Blood Mercenaries Origins by Ben Wolf

Author:Ben Wolf [Wolf, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942462330
Publisher: Splickety Publishing Group
Published: 2019-10-20T22:00:00+00:00

Back in Aveyna’s chambers, Kent lay in her bed under her furs, spent and content. She lay next to him, partly on top of him and partly on her side, lightly snoring.

He grinned down at her. Apparently, even queens snore.

He’d already told her about the hunt with Kymil, but he hadn’t said anything about his encounter with Grak afterward. Kent wondered about what Grak might do if he’d had the chance to see them together now, in bed together.

The fire in the hearth dwindled. Moonlight trickled into the room between the curtains, and Kent closed his eyes for a moment.

A series of hammerstrokes on Aveyna’s door startled Kent awake again, and Aveyna with him. Frantic pounding. Metallic thudding. An armored hand.

Kent’s internal protector ignited, and he looked toward the hearth, but the fire had gone out, and the wood inside was black and cold. He couldn’t use fire magic without fire.

Rays of soft sunlight crept between the curtains instead of moonlight.

Morning, but early morning—at least for winter.

The pounding persisted, and Aveyna looked at him with wide, concerned eyes. Whether she was worried about him being found there or just about the incessant, urgent clanks against her door, Kent could not discern.

“Stay here,” Kent told her. She didn’t move.

Kent slid out of the bed, donned his undergarments and his boots—he didn’t want to be caught totally off-guard—and took one of the fireplace pokers into his left hand, ready to summon his magic to his right hand to manipulate the iron to his will. Or just to bash it into whoever was there, if they meant Aveyna harm.

As he approached the door, it literally quaked and trembled from the pounding, and thick shadows moved in the light coming from under the door. Whatever or whoever it was, something was definitely wrong.

He carefully unlatched the lock, with the poker raised high in his left hand. The added bonus of choosing it was that he had an actual weapon to use as well as magic.

Kent pulled the door open, revealing Grak in the doorway.

Grak’s countenance shifted from concern, to confusion, to fury. He growled, “What in the third hell are you doing in here?”

“How is your finger?” Kent lowered the poker but not his guard.

“What?” Realization dawned in Grak’s eyes, and then he glowered at Kent anew and grunted. “It hurts.”

“What do you want?”

“Where is the queen?” Grak asked. “She is safe.”

“Where?”

“In bed.”

“I must see her.”

Grak pushed on the door, but Kent held it in place.

“She is not presentable,” Kent said.

Grak’s scowl might’ve permanently affixed itself to his face at the rate he was showing it. “It is my duty to ensure she is unharmed.”

“Then you may take my word for it, as I just came from her side.”

Grak’s fists clenched, one of which held a parchment.

Kent nodded toward it. “I would not damage that message if it is important.”

“I am to deliver it to Her Majesty personally,” Grak said.

“You may give it to me instead.” Kent held out his right hand.

“You deaf? Didn’t you hear what i just said?” Grak snapped.

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