Two of the men looked like they could be brothers, both had thick wavy black hair tied back by leather thongs. They had crossed falcions on their backs and probably many more blades hidden on underneath their rogueish clothes. They were dark skinned like the next man, who stood taller than the others and had blonde hair coloured much like hers, cut close to his scalp. He had no other weapons save for a crossbow on his back, and the small girl had none. Her hair was so black that in the candlelight it flowed down her black like liquid sapphire. Finally, her cloaked escort pulled back his hood to reveal short ash-grey hair down to his shoulders and a long two-handed great sword. He motioned for her to sit.

            “Why are you here?” Asked the girl, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes.

            Shade smirked. “You drag me into a dingy back room and you ask me why I’m here? I think you owe me some sort of explanation.”

            The group was silent for a while, until the grey-haired man spoke up. “From your eyes we can see you’re one of us. I’m sure you didn’t fail to notice ours the moment you stepped in. We’re in Foxwynn looking for a job, because our master has tragically passed on,” the group exchanged glances at the last remark, making it obvious that their master warlock had more than likely not died of natural causes, “and we must now fend for ourselves. What is your reason for visiting this rat hole, and happening to find your way to the only inn with half-demons within? Quite the coincidence if you ask me.”

            “I was told you would be able to help me with a certain task set upon me,” Shade answered, gauging the interest of the companions. They seemed interested enough, sitting up and abandoning their drinks for the moment.

            “And what, pray tell, is this task of yours that you believe we would be interested in,” grey-hair asked.

            “How about you buy me a drink first? My throat is so parched from my travels,” Shade smiled smugly.

            The blonde haired man chuckled. “Barmaid, a pint for our new friend here,” he yelled through the curtain. “Where are our manners, I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves. My name is Roan, the young lady here is Jerilica, or Jeri, the brothers here are Falen and Arithien, and this here is Asher, not because of his hair but I suppose it’s a happy coincidence. It’s a pleasure to meet you-“

            “Nightshade, but no one refers to me as that anymore. Just Shade. Pleasure is all mine.” The curvaceous barmaid of the Whispering Mermaid brought Shade her pint in a large wooden tankard, and offered her companions a flirtatious wink before turning her heels and sauntering out the room, her hips swaying.

            “I do love humans sometimes,” Falen cooed after the woman had gone. His brother gave him a hard shove with his elbow and they all laughed.

            “Now, what is it that you wanted us to help you with, Shade? Care to share now that we have fulfilled your request,” Roan inquired.

            Shade took a refreshing gulp of the golden liquid and then wiped her mouth delicately with her cotton shirtsleeve. “It has come to my knowledge, through a respectable source, that the Witch King is back.” She spoke this in a hushed tone, making sure this information stayed between the six of them. There was no need to cause public hysteria this early in the day.

            This time the small woman spoke up. “If this were true we would have known about it. We’ve been around enough villages that the gossip would have spread to our ears. How come we haven’t heard a peep of this,” she scoffed, eyeing Shade from the above the rim of her tankard.

            “I didn’t learn of this until yesterday. It seems for the most part people are dismissing the idea. However, I have it on good authority that he’s erecting his domain within the mines of the Kalecien Mountains. Whether or not you believe me is up to you, but for the sake of all the remaining half-demons, I believe you all know what would happen if it were true and Walhorn was indeed rising to power again.” The companions exchanged glances at her ominous remark, anxiety gnawing at them.

            “How do you suppose the Witch King was freed, eh? He was supposed to be trapped in Ovengard and the last I heard he was still there, rotting away in his cell,” said Arithien, his eyes very sceptical.

            “Rohadan the Rotten.” Taking another swig from her mug, Shade did not lift her eyes. She didn’t need to look to see that they were exchanging mocking glances. After a brief pause, Shade stood up. “Look, I understand this sounds ludicrous, and that you think you have something better to do. I for one would not want to be chained yet again to another so-called master as a mindless puppet. If there’s a small chance this could happen again, I would make sure to find out for sure and eliminate the threat. I don’t think I need to remind you what kind of torture it is.” Not waiting for their replies, Shade walked out of the inn, intending to find a barn or abandoned shed to sleep in for the night. She would return in the morning and see if the companions had changed their tone. For now, she would wait.

