Brian Pratt - Warrior priest of Dmon-Li

An hour and fifteen less than desirable establishments later, they still hadn’t found them. The last place had tested even Miko’s limits on cleanliness. James must be rubbing off on him.

The next inn they come to is near the north gate. As they approach they find several soldiers and mercenaries standing around outside, which gives them some hopes they’ll find them inside. Jiron swings the door open and steps inside just as a bottle smashes into the door near his head. Instinctively ducking, he looks around the common room at the brawl going on. To their amazement and relief, Miller’s band is right in the middle of it.

One man, the proprietor most likely, is shouting for them to desist but only gets socked in the jaw for his efforts.

Everyone but the participants in the brawl move to the side of the room, giving them some space. Those that were outside come in to watch the fight, calling out to the various fighters as they encouraged them on to greater endeavors. Jiron can see money changing hands as some of them bet on the outcome.

Miller’s band appears to be getting the better of the others as they’ve more men left standing, so Jiron and Miko just stay on the edge of the crowd. Miller and one of his men tosses one of the other combatants through the air, bystanders scramble out of the way as the man sails through the door and out into the street.

Miko waves at Miller when he sees him looking in his direction, distracting him just as a fist connects with his jaw. Flailing backward, he trips over a table and lands on his back. Rubbing his jaw, he gets to his feet quickly and rejoins the fight.

The last of the opponents fall fast until only Miller’s band is standing. A cheer erupts from the crowd and everyone moves back to where they were before the fight erupted. Miller comes over to them and says, “You made it? I really didn’t think to ever see your faces again.” He looks around and says, “Where’s that layabout, Fifer and that other guy, James?”

Jiron flashes a quick glance to Miko and then says, “Didn’t Shyn tell you we were here?”

“Shyn?” asks Miller, a dark look building upon his face. “I haven’t seen that rat since we entered the city, he disappeared shortly after we arrived. I’ll kill him when I see him!”

“We need to talk,” Jiron says as a foreboding feeling comes over him. “Right now and in private.”

Miller studies his face and says, “Let’s go to my room, we can talk there.” He hollers over to his men, “Be back in a minute.” His men just give him a wave as they down more ale.

Leading Jiron and Miko down a dark dingy hallway, he takes them to a small room in the back. After they have entered and shut the door, he asks, “Now, what’s all this about?”

Jiron proceeds to tell him about the incident at the gate the first night. Then he goes on to tell of Fifer’s finding of Shyn and how he helped James and Fifer get into the castle area.

“Out on patrol?” Miller cries out. “Hah! We’ve been sitting on our butts in this damn inn since coming to this city. And if he’d suffered an injury, it’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to him when I finally lay my hands on him!”

“There’s more,” says Jiron. He waits a second for Miller to compose himself then tells him of Shyn leading them into the castle area, and then of their failure to meet them again at the warehouse. “I think they may be in trouble, and Shyn is the key to finding them.”

Miller considers what he’d said a moment, then says, “Let me get my boys.” He opens the door and goes back out to the common room.

“You didn’t tell him about One Eye,” Miko says.

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” he replies.

Just then, Miller returns with his men and they all manage to squeeze into the small room before shutting the door. He gives them a rundown on what’s going on, several get dire looks on their faces and Miko almost feels sorry for Shyn should they ever find him again.

“Okay boys, here’s what we’ll do,” Miller announces. “Let’s quickly comb the city and return here in an hour. The one who brings Shyn to me gets a bonus, alright? Alive, preferably.” They all nod. “Okay, get a move on. Back in one hour.”

His men hurry out the door and quickly leave the inn as they begin combing the city for Shyn.

“Think they’ll find him?” Jiron asks.

“If he’s not holed up somewhere,” Miller says, “they’ll find him.”

“Why have you just been sitting here in this inn?” Jiron asks.

“Orders,” he tells him. “We were told to stay here until word came for us to go on patrol or the enemy attacked.”

“Who gave you those orders?” inquires Jiron.

“A guard in the livery of the city watch,” he answers. “Why?”

“It just seems too convenient for you to be here at an inn that’s about as far from the castle as you can be,” he explains. “If Shyn’s up to something, or in with the enemy, it’s sure been helpful to have you all stashed here where you’re unlikely to discover whatever he’s up to.”

Nodding, Miller begins pacing the floor.

A little over an hour later, the door opens up and Shyn is shoved into the room from behind. One eye is swelled shut and blood is oozing from his nose and mouth.

“Where’d you find him?” asks Miller to his men as they follow Shyn into the room.

Uther, a tall brown haired man replies, “He was on his way back into the castle area. He’d almost made it to the gate before Jorry got a hold of him.”

Going over to where Shyn lies on the floor, Miller says, “Get up!” When he doesn’t comply, Miller kicks him hard in the side, “I said get up! NOW!”

Coughing from being kicked, Shyn gets on his hands and knees and uses a chair to help himself rise off the floor. Unable to stand, he collapses into the chair.

“What’d you guys do to him?” Miller asks as he looks to his men.

“He didn’t want to come with us at first,” Uther replies. “We had to convince him.”

“You damned near killed him,” accuses Miller.

Uther just shrugs.

Miko comes over and grabs Shyn by the shirt, “Make him tell what he did to James.”

Miller grabs his arm and has him let go of Shyn’s shirt, “We will lad.” Turning his attention back to Shyn, he says, “Well? Where are Fifer and James?”

Shyn raises his head and stares into Miller’s eyes defiantly, remaining silent.

Miller cocks his arm back and strikes him on the chin with his fist. Shyn’s head snaps back and when it comes forward again, fresh blood begins to dribble from the side of his mouth, as he spits a tooth out onto the floor.

Signaling to Jorry, Miller has him draw his knife and come over. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Where are they?”

When he again fails to answer, he nods to Jorry who, with the help of another of Miller’s men, grabs Shyn’s left hand and places the edge of his knife alongside his pinky.

Fear is evident in Shyn’s eyes as he stares at the knife ready to sever his finger. His eyes flick to Miller as Miller again asks, “Where?”

Giving him a moment to reply, Miller says to Jorry, “On three, slice it off.”

Jorry nods his head as he readies himself.

Miller looks into the fearful eyes of Shyn as he says, “One.”

Sweat begins to bead on his face as he glances first into Miller’s eyes and then at the knife threatening his finger.

“We’ve got all night,” Miller tells him, no hint of mercy in his voice. “There’re nineteen more fingers and toes after this one, then other parts of the body.”

A few more tense seconds go by before he says, “Two.”

The sweat is beginning to drip off the end of Shyn’s nose. His breathing becomes more labored as he stares at the knife at his finger. Then his eyes look to Miller, he sees him to begin to say three when he cries out, “Okay!”