Chapter 98: I Remember

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you two knew each other. I guess there’s no reason to use a pseudonym then,” Nora glanced between the two.

  “You’re shorter than I remember,” Stryg looked Maeve over.

The vampiress was only a little over 5 feet. He barely had to crane his neck to look at her.

  “And I don’t remember you at all. I think you may have me confused,” Maeve smiled wryly.

  She was panicking on the inside. She had finally gotten away from her father’s influence for a few minutes and now she met someone from her public life. Who was he? Was he sent as a spy from her father? How could she have forgotten someone with such a unique appearance?

  “I’m not confused,” Stryg tapped his temple. “I’ve thought of you on a daily basis.”

“Is that right?” Maeve raised an eyebrow.

  She was relieved, he seemed to only be one of her many admirers. In which case, she had nothing to worry about with Clypeus nearby.

  “Oooh, someone has a fan. I gotta admit I never took you for the type, Stryg,” Nora laughed.

“Neither did I,” Clypeus chuckled.

  Rhian stayed quiet as she stared at Stryg. Normally, his eyes would dart all around, surveying his surroundings, especially when they were in a crowd. But, his eyes were still, his body unmoving.

  “I still remember the night we met,” Stryg spoke softly.

“A pity I don’t,” Maeve sighed dramatically.

  “I play that night over and over during my meditation.”

“Meditation? Like a mage?” Maeve asked.

  “Indeed. After all, why else could I possibly be friends with Callum Veres?” Stryg smiled widely.

Maeve furrowed her brow, “What?” Her face paled. “The hybr-”

  Stryg dashed in before anyone could react. His hand shot out and wrapped around Maeve’s slim neck. She gasped for breath, but Stryg only tightened his grip. Her feet dangled off the ground as he lifted her up with ease.

  “Maeve!” Nora screamed.

“Let her go!” Clypeus shouted.

  Stryg looked at the panicked couple. The answer had never felt so natural. “No.”

“Aw, shit,” Rhian stepped behind the goblin.

  Maeve tried prying his hand away, but to no avail. His grip was like iron. His claws dug into her pale skin, drawing blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to draw breath.

  “Stryg, I don’t know what bad blood you have with Maeve and I know she can sometimes be rude, maybe even cruel, but her mother was a Veres. I cannot stand by and watch you hurt her. Let. Her. Go,” Clypeus grabbed the hilts of his two gladii.

  “I will rip her throat out long before you unsheath your blades,” Stryg said without even glancing at him.

“I’m a swordmaster, you underestimate my speed,” Clypeus narrowed his eyes.

  “Wanna bet,” Stryg grinned. His veins darkened.

“Agility magic,” Nora muttered in shock.

  “I am the Shield of Veres. Be it monster or man, here I stand proud and I shall not falter,” Clypeus recited the pledge. “I don’t want to fight you, Stryg. Please, don’t make me do this.”

  Stryg stared at the vampiress flopping like a fish in his grip. Maeve’s eyes were beginning to roll up. She was out of air and out of time. Stryg squeezed.

  “Wait!” Rhian yelled.

“Now is not the best time,” Stryg said. He could feel Maeve’s heartbeat quicken under his fingertips. Soon, it would be still.

  “You promised Mistress Loh that you wouldn’t fight anyone while we are in Mellow Bloom.”

“That’s…” Stryg frowned.

  “You promised.”

Stryg’s pupils contracted and expanded in rapid succession. He groaned, “Ah, fuck!” He flung Maeve right at Clypeus.

  He caught her and eased her to the ground. She sucked in deep precious breaths of air. Her eyes were bloodshot. She gripped Clypeus’ shoulder with trembling fingers. Nora ran up to her and hugged her tightly.

  “You’re alright, Maeve. You’re alright,” Nora cooed.

“There isn’t much blood,” Clypeus sighed in relief.

  Nora ripped off a piece of her skirt and pushed it on the wound, “We’ll need to get her to a white mage as soon as possible.”

“This isn’t over, Maeve Mora,” Stryg bared his fangs.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Nora screamed at him. “I won’t let you get away with this. I’ll have the guards arrest you.”

“Don’t,” Maeve wheezed. “It’s my fault.”

  “What? What are you saying?” Nora frowned.

Maeve sat up weakly, “Don’t get me wrong. This hybrid is an asshole, but he had reason to be angry.”

  “Enough reason to kill you?” Nora bit her lip.

  “No, but people have died for a lot less. Just leave it be. I’m fine, I’ve had much worse,” Maeve swallowed. She glanced at the hostile goblin, “Consider us even.”

