There were no signs on the road that they’d entered southern Aganossis other than a derelict stone structure slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding foliage. Several people had left the mark of a campfire and trampled grass outside of it in their wake while using the old building as a temporary shelter. It was perfectly suited for such, and the four weary travelers were hunkering down for a hopefully quiet night.

  Danica stayed up until she was sure the children had been asleep, as she did every night, watching into the darkness for any sign of danger. They’d had no more issues since she’d sent their pursuers retreating back to Ashvale. Still the many long hours and early mornings had finally caught up to her, and she was going to get some extra sleep that night, trusting in the shelter to keep them safe.

  “We’ll be in Swyndale by tomorrow afternoon,” Zane said, handing her a small cup of wine.

  She nodded to him, taking a pull from the cup and savoring the initial taste. The bitterness afterwards wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she’d had worse.

  “Good. I’m tired of walking.”

  He looked away and ran his hands through his hair, something he seemed to do when he felt nervous. She began to wonder if maybe she had some habits like his that she wasn’t aware of, and if so, what they could possibly be? Hopefully nothing as telling as that.

  “I had a partner, her name was Kalda,” he started, trailing away. He caught himself a moment later and found his words again. “She’s a mystic at the college and a well respected teacher there. We’d planned to stay the night in Swyndale before moving on. I went in to secure the room and while she saw to the horses. That was the last time I saw her. She left my pack with the stableman and took off.”

  Danica took a moment to think about it. “Do you think she left you on purpose, or did something happen to her?”

  Zane shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really know. I couldn’t wait around for her to show back up. We knew the kids were in a volatile situation and we had to get them out.”

  Danica nodded, following along. “Marceus did mention the people in town having suspicions.”

  “Worse than that,” Zane said, looking over at the children. “Darren wanted to be a blacksmith like his father apparently, and so he was apprenticed to his father. Old man sent him to stir up the forge fire and apparently found it a moment later blazing nearly out of control. The boy had probably entered some sort of trance and was funneling magic into the forge. Sometimes children on the cusp of entering adulthood, and carrying the spark of magic, end up accidently manifesting a cantrip by accident.”

  Well the father didn’t like that. Started trying to beat the evil out of the boy. Sylvia heard the yelling and came running out there and saw her brother curled up on the ground. Overcome with emotion, she ended up summoning a blinding light, right into his eyes, and got the boy out.

  The mother sent word to us about what happened, so we were dispatched.”

  Danica looked at the sleeping pair of youngsters and shook her head. “Not much of a man if he’s willing to harm his own children.”

  Zane busied himself for a moment adjusting the lantern, turning it down to the minimum it would go. “Moment the bastard could see again he left Ashvale, blaming their mother for everything. Marceus told me he had gotten drunk before heading out and blabbed about what’d happened. Their mother had said it was an argument about him not being capable of providing her anymore children that sent him packing. It bought us enough time to get there at least.”

  She yawned deeply, clearly exhausted. “How long will it take to get back to Algerton?”

  He ran his hand through his hair again and looked away. Danica narrowed her eyes at him. When he turned back around to face her, those black rimmed orbs were locked on, staring seemingly right through him. It was apparent that she’d caught onto him worrying about something.

  “We were allotted our equipment and supplies by the college.” He shook his head and looked at the ground. “That included some money for expenses, but most of that is gone now. There’s not nearly enough left for even a half dead mule.”

  Danica relaxed, understanding why he was so nervous. “It’s been on your mind for some time hasn’t it?”

  Zane bit his lip and nodded in defeat. “I’ve been trying to figure something out, but I simply don’t know what to do.”

  She looked over at the children again and sighed. “How much would transportation cost?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, with a slight shrug. “Maybe eighty silver or thereabout.”

  Within moments she’d fished out the pouch hidden within the cloak. She opened it and pulled out the ring, then handed the small bag over to Zane. “Take it.”

  He gently reached out and took the bag, feeling the weight. “How much is in there?”

  Her voice carried a somewhat bitter tone as she spoke. “About a hundred silver. The price of innocence apparently, along with this ring.”

  He raised the lantern to get a better look at it. “It’s magnificent.”

  She flipped the jewelry around with her fingers, letting the faceted emeralds sparkle in the dim light. “It’s nothing more than a shiny metal scar to me.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  She placed the ring quickly into a pocket then waved it all off.

  They stayed silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I’ll make sure you’re paid back when we get there.”

  She nodded warily. “I’ll hold you to that then. We should be safe enough here for the night, but be on the ready regardless.”

  She bunched up her cloak and laid down upon the worn stone floor, turning away from the lantern light. She thought about that money and knew that most, if not all of it, wasn’t the coins that were actually given for her. It didn’t really hold any significance, but she was almost glad to be rid of it all the same. Especially since it went towards something good.

  Matron Stenouse would be furious to know Danica got something good out of that. Her thoughts then went over to the fact that the old woman was dead by her own hand, along with a few others. Was Galen right when he called her out for that? Was murder really in her blood? Couldn’t she change?

  She fell into a restless sleep trying to debate those questions swirling deep within her.

  *****

  Marceus headed through the town square, tired and ready to be done with this night. He'd been nearly ready to turn in when a concerned resident had nearly beaten down his door, worried about some late night arrivals to their little town. He was simply going to dismiss the issue until the morning, but they mentioned that the mysterious group had rode in with Farlin, the errant blacksmith. This had his curiosity piqued enough to warrant an investigation as to what was happening.

