Kets stepped out of the tavern, dragging her hammer by her side, then dropped it when the weight had exhausted her too much. She knelt by the man, and rifled through his pockets, searching for some form of identity or clue to discover who could have sent him to attack them.Inside the tavern, Stag stepped forward and grabbed the front of the other man’s tunic. Locke stood by his side, taking in deep breaths. He felt proud of himself, and how quickly he had reacted and called on his fire. He did not want to think of what could have happened if he did not meet the attacker’s energy ball in time.Stag hoisted the man to his limp feet, staring down at the rags and bruises that covered the man from head to toe. Stag had very rarely felt such wrath in his life. ‘Who sent you.’The man said nothing.‘Who sent you!’ Stag repeated, slamming the man against the wall.‘To the Coordinator,’ the man said, a sly grin creeping up his mouth, ‘next time, bring live bombs. Sylderitha!’ His body glowed
They stepped outside and found Kets next to a crystal, her nose pressed to a note.‘What’s that, Kets?’ Stag walked up to her and crouched down by her side.‘I found it in his pocket.’Stag yanked the note out of her hand. ‘Why were you rifling through his pockets?’‘I wanted to see if he had any valuables on him. I only found the note, then he turned into crystal before I could find anything else. Ya ha ha.’Stag read through the note. ‘It’s a note detailing the plan to kill me. Either the man who wrote this did not have any other devious plots after this assassination attempt, or he just did not write it down here.’‘Is it signed?’ Grindel asked.Stag shook his head.Smart idea, Elandra, but how could we get something solid like a crystal into a syringe?Melt a crystal? With our fire? There’s no way we can get it hot enough to do that.
When they returned to Rag and Tags, Rag (and Tags) were not pleased to see them at all. They did not want to see any more harm come to their establishment, but it was the years of warm and unlikely friendship that they shared with Stag that had them welcome them into their tavern and lend them a room.‘I’ll send some money over for your reparations,’ Stag said, patting Rag on the shoulders.‘Oh, Stag, you don’t need to make up so many lies. We know you’ll never pay us for anything.’Stag smirked. ‘This time I mean it. I owe a friend who always has my back when I need it.’Rag could hardly believe it, and he was smiling from ear to ear as he showed them to their rooms. ‘Two beds here, one for you and the boy, and the girl can have a room to herself.’Stag shook his head. ‘They’ll both be sleeping here. I’ll be keeping watch.’‘I thought you dealt with the assassins.’‘It seems that this a deeper problem than I first thought. I thought they were just petty assassins, with half-hearted m
As they returned to the Army District early next morning, they kept their eyes and ears out for any hint of someone watching them, but they found nothing. It was as though nothing had ever happened the day before. Stag volunteered to hold Kets’ hammer for her, as she hadn’t quite recovered from the events of the previous day, and she dragged her feet like a zombie down the street.Stag pulled them into Sweeps and Handles, a shop that sold all kinds of broomsticks for travel.‘What can I do for you today?’ said the gum-chewing shop keeper, sparing them a single glance from her book.‘Three brooms.’‘What quality? What make? Any preference in wood or length?’‘Just anything that can get us home in one piece.’The shop keeper waved a finger to the barrel to the side of the counter, filled with old brooms with clipped wood and chipped fibres. Stag slid the coins to the shop keeper and pulled out three of them. Once outside, he gave one to Locke and Kets.‘Ever rode one of these before?’T
All eyes were on the stage in the large amphitheatre. All the nobles stood on the balcony, in neat suits and dazzling dresses, sparkling like the stars in the night sky. Down below were the commoners, in common wear, like the silent sea in the silent night. Caliphoe, through a tiny slit behind the stage, smiled at the sight. It evoked such beautiful imagery inside of his mind.Yes, I can write about all sorts of things from this point. I can think of so many sights, and feel so many feelings. He smiled and jotted something down on a notepad. If he squinted and went slightly cross-eyed, he could almost imagine the shifting of the waves, and glimmering of the stars. Oh yes, my beloved audience, you are as spectacular as the performance I am putting on now.He glanced at the performance being played. It was the first showing of the thrilling romance On a Hill in Verdantia. It was his greatest work yet – but still, too dull! He was almost embarrassed to being showing it in front of such a
Stag leaned back into his chair, chewing at the end of his pen, deep in thought. It was the end of another day, and the recruits were in the middle of a set of torturous punishments. Trys hated pushups more than anything else, so he had her do two hundred of them, and Kets abhorred cleaning, so he had her sweep the entirety of the training hall.His punishments usually revolved around strength or endurance tests, so he had Rickter, Locke and Stocke all participate in an endurance game. They would each hold the plank for as long as possible, and the last one left would be the one who is exempt from the next punishment that he had in store.Stag stared down at the note on the table, scribbled a few words, read it over, read it over again, dotted a few i’s and lined a few t’s, then smiled at the result. It was addressed to Belvon Laire and detailed much of the events that had happened to him, and his suspicions that there were plans to assassinate Caria Laire.He reached over and opened
It was Saturday morning and there was an odd jitter in the air. Stag, Arla and Miles forced them to get ready as quick as possible, and by the time they were having breakfast, Stag had said his goodbyes, took a Pegasus and took flight to the city for his court case.They were still three Pegasuses short from their normal amount, and they decided that Arla, Kets and Trys would take a different route to the Laire estate, namely the Griffin Taxi.Locke hurried down a bowl of rice, grabbed a sword and fixed it to his waist, tightened up his uniform and left the Amber Hall to spend a few minutes by himself before they went to a new world of danger.Of course. It feels like we are walking directly into a trap. Everything just feels so conveniently planned.What else can we do? Is protecting Caria Laire a mistake?
They were soon joined by Miles and Rickter, who they would be flying with to the Laire estate. Miles brought out the Pegasuses, handing one to each of them. They held out their hands, let the beasts nuzzle them, and climbed onto their back. Before they left, Arla rushed out, whispered some words to Miles, and returned inside.‘They’ll be travelling on foot for a few kilometres outside of the base,’ Miles said, ‘where the Griffin Taxi will pick them up. They’ll arrive at the Laire estate around an hour later than we do.’ Miles adjusted his iconic leather cap over his head and subconsciously brushed at his moustache. ‘Are we ready?’There was a loose chorus of affirmation.‘Well then, let’s go.’ Miles dug his heel into the skin of the Pegasus and it shot up into the air, the others following him. Locke, who had seen how Trys and Kets were frightened by being up in the air, was surprised to see how natural Miles, Rickter and Stocke treated it – but they were always so attuned with nature