Here is the second piece of the six part tale of, “A Dance of Sellswords”. Thank you for your support and enjoy the story.
It had been a few months since their close run in with the Vearin. No one knew how they had escaped without a trace, but those were the great mercenary lords for blathers of gossip. Their travels took the latter all across Glinre, even thru the unknown territories of Zegrelith, Neyinxin, and Erotherynn. Even in their dreams they faced another adventure. Wolfsayers are curious creatures, sentients really. Some have tried to learn anything they could.
Alas no one knew where to start or where to end their search. Elusive as many fractals of nature, a tale of Wolfsayers passed into legend. Myths to be passed down from generation from generation, to teach children and others a lesson, though a latter crossed social circles throughout the ages, not one spins in the direction of the truth.
A lie is a lie no matter how it’s spun.
Spindles held no candles to those who have been misled. Vyctor and Edlen had heard all, from the tall tales of Wolfsayers coming out all during the full moon, and that they could rival the Vrakarthres in their ways, to the time they passed thru Hervoren where several knight errant lords and their disciples, who supplant the good names of the Wolfsayers, because of one depraved lunatic, as he drove himself mad with his lust for power. The latest tale was of Edlen’s parents, the Lord and Lady of Theranosse, Renieva and Edric Anlryn. How her mother couldn’t stomach the atrocities her little brother committed so she turned her gaze away, as multitudes were left alone to fend helplessly for themselves against his fists of iron, while her father is in over his head, and those where the kinder ones.
It didn’t take long for Vyctor’s hand was forced into action, each and every time, he defended her honor, and swallowed his anger when the rumors grew against him. Until one low life drunk spurned his unborn child.
When Edlen gave him the news, he felt a swell of pride burst at the seam and beyond another intricately and newly sown thread in a tapestry. It was then, he faltered in his resolve, whoever tries to insult him is welcome to do so despite how he feels, but if someone dared the same upon his lover and wife, and any child they brought into this life, they had better watch their step.
To face the ire of a slighted Wolfsayer was most unwise.
Rinsing his bloodied knuckles of the drunk’s blood from his hands, Vyctor grabbed a cloth nearest to him and tossed it on the unconscious man’s bloodied face. His nose and jaw broken in three places, the Lord Srielrian slipped out the front door without anyone to stop him or his wife from leaving the tavern. “Are you alright?” He asked, as he gently caressed her abdomen. “Did they raise a hand to you or the baby?”
Edlen shook her head, while she tended to her own injuries on their way out. “No, no one got a chance, they were dead before any of their strikes fell upon us, my love.” Enveloping his blistered hand in hers, she addressed him further. “Besides I wasn’t the one who threw the fallen knight errant lords across the tavern and out the door into the street.”
Just before he could say anything else, he felt a surge pulse against his hand like he was caught up in the outskirts away from the eye of the storm. “Did you feel that?” He asked, surprised by the force behind it was like a rogue tempest.
She smiled. “Of course, I did. She takes after both of us.” He heard her say. His wife thought they were having a daughter instead of a son. Many would argue the same old questions, how do you know it’s the latter, whether it is a son or daughter. But the Great Wolf of Srielrian, reveled in the idea of having a daughter, it didn’t matter to him so long as they were happy and healthy.
Now it was his turn to smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I would argue she will not take after both of us, she is her own force of nature to reckon with, and when she arrives… the stars themselves will fly across the heavens, in a veil of starlight to welcome her.” He said. Planting a gentle kiss where he last felt a kick, Vyctor took Edlen in his arms and left the tavern behind.
They had been married not long after the incident near the Norhainor Mountains, at least it didn’t feel that way to them. For nearly the entire year they have known each other, they grew closer. Gravity in its power seemed to draw them together, and with a sense of euphoria and a platonic air, they fell for one another.
Despite how many have spread their opinions, the lovebirds didn’t care. For within sight was the lives they wished to lead, and destinies were forever intertwined that glorious eventide, when Edlen in all but name eloped with him. She didn’t care for the life she held a court, nor did she care that her father thought her lover was no match for her.
Her mother, Lady Renieva knew her daughter well. She was just like her when she was her age, but in her heart, she knew that if they have decided to give her a grandchild, that one day, they’d be a force unlike anything the world has ever seen.
Not necessarily a bad thing, she thought. Whomever they are, they’ll keep this world on its toes. A great storm is coming and we best be ready when it does for this will be a rogue tempest.