  Stryg hissed.

She sighed, “I understand you hate me. But, I’m not the person you think I am.”

  “You’re not the person who tried attacking me?” Stryg snapped.

“Okay, I am the person you think I am. I’ve done horrible things, but there is more to me.”

  “You’re also the one who threw wine at me.”

  “Fine, I get it. You hate me, I don’t blame you. I’ll probably end up being an ass to you again if we ever meet in Hollow Shade. But, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Maeve tried bowing, but ended up coughing.

  “Your apology is worth shit.”

“Fair enough,” she winced.

  “Maeve, ignore this prick. Let’s get you to a doctor,” Nora helped her to her feet.

“How about a drink instead?” Maeve asked.

  “In your dreams,” Nora said.

“Thank you for sparing her life,” Clypeus bowed to Stryg, before heading off to help Maeve.

  Stryg finally got a good look around. All the bystanders had scattered away. Most had gone into the amphitheater. He turned his attention back at Maeve. With Nora’s help she limped her away across the street, until they disappeared around the corner.

  Stryg wondered at the strange behavior of the vampiress. Why would Maeve try to protect her enemy from the guards?

  “What an idiot,” Stryg shook his head.

“I’m not sure who you’re referring to, but anywaaaay, what now, Master?” Rhian asked.

  Stryg scratched his head and sighed, “...We’re already here and the play is about to begin. Might as well see what this is all about.”

  “Ah, you still have blood on your hand,” Rhian pointed at his fingertips.

“We’ll be late if I waste time washing it,” he licked the blood off his fingers. “There, all better.”

  “...Right,” she forced a strained smile.

They made their way into the amphitheater.

  An usher stood behind the front door. “Good evening, the show’s entrance fee is seven bronze coins.”

“That’s for both of us,” Stryg threw him a silver coin.

  “Uhm, sir, centaurs aren’t allowed in the amphitheater.”

“I am having a horrible night, so I’ll say this only once,” Stryg cracked a smile. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  The usher noticed the spear hanging from the centaur’s side.

“They don’t pay me enough for this,” he muttered. The usher nodded curtly and stepped aside.

  Stryg walked past without another word.

“Sorry,” Rhian whispered to the usher as she trotted by.

  The rest of the audience gave them strange looks as they entered. A few even complained as Rhian walked over several rows. One man tried pushing her. Stryg slapped him. Everyone suddenly grew very quiet at the sight of the unconscious bludgeoned man.

  Stryg and Rhian eventually found their seats near the front row and waited for the show to begin. After a few minutes, a woman dressed in a grey tight fitting one-piece suit stepped out from behind the curtain and danced her way to the front of the stage. Her face was covered in a simple smiling white mask.

  “Welcome one and all, I will be your narrator and guide through this unforgettable night of love, war, loss, triumph, and most of all, magic!” She waved her hand, a burst of flame sparked above the crowd.

  The audience shouted in delight.

“She’s an orange mage,” Stryg muttered.

  “Our brilliant Singing Willow troupe is proud to present the legendary tale of valor and honor, The Unfaltering Shield!”

  Music began playing from backstage. A chorus sung softly to the rhythm of drum beats. A symphony of strings rose with the pitch of the voices. The audience clapped and cheered. Rhian cheered the loudest. Stryg stayed quiet, intent on finding out more.

  The narrator danced her way to the edge of the stage. “Our story begins long ago, in the frigid Northern Lands.”

  A grey cloud appeared above the stage and began to snow. The snowflakes disappeared before they reached the ground. Stryg realized it was not snow at all, but an illusion spell. There had to have been a purple mage casting from behind the curtain.

  “Amidst the frozen rivers and frost-covered hills laid a small nameless village.”

The curtains pulled back to reveal wooden props in the forms of small huts and log houses.

  “The village had once been prosperous, making their wealth through the hunting of moose. Unfortunately the wars of the Ebon Lords had cut through the land and bled into their small nook of the world.”

  The cloud suddenly turned red, bathing the stage in scarlet light. The pace of the music quickened. Men and women dressed in armor and carrying swords ran past the makeshift village screaming obscenities and death threats.

  “Most villages were not spared from the wrath of the traveling armies. They were pillaged, their men killed, their woman violated and taken. The children were left to die alone in the bloodsoaked snow.”

  “Even the villages that managed to evade detection suffered. The traveling armies had killed most of the nearby wild animals and scared off the rest. There was practically no food to eat, nor any to grow in the deadly winter. To make matters worse, orphaned children were trickling into the villages hoping to find respite from the bitter cold.”

