Page 46 of The Tracker's Rage
“Apologies, I don’t know the individual you speak of.” She flashed her teeth again. “I would ask if you wish to drink or eat something, but I have a feeling you won’t accept.” Her turquoise eyes twinkle with malice.
I scratched my neck, taking a deep breath and willing my wolf to calm down.
The female’s gaze snapped in my direction. “A shifter,” she said. “Your kind isn’t welcome here. Please, leave.”
At the hostile comment, my wolf was ready to pick a fight, but gratefully, she now listened to reason. This was no time to act tough.
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll wait outside.”
I turned to leave and started toward the door when it suddenly burst open and what looked like a chubby child stomped inside. On second look, the thick braided beard draping over an expansive belly made me wonder if the Fae also had ugly children. But when he spoke with a voice like rumbling rocks grinding together, all lingering doubts went out the window. The short male was not a child at all. He wore a thickly weaved tunic and bulky boots lined in fur. He had a bulbous nose and beady eyes.
The knocking of wooden utensils and the gentle chatter that had filled the tavern ceased completely.
“White Damien,” the newcomer boomed. “I didn’t want to believe my ears when they heard you were here, but I guess you are as unwise as you are cocky.”
Damien winced and slowly turned to face the newcomer. “Ven konodin, Glimlock,” Damien said, his grimace quickly morphing into a smug grin as he faced the smaller male.
“Ven konodin, my arse,” Glimlock said, then in one swift motion he pulled out a short sword from the scabbard at his back, murder spelled on his weather-beaten features.
The mage sighed as if the little male were nothing more than a first grader brandishing a crayon. For my part, I took several steps back until I hit the wall. Whatever this was, I wanted no part of it. Only the witchlights knew what had happened between these two. Though something told me the Fae wasn’t the one to blame.
Glimlock twirled his sword, then pointed it at Damien’s middle and lunged. I held my breath as the mage stood impassively and, in the last possible instant, put a hand up. Abruptly, his attacker came to a stop as if someone were holding him back by his tunic.
Leaning forward and stretching his arm as much as he could, Glimlock sliced his sword left and right trying to reach Damien, but he was a few inches too far.
“Fight, you coward,” Glimlock rumbled, his booted feet sliding on the grass as he seemed to run in place, desperate to reach his target. The sight was comical and sad at the same time.
The mage crossed his arms and regarded him down an upturned nose. A few of the patrons looked on with angry frowns, but others snickered. Neither did anything to intervene.
“Are you quite done?” Damien asked in a bored tone.
To my surprise, I found myself growing irritated at the mage. The little guy was exhausting himself, running in place and brandishing his sword like a lunatic, hopelessly wasting his energy, while Damien acted like a complete asshole.
“Hey, cut it out,” I found myself saying.
The mage glanced in my direction and seemed surprised to find that I was staring straight at him and not at his would-be attacker.
“Excuse me?” he spat, looking annoyed. “Ineed to cut it out?”
I walked over and put my hands on my hips. “Yeah, you! Leave him alone.”
“Seriously?”
Glimlock stopped his treadmill workout and blinked up at me. “I can fight my own battles,” he rumbled at me.
“I don’t doubt that, dear sir,” I said. “But this mage isn’t fighting fair. In fact, he isn’t fighting at all.”
“Stay out of this,” Damien scoffed. “This belligerent garden gnome has been harassing me ever since our paths crossed. He is a nuisance and a pest.”
“I’ll have to agree with that,” the female behind the counter said as she buffed the already-clean counter with a piece of cloth.
“I am not a garden gnome,” Glimlock spat, resuming his useless attempts to stab Damien. “I put a curse on you and all your descendants, White Damien.”
“Whatever you did to him,” I said, “just apologize. We’re wasting our time.”
Damien frowned. “WhateverIdid tohim?”
“Yeah, something tells me you’re to blame.”
