SUNLIGHT FLOODED THROUGH the window, splashing across the face of the bed’s over-sized occupant. With a grunt and groan in complaint, the gigantic visitor to Bralden levered himself out of the far-too-small bed. He swore when he hit his head on a ceiling beam. “Remember, Simpkins, this isn’t the ship,” he chastised himself. “They are used to shorter sorts here.” He threw on trousers and tunic, then sat down on the bed with care. It creaked loudly under his weight. He nudged a small bundle of cloth on the tiny nightstand. “Come on, wake up, Mya.” A tiny wind sprite woke up, stretching with a yawn as the glass-like being became more opaque.

He looked towards the window with a sigh. “Gods’ sake, what does it take to draw these two out?” Unfurling iridescent, dragonfly-like wings, Mya fluttered up to the massive man’s shoulder. She sat there, affecting the posture of a well-bred, affluent woman. He looked sideways at her. “No, I will not do anything to harm anyone in this town just to draw them out. You have noticed our shadows following us everywhere, haven’t you?”

Mya flew off as he stood to finish dressing. “I have never seen anything like it. Everyone knows wolflen are xenophobic. Humans are rarely any more accommodating to those of other races than wolflen. But here, they stalk me side by side. I expected to leverage their hostility. Not run up against cooperation. Completely throws off my plans.”

The sprite flitted to hover in front of his face. He irritably brushed her aside. “You know very well why this pair. My seer said I need their particular flavor of skills. He cinched his backpack closed, put it on, then put his cloak on. He slanted a glower at Mya as he worked the elegant clasp. “Yes, I am sure they are the ones I need. Elyssia’s gift to see through the veils of the fractures has never steered me wrong before and her vision this time was exceptionally clear.”

He grunted at the sprite’s exasperated gesturing. “I was paid half up front for this task. Sure, it’s enough that I could be tempted to retire. I’m not giving up good coin just because a few naive, simplistic rustics are being difficult.” He opened the window, looking at the small wind elemental. “Now go on and keep an eye out for me. I don’t know what these two look like, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to stand out from anyone else here.”

Walking down the stairs, Simpkins kept a hand up to keep from hitting his head on ceiling beams. He dearly wanted to pause, to take a moment to stretch when he got into the main room of the place, especially after a long, uncomfortable night in quarters too small for his eight foot frame. But the room was filled with men and wolflen, and every pair of eyes turned to fix on him when he appeared.

“I suppose I can do without breakfast,” he muttered under his breath, striding to the double doors. The moment he stepped outside, he let the doors shut and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he straightened and stretched…

…and got hit with a glob of gooey, mud thick with clay on the side of the face. “Go away!” a child’s voice demanded. The gigantic man looked incredulously to see a cluster of wolflen and human boys and girls. The others echoed him, throwing clumps of dirt, handfuls of mud, and pelting him with a few rocks and sticks. “We won’t let you hurt our friends!”

With diminishing patience, Simpkins endured the swarm of children attacking him. But when a boy ran up to kick him in the shin, he’d had enough. He grabbed the child by the back of his shirt and held him up like one would hold a pup by the scruff. Children shrieked in fright and scattered in terror. Methodically wiping mud from his face, he leveled a narrow look on the child. “Do you know what I do to brats like you?” he demanded.

“Do anything, and I will ensure you can never do it again.” Cold steel had nothing on the chill edge to the woman’s voice that made the hair on the back of Simpkin’s neck stand up. He turned sharply and found himself unable to do more than stare at the woman glaring at him. Dimly, he was aware of the demonic looking thing and the wolflen flanking her, but the woman exuded a presence he could not turn away from. “Put. Him. Down.”

Tracker darted forward to catch the boy when Simpkins, forgetting to lower his arm, released him from four feet in the air. Ears twitched back, the wolflen growled with bared teeth as he backed away, keeping himself between the stranger and the child.

“I know he is a magic user,” Tiwaz replied to Tracker, her hateful, predatory gaze fixed on Simpkins unwaveringly. “He stinks of magic.” She drew the two-handed blade from the sheath on her back. “Soon he will stink of rot.”

Simpkins reacted with shock, looking between Tiwaz and Tracker. “You speak wolflen?” he asked in disbelief. “Who learns to speak wolflen?” He held up his hands when she shifted into a more threatening posture. The move let his cloak fall open, displaying his clothing beneath.

“Tiwaz,” Doom rumbled, warning in his tones as he drew his massive bow back and aimed at Simpkins’ heart. “He’s dangerous.”

“All the more reason he must die, Doom,” she snarled, lunging at Simpkins, Ghalnecha cutting the air with an eerie whistle. He hastily drew his own blade, barely blocking the strike.

“You are the Warrior?” Simpkins asked in shock. He flicked a glance towards Doom, but was forced to dodge and block another blow. He grunted, unable to get his bearings to take the offensive against this unnaturally fast fighter. “How the hells can you be so fast with a two-hander?” he asked in exasperation.

“I don’t care how much the bounty is,” she snarled, green eyes near black with an unsettling mix of fear and fury. “You will never take us, magic filth!”

“Wait, what?” Her comments filtered through the blur of her determined attempts to skewer him. “Take you? What are you—?” Despite being two feet shorter than him, she was far taller than most women he crossed paths with. Her powerful swing knocked his sword out of his grip. The vibrations of metal on metal numbed his hand. Before he realized it, he was on his back, watching her start to bring her sword down to divorce his head from his body. He swore, rolling out of the way in time to avoid the downward slash. As she drew back to stab him, he shouted, “I want to hire you!”

Tiwaz froze mid-thrust, the blade mere inches from piercing the giant’s chest. Her shocked wide eyes narrowed in suspicion as she very slowly uncoiled. “Hire us?”

Exhaling with relief, he opened his mouth to respond when the shrill sound of Mya filled the air. Incredulous, he looked up as they did. “Oh, now you show up?” He jumped up to catch the tiny creature and held her protectively before they could focus on her. “It’s all right, Mya,” he assured the tiny creature. “It was just a misunderstanding.” He looked at the point of the sword just barely touching his wrist. “We just got off on the wrong foot, yes, Warrior?”

Eventually, Tiwaz lowered the sword. She spat on the ground and growled, “There is no ‘right’ foot with magic filth like you.”

“Like me?” he asked incredulously. “You have—” His words stopped at the creak of Doom’s massive bow when the gromek drew it back again. “Ah. Yes. Perhaps we could discuss this inside over drinks? I could really use a drink.” He glanced down at himself ruefully. “Once I change into something less earthy.”

Tiwaz put Ghalnecha back in its sheath, stalking close to glare up at the tall, massive man. He howled in pain when she stomped on his foot, then grunted when she kicked the back of his other knee, collapsing him to the ground. She grabbed his well-kept beard in a tight fist, jerking his head up to meet her eyes. “Raise a hand to anyone in Bralden again, sorcerer, I will scatter pieces of you so far across the lands, none will ever be able to piece your foul soul together. Ever.”

She turned on her heel and stalked away. Tracker and Doom, watching him warily, turned to follow her as she passed. He almost called after them to ask if they were going to return, but thought better of it. Mya flew out of his hands when he opened them, the tiny wind sprite zipping to hide behind his head, waxing translucent. “Well,” he said drolly. “It seems I finally got their attention.” Getting to his feet, weaving unsteadily as though drunk because his nerves still tingled from Tiwaz’s well-placed strikes, he staggered back inside to head upstairs. He scowled, ignoring the laughter amongst those in the tavern who had gathered at the windows to watch the spectacle.