abnabooks The Hand II
The Hand II
The Hand II
Hunt-leader! Youre forgetting yourself! Berard shouted.
He did not have to do it!
Milos glanced to the curtained entrance, his earlier humour draining rapidly. The cold, diamond hardness returned to his eyes. Excuse me. It seems my other guests are rowdy.
Whp!
The curtain flew open and familiar figures poured over the nest of carpets. Hunt-leader Jairus lead them - his body contorted in wrath - while Berard followed with the reluctance of a cur about to be scolded. Adelmar and a masked cultist that Wurhi assumed was Haldrych - the two dogged each others steps like stench and shadow - swung their heads this way and that, gawking at the chaos spread along the walls.
Sacred Alpha! Jairus stalked forward. I-
Stop. Milos held up a hand.Updated from
His mighty voice struck as surely as any blow, freezing Jairus in mid-step. The Sacred Alphas utterance was calm and low, but it bore a cold menace as threatening as a blade being drawn. You have entered my dining chamber as a guest, and I have had meat, bread and spices lain out for you. He gestured to the wolf-heads over the fireplace. Under the eyes of Lycundar himself.
Crk.
A strange sound came from outside. Wurhi stiffened.
Her eyes drew - unwillingly - toward the large curtained passage from the room. Something had stirred in there. She flared her nostrils, but the scent of fire, food and the Sacred Alpha obscured all else.
Milos gaze grew less human by the heartbeat. Do you display the proper respect this calls for? Answer with honesty.
Jairus shuddered, his teeth audibly grinding. His head dropped. II apologize Sacred Alpha. He bowed so low he nearly tumbled. Forgiveness from you and Lord Lycundar.
Good. The cult leader cast his hand toward the three already seated. These lambs are captive, yet have conducted themselves with more respect than you, Hunt Leader Jairus. Your shame mounts; take care not to build it further. Now, sit. All of you.
The four new arrivals glanced to each other, then quickly made their way to their seats. Haldrych stared at Wurhi and Merrick with a hateful leer but Adelmar dragged him to the table.
Good. At last. Milos took up his bronze knife. Come, eat. It has already begun to cool. He glanced to Haldrych, who had found a seat as far from the thieves as he could manage. You may remove your mask to sup at my table.
Yes he paused, seeming to struggle to remember the term of address. S-sacred Alpha. With a final, vicious glance toward the thieves, he took up his own knife.
As Crixus tucked into the feast, Wurhi and Merrick reluctantly followed suit. The small Zabyallan did not think herself as having much in the way of appetite, but the first taste of meat proved that notion false.
She tore into her meal as though it would be her last, avoiding ruminating on how accurate that might be. The flavour motivated her fervour, with exotic northern herbs dancing together upon her tongue.
His eyes hardened. The predators musk grew until it stung Wurhis nostrils. The Zabyallan whimpered, quivering in her seat. Jairus, Adelmar and Berard recoiled as hounds when their masters whip rises.
Yet, his body remained at ease as he turned to Haldrych Ameldan. Tell me, Haldrych, are you enjoying the feast? You certainly seem to be.
The young poet groaned happily. It is exquisite, my Lord! Fresh roast is best in the heart of winter! It sets a mans blood to singing like a beautiful maid in a bright, green glen!
That pleases me, said the Sacred Alpha. Trust our resident poet to speak of my table in verse.
Haldrych swelled as though ready to preen himself. Thank you, Lord Milos! It is my hope that I may write of the deeds I undertake!
I see, I see. Milos said. Just as youoh what was it that young Adelmar said you did? Made it snow silver?, I believe?
Adelmar coughed. Er, yes, Sacred Alpha-
It was glorious! Haldrych crooned. Truly, a missed opportunity, though. Only two nights later I thought of what I should have cried- he cleared his throat. You thought only the gods had the power to make it rain or snow! But hark! Behold as I bring snow upon you all! A snow of silver! Ah! It would have been glorious!
Indeed. the Sacred Alpha nodded. And perhaps you could have likened it to the coat of your steed? A handsome beast: as though coated in silver himself. Is that why you shoed him in gold? To ride upon a kings prize?
Mmf! No, Sacred Alpha, but well put! Haldrych grinned. Perhaps you have the soul of a poet as well!
Perhaps. Perhaps. Ah. That reminds me. I nearly forgot something.
Lord Milos?
The Sacred Alpha reached beneath his seat and drew up several objects. Here. I do believe these belong to you.
Clatter!
With aim birthed of inhuman precision, he cast a quartet of shining objects across the table. They clashed to the oak and slid just before the young poet. All eyes followed their path, widening in recognition.
Adelmar gasped.
Oh shit, Wurhi muttered. Oh shit!
Haldrychs grin slowly faded even as his eyes grew.
Before him gleamed four golden horseshoes. Dark red stained their shining surface.