days before we managed to find them. And I’m still trying
to air the stench from my silk cushions.”
Hubert snorted.
“Trolls? Really, I find that hard to —”
“And why do your
vineyards never scorch?” D’Mere interjected. “Why have my forests been burned
when she hasn’t so much as bruised a single one of your grapes?”
Hubert didn’t
seem to have an answer for that. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish
gasping for air. Little indignant sounds escaped from between his lips while
the others gutted him.
“An excellent
point, Countess,” Reginald said. His eyes glinted as he moved in for the kill.
“Yes, I do believe I’m beginning to see a pattern: every time Hubert fails, she
comes blazing from the mountains, breathing fire down our necks —”
“And on our
fields,” Gilderick added. He fixed his dark-pitted stare on Hubert, who looked
quickly in the other direction.
“Precisely,”
Reginald agreed. He jabbed a finger at Hubert. “If I didn’t know any better,
I’d say you made a pact with the barbarian.”
“I’ve done no
such thing!” he shrieked.
Reginald smirked
through his goatee. “I’d like to see you prove it.”
Hubert licked
his dry lips as his eyes shifted around the table. “She’s — she’s dead,”
he said finally.
The other four
sat a little straighter.
“You’ve killed
her?” Sahar made no attempt to mask the skepticism in his voice.
“Yes. Well
— good as. What I’ve started, the mountains will finish,” Hubert
continued quickly before Reginald could cut in. “My scouts found her, wounded
by a blow on the head that no human could have survived. I could’ve fit my fist
in the hole it made. Anyways, she fled into the mountains. There’s nothing up
there but rocks and trees. I wager the forest took her in a couple of hours.”
His news silenced
the others. D’Mere pursed her full lips. Reginald tugged on his goatee. Sahar’s
jeweled fingers tapped furiously on the table. Gilderick stared.
A moment passed
and Hubert began to squirm. He turned to Crevan. “I hope, Your Majesty, that
this news eases your worries.”
He slid his
boots off the table and assumed a more Kingly pose. A carefully-practiced
expression of concern masked his face. “My friends, it pains me to hear you
fight each other. After all, did we not conquer the whisperers side by side?”
They nodded.
“Did we not
share in the reward and together bring this Kingdom into glory?”
They nodded
again, more cautiously.
“Then remember
that our bickering only gives the enemy a foothold.” At his command the steward
reentered the room, balancing a tray of six silver goblets on one palm. Crevan
served the Five himself, pouring them all a generous amount of his finest wine.
“Today, my friends, is a day for celebration. Earl Hubert has just informed me
of the death of my most hated enemy.” He raised his glass. “And he shall be
rewarded for it.”
Hubert shot a
smug look at the other four.
“To the Earl of
the Unforgivable Mountains!” Crevan declared. He brought his cup almost to his
lips and paused, watching as Hubert slurped down his entire goblet.
The other four
never moved. They knew better than to drink when the King didn’t.
Crevan watched
as Hubert’s eyes bugged out and he began to claw at his throat. “Though I hate
to admit it, your attack nearly did the trick. She would have died, all alone
— only there’s more than just rocks and trees where she fled.” He had to
raise his voice to be heard over the noise of Hubert’s choking. “It turns out
there’s a miserable, nothing of a village halfway up the mountains … and they
found her.”
Foam gathered at
the corner of Hubert’s lips, his watery eyes grew emptier by the second. At
Crevan’s word, two guards entered the room to take his body away.
“One moment.” He
stopped the guards and pulled a gold medallion off Hubert’s neck — a task
made more difficult by his many wobbling chins. He held
to air the stench from my silk cushions.”
Hubert snorted.
“Trolls? Really, I find that hard to —”
“And why do your
vineyards never scorch?” D’Mere interjected. “Why have my forests been burned
when she hasn’t so much as bruised a single one of your grapes?”
Hubert didn’t
seem to have an answer for that. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish
gasping for air. Little indignant sounds escaped from between his lips while
the others gutted him.
“An excellent
point, Countess,” Reginald said. His eyes glinted as he moved in for the kill.
“Yes, I do believe I’m beginning to see a pattern: every time Hubert fails, she
comes blazing from the mountains, breathing fire down our necks —”
“And on our
fields,” Gilderick added. He fixed his dark-pitted stare on Hubert, who looked
quickly in the other direction.
“Precisely,”
Reginald agreed. He jabbed a finger at Hubert. “If I didn’t know any better,
I’d say you made a pact with the barbarian.”
“I’ve done no
such thing!” he shrieked.
Reginald smirked
through his goatee. “I’d like to see you prove it.”
Hubert licked
his dry lips as his eyes shifted around the table. “She’s — she’s dead,”
he said finally.
The other four
sat a little straighter.
“You’ve killed
her?” Sahar made no attempt to mask the skepticism in his voice.
“Yes. Well
— good as. What I’ve started, the mountains will finish,” Hubert
continued quickly before Reginald could cut in. “My scouts found her, wounded
by a blow on the head that no human could have survived. I could’ve fit my fist
in the hole it made. Anyways, she fled into the mountains. There’s nothing up
there but rocks and trees. I wager the forest took her in a couple of hours.”
His news silenced
the others. D’Mere pursed her full lips. Reginald tugged on his goatee. Sahar’s
jeweled fingers tapped furiously on the table. Gilderick stared.
A moment passed
and Hubert began to squirm. He turned to Crevan. “I hope, Your Majesty, that
this news eases your worries.”
He slid his
boots off the table and assumed a more Kingly pose. A carefully-practiced
expression of concern masked his face. “My friends, it pains me to hear you
fight each other. After all, did we not conquer the whisperers side by side?”
They nodded.
“Did we not
share in the reward and together bring this Kingdom into glory?”
They nodded
again, more cautiously.
“Then remember
that our bickering only gives the enemy a foothold.” At his command the steward
reentered the room, balancing a tray of six silver goblets on one palm. Crevan
served the Five himself, pouring them all a generous amount of his finest wine.
“Today, my friends, is a day for celebration. Earl Hubert has just informed me
of the death of my most hated enemy.” He raised his glass. “And he shall be
rewarded for it.”
Hubert shot a
smug look at the other four.
“To the Earl of
the Unforgivable Mountains!” Crevan declared. He brought his cup almost to his
lips and paused, watching as Hubert slurped down his entire goblet.
The other four
never moved. They knew better than to drink when the King didn’t.
Crevan watched
as Hubert’s eyes bugged out and he began to claw at his throat. “Though I hate
to admit it, your attack nearly did the trick. She would have died, all alone
— only there’s more than just rocks and trees where she fled.” He had to
raise his voice to be heard over the noise of Hubert’s choking. “It turns out
there’s a miserable, nothing of a village halfway up the mountains … and they
found her.”
Foam gathered at
the corner of Hubert’s lips, his watery eyes grew emptier by the second. At
Crevan’s word, two guards entered the room to take his body away.
“One moment.” He
stopped the guards and pulled a gold medallion off Hubert’s neck — a task
made more difficult by his many wobbling chins. He held
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