Strife & Valor: Book II of The Rorke Burningsoul Saga by Regina Watts (red queen ebook .TXT) 📕

The elf shook her head. “Not specifically that I know of, though they keep many secrets. And it’s hard to say, too, what a faerie would be doing consorting with gimlets.”

“Maybe they found her there and thought she was some kind of goddess,” I suggested, still feeling this, too, was wrong. Nevertheless, I persisted. “Whatever the case may be, Gundrygia certainly seemed to have confident control over them. Never once did they buck a command or show anything but eagerness in pleasing her, and of course there were all those offerings they had arranged upon her burial mound.”

“Faeries come and go out of mounds,” Branwen informed me.

“If he has been marked somehow by this creature”—Valeria leaned forward, her expression tense—“do you think she will come back for him again?”

“It’s possible. Yes,” decided Branwen more confidently after another second of reflection. “It’s certainly possible. I would even go so far as to say that moving on to Skythorn would be in our best interests, if only to keep Rorke safe.”

This discussion of Skythorn brought a frightening notion to mind. “Have we missed the airship to Rhineland?”

“Erdwud said it goes out in five days,” said Branwen. “If we push the horses, we can make it to Skythorn and still have a few days to find Hildolfr and Grimalkin…but if we arrive too close to departure—as in, the day of—we’ll have to assume they’ve already boarded and hope there are still unbooked tickets.”

“Last minute is better than late,” I told her, looking between the women, “but I’ve always preferred arriving early. Are you all ready to set out right away?”

Looking somewhat dubious, Valeria asked, “Are you?”

“I’m tired, but after a meal and perhaps an hour to close my eyes, I’ll be right as rain. Ah…and I do have one more thing to do before we leave town.”

That errand, I attended after I’d rested a bit. While Branwen talked to Lively and Erdwurd about whether or not they knew anyplace in Skythorn willing to board durrow, I made my way across town to Rigan’s smithy. As he had last time, the old man hammered away. This time, he looked up at my approach. Rigan raised his face mask to reveal his white-stubbled face and grumbled a bit before producing audible words.

“Paladin,” he said, placing down his hammer, “Burningsoul. About time you showed up.”

Unable to help my chuckle at the crotchety smith’s ways, I confessed to him, “That’s me…early or late, never just right.”

“Sure seems to be that way with you. Come on in.”

Rigan pushed open his property’s short gate for me, waving me thereafter into a front door that was open to permit the cool spring breeze through his cabin. The main room was cluttered, and so was the second room where he brought me—but the weapons displayed around the old man’s private armory were immaculate.

Unlike the rest of his house, these items must have been carefully dusted every day and polished regularly. The man had good reason to take pride in his work. A few mannequins held different styles of armor, all of them artful and in some cases even elaborately decorated, and I wondered if I had seen anything half so quality as his swords displayed around the burning forge of Roserpine’s palace. The newest pieces—of rather more utilitarian design compared to those that had been embossed with a snarling gold plains-king or marked with shapes upon the back like raptor wings, but certainly no less beautiful—shone from their place on the stand nearest the door.

“There you are.” Rigan gestured as he made his slow way over to unbuckle the breastplate and help me into it. While I tried the helmet on, he asked, “How’d I do? Your friend was vague with the details of your size, but I think I got a sense of you once you came to visit me.”

“This is perfect, Rigan. I can’t begin to thank you!”

“What for? I was paid for it, wasn’t I? Don’t thank me, thank your friend…”

“He didn’t ask you to pass anything along when he commissioned these pieces for me, did he? Indicate anything, say anything?”

“Only thing he said was that I could expect you sometime soon. Other than that, he just paid, explained what he wanted, and left. Gave me extra to get it done in a rush…I hate rushing.”

Tell me about it! I could certainly appreciate that, being now in a rush as I was. We were going to be in for quite a trip. Assuming our travel went smoothly and we could make it there before the airship departed, we might not need to worry at all about buying a ticket. It would instead be a matter of finding Grimalkin and Hildolfr…which, in the city of Skythorn, seemed a tall order.

That, however, was what divination was made for, among other things…and if Weltyr’s blessings were with us, we might not even need that.

Erdwud and his wife were sorry to see us go, and not just because of the money we brought in. Lively had developed a fondness for the ladies and regarded them as friends of a sort. She seemed particularly moved to know we were on our way and did quite a bit of blinking while hugging us good-bye. For his part, Erdwud was also disappointed, but wasted no time in handing me a sealed note of which he declared, “This’ll get you a nice, cozy little room in an inn called The Poisoned Mongoose, assumin’ you don’t mind a bit of hollarin’ in the night. Things can get a little rowdy there…but it’s me friend’s establishment. Like a brother to me, Sharp is! He’ll see to it that you lot are well looked-after.”

I thanked him for his generosity again and shook his hand warmly, keeping it held in mine while asking for directions. As I occupied him, the women filed out through the tavern’s back door before the lewd old innkeeper could take too much advantage of the opportunity