Fifteen years later…
“It’s no trouble at all Falora, please.” Alkara smiles as she continues to at least try to reassure the aging farming matron. “You heard what Sengmar said, it’s the least we can do. Now please, go inside and get some rest.”
Falora gives her a watery smile. “Bless you both. And that Uncle of yours.” She nods to Alkara and Sengmar before heading back into the farmhouse.
Alkara watches her go. Wolves. Falora had said. Yeah. Alkara shakes her head. She doesn’t buy it for a second. Kierra’s up to something. She glances down the road and grimaces at the two men heading toward them. Speaking of wolves.
“Hey, Sengmar? Go ahead and start setting up those wards around the pen.”
The young human man stands from his crouch next to the pen and straightens his neat, pristinely clean clothes as he looks down the road. He squints for a few moments and then glances sharply at Alkara, the setting sun bringing out the distinctly fey-like red-orange gleam in his fair skin. “You think I’m going to let you talk to them alone? No way.”
“I won’t be alone! Guen’s right here.” She says lightly as her black panther gives her a look that says she agrees with Sengmar. Alkara returns the look in kind, “Thanks for the vote of confidence Guen.” She looks back at Sengmar with a shrug, “We’ll be fine!”
Sengmar rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, Alkara. Two big guys, each twice the size you are. There’s no way you’re going to try to turn it into a fight just to see if you can beat those odds.”
Alkara flashes him a mischievous smile, “If they wanna try it, they’re welcome to.” As she turns, the long braid of her brown hair flips over her shoulder and she feels that light spark of energy in her chest. The one that nudges her on, again and again, to pit herself against the exact things that people tell her she can’t do. Her smile widens as she decides how to confront the two men. “Hey boooyyys!” Alkara waves, picking the cheeriest caricature she can come up with. The one she reserves for bright, naive little girls in her stories. “What can we do for ya?”
She catches the smallest stutter in their pace and feels the weight of satisfaction in her chest. Already getting to them. She’s not surprised that the men don’t respond until they get closer.
“Alkara,” Fireg wrinkles his noise with displeasure, “I thought the smell was worse than usual.”
“Good to see you too Fireg.” Alkara says wryly, crossing her arms. “Still doing Kierra’s dirty work I see.”
Fireg smirks, “And yet somehow still cleaner than you. Some of us understand the value of loyalty. Not to mention bathing.”
“Loyalty given blindly and without question?” Alkara fires back, ignoring the jab about bathing. She’s heard it before. “Seems to me we’re trading one overlord for another.”
Gastin, all too often Fireg’s partner in crime, sneers, “As if. Kierra’s done more for this city and its people in ten years than those pampered parasites did in a hundred. It’s not her fault you can’t see the big picture.”
“Ohhh yes, the big picture.” Alkara lets out a derisive chuckle, “Which picture is that Gastin? The picture where we forget all about the fact that there are real people ‘in the way’ to justify getting what you want?” She cocks her head to one side and raises her eyebrows, “Is that the one you’re talking about?”
The looks on their faces harden. “Step aside Alkara,” Fireg says, “This doesn’t concern you. And it certainly doesn’t concern the Retrievers.”
Alkara puts a hand to her chest and opens her mouth in mock hurt, “Why, I would never deprive Kierra of what’s rightfully hers. And I’m not here on business. I’m simply here doing a favor for an old friend.” She looks at Gastin, exaggerating a pout, “Poor Falora here has had a wolf problem, ever since she couldn’t make the raised dues to the Northern Blackshaw Company. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Fireg glares at her, “You know we don’t. Now cut the crap and quit talkin’ like that.”
Alkara leans into the caricature even farther, clasping her hands in front of her chest and pitching her voice even higher, “But Fireg, none of the other farms nearby have had sheep go missing from wolves. No one hears any howling. And they’re all current on their payments. What ever could be the explanation for that?”
“I said quit it.” Fireg grinds out, his jaw clenched. “Get out of the way, or I’ll make you.”
Alkara throws her head back and laughs and draws her dagger. She gestures with it for them to approach, her voice lowering as she drops the affected tone. “I hope you’re better than you were the last time you tried.”
Fireg growls and pulls out his sword, with Gastin following suit. Together they advance on her and Guen. A low growl emanates from Guenwyvar as she sinks lower to the ground, ready to pounce.
Boy they look angry. Alkara feels what might be a mix between anticipation and fear tingling in her chest. This might hurt. But that feeling nudges her forward, an eagerness to test herself against these odds. She bends her knees and starts to shift her weight from foot to foot while she adjusts the grip on her dagger. Uncle Iro is always telling her she needs to practice her melee combat–
“Stop!” Sengmar calls out from behind.
Alkara freezes but doesn’t take her eyes off the two big men.
Sengmar calmly strides between the four of them, looking every bit the part of a noble with his neat clothes, fair skin, and well-groomed, short-cropped, chestnut hair. “I believe you’ll find this will cover Falora’s missing payments,” He holds up a pouch that clinks a little from the movement. “If you’ll agree to stop harassing her, she’ll be able to make her payments in the future.”
