A Miscast Spell (The Syrane Chronicles Book 1) by Peter Diggins

Author:Peter Diggins [Diggins, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

17. I’m afraid I have some bad news.

Jongus received his usual warm greeting from the staff at his favourite watering hole, The Royal Swan Inn. He always visited the inn when he was in Torun; indeed, it had become a home away from home for the amiable dwarf. Or an actual home as he spent more and more time on the road, in the forest, in tombs.

This visit was a trifle sad, however, as he had two items to add to the shrine of remembrance. Whomever had built the inn had established the shrine many years ago. The person’s name wasn’t remembered anymore, but he had been a former adventurer who had said goodbye to too many friends whilst on the road. They dotted the entire southern wall of the taproom with pegs and nails for adventurers or soldiers to attach a small memento of a fallen comrade. Any toast raised in the tavern invariably includes a raising of the drinking instrument to the back wall and the words, “In memory of those we will meet again.”

The wall was never full. There always seemed to be enough room. Mementos were small and never touched after they placed them. A local legend spoke of a group of thieves who tried to pilfer objects from the wall many years ago. The wrath of Dian, Lord of the Dead himself, soon after reportedly visited the thieves. A deep black crater near to the inn was the supposed site of this penance and it had become a holy place for worshippers of the Just God. No construction or building works had ever taken place there. Certainly no one ever tried to steal items from the wall again.

Jongus attached his mementos; a small button from Rex’s leather armour vest and a hair comb that Galara had used. He climbed down from the ladder, fixed his gaze upon the wall, and said the words.

“In memory of those we will meet again.” They repeated the refrain around the bar, a show of respect for the fallen. “To Rex Cornish and Galara.” Jongus drained the remnants of his travelling wineskin, nodded his thanks to those present, and made his way to the bar. He needed another drink and hadn’t had a decent wine in ages.

He was about to ask the barkeep Brian of any recent news in the vain hope he’d heard of the outsider, when someone accosted Jongus from behind with no warning. He twisted in indignation and came face to face with the bearded mass of red hair, stench, steel, and muscle that was his cousin, Angus McHenry Bloodaxe the Third. Jongus sighed, his annoyance at being accosted gone in an instant to be replaced by… a different annoyance. Like the annoyance you feel when you see your least favourite cousin in a bar.

“Oh, ah, hello Angus.” Jongus was a source of some embarrassment for his family, being considerably less hairy and smelly than all of them. Not to mention he didn’t carry the bloody big axes that they were famous for.

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