Way of Gods by Rhett C. Bruno & Jaime Castle

Author:Rhett C. Bruno & Jaime Castle [Bruno, Rhett C. & Castle, Jaime]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2019-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

XXIII

THE THIEF

“What are we going to do with him?” a man’s voice said as Whitney started coming to.

“What do ye mean?” another replied. As drunk as Whitney was, the accent was unmistakable. It belonged to a dwarf who’d spent too much time amongst Glassfolk, and now was barely understandable to either.

By Iam, I’m starting to hate dwarves.

“We have enough shog stirring with the raiders out here, and with ’our *friends*, and now you kidnap some two-bit thief?” the man said. “How about you leave well-enough alone! We’re so close.”

The dwarf grunted. “No one asked ye to follow me.” Something broke, but all Whitney could see was light and shadow through the thatching of burlap.

“Two-bit thief?” Whitney slurred, voice muffled by the bag over his head.

“Shhh, I think he’s wakin up,” the dwarf said.

Whitney ’s head pounded—whether from ale or the conking he’d received, he didn’t know. He heard a shuffling and then loud footsteps approached him. The dwarf grabbed hold of the bag and tore it from Whitney’s head, taking some hair with it. Cold rain pelted his cheeks.

“Ouch!” Whitney half-shouted before the air left his lungs. The ugly mug which greeted him was unmistakable as well. Lump for a nose, ruddy cheeks the same color as the man’s wild hair and beard, and one eye that never quite aimed the right way.

“Shut up, ye damned fool, or I’ll cut out yer flappin tongue,” Grint Strongiron threatened, the very dwarf who’d caused Whitney’s simple life of thievery to unravel. “We don’t need the whole yiggin town hearin ye.”

Whitney was dumbstruck, looked around. “Grint-shogging-Strongiron, you—what? You kidnapped me, took me…” He cringed upon noticing he was surrounded by… tombstones. His vision swam. A short distance away, he could see the back of the Fettingborough church, Eye of Iam high above the rest of the town as if looking down with harsh judgment.

“We’re still so near town?” Whitney asked. “What is this your first time bagging a man? Did you even think this through at all?”

Whitney then regarded the man accompanying Grint. He wore no armor, but there was just something… Torsteny about him. The hard look in his eye directed toward Whitney maybe, like he recognized him. Whitney’s first thought was that this was the town’s constable out for one of the many bounties on Whitney’s head, not realizing his name had been cleared. If nothing else, he was a soldier.

“I thought glass soldiers were supposed to be smart,” Whitney said. “What sort of lies did this rat-beard tell you about me?”

“As did I,” the other man said, confirming Whitney’s suspicions. His eyes turned toward the dirt, brimming with shame. “But I haven’t done a smart thing in longer than I can remember.”

“Quiet, both of ye!” Grint barked as he paced between tombstones. “I need to think.”

“Something you, perhaps, should have done before breaking into my room.” Whitney shifted. He was seated, back against something—a post? No. “You tied me to a grave? Yuck!” He looked down and figured he was sitting precisely six feet above a dead body.

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