“Sengmar!” Alkara stamps her foot indignantly.
“Please, Alkara.” Sengmar implores. He looks at Fireg and Gastin pointedly, “Take the money. Leave us be. Or not even I will stop Guenwyvar from mauling you beyond recognition.”
Fireg sneers as he steps forward and sheaths his sword. He reaches to grab Sengmar by the collar, but by the time he grasps Sengmar’s tunic, Alkara slips between the two of them and puts her dagger to Fireg’s throat.
“Release him. Or die.” She says with deadly quiet, green eyes flashing.
Fireg looks over at Gastin, who looks very worried about the growling panther that has only crept closer. He glares back down at Alkara, “Do it.” He says with a quick thrust of his chin and a goading look on his face.
Alkara’s eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow with confusion, “Seriously?”
The sneer springs back to his face, “You don’t have the nerve–“
“Ah, Fireg, I wouldn’t test her on that.” Sengmar warns.
“Shut up you inbred twi–” Fireg’s eyes go wide and he gasps as Alkara draws her blade across his throat. He releases his grip on Sengmar’s tunic and stumbles backward to a knee. Sengmar sighs. He touches the orange crystal on his belt with his two forefingers and sweeps his hand upward. He speaks as he gestures. The words sound disjointed and hang in the air. Alkara has given up trying to understand them. Where his hand passes, the blood spatter lifts from his clothes. He straightens his tunic with an attentive gaze.
“Fireg!” Gastin yells. But as he starts to move toward his companion, Guenwyvar pounces with a snarl and tackles him, pinning him to the ground. Her claws peaking out from her paws. Enough to be dangerous, but not gouging the man.
Alkara walks over to Fireg, fury in her eyes and backhands him across the face. He falls to the ground, clutching his throat, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
She grabs the neck of his now bloodied tunic and jerks him toward her. “Apologize.” She growls.
Fireg’s eyes dart back and forth, his panicked mind desperate for air.
“I said apologize!” Alkara roars.
Fireg manages to nod and shift his gaze to Sengmar and choke out a pitiful, “Sorry.”
Sengmar nods, “Thank you. Now Alkara, would you please put him out of his misery?”
Fireg’s eyes widen as he looks fearfully back at Alkara. She scowls and mutters, “Fine.” She grabs him by the ear and mutters a quick prayer. As Fireg takes in a shuddering breath though his repaired windpipe, she throws him to the ground and takes a few steps back.
Sengmar walks over and squats down next to Fireg with the bag of coin, “Are you ready to accept the money now?”
Fireg hurriedly nods.
Sengmar smiles, “Splendid. Here is the payment your employer requires. Please see that she gets it, that Falora’s account is recorded as current, and all will be well.”
“Tch!” Alkara rolls her eyes in disbelief.
Fireg grabs the bag and quickly scrambles to his feet. He heads back toward Three Rivers, not even waiting for his companion.
“You can let him go now, Guen.” Alkara waves a hand with barely concealed disappointment.
Gastin whimpers as Guen slowly crawls off of him and he scrambles to follow Fireg.
Once they’re well out of ear-shot, Alkara whirls on Sengmar. “What in the Depths was that all about? All will be well? Kierra doesn’t need more money! Now that she’s gotten away with it, she’s just going to do it again! That’s how it always works!”
“It will keep the peace for a little while longer, Alkara, and allow poor Falora to rest, recover, and hopefully find a long-term solution for this problem.” Sengmar calmly meets her gaze.
Alkara grits her teeth. Sengmar had long since learned to ignore her temper. It infuriates her. “But where’d the money come from anyway? We know Falora couldn’t afford the–” Alkara cuts herself off and takes a step closer to Sengmar, “You didn’t.”
Sengmar shrugs, “I had some saved up. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“But your spells. Those dwarven traders are coming into town any day now. Didn’t you need to buy that special ink?”
Sengmar chuckles, “Are you suggesting that ink is more important than Falora’s peace of mind?”
Alkara scowls, “No, of course not, but you didn’t have to-“
“It was that or a fight, Alkara, and you wouldn’t have walked out of that unscathed. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Sengmar finishes quietly.
Alkara puts her hands on her hips and frowns at Sengmar. She’d just have to figure out how to get him some of those components herself. Maybe she could call it an early birthday present. Or… a late one. Had she remembered to get him something last time? She shakes her head. She’s terrible with these sorts of things. “Well. There’s nothing to be done about it now.” She turns to survey the sheep pen. “I suppose we should still stake this place out for at least a night or two. Even though I’m pretty sure those ‘wolves’ won’t be back.”
“Yeah. Probably not.”
There’s something in Sengmar’s voice that catches Alkara’s attention. She glances at him as he turns away, catching a strangely wistful smile. What’s that all about?
But then it’s gone. Sengmar chuckles to himself, “I guess I can still set up those perimeter wards, just in case. Oh, here.” Once again fingering the crystal at his belt, he repeats the arcane words from earlier, and the blood splatter disappears from Alkara’s clothes and skin.
