Page 16 of Oath of Betrayal
‘Bloody men with their perky ar … dragons that can give a woman a broken nose or a year of bondage contract,’ I complained, stuttering when I noticed I wasn’t alone on the street.
Once the warmth of my cheeks had decreased, I headedtowards my next ordeal, arriving only fashionably late. All the locals were already gathered, and as I sauntered in, the gawking townsfolk gasped. The relief on the mayor’s face was the perfect balm to my wounded pride, making me snort with laughter.
We didn’t get on, but the officious fool knew his job. The town square was beautiful, bedecked with wildflowers our blushing maidens had gathered from the fields, their scent lifting everyone’s spirits. A centrepiece had been set up behind the platform for the town council, as well as a large white cloth embroidered by a talented, though not quiteliterate, soul.
Wlecome too Zalesie
The awful spelling made my teeth ache, but the beautiful artwork was impeccable. I didn’t have the heart to point out the mistake to the proud matron standing nearby, whose broad smile and constant glances led me to believe that she or one of her daughters had made the banner.
I looked longingly at the tavern and the tables set up with refreshments and snacks for the evening celebration. The enormous barrel of mead I spotted almost made me forget that I wanted to be far away after meeting the imposing rider.
Thanks to the matrons’ continued glances towards the maidens, I noticed that the crowd of young women was less colourful than usual. Some, rather than dressing in their finery to eagerly await the gallant riders, wore darker clothes.
They are mourning,I realised, recognising the daughters of several families who had lost their fathers or brothers after they’d gone to the forest lumber mill and never returned. I grimaced as a pang of guilt struck me, but I was just one mage; and even if I worked myself to the bone, there were too many monsters to combat them all.
I waved to Katja, our herbalist. I suspected she’d simply removed her apron before joining the crowd. For sure, thegreen-stained kirtle was a dead giveaway of her feelings towards the welcome party but seeing Katja here cheered me up.
She was the most down-to-earth female I’d ever encountered, always honest to herself and others, even if her way of expressing it was …slightlybrutal.Why didn’t I follow her example?I berated myself. I stood out like a sore thumb, clearly overdressed for the occasion.
Most of the women gathered to the right of the small platform and the pompous town officials, the bench to the left bearing only two bizarre occupants: our muscular half-orc blacksmith Bryna, and old Helga, who last year celebrated her seventieth birthday.
Oh well, I thought, unable to process why they’d been dragged here—especially Bryna, whose attitude, impressive promiscuity, and frightening strength meant any rider foolish enough to choose her wouldn’t be in a fit state to fight anything afterwards.Gods forbid the poor soul runs out of stamina before she’s satisfied,I mused.
Bryna was more than capable of dragging as many partners to bed as needed to fulfil her desires, and they rarely objected. Despite her almost masculine figure and green-hued skin, she possessed a pretty face with a little perky nose; and, if that wasn’t enough, an impressive set of breasts usually convinced even the most reluctant of men.
‘Surely there must be better candidates … Fuck, they must be desperate, dragging us here,’ I mumbled to myself, bursting into laughter again.
‘Ani! I see our illustrious magistrate managed to persuade you to join this ridiculous spectacle.Wlecome too Zalesie, where every woman has a chance for cock,’ Bryna roared, her laughter startling several council members from their naps. With a friendly pat on the bench, the blacksmith invited me to join her.
‘So, our beautiful mage, what did they bribe you with to ensure your attendance? The magistrate promised me a new forge,’ Bryna said, waving her flask. I turned towards the penny-pinching bastard, whose reaction to my stare was the terrified flinch of a rabbit facing the arrow of a merciless hunter.
‘You motherfu …’ I started, but Bryna’s whistle stopped my tirade and likely saved his sorry arse from being fried. With a deep, cleansing breath, I turned to my friend. ‘I only got a horse. I should have asked for a new house.’
‘Yeah, well, you’ve never been one to bargain. Sit, Ani. We’ve got a front row seat to this spectacle, and I want to see the flying peacocks. Maybe one will tempt me enough to sample their wares later.’ Bryna winked, gesturing towards the anxious women whispering between themselves. ‘At least you’re joining the sensible side.’
As soon as I dropped to the‘crones’’bench, Bryna pushed her flask towards me. ‘Drink. You look like you need it,’ she said, her casual scrutiny turning more serious.
Bryna knew my past; she and Katja were the only ones who knew I’d once been Annika Diavellar, the famous mage who fought an immortal wlok and ‘won.’ They also knew I had done nothing to deserve that fame and that my failure haunted me to this day. I’d let it slip one night after a challenging hunt that had left me stranded on a granite outcrop.
I learned three valuable lessons that day.
First, never chase a weregoat up a mountain unless you want to be carried back down like a baby by a half-orc. Second, if you take a numbing tincture that loosens the tongue,don’ttake it if you have a secret and the woman who’s about to sew you up has a cheating husband. Third? Well, whether it’s normal or not, a goat covered in orcish spices tastesgood, especially if accompanied by the mead said earlier orc opened to celebrate eating the flesh of your enemy.
I took the flask from her hand, gulping down the rest of its contents. The sweet moment of eye-watering alcohol burning its way down my throat was brutally interrupted when old Helga bent towards Bryna and shouted in her ear: ‘What’s going on here? Where’s my blanket?’
‘Oh, Father of Fire, this isn’t worth a forge. I’m not even fucking human,’ Bryna muttered, shaking her head. ‘You and I are just here to fill the seats. More importantly, your job is ensuring I don’t burn this town down if I don’t enjoy the spectacle, as Katja is clearly busy calming down our charming maidens.’
She trailed her gaze over me, taking in the dress and flowing hair before she shrugged.
‘Are you sure you’re not here to relieve a little tension? This new look of yours turned several heads when you arrived,’ she commented, and I felt the warmth of an embarrassing blush spread across my cheeks.
Bryna was a good friend and as brazen as a cocksure sailor, but her remark still made me defensive. I’d wanted to prove that I wasn’t some scruffy hedge witch; now I felt my efforts made me look desperate. As if I was trying to outshine my much younger counterparts.
To make matters worse, in my desire to prove the point, I had glossed over the fact that dragon riders weren’t simple smallholders from a small town, hoping that my battle mage robe would fade into the other maidens’ sea of frills.
Now, I was the one who stood out the most—and the last thing I wanted was for one of them to question what a single battle mage was doing in Zalesie. ‘I’d better go home and change. I don’t want to rob you and our lovely maidens of their chance,’ I said, standing up to leave.
I didn’t get far.
