[Beastborne: Voracious] (Book 5) Chapter 26

The large face that looked down at him was definitely Giel and yet… there was a vacant look in his eyes that Hal didn’t like one bit. He kept up his guard, but found it surprisingly hard to press any further into Giel’s massive sword.

The lamora who had sacrificed his life to save Mira and Elora from the Shoggoth beneath Murkmire… he should be dead. And yet Hal could sense the corruption in him. It wafted off the man before him like a miasma. Hal didn’t need to wonder why he wore a cloak.

“It’s me, Giel,” Hal told him. He still had the photograph from the Gone Goose, the one with Giel and Ashera as kids. He had so many questions for him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but that person behind you threatened not just me, but my home. All of our friends, Giel. Mira, Ashera, Elora, all that we were trying to do, all that we were trying to accomplish, is here in Brightsong. They wanted to take that all away.”

There was a moment, just a fraction of a second, when Giel’s eyes flashed and a sense of self came back to him, then it was wiped away a moment later with that same vacant expression.

“Sorry about that,” said a slight woman behind Giel. “Apparently he’s very protective.” The woman glared daggers at the Kinslayer with their arm draped over her shoulder.

She gently extricated herself and extended a hand despite the fact that Hal was currently bracing his sword with two hands and barely holding back Giel’s much larger sword.

He wasn’t nearly this strong when I knew him.

Then again, Hal had to remind himself that he was neither using essences nor [Convergence] and therefore, was at a distinct disadvantage.

With great care, he eased onto his back foot and let some of the pressure off. When Giel didn’t push his advantage, Hal continued to disengage slowly until Giel copied him.

They both put their weapons away at nearly the same time.

Hal looked from Giel to the short blonde woman. Barely over five feet by his guess, and looked hilariously small compared to Giel right next to her. The woman smiled at him, but he could see the concern and fear there. Which was odd. He was used to that when he had those sapphire-blue fires for eyes, but with his mundane brown ones?

That was definitely odd.

“State your business quickly,” Hal said. “I have no patience for further interruptions. I’m not used to receiving solicitors.” He gestured, indicating the obvious remoteness. “Not big on door-to-door salesmen out here.”

“I’m not selling you a Hoover,” the woman said with a little laugh. It sounded like tinkling bells.

That immediately put Hal’s guard up, and he could see the wince in her blue eyes at the slip up. His sword was out in a flash again, aimed at her.

Whatever Giel’s protective nature, it clearly did not extend to this woman. The lamora simply stood still as a statue while Hal threatened her with his sword.

“My name is Tristal,” the woman said, raising her small delicate hands slowly in the universal sign of surrender. She waited a moment, as if expecting him to know the name. When he didn’t she sighed and continued, “I mean you no harm. I’m from Earth as well, America, actually. I’m guessing by your accent you’re a northerner?”

“Seattle.”

“Ellijay.” At Hal’s obvious blank expression, she clearly felt compelled to add, “Georgia. You know, it ain’t that small a town. It has a rather large apple festival every year, I’ll have you know. And we’re quite close to Atlanta….”

She mumbled the rest, but it sounded a lot to Hal like, “Just under 80 miles.”

“We’re not on Earth anymore,” Hal reminded her.

“Don’t I know it. Couldn’t find a decent coffee shop to save my life.” She looked him up and down. “I bet as a Seattle boy you know what I mean.”

He did. And despite himself, found his arm gently lowering of its own accord. She sounded so familiar, so much that he felt homesick despite never having lived—or visited, thank goodness—the southern United States.

But there was no mistaking that southern twang in her voice. And then there was something else he realized.

She was speaking in English. Not Common.

He didn’t realize how badly he missed it.

Still, he forced himself to keep his sword arm pointed at her. There was no telling if she was using magic on him or not. “I said, state your business. This isn’t America and you’re not some friendly southern belle looking to borrow a cup of sugar. This is the middle of florking nowhere and you’ve come at an incredibly bad time. Do not test me.”

That was an understatement, and he could see the way the woman thought about this. She was young, a few years older than him by the looks of her, but there was an age to her blue eyes that suggested she was significantly older than that.

“All cards on the table?” Tristal asked. “Very well. I am a Founder of the Direlands. I had hoped you’d heard of it. We’re practically neighbors. Once upon a time you could have taken a boat from Mistmarch over to—well, never mind, that’s all ancient history.”

She sighed, and for the first time, Hal could see just how bedraggled she was. He cast a glance toward the other two, one was a Beastborne, the other he didn’t know what he was but he wasn’t being attacked and so he was a little more likely to hear this woman out.

Besides, they all looked like they’d been dragged through hell and back. Given what he did to the Beastborne’s Khaeros, he was surprised she was even alive. Then again, Beastbornes were hard to kill. He knew that from personal experience.

This was, technically speaking, the first time he’d ever faced another one. Thirty-six had been, he was pretty sure, a Chimera Knight. A weaker version of the Fabled Class, but still powerful in its own right.

The small person being held up by a much larger man was clearly a Beastborne. He could feel the chaotic mix of her essences and Strain from here like an aura. In fact, she looked to be on death’s door as it was, only upright out of sheer grit and the help of her friend.

