Tavern Rats (Spellmonkeys Book 1) by Matt Youngmark

Author:Matt Youngmark [Youngmark, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atherton Haight
Published: 2022-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Beacon of Hope

The rough, bare stone wasn’t at all comfortable, but at least the place was lit—if poorly—by a row of torches just on the other side of the rusting iron bars. The smoke from those torches was enough to make my throat itch, although some of that could be attributed to animal stench, since the holding cells and stables were apparently in the same building.

“That was a revelation,” Mae said, a smidge of genuine respect lighting up her usually impenetrable expression. “Personally, I would have gone with the whole claiming-to-be-necromancers angle, then tried to escape later from Takifu necromancer training camp or whatever. But what you did back there took nerve.”

The thing was, I had attempted to accomplish that very thing. After the captain made it clear he wanted to recruit us for nefarious purposes, I launched into a whole spiel about how powerful and dangerous we were. Somehow, though, it came across even less plausible than the business about being troubadours—I’m not particularly eager to revisit that particular humiliation, so all you really need to know is that it did not go as planned.

“I mean, open, contemptuous mocking? To the point where he went ahead and threw you and the druid in here with us? Huzzah. Seriously, respect is due.”

Sprig had managed to remain asleep throughout the entire incident, including being dragged feet-first down a stairwell, and was presently snoring away in one corner of the cell.

Brukk was far more somber than Mae. “I’ll never forget this,” he said in orcish. “You could have abandoned us to our fate, but you threw away your own freedom to keep the party together.” His chin began to tremble. “I just—you don’t know what—”

“Oh, piss off,” Mae said, seemingly mistaking his earnest gratitude for a rebuttal of some kind. “That shit was prodigious, and you know it.” She was more cheerful and upbeat than I had ever seen her. By a considerable margin.

“You don’t seem worried by our predicament,” I said.

Mae grinned, which was moderately horrifying. “That’s because, unlike some people, I had a plan back there.” She drew a roll of linen parchment sealed with a blob of gold wax from beneath her cloak. It was one of the relics from the display case in the captain’s office.

“Like I give a solitary crap what happens in the elf warrens,” Mae said. “Now, use this to blow a hole through that wall or whatever, and let’s get out of this cesspool.”

I gently peeled open the wax and unrolled the parchment. “This is a priest scroll.”

“Right. Isn’t that what you are?”

“What? No, I’m a sorcerer. A priest gets their power from—” I stopped myself. The lesson in comparative magic studies could wait. “Only a priest can cast this. Specifically, a priest who worships Takifuweli.” I examined it more closely. “Also, I think this is a healing spell.”

“Uuuuuuugh,” Mae said, the familiar exasperation returning to her face. “Well, at least you can finally fix your stupid leg.”

“Yes, if I were a priest who worships Takifuweli.

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