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Princess Serena
The Shanty, Notting Thicket
WODELL
Serena careened down the alley unsteadily, the only sure thing about her was her hold on the jug of grog.
She approached the spent bottles of whiskey farthest from the troll and did not waste much time assessing if they had a taste left (none) or if they were entirely empty (all).
Things had, of late, hit a critical stage.
The cases of liquor stacked in the doorframe of the building the troll guarded had run low.
And she had noted the troll not once, but several times, eyeing and even sometimes moving to the lock on the door and tugging on it or flicking it in frustration.
She also had noted that he seemed to be on the lookout for something.
This, she suspected, being his benefactor, who he did not know would never be returning.
The troll was growing restless.
Fortunately, True had sent word that it was time for her crew to move.
She could only assume the arrests had been made, that blow delivered to The Goddess-Damned Bloody Rising.
Now, she hoped she and Gal and Brix would deliver another.
There were ten of True’s men as well as Tor in their little room through the maze of alleyways, waiting for Serena, Gal and Brix to get into the building. They could have overcome the troll, but if the coin wasn’t behind that locked door, they didn’t want a big hullabaloo to indicate they were in search of it and had homed in on the Shanty.
However, if what they thought was inside was indeed inside, the soldiers and Tor would secure it until troops could be sent in to reclaim what was in it.
The time was nigh.
And this was it.
Serena moved closer to the troll, already noting she had his attention.
It was not the first time she had assessed his spent bottles. In fact, it was not the first time she had assessed the spent bottles she was now assessing.
This did not matter.
All the troll knew was that she was a drunkard. As such, she would not remember what she had done five minutes ago, much less the day before.
She got closer but stopped and looked at him with blinking eyes, squatting but still swaying.
She shuffled ever closer, but he did not move, just kept watching her.
She picked up some bottles, held them to the sun, set them down. More, she held up, sniffed at their mouths, set them aside, shuffled closer, all the while dragging her jug.
She came ever closer, and he pushed away from his lounge against the wall.
He did not arise, but he wanted her to know he was alert.
She scuttled back and eyed the lone crate behind him that had been at least five stacked when she had discovered him and the building he guarded.
Cautiously, she waddled closer.
“Fanshy a shag?” she slurred.
His deep-set black eyes at the sides of his pronounced nose looked around the matted locks falling in his face, this look aimed at her body.
“Mm?” she asked, shuffling closer. “Wanna have shum fun?”
His fangs moved against his upper lip.
Serena came ever closer, securing her grip on the jug.
“C’mon, big boy, les ’af shum fun.”
He sniffed her way, slightly recoiled.
And she moved.
Fast.
Coming up and swinging around, she brained him with the heavy, earthenware jug.
He fell sideways, and she threw the crock at him with all her might.
It hit him in the jaw, and he slammed down to his side.
With that, she dashed around him, took hold of his last crate, dragged it from its alcove and gripped it.
She then lifted it, turned and ran.
The troll snorted his fury, she sensed him shifting, and she prayed to the goddess he would leave his post and give chase.
She did not go fast, she did not go slow, and she did not move with coordination.
She was a drunken wench in the Shanty stealing whiskey from a troll, struggling against her inebriation and the weight of the crate.
She needed to be this, take him elsewhere and find ways to keep him occupied, for Gal told her if the lock on the door of that building was easy, it would take less than a minute to open. If it was difficult, it would take more akin to five.
And at what was found inside, it would take another five for Brix to swing rooftop to rooftop to get whatever the word was to Tor.
But they would not be able to get to it if she could not distract the troll.
She nearly cried out her relief when she heard him lumbering behind her.
As she had never dealt with trolls, she did not, regrettably, know how fast they moved.
So, when he caught her with his claws in the back of her tattered gown and took her off her feet, she was surprised.
She tossed the crate up and out, and it crashed to the cobbles.
Glass could be heard breaking.
Then she was tossed, and she grunted in pain when she landed hard against a wall right before the troll roared his fury so loud, if there was any glass in the panes of the dwellings around her, it would have shaken.
She landed in a crouch on her feet, got herself in hand, and watched the troll tear off the top of the crate.
Apparently, what was inside was not salvageable for his head turned her way, and his large mouth opened to emit another roar.
Oh, shite.
He was enraged.
How long had they been gone?
Two minutes?
Three?
She surged up to make a getaway at the same time lead him away from where Gal and Brix were doing their work.
But she got not a step in before she was grabbed again by her gown at the back. She heard a rending of fabric but ignored it, endeavoring to twist her body out of his hold to gain her feet.
She could fight on her feet.
She could run on her feet.
She could not do either dangling in the air.
Alas, she was not that way for long for she again was thrown with some power against a wall.
She felt the impact throughout her body.
However, she was prepared this time. Thus, she landed light, head up, aware, and was able to duck a swipe of the troll’s large hand. A swipe, that if it had landed, would likely have sent her staggering several feet and who knew what damage it would have done to her body.
