Leybound Chapter Forty-One | Weeping Peak (Patreon)

Gerrard Price was thrown to the floor at Myam-tal’s feet. Cold, beaten, and half drowned. He retched, vomiting rank river water. 

“He killed Tarir-del, my lord, and mutilated him with his own blade.” The Faelen lieutenant's voice was tight, and his eyes were bloodshot from the horror of what he had seen and the tears he had wept for his captain. He aimed a kick at Price's ribs, which knocked him flat onto the floor. 

“What did he do to Tarir-del exactly? Do not skip a single detail,” Myam-tal asked, examining Tarir-del's blade. 

The explanation brought a small smile to Myam-tals thin lips. “Horrifying, an outrage,” he said with the barest hint of a smile. “And what of your mission? Where are the emissary and the wikkan spy?” Myam-tal looked around as if he had possibly overlooked the two prisoners that should be before him. 

“They escaped, my lord, but we are watching the roads, and my troops will man the walls day and night. The prisoner, my lord, I wish to kill him myself. For the honor of my house.” 

“Yes, of course you do, of course.”

“Thank you, my lord; I shall take him at once and hang him from the walls.”

Myam-tal held up a long-fingered hand to stall the three other officers who had stepped forward to seize Price.

“I wish to question the leybound personally. Surely you will stay and eat something? I have had refreshments prepared in the banquet hall. You won’t insult my hospitality, I hope.” 

The leutenant glared at Price and spoke with forced civility. “My Lord, I must secure the city and see to my troops. We have been in the wilds for days, and we have lost our great captain quite cruelly.” 

“Your men have been taken care of. Am I not a gracious host? Now eat. I will question the leybound; you may pick up what is left of him on the way out.” 

The Faelen officers were led into the mansion by a liveried butler, and Myam-tal rested his eyes on Price, Tarir-dels long Faelen blade still in his hands. 

“Why did you kill Tarir-del?” 

“He was my enemy and your rival, you should be thanking me.”

Myam-tals shadow fell on Price, and he looked up to see the sword hilt being offered to him. He took the blade and Myam-tal bid him to stand with a gesture. “Come with me.”

They walked on expansive marble floors through tasteful rooms. There was subtle beauty everywhere, and it was not far from Price's own family estate, perhaps more gaudy, the stone work poorer. 

There was no toasting in the banquet room. No clinking of glasses, no rattle of cutlery, or murmur of conversation. Three of the Faelen officers were dead, their blood pooling on the polished wood of the table. 

The lieutenant was on his knees, being held from behind by two strong guards. His face was a mass of bruises and he mumbled through broken lips. 

Myam-tal smiled again. “You know, there is a curious tale of a captain who was banished from the mountains to the east. They said he mutilated his enemies by carving a mountain on their faces; there was a name for it.” 

“The weeping peak,” Price said, his voice low.

“Yes, I would very much like to see it.”

When the screams of the lieutenant had been silenced, Myam-tal sat down next to his corpse and began selecting food. “Will you be staying in the city?”

“You would let me go?” Price asked, his eye flicking to the sturdy guards on the door. 

“Of course. I hold no grudge against you. I saved your life when the hedron was activated, and you have destroyed my enemy in a most pleasing way. However, if you were inclined to stay, then I have work to do. The emissary will come, and the wikkan spy, and you will catch them for me.” 

“And in return?” Price asked. 

“In return, I will help you track down the enemies that you know about, like Ritta Kerne, and the ones you do not, like those that created the leybound.”

Price felt his pulse quicken. “What would you know of it?”

The Faelen know many things; help me, and I will share this information with you.”

“I want men, not Faelen, men.” 

“You will have what you need.”