A Dance of Fang and Claw: The Ranger Archives Volume 3 by Philip C. Quaintrell

Author:Philip C. Quaintrell [Quaintrell, Philip C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quaintrell Publishings Ltd
Published: 2022-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

“Ye know, Asher, the next time ye get a good feelin’, why don’ ye go ahead an’ bury it deep down, where it can’ bother people?”

Asher wiped some of the rain dripping from one of his eyebrows, not even bothering to look down at the dwarf. “I didn’t push you in the hole—you fell.”

Doran, whose appearance was well hidden beneath the wet mud, looked up at the ranger with cold fury in his eyes. “A hole ye say! It was a grave! An’ ye shoved me, ye dolt!”

“I walked past you,” Asher corrected, “and you lost your footing.”

“I know exactly where I’m goin’ to lose me foot!” the dwarf threatened.

“Gentlemen!” The barkeeper’s voice cut through their mounting argument, reminding both that they were standing in a crowded tavern. “Can I help you?” he asked, his inquisitive gaze drifting over the four strange companions.

“Aye,” Doran was quick to respond. “I’ll take a room, a bath, an’ all the Hobgobbers Ale ye’ve got. An’ I mean all.”

The burly man leant over the bar to better see the dwarf. “And erm… You’ve got the coin for all that then?”

Before the son of Dorain could respond with some biting retort, Asher placed a hand on his pauldron and spoke first, though he quickly came to regret touching the mud-coated armour. “We are rangers by trade,” he told the man as he dripped rainwater all over his floor. “We have been investigating the fiends that have been disturbing graves in the west field.”

“Fiends?” The barkeeper scratched his head. “In the west field?”

“The grave robbers,” Asher cajoled. “We saw the notice—”

“Monsters you mean?” The barkeeper’s eyes widened, the beginnings of a great smile on his ruddy face. “You’ve been hunting monsters in the west field?” He began to laugh hard. “Did you hear that?” he called out, gaining the attention of the other patrons. “These fellas have been hunting monsters in the west field!” Now the entire tavern was laughing with him.

Russell leant in to speak in Asher’s ear. “Is the laughing normal?”

The ranger could but give the man a look, his own ire rising to unsteady heights.

“We believe,” Hadavad said, attempting to speak over the ruckus, “your graveyard is plagued by Trakians!”

“By what?” the barkeeper managed through his amusement. “Them robbers were caught,” he told them. “About three months back. That notice you found was old, I’m afraid.”

“Caught?” Doran nearly choked on the word. “It were jus’ a couple o’ men!”

“Having trouble finding monsters are you?” one of the patrons yelled above the din, instigating another wave of laughter from every corner.

“Am I missin’ somethin’?” Doran grumbled, looking about.

The question set the barkeeper off again, his cheeks flushing red with laughter. “Just arrived have you, eh?”

Asher stepped forwards and leant ever so slightly over the bar, drawing the man in with a cold gaze. In the flickering gloom of the various flames, the ranger’s eyes lost their colour, and so he looked upon the barkeeper as a shark might look upon its prey. The amusement

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