Four Horsemen: Chapter 4 Part 1 of 4 (Patreon)

Chapter 4:

The inside of the inn was barely better than the outside. Saw dust lay thick upon the floor, stained with food and drink.

“What you want!” A woman yelled from behind the bar, another crossbow in her hands.

“We’re looking for some rooms,” Desari said back.

The woman used the counter to aim her crossbow and lit a candle against the wall.

Petor blinked against the light as she focused on them. She wore a roughly repaired dress with her hair pulled up and away into a severe bun. Her face lined and worn from a hard life.

“Rooms?” She squinted at the group, her frown opened into shock and then a smile, putting the crossbow under the counter. “You’re the ones that saved Ingrid and little Annie! Percy told me how you cut down the bastards in the street no less! Animals.” She snarled, shaking her head, covering for her fear. “Say ten coppers a night and five for meals. Won’t find no better in the city now we’re under siege.” She crossed her arms.

“We’ll take it,” Mya said, putting down a silver coin on the counter.

The woman took it, bit it and held it up to her lantern, disappearing into her bosom, as she reached under the counter and pulled out two keys. “Number four and five, upstairs.” She pointed at a set of stairs at the side of the room.

“Thank you,” Mya took the keys, handing one to Petor and leading the way up the stairs and to their room.

“Come on,” Desari waved the others to join her and Mya

as she entered the room. It was simple, with two beds and lockable chests built into the floor.

Desari moved to the window sill looking out of the slatted window into the street beyond. People looked around, but most kept going on with their day to day.

She pulled out a stool, positioning so she could keep the window in her peripheral and see the entire room and sat on it as Mya launched herself at her bed.

“You’ll get blood on the sheets.”

Mya smiled sheepishly and quickly moved to keep her bloodied arm off of the bed.

Petor moved to sit on the chest on the bed nearest the window, rubbing his face, he sniffed his shoulder grimacing.

Valter closed the door behind him, moving to face the room and keeping the door in his sight-line. She saw it in their movements, the ways their eyes bounced around the room when they’d entered. Each of them, knowing or not were fighters.

Desari leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, feeling like a wrung out towel.

“Do one of you know how to sow up a wound?” Petor asked.

Three hands rose.

“I call dibs!” Mya pulled out a fishing net needle. “Oops wrong one.” She checked through her storage devices, pulling out one suited for humans not giants with flourish.

“Maybe I should patch you up first?” Petor asked.

“Pfft, I’m all good, look watch!” Mya eagerly stripped her bandages and showed her wound. She closed her eyes, white tendrils appeared in the wound like strings and drew the wound closed, sealing upwards as sweat beaded off of her face and she went even paler.

“Now that’s some aerobic exercise.” She forced a laugh and ran her thumb through the blood, showing her arm perfectly fine as she waved her fingers.

“What was that?” Valter asked.

“Fuse flesh spell.”

“Can you use that on others?”

“I think so, but I am real tired right now, cheaper to use on myself,” Mya shrugged. Then brandished her needle with all too wide eyes. “Stitches!”

Petor sighed, as if indulging a child, instead of getting his shoulder put back together, offering it up to her. “Please.”

She eagerly jumped onto the bed behind him, the straw mattress crunching under her knees as she pulled the bandage off, humming happily to herself.

“Valter?” Desari asked.

“I can wait, Petor’s is deeper and limits his motion more, I can also feel mine closing up.” He showed his arm, straining an inner light backlit his hidden tattoos and his veins, making them black against the red inner light.

“So got some self-healing,” She said.

Petor grunted, his eyes flashing green as green lines traced from across his body in unnatural veins, focusing on his shoulder, closing most of the wound and pushing out blackened blood.

“Cool!” Mya cleaned it away as the green lines and eyes faded, leaving Petor drawn and sunken.

“I’ve overextended myself I can feel my power is partially burnt out, its going to take a long rest for me to recover. Ow!”

“Don’t be a baby, you nearly took away all the fun,” Mya’s pout turned to a pleased smile as she sowed up Petor’s arm.

“Might be best to let your wounds heal naturally, we don’t know when we might need our power,” Desari clasped one hand over the other, a chill of excitement running through her body, remembering the thrill of power channelled through her.

She raised her gaze, picturing the faceless obsidian armor of green etchings and flames, rider’s cloak snapping out at the enemy as Petor’s spear cut through the enemy. Valter’s armor, and swords, threaded with molten runes that traced his own tattoos, his eyes embers of the world’s core. Mya, of pale skin, burnt out eyes and blackened mouth, a pirate broken free of death’s embrace.

Desari rested her back against the wall, casting Divine Truth with her left hand by her hip, hidden from the others. Time we got some answers.

“So, who are you all?” She watched them all.

“I used to be a knight to the Veldian Kingdom, got fused to my armor, king bound me in oaths so I became his tool. Fought for him till I was killed,” Valter said. True, but there be more to this story.

“I’m a lich,” Petor flinched away from Mya, and not from the needle. “Will you stop wriggling!” She worked the needle. “And I’m a trader.” She kept her head down, focusing more on the Petor’s wounds.

“Petor?”

The man grimaced, eyes boring a hole in the floor.

“I was a farmer’s son was raised as one too. Joined the army, then the ranks of the champion initiates. We carried out Quinli’s missions, to maintain peace and purity in the land.” His eyes flickered. “I guess I never really knew the goddess Quinli and her church as well as I thought.”

“You still a believer?” Mya asked.

Petor breathed in a  shuddering breath. “I don’t rightly know anymore.”

Also true.

“And yourself Desari Haker?” Valter asked.

“I’m a fighter, but I learned to be a mage.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth, though who would expect a scorpion of the Ilus Empire. “What about your skills and abilities? I can create potions and I am versed in magic, the sword and bows.”

“I have mastery in nearly all weapons, can cast fire related spells and I am a decent smith,” Valter said.

“I know how to cook somewhat and grow plants. I can use a slingshot and a spear,” Petor said.

“What about that thing that suck’s the life force out of people?” Mya asked.

“I have the ability to draw in the life force of the people I kill,” Petor’s voice grew quieter, silently tensing.

“I am skilled with firearms, the cutlass and rituals,” Mya said, tying up the stitches.

The sound of several rocks hitting one another and a flare of light sounded outside the window. More rocks striking the wall, a fire pot’s flames covering a section.

“All done,” Mya patted Petor’s other shoulder and took up her own seat. “So, how are we going to go about getting out of here?”

“Well I don’t think we can really sneak over the wall,” Desari said.