Tristal smiled at him, saw the way it failed to shift his expression an inch and continued, “I’ve come with an offer of peace and one of mutual benefit. Rinbast would prefer to see you dead, while I and my friends would prefer you supplanted him.”

Hal lifted an eyebrow at that.

“So you have met him.”

“Not exactly,” Hal said. “Though I imagine that day is rapidly closing.”

“Then count yourself lucky.” She raised her hand to stop him. “I don’t mean that you are going to die or anything of that nature. But Rinbast is a nasty piece of work and has been around for a long time. He is not the sort of person you tangle with and walk away.”

“Which is why you’re coming to me instead of going after him,” Hal reasoned.

The tiny pout that flashed on her face wasn’t an act. “You’re the newest Founder Aldim has seen in decades. You’re out in the middle of nowhere, you have no friends beyond those people who support you which—bravo, by the way—but you are ignorant of the greater machinations of this world.”

Any moment now she’s going to say, “I am saying this as a friend….”

“I say this as a friend—”

And there it is.

“—at least somebody I hope you might come to think of as a friend.” She shrugged her tiny shoulders. The tattered noble woman’s dress looked quite thoroughly abused, sequins drifted to the ground at the motion. “I’m taking a massive gamble here. If you are evil as Rinbast, then you’ll kill me and, being a Founder, you must know that with a Manatree at your back you can’t die. I’ll go back to the Direlands, and we’ll likely be enemies.”

She looked him up and down, putting her hands on her hips. “Maybe you’re okay with that. I don’t know. I’d rather another friend than an enemy, personally, but that’s just the southern girl in me. If I’m right, and you’re here because you want to unseat the resident tyrant, then we could work together. The rest of the Founder Council doesn’t much like Rinbast. He’s secretive, cagey, and most of all, terrifying.”

“He scares the other Founders?”

Tristal shook her head. “You don’t understand. Fallmark is essentially at the back end of nowhere. You’re from Seattle, right? Big city, lots of streets and people everywhere? Notice anything odd about Fallmark?”

“Seems pretty rural,” Hal said. “But then again, it’s not too unlike early agrarian societies and definitely in line with a lot of fantasy books and games.”

“This isn’t Middle Earth, nor is it Toril. There are metropolises out there. You probably think of Ellijay, Georgia as some hick country—which, sure, fair—but where we are now? This is basically deep Appalachia country. You’re missing out, and Rinbast sure as hell isn’t going to throw you a lifeline to the rest of Aldim. We will.”

“If I get rid of Rinbast and be your puppet?”

“No. Well, maybe some of them. But that’s not the point here.” She motioned to the others. “These two are, and I’m sure you’ve already worked this out despite the hoods, Kinslayers. They want to… defect, I suppose, would be the term. I see you already know the big, silent guy. Don’t know him personally.”

Before Hal could say anything, she continued. “We were traveling with the Archmage, Hirash. If Rinbast had any friends, Hirash would be the closest thing to one. Not precisely his right-hand man because that duty is given to his Shadow, Alnafein.”

Hal hadn’t known Rinbast had a Shadow, at least not the person’s name. It definitely sounded a lot cooler and more impressive than “Lurklox” not that he’d ever say that aloud.

“And where is your Shadow?” Hal asked.

“I make my own,” she told him and lifted a hand. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

With a rolling gesture, two men in nearly pristine armor came out of the woods. Hal swept his senses toward them and… strangely, felt nothing. “Zombies?” he asked without thinking.

Tristal gave him an appreciative look. “My, aren’t you keen? No, darlin’, but quite close. They’re not really alive in the traditional sense. Remember when I said I wouldn’t lie to you?”

“No.”

“Well, I promise I won’t lie to you,” she added quickly. “These are my Spectral Servants.” She undid a few buttons on her jacket and for a moment, Hal was worried and deeply confused, wondering if she was going to flash him to somehow distract him.

Just as he was gripping his weapon, readying himself for a sneak attack of some sort, he saw the silvery glint and the familiar design of a Kol’thil.

“See?” she said. “My Mark is Silver, and they’re one of my specialties.”

“You waste Experience making fake people?”

The confusion on Tristal’s face was a little alarming. She had no idea what he was talking about and seemed stunned for a moment. It was the same expression you’d get if somebody asked you, “You don’t use sandpaper to wipe?”

Of course, she was fairly skilled with people, that much was obvious, and she quickly rallied. “I think we should talk more about that later. I have never heard a soul using Experience to fuel a Mark’s Sigil and I very much think that I might be able to teach you quite a bit in that regard. That is, if you take me up on my offer.”

Behind him, Hal could hear the sounds of several pairs of booted feet coming his way.

“And that is?” he said.

Tristal smiled and motioned to the other three. Her Spectral Servants walked close enough to be seen and yet far enough back that they didn’t appear threatening in any way. “Asylum for the Kinslayers and their friend, and a promise to hear me out. Nothing more. I am not making a threat, but I will not make this offer again. If you choose to turn us out, I will not return. Our business will conclude, and I’ll look for a different partner.”

As she spoke, Hal’s gaze was dragged to the side where both Kinslayers lowered themselves to their knees. In the case of the smaller one, she still needed to be supported.

First the Archmage, and now this?