Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

Orshok gasped sharply. Singe twisted around to look at him. “What is it?”

The druid’s gaze were still on Lightning on Water , now well distant. He pointed with his hunda stick. “Something fell overboard.” Singe squinted at the ship. “Really?”

“I saw something,” Orshok insisted. “Like someone falling over the side.”

“Mirage,” said Natrac. “Sometimes it’s hard to judge the distance between things on the ocean. You probably saw something much closer, between us and the ship. Maybe a bird, maybe a dolphin breaking the surface, maybe just a wave.”

Orshok looked doubtful. “I’m sure it was right beside the ship.”

“What would it have been?” asked Singe. “Marolis would have stopped if one of the crew had fallen-and I can’t imagine they would have.” The shadow of Vralkek’s docks fell over them and a moment later the structure cut off their last glimpse of Lightning on Water . “Forget about it,” Singe told Orshok. “We’re here.”

He turned around again. The half-orcs at the boat’s oars ignored the dock and pulled right up onto a beach that smelled almost as strongly of fish as their boat. Gulls swooped in, perhaps thinking that the boat’s passengers were the catch of the day

Although Karth would already have paid the fishermen, Singe gave them an extra silver sovereign each. “What’s a good inn?” he asked. “And where can I find guides to take us into the interior?”

The answer to both questions was a place called the Barrel, though Singe doled out a few crowns more as they passed through the town to confirm it. He was exceedingly careful about showing his money, though. Vralkek was that kind of town. He could feel it as soon as they climbed up from the beach and stepped into the muddy streets.

It wasn’t just an air of desperation and crime that gave Vralkek a sense of danger. Singe could feel eyes on him. Eyes appraising him as prey-financially and literally.

Dandra took a step closer to him as they walked. He felt her mind brush against his in the kesh . Her thoughts carried echoes of unease. Singe … she said.

I know , he responded.

There was a reason Droaam was called the nation of monsters and that reason walked the streets of Vralkek. Orcs and half-orcs stood on corners, laughing coarsely. Goblins skulked in the shadows. Gnolls-rangy creatures with the bodies of lean humans and heads like hyenas-strutted along as though they carried the authority of town guards. In a smithy, a muscular minotaur pounded red-hot iron. Along a roofline, a trio of harpies cackled, flapped ragged wings, and watched the world below. A band of hobgoblins stood clustered around the door of one building as if to repel anyone who might try to enter. A series of loud thumps and a low moan drifted out as Singe and the others passed.

The hobgoblins watched them go by. Furry, wolf-like ears twitched and turned, tracking them. Singe’s hand dropped to the hilt of his rapier. He did see humans as they walked, but they were few and generally looked either half-feral or broken and hollow. The broken ones had the marks of slaves. Singe wouldn’t have trusted the feral ones to bury a corpse.

“I don’t like this place,” he murmured so that the others besides Dandra could hear him. Geth gave him a sharp-toothed grin.

“Bothers you, does it?” the shifter asked. “Being in a place where humans are the ones who stand out?” He swaggered like the gnolls, seemingly at home among the monsters, though Singe noticed his eyes roamed the streetscape with the alertness of an animal in strange territory.

“Well, it bothers me,” said Natrac. “This is why I’ve always avoided Droaam before.”

Singe glanced at the half-orc. He walked with his knife-hand visible and stayed close to the others, but the grimness that had vanished with their return to Zarash’ak had reappeared. The persona of the blustering merchant seemed stretched over it, like a dwarf wearing a mask and calling himself an elf.

He’s protesting too much , said Dandra through the kesh. Remember what Bava said .

I agree , Singe said. What’s he hiding?

Even Orshok, who probably could have blended in with the other orcs in the town, looked uncomfortable. Only Ashi seemed completely at ease, maybe even energized by the atmosphere in Vralkek. She moved with a confident stride, her back straight, her eyes bright, a hunter among hunters.

She was also drawing as much attention as all of them put together. “Ashi-” he started to say in soft warning.

He didn’t have a chance to finish. From among a cluster of gnolls beside the street, a massive figure rose up out of a crouch. Its limbs were thick with muscle, its arms nearly as long as its legs. Its head was heavy and hideous, with matted, greasy hair. Its lower jaw was thrust forward, exposing misshapen teeth as big as Singe’s thumbs. From where he stood, the wizard caught a whiff of the foul stench of its unwashed hide. An ogre. A male.

Upright, the creature was easily half again as tall as Ashi. He stepped directly into her path and leered down at her. “Human girl acts tough.” The ogre pinched his lower lip with two filthy fingers in imitation of Ashi’s piercings. “Gots little tusks. Tough and pretty.”

For one anxious moment, Singe was afraid Ashi was going to draw her sword. That was the last thing they needed. A naked blade could provoke a street fight. He could see that Geth was thinking the same thing-the shifter stiffened and turned sharply toward Ashi.

But the Bonetree hunter just stood and looked up at the ogre, her face and eyes hard. She said nothing. The laughter that had risen among the gnolls died out and after a moment, the grin on the ogre’s face sagged and faltered. A sneer replaced it. The ogre beat his hands against his chest. “You wants?” it growled. “Thinks you can beat?”

“I know I could,” Ashi said. Her voice was low and confident. The fingers of her sword hand clenched and spread. “You think you can beat me?”

The street around them had grown quiet as the mingled creatures on it turned their attention to the confrontation. The gnolls who were with the ogre muttered among themselves, but stayed back. Geth threw a glance to Singe and twitched his head toward Ashi. Singe knew what he was asking-should he step in? The wizard shook his head. Ashi had started this. She needed to resolve it on her own or the creatures of Vralkek would be on them like leeches on a wound.

The silence between the hunter and the ogre stretched out. Big greasy drops of sweat formed on the monster’s forehead. Ashi’s brow dropped. Her face grew dark-

The ogre broke. “Girl is pretty,” he said finally. “Just sayings girl is pretty. Don’t sees human girls so pretty and tough.” He raised his heavy head and glared around the street. “Just sayings!”

He stepped back out of Ashi’s way and the hunter nodded her head. Singe noticed, however, that she remained alert as she moved past the monster and rejoined him and the others. Noise returned to the street. His heart racing, Singe hustled them all onward.

“That was impressive, Ashi!” said Dandra under her breath.

Ashi grunted. “Are all ogres such cowards?”

“No,” said Singe with a wince. “Usually they’re just angry.” He glanced at Ashi. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I could have beaten him.”

“Yes, but he had a lot of friends-and just because Droaam is country of monsters doesn’t mean they don’t have laws. I don’t think we want to get in trouble here.”

The taproom of the Barrel was a very different place from the gaeth’ad house where they had met Chain. Both house and taproom were dark, but that was where any resemblance ended.