 

VII

 

            Morning came quickly, and Shade took a quick dip in the stream by the old cowshed she had found. The crisp, cool water felt good on her skin and she removed her clothing to wash herself thoroughly. She let her hair run along with the water as she lay against the smooth water-worn pebbles. She had barely managed to close her eyes when she heard some muffled laughter from the bank. Shade sat up quickly and covered herself, saving what dignity she could. She darted her eyes towards the sound and found two farm hands leaning against their pitchforks, watching her with hungry eyes. It was nothing new for her to be ogled at. Half-demons, like vampires, had very attractive angular features and slender, curvy physiques that had most men drooling. The worst part was that because half-demons had such unusual eyes, most humans thought them to be blind and would make lewd gestures and even grab at them. This was partially why they preferred to stay away from humans and stick to themselves. What these humans didn’t realize, is that she wasn’t just some blind hermit girl taking a dip in the creek.

            “Hey their sweetheart, need a hand scrubbing,” one of the men called out to her. “I bet you can’t see how filthy you are.”

            “Yeah honey, we can help you out,” the other joined in, chuckling nastily.

            Ever so slowly, Shade sat up and moved herself so that she was on her hands and knees. She gave the men a ‘come-and-get-me’ grin and made sure to even push her breasts together.

            “Oh shoot man, look, she wants it bad,” the first man yelled and started jogging towards her, his friend close on his heels.

            “I want to try her first, I bet she’s a real good lay,” the second murmured.

            Shade sat back on her heels and acted as if she were brushing out her luscious hair. The men were mere feet from her now, and that’s when she made her move. Thick brown fur began sprouting from her arms and legs, spreading to cover her body as her limbs extended and her mouth became a maw. Within seconds a large, full-sized grizzly bear stood before the men, baring its teeth and bristling its neck fur. The men slid to a stop and gaped in fear at what they had just seen.

            “S**T! Half-demon! Run man, run! Let’s get out of here!” They turned on their heels and bolted away, leaving Shade to finish her bathing in peace.

 

VIII

 

            “Ah Shade, good morning. Care for some breakfast? You must be tired after that scare you gave those farm boys by the creek this morning,” Roan pried, pushing an earthenware plate of bread, cheese, and eggs her way.

            “Thank you. So you heard about that? I did what I had to.” Shade ripped off a piece of the still-warm bread and cheese and placed it in her watering mouth. She savoured the taste for a moment, and then drank some fresh milk that Roan offered her.

            “Yes, they ran across town screaming bloody-murder about some hell-beast by the water. We could only assume it had to be you, seeing as we were all here.”

            Wanting to change the topic, Shade took another bite of the bread and cheese and then sat back in her oak chair. “Have you considered what I told you yesterday? The proposal isn’t going to hang in the air forever.”

            Asher sat forward now, resting his elbows on the table. “If we were to join you, how do you suppose we complete this task? It won’t be a stroll through the lilies getting past Walhorn’s Grim Guard, if he has indeed returned.” His companions all traded more uneasy glances at the mention of the infamous army of darkness.

            “Frankly, I have no idea, and I don’t give a damn, if I’m going alone. There’s an excellent chance that we will all just die right from the get-go, but on the off chance that we do succeed, the Seven will have invaluable information to stop the oncoming slaughter.” Pushing her plate and milk mug aside, Shade pulled a small roll of parchment and a nub of charcoal from her belt satchel and quickly scrawled a makeshift map of the seven kingdoms, along with the Kalecien Mountains in the north. “It will take us more than a fortnight to reach the base of the mountains, but if we avoid the Seething Swamps we should be able to avoid any unnecessary delays. So what will it be?” Shade pinned each of the companions with a poignant stare, hoping she would not be marching into death’s cold arms alone.

            A long pregnant pause ensued, but finally, with a heavy sigh, Roan extended his burly arm in her direction. “You have me, young lady,” he vowed as they shook hands.