  He opened the doors to the tavern and looked around the nearly empty room. Helvetta was sitting on a stool by the bar, casually wiping down some mugs. At a table nearby, Farlin sat with two men and a woman who looked ready for a fight at the drop of a hat. Mercenaries by the look of them. Behind them, Braymon paced the floor, his arms wrapped with thick bandages from his fight the other day.

  “Closed up early, constable.” Helvetta said, tossing down the rag. “Having a private event now.”

  Marceus walked up to the table warily, sizing up the strangers as he did so. “I see that. With all the trouble going on recently though, I’m just being cautious is all. Don’t want any more issues like we had the other night.”

  Braymon got nearly into his face. “Be ‘lot less trouble if you’d do your damn job.”

  Marceus locked eyes with the big man, not backing down in the slightest. “If I’d done my job properly, cousin, your corpse would still be swinging from the gallows.”

  The hatred flared visibly within Braymon at those words.

  “Lot of folks around here think you’re soft Marceus,” Farlin said, slammin a mug down on the table. “You done what I asked that night, I wouldn’t have needed outside help.”

  Marceus walked over to the thickly muscled man, “You wanted me to imprison your wife and children and then interrogate them. They didn’t break any laws.”

  Farlin smirked. “Course you’d say that. How many times have you two shared a bed since I was away? Those might even be your kids, because they damn sure aren’t mine.”

  Marceus rubbed his brow, frustrated at the same baseless accusations he’d heard countless times before. He was tired already, and these constant arguments weren’t helping any. None of it answered who the strangers were either.

  “Your time away from here hasn’t made you any less paranoid it seems.” He looked over at the trio, studying them for a moment. “And who might you be?”

  The largest of them was a giant of a man, bigger than even Braymon and muscled like Farlin. He paid no attention to anything that wasn’t heaped upon his dinner plate. The lady, no small woman herself, smirked at Marceus with a cruel twinkle in her eye. He could almost feel something that seemed off about her.

  The third man, the smallest of the three, well dressed with a waxed beard and mustache, stood and gave a half-hearted bow. “Bryn Van-Gelden. Over there is my brother Rex, and my dear sweet sister, Jayde. We solve problems for folks in need.”

  “Not out of the kindness of your hearts I’m sure,” Marceus said with some amount of distaste. “Well there’s no need for mercenaries in this town now, so you’d best be gone after sunrise.”

  “Rude,” Jayde said, while cutting off a slice of apple.

  Bryn stroked his dark beard, measuring his words carefully. “Yes, you’d think so, but there’s problems of all sorts no matter where you go. Even here in such a quaint place such as this. A woman has an affair and bears children out of it, and if that wasn’t terrible enough, a dark elf murders an innocent man and now runs free.”

  Marceus snapped his gaze at Braymon, “That was your axe that killed Matt…”

  Helvetta was in his face within the blink of an eye, “My husband was alive before that bitch showed up here. Far as I’m concerned she’s the only one responsible for his death.”

  Jayde nodded in agreement. “I agree. Story I heard, dark elf is to blame.”

  Rex simply ignored them all and took a long drink from a large pitcher set before him.

  “That’s right,” Bryn said. “If the client says the dark elf girl is at fault, then who are we to argue about the implications of right and wrong.”

  Marceus slammed a hand down upon the table. “I changed my mind. I want you out of Ashvale now.”

  “Or else what, lawman?” Jayde smirked.

  Marceus started to approach the woman, but a quick hand signal from Bryn had Rex standing his full height. He started to back away from the giant when Farlin grabbed him from behind. Soon both of the big men had hold of each arm, rendering him completely helpless.

  Bryn approached him and gently patted Marceus on the chest. “I know you wish to keep the peace, as do we. We signed a contract to interrogate the adultress for answers and bring back two children to,” he paused for a moment, “well let’s just say to a third party that needs mages. Willing or not. Now we have to track them down, but we picked up an extra bounty, so it all works out I guess.”

  “Damn you all,” Marceus said through gritted teeth, struggling in vain to break the hold they had on him.

  Bryn put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him forlornly. “We were damned from the day of our birth into this cruel world.”

  Marceus had been about to respond when Jayde stepped in to deliver a hard punch into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He’d nearly recovered when another landed on his jaw with a hard crack. Broken pieces of tooth and blood fell from his mouth to the hard wooden floor.

  She grabbed his face and lifted it, kissing him ever so gently on the lips. When she pulled back, her own lips were red with his blood. “Should have stayed out of this. We’ll deal with you, and then we’ll go see the whore. Maybe if there’s enough time, we’ll go play with that pretty little daughter of yours.”

  He started to respond to her threat, but another swift punch to the face silenced those words. It was like being smashed with a hammer every time she threw her fists into him. He wasn’t sure if they planned on killing him or not, and at this point he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

  By the time they’d finished with Marceus, he lay out behind the tavern in a heap of trash. Both eyes were swollen shut and he could barely breathe. He simply lay there broken, and unable to even move. He only hoped that the gods of light heard his desperate prayers and his daughter would be spared. Hopefully someone would find him in the morning and it wouldn’t be too late.