Serena ducked again when he swiped the other way, this time scuttling out from between him and the wall.
She did not have time to get a hand on the dagger in her boot. She only had time to dodge two more blows before, when his torso was twisted, she raced beyond him at his other side, doing this away from the building he had guarded for so long.
He gave chase, and in the now, Serena did not bother to appear inebriated and ungainly.
She could not go so fast she would escape, and he would give up and return.
She absolutely did not go slow.
She shunted into an alleyway she knew was a wynd.
But he surprised her again by catching up with her, nearly grabbing hold on her, so she was forced to make a quick turn.
Sadly, doing this took her down a close.
And at the dead end of it, she knew she’d have to turn, stand and fight.
This she did.
Doing a whirl with her arm and fist in position, she caught him in his starkly protruding jaw.
She did not know if he felt pain, though his head snapped around.
She did know she felt pain, as his jaw felt like it was made of iron.
She ignored that and landed another blow to his jaw, but he was ready for it this time and shook it off instantly.
Serena then switched tactics, pivoted to her side, putting her weight in her left leg, and kicking out with her right, into his stomach.
He did not even expel air at her strike, and when she adjusted her aim to kick him in the groin, he caught her ankle and twisted it viciously.
In order for him not to break it, she flung her body in the direction her ankle was going, which meant she hit the ground on her shoulder with a body-wracking thud.
But she immediately swung about with her left leg, landing a whack to his temple.
He grunted at that.
She was heartened by that.
Thus, she drew back her left leg and caught him full in the nose with her heel.
He fell back, still with a hold on her ankle, so she was dragged back when he went.
She engaged her stomach muscles to reach to her left boot for her dagger when he made it plain that he’d had enough.
She knew this when he used her ankle to shake her bodily, his strength such she lost control of her frame and her head cracked on the cobbles.
As she blinked away stars, he let go of her ankle to grasp onto her hips and tow her to him.
She was up.
He was up.
And then she was slammed to the wall at the end of the close so hard, her breath left her.
Holding her there with his body, he was clawing at her skirts, thin streams of saliva dribbling through his fangs.
Well then.
Apparently, he’d picked now to have some fun.
However, that would not be happening.
She landed as many blows as she could as powerfully as she could in this position, at his jaw, temple, cheekbone, neck and throat.
He grew impatient with her endeavors and shared this when he snapped at her with his teeth, bursts of slobber slapping her in the face.
Her legs were astride his hips, she yanked up her left knee, reaching for her dagger, and screaming in his face, “Bloody no!”
And then something else splattered her face so violently, she blinked against it.
When she opened her eyes, the body that had her pinned to the wall started listing.
This was because it had no head.
She fell to her feet as it thudded to the ground and that was when she saw Tor in the alley, two of True’s guard behind him.
Both Tor’s hands were wound about the hilt of his broadsword.
Through the blood and drool streaming down her face, she looked down at the body of the troll, its head resting, mouth still in full sneer, some four feet away.
She lifted her hands, swiped the wet from about her eyes, and looked back to Tor.
“Well, that was expedient,” she drawled.
“We don’t have such creatures in my land,” he told her. “And I did not fancy figuring out what it would take to subdue him.”
She studied the Valerian king, and at what she saw, she said quietly, “He does not leave behind a wife and children who depend on him, Tor.”
It took him a moment before he jerked up his chin, took out a handkerchief and offered the snowy cloth to her.
She shook her head, bent double and used her tatty skirts to clear her face.
As she straightened, she saw Tor wipe the blood from his blade before scabbarded it, dropping the cloth to the cobbles and looking to her.
“Right,” he stated shortly. “Do you wish to see what a very large stash of coin looks like?”
“It’s there?” she whispered.
He nodded. “It’s there.”
She could not stop it. Suddenly it was affixed to her face.
A large smile.
Tor’s eyes flashed with humor as his lips twitched then he tipped his head toward the alley behind him.
They made haste back to the building where that troll had spent much of his time, perhaps unwittingly (though it mattered not now if it was willful or other) a conspirator in treason.
The closed door was now guarded by two of True’s soldiers, two more patrolled the alley (that she could see) and one had his bow at the ready on the roof.
She and Tor walked directly to the door.
Serena opened it and stepped inside.
There were several lanterns lit, but they didn’t do much to dispel the dim of the place.
Regardless, there were small and large trunks scattered everywhere, some of their lids opened, these exposing the contents within, and on the edge of one, Brix sat, flipping and catching a coin in one hand.
“We were remiss in not asking True if there was a reward,” he joked.
“I need no money,” Gal stated, strolling to the chest on which Brix sat, leaning against it and crossing his feet at the ankle. “I will simply gorge on the heaps of gnomish fanny that is going to be thrown at me as the Great Gnome Hero who saved the realm’s treasury.”