            “I guess we don’t have much else going for us, but don’t try to sneak into my tent at night with a dagger, I sleep with one eye open,” added Jerilica, also extending her small, black-nailed hand.

            “I wouldn’t dream of it.” The corner of Shade’s mouth perked up slightly as she received handshakes from the final three men.

            “Some rag-tag lot of half-demons we are. I can’t wait to see how this turns out,” Falen sighed, chuckling with his eyes closed.

            His brother nudged him again. “At least you won’t get to laze around anymore and harass the neighbourhood woman-folk,” he teased. The brothers began a friendly tussle until Roan broke it up.

            “Plenty of time for that later, gentlemen. It seems we need to start preparing for a long trip. How much coin do you have on you, Shade,” asked Roan over his shoulder, already halfway out the curtain.

            Pulling out her small coin purse, Shade bounced it up and down a few times on her palm. “60 shillings. Why, you need a loan?”

            The tall, bear of a man shook his head. “No, you take Asher and go to the stable and see if you can find us a decent set of horses. We will handle the food and bedrolls. Might be a good idea to stop by the herbalist as well, Jeri?”

            “On it,” the petite woman chirped, darting out of the inn quick as a serpent.

            “Meet you by the old city gate in an hour.” With that, Roan ushered the brothers to follow him, leaving the grey-haired man and Shade alone.

            “What’s with your grey hair? How old are you, really,” Shade asked, leading him outside. The street was now at its busiest, with merchants, shoppers, villagers, children and animals flooding the streets with their voices and bodies, creating a flowing river of discomfort.

            Sticking close to her so as to not get separated, Asher placed his hand on her back to guide her through the shuffling bodies. “Of all the strange things that our kind have seen and experienced, and you’re curious about my hair colour?” Shade shrugged. “You and I are very likely the same age, the hair is hereditary. My mother and father both had it. Any other unnecessary questions?”

            “I almost forgot why I keep to myself,” Shade retorted, and they remained in silence until the street’s bottleneck finally opened up near the stables. Glad to be away from the throng, the two half-demons took a moment to catch their breath. “I hate crowds.”

            “We all do.”

            “Who’s there? Do I have a customer,” called out the old stable master from somewhere behind a pile of hay.

            “Yes sir, we’re here to acquisition some horses from you,” Asher replied, taking Shade’s measly bag of shillings and combined it with his own. “How much for six of your healthiest mares?”

            “Well let’s see here.” A dusty man in a leather apron strode over to the pair, his greying hair dishevelled with errant strands of hay poking this way and that. He wore tall leather boots and held a hot brand in his hand. He placed it against a bucket momentarily and removed one of his leather gloves to wipe his sweaty forehead. “Six you say. Well, I can give them to you for five crowns a horse, but that’s a bargain you know.”

            “25 crowns and we can talk,” Asher haggled, beginning to put the coins away, feigning disinterest.

            “Well hang on now, I need to pay my taxes to the Lord don’t I? I can do 27 but I’m practically giving them to you for free.” The master’s eyes didn’t leave the sack of shillings in Asher’s hand, and it was clear they had a deal.

            “Fine by me, here’s your crowns. If you can saddle the horses for us, our companions will be along in a moment. Tie them up at the gate if you please.” He tossed the coin purse at the stable master and turned to leave.

            Shade sighed heavily, peering into the bleak view at the bottom of her own- now much lighter- coin purse. “This better be a worthwhile trip, or I’m all out of coin. Merchants really rob you nowadays.”

            “Don’t tell me you’re doubting your own mission,” Asher queried, turning to face her with his arms crossed.

            “No, of course not, but this means I’ll have to do a lot of dirty work when we return- either that, or beg as a mongrel from the taverns and inns for food scraps.” They began walking towards the old city gates to meet the rest of their company.

            “If what you say is true and Walhorn is back, any of the Seven will gladly reward us handsomely upon our return with the news, no matter how much they hate us half-demons,” Asher assured, gently pushing an old maid with a breadbasket out of the way of racing horse-and-cart. She thanked him but they were already far out of earshot, and half-demons didn’t care much for thank-you’s either way.

Author's Note

Again, does it flow to you, does the story keep your interest, the general stuff