  The cloud returned to its grey form and continued to snow. A little girl hobbled onto the stage. The music dimmed to a soft melody.

  “And so begins our fabled journey. An orphaned vampiress had barely managed to escape her burning village. She trudged dozens of miles through icy winds and hail to find a haven from the war, even if only for a moment. Instead, she only found the callous backs of adults in this nameless ramshackle of a village.”

  Shabby looking villagers pushed the little girl to the floor before walking into their hovels.

  “She was a petite girl, even for other children her age. She was malnourished and weakened from her journey. She quickly learned that the only way she would survive was if she fought for herself, no one else would. So, with what limited strength she had, our heroine scavenged the streets for even a scrap of food.”

  The little girl crawled about the stage, desperately looking for something to eat. A few other children appeared and began attacking her.

  “It was not easy, for there were many orphans in the village and none of them wanted to share with an outsider. Still, our vampiress fought hard to earn her place, eating what little she could find.”

  The girl fought the other children off until they ran away.

  “One day, after months of silence from the outside world, a new orphan came to the village. He was a vampire too, a child smaller than even our heroine. He asked for food from the villagers, but they all ignored him as did the orphans.”

  The boy walked up to the girl and asked for food, only to be struck down by her fist. The beats of the drums echoed loudly through the audience. Stryg found it all too familiar, the weak were always trampled on.

  “It was only a few days later that disaster struck the village. One of the nearby armies had found them. They attacked the villagers without mercy, killing even the children.”

  The chorus sang in tune with the march of war. Armed warriors flooded the stage and began cutting down the villagers. Stryg had to admit it was impressive how they made the blood splash from their sides. Still, his keen sense of smell told him no actual blood had been spilt.

  “The bloodthirsty soldiers cut down any they could find. One of them even chased our heroine. She tried running through the village, hiding wherever she could, but the soldier found her anyway. She was stricken by fear and faltered in her steps.”

  The girl crashed to the ground. She tried scrambling away, yet the soldier had cornered her. He raised his sword and swung down. A small figure tackled the soldier to the ground before he could strike.

  “Yet, amidst the carnage, it was none other than the new village orphan who came to her aide! Despite his insignificant size, he fought the soldier with the fierceness of a dragon!”

  The boy scratched at the soldier’s face with abandon. He even managed to grab the soldier’s dagger before the man kicked him away. They encircled each other, a child versus a trained warrior. The man swung his blade in a wide arch. The boy rolled away and charged the soldier.

  He thrusted his blade right at the boy, but the child did not run. He met the blade straight on, barely moving from its path as it skimmed past his shoulder. The boy sunk his dagger straight into the soldier’s kidney. The man dropped his blade and screamed in agony.

  The boy did not stop, he stabbed the man over and over until the soldier toppled to the ground, unmoving. Only then, did the boy drop his dagger. He turned around and looked at the girl.

  “You’re okay,” he smiled.

“But, all was not well,” the narrator whispered.

  The drum beats disappeared, the strings turned into a foreboding melody. The boy fell to the floor, blood seeping from his shoulder. The girl rushed to his side.

  “Our heroine dragged the boy into a small enclosure below one of the village hovels. They hid there silently as the army roamed above. She bandaged his wound as best she could, luckily the cut was not too deep. After several hours, the screaming above stopped. The other villagers had died and the army had left.”

  The girl helped the boy to his feet and out of their hiding spot. He stumbled, she caught him.

“What kind of crazy are you? You should have just run, not fight an enemy soldier,” the girl frowned.

  “I couldn’t do that,” the boy said weakly. “He would have killed you.”

  “...And? Look around you, everyone is dead. That’s what happens. If you don’t look after yourself you’ll get killed too!” She stepped away.

  He fell to his knees, too weak to stand on his own. “...You’re right, everyone is dead. I know what happens to kids like us.” He swallowed, “I don’t want to die, but if today is my day, then I rather die on my own two feet protecting my friend.”

  “Last I checked I smacked you in the face when you tried to take my food. We’re not friends.”

“We could be. I think I’m in rather need of a friend,” he chuckled softly.

  She sighed and turned away from him. Yet, she stuck out her hand towards him, “If you wanna die, then don’t do it on your knees.”

  He smiled and grabbed her hand, “Thanks.”

“I’m Gale, don’t you forget it,” she pulled him to his feet.

  “I won’t. My name is Veres.”