“Oh right, there is that,” Brix muttered.
“What’s mixed with the blood all over your face?” Gal asked her.
Apparently, she hadn’t been thorough with her skirts.
“Slobber,” Serena answered.
“Blimey,” Gal muttered, making a face.
“It appears our jobs were much more fun,” Brix remarked, then he flipped the gold coin he was tossing across the space her way.
She flashed out a hand and caught it.
Serena then looked to her crew, her boys…
Her friends.
And she burst out laughing.
The first thing she wanted to do when she entered Birchlire Castle was go direct to a bath.
What she did not want to do (until perhaps later), was be summoned to the king’s informal study to receive True’s gratitude for recovering what was left of Wodell’s treasury that Carrington had stolen (and it was not all that had been stolen, obviously, but it was quite a lot and came with large tomes in which an accounting of the expenditures had been made, with coded notes, which, decoded, could lead to evidence of treason and more arrests).
But this, it would seem, was what she had no choice but to do when she, Gal, Brix and Tor arrived at the castle after half a battalion had appeared in the Shanty to transport the coin back where it belonged.
They had not only been summoned.
They were told to attend him immediately.
Thus, Serena revised her plans.
She would hear True’s words, these words likely of gratitude, however, the moment he got a whiff of her, she had no doubt he’d make them short. She would then have a very long bath. After, she would put on her tunic and casings. Then she would find Gal and Brix.
And they would go out and get extremely drunk.
While doing so, she would hope there were gnome wenches they could find with whom her boys could celebrate properly.
And maybe, she would be drunk enough to drown her memories of Chu in the taking of another man’s cock.
She did not hold hope for that last.
Once she sobered and had a good meal, she would pack and journey to meet up with Heloise, Genia and Darma, grab her squad in The Enchantments then ride out to assist her mother.
And, finally…
Even though she would not want it, Serena would give it…
Do what she could to make Airen safe for her sister.
These were her plans. These were the only thoughts on her mind.
That was, these were the only thoughts on her mind until she walked through the door to True’s study, saw True resting his arse at the front of his desk, arms crossed on his chest, gaze on Farah who sat before him at the edge of a chair, leaned forward, her hand curled around his forearm.
The moment they entered, however, True’s gaze jumped to her, and Farah rose from the chair, turning toward the newcomers.
But her eyes were only for Serena.
And at seeing what was in them, an arrow pierced her heart.
“Serena—” True began.
“Is she dead?” Serena croaked.
“Not yet,” he said gently. “Not that we know. We just received the bird but an hour ago.”
“I must go,” she stated.
“What’s happening?” Tor asked.
“Queen Ophelia. She has been ill,” Farah said quietly. “And she is…” She clearly could not say the words, so she finished, “Now much more ill.”
“We go with you.”
These words came from around her thighs.
She looked down to Galdor and Welbrix standing in front of her.
“I ride alone.”
“We go with you,” Brix declared firmly.
She opened her mouth, but she did not have time to speak.
“You do not ride alone. I send you with a troop, Serena,” True decreed. “You would not be safe on your own. But I will see to it that you’re safe on your journey to Ophelia. You will ride under the Dellish standard. If things are as we think in Airen, they would attack a Nadirii riding on her own. They would think twice about engaging a Dellish guard.”
“And we will ride with them,” Gal added.
“That is your choice,” True said.
“I do not think—” Serena began.
“Get a bath,” Gal ordered. “We will have a meal ready when you are bathed, dressed and packed. We will eat well, but swiftly. And once we do, we will go.”
“Can you have her guard prepared by then?” Brix asked True.
“They are already prepared to ride when you are,” True replied.
That was True…
Always so….
True.
At a thought in her head, another arrow pierced her heart.
“Does Elena know?” she queried.
True shook his head but said, “I do not know, but I assume she received the same message we did.”
Serena drew in a deep breath.
“Go,” True urged. “Tell your mother when you see her that she is in our thoughts and it is an honor to know her.”
“Thank you,” Serena whispered.
She meant the guard. She meant his care in sharing this information.
And she meant him referring to her mother in present tense.
True quickly masked the surprise these words coming from Serena caused before he replied, “It is I who should be thanking you.”
“Thank you,” she repeated.
He let that go and inclined his head.
Then he urged softly, “Go, Serena.”
She nodded.
She looked to Farah, who actually blew her a kiss with tears trembling in her eyes, to Tor, who looked down at her with such a gentle expression, she had to tip her chin to him quickly before the witnessing of it unraveled her…
And finally, down to Gal and Brix.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They nodded.
She walked out of the room and her friends followed.
She bathed.
Quickly packed.
Wolfed down some food.
And with her crew of gnomes on horses on either side of her, a troop of Dellish soldiers at her back, Princess Serena, a Dellish hero, bolted down the lane that led away from Birchlire Castle, and then she raced over the cobbles of Notting Thicket on her way to her mother.
On her way home.