Alkara snorts. “Thanks. Though I still don’t get why Uncle Iro put me on this job instead of Chiron. Having some traps handy would have been nice. And he wouldn’t have picked a fight.”
Sengmar, already turning to prepare the wards of protection, shrugs noncommittally.
Not that they needed them. After the third uneventful night in a row, they assure Falora that the problem is solved, and to come find them if the wolves happened to return. To thank them, Falora sends them home with some fresh lamb, which Sengmar is particularly excited about, since it’s Uncle Iro’s turn to cook by his reckoning. Uncle Iro is the best cook in the family.
Though Sengmar really isn’t that far behind, Alkara thinks. Not that he’d ever accept that. Too much of a perfectionist. Which, in his defense, is important when it comes to the arcane arts.
Low on sleep, and operating somewhat dazedly, Alkara doesn’t even really register the job she picks up from Charlotte when they get back. The guild hall is on the way home, and Charlotte always has work for her.
“Alone?” Sengmar asks quietly as they walk out of the hall and head home.
“Huh?” Alkara looks at him, confused.
“No one gets sent out into the Wastes alone Alkara, not even to the old parts of the city. It’s just not done. If it’s not guild law it might as well be.”
Alkara furrows her brow and pulls out her directive again. “I mean it’s just a find and retrieve mission. And it looks like this thing is some sort of small monkey. That’s probably why. No point in spending the extra money if you don’t have to. And besides,” Alkara grins at him, “It’s probably because Guen will be there. Not technically alone. She’ll take good care of me. Wontcha girl?” She smiles down at her black panther, who merely snuffs in response. As if there was even a question.
Sengmar gives her a frustrated look with a short growl of concern.
Alkara rolls her eyes, “I know, I know. I’ll be careful. You worry too much Sengmar.”
“Maybe.” Sengmar says stubbornly, “But it paid off last time.”
“Did it though?” Alkara teases with a grin as she stuffs her mission details back into her pack.
Sengmar glares at her, “I wasn’t party to treason, so yes, I’d say it did.”
“Yeah, yeah,” She elbows Sengmar playfully in the ribs, “But you can’t keep saying it paid off last time with how many times you’ve been wrong since then.” She chuckles.
“I’m not convinced I’ve gotten it wrong since then. There’s no proof either way.” Sengmar says a little stiffly, desperately trying to smother a smile. “And besides, it’s better than your method of pissing every one off.” He tugs lightly at the end of Alkara’s long braid.
She slaps at him, “Why! Master Sengmar, I never. Dost thou kiss thine mother with that mouth?” She declaims in a pompous, affected tone.
Sengmar snorts. “Good lord Alkara, please. Your impersonation of my old nanny is easily one your worst.”
“Old nanny??” Alkara laughs. “I was going for your sister.”
Sengmar just stares at her incredulously before he bursts into laughter.
“Shut up!” Alkara’s face burns with mild embarrassment, still laughing. “It’s not like I’ve ever even met your sister. Give me a break!”
They laugh together for a few more moments before they both fall into an amicable silence for the rest of the walk home.
Sengmar opens the door for her, and Alkara rolls her eyes. “What a gentleman!” She says in her apparently snobby nanny voice. Sengmar snorts.
“Good news guys! We’ve got lamb for dinner tonight!” Alkara says as she walks into the front room. She tosses the package onto the table as Uncle Iro comes in from the second room.
The elf looks just as he did so many years ago in the forest. The ashen grey skin held a tightness. “Ahhh fresh lamb.” He muses happily, “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything with fresh lamb. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Alkara,” Dre, calls from her cot, her pale hands and nimble fingers working her red hair into the impossibly perfect braid she usually wears in a bun at the base of her head, “Did Charlotte give you a job for tomorrow? You’re not on our assignment.”
Alkara shrugs, “Yeah, some monkey stole something and I gotta go get it back.”
Dre furrows her brow, “But…”
Alkara raises an eyebrow at her.
Dre twists her mouth, “Well we’ve got one of the most active patrols. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send Chiron or Sengmar on a retrieval mission and keep you… you know, where you work best?”
“For once, Dre’s being diplomatic.” Sengmar says as he pulls his boots off. “You know you’re best at taking things out. Capturing something alive? It’s not your thing.”
“Ten silver Wreaths says she doesn’t bring it back alive.” Chiron says.
Alkara scowls, “I am plenty capable of bringing things back alive, thank you very much.”
“Of course you are,” Iroshi says, dressing the lamb, “But Dre and Sengmar’s point is still valid. You work best in a team and on the offensive. Non-violence isn’t your strong suit, especially from what I’ve heard on the streets the last couple days about a certain Blackshaw Company employee…”
“HAH. That’s putting it nicely Uncle.” Chiron calls from his cot, fiddling with something Alkara can’t quite make out from her’s.
Alkara growls in exasperation, “It. Is. A MONKEY. I don’t need violence to capture a damn monkey. I’ll be FINE.”