The Tower of Nerek: A Descent: Legends of the Dark Novel by David Guymer

Author:David Guymer [Guymer, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, Media Tie-In, Action & Adventure, Fiction
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2022-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Trenloe the Strong

Trenloe reached into the cranny at the top of the bookshelf and made reassuring noises. It was as much for his own benefit as for the large, fluffy white cat that hissed at him and batted at his fingers. Ravaella had brought him and Rendiel to her study and promised to return soon. That had been almost an hour ago. He was starting to worry.

“Leave the cat alone,” Rendiel snapped, equally on edge. “It’s probably bewitched.”

“It’s not bewitched.”

“It’s acting bewitched.”

“It’s probably just hungry.”

Trenloe turned to the small side table between the trio of plush armchairs where refreshments had been set for them. There were jams, breads, cured meats, nuts, bowls of dried and pickled fruits and clotted creams, and a steaming pot of rose tea that came with a complicated apparatus that Trenloe was unsure how to operate.

The platter had been brought in by a thin man in plain black robes and dead eyes who had glared balefully at him and Rendiel as if to say that he had not attended the Academy in order to be a servant.

Trenloe dipped his finger in the cream and offered it to the cat.

The animal looked at his finger as though it might prefer it over the cream, but emerged from its corner for neither.

“Bewitched,” Rendiel muttered to himself. He was perched on the edge of Ravaella’s desk with his back to the darkened window, flicking idly through the papers cluttering his impromptu seat. The elf threw the papers back across the desk with a disgusted sigh.

“You can’t trust her, Trenloe.” Rendiel cast a glance towards the closed door. Satisfied that their host was not yet back, he leant forwards and hissed, “I know you say you knew her before, but either you didn’t know her well or she’s changed since then. Believe me. People do change.”

Giving up on the cat, Trenloe licked the cream off his own finger. “You still haven’t told me how you know her.”

Rendiel drummed his fingers on the desk. The thin muscles of his jaw twitched, as though with the unpleasant aftertaste of a memory. “We met here in Nerekhall. At the public hanging of a necromancer named Tristayne Olliven.” He gave a bitter laugh. “It turned into quite the spectacle after the condemned man went on to reanimate himself right there at the end of his rope. It convinced a few magistrates who had been unsure of his guilt until then, let me tell you. The ironbound seemed bizarrely uninterested, despite rogue necromancers being exactly the sort of thing they were built to stop and, as you’ve seen for yourself, without the ironbound there isn’t a lot that the Nerekhall militia has going for it. So Ravaella, me–” a smile graced his face with a fleeting visit “–Tinashi the Wanderer, Orkell the Swift; we did what we could.

“Events conspired to hold us together after that. Nerekhall has a way of foiling the good-intentioned, but we did some good things in spite of that. Not that anyone ever acknowledged what we did, of course.

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