Mage
By "Heck"
Chapter five


Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

Chapter five

CONSULTING DROSKLYN CHAITHE'S extensive library had not served to reassure
Lon's troubled mind. He had looked up references to the name 'Shaitan', and
was deeply disturbed by what he had found.

'Master of the Underworld', he had read, 'Ruler of the Nine Levels of Hell,
Lord of Darkness, Prince of the Unholy, Reaper of Souls, Lord Shaitan is the
embodiment of evil. Beware, all ye who would invoke his name'.

And now, as he sat at a high desk while his mentor delivered a lecture on the
Arcane Arts, specifically the Theory of Time Manipulation, he listened with
only half an ear, the remainder of his attention focussed on his dilemma. The
events of the last few days preyed on his mind.

Fortunately, when Chaithe got into full flow, he became engrossed in his
subject. So he appeared to be oblivious to the fact that his student's
attention was elsewhere.

Gazing at a point above Chaithe's head, eyes focussed somewhere in the middle
distance, he turned his problem over and over in his mind. It was hard to
reconcile the voice he had heard and the enormity if the evil he was sure was
being perpetrated, with the benevolent and eccentric wizard delivering his
lecture.

Time and again, a single question entered his brain.

"What would Brenhya do?"

******************************************

What Brenhya was doing at that precise moment was enjoying a beer.

The inn was a dark, low ceilinged place, with rough cast walls. Wooden trestle
tables and low stools occupied much of the space, and along one wall a long
bar counter was presided over by a short, fat landlord. A large timber
fireplace dominated one end of the room, and a wagon wheel, suspended on
chains and studded with guttering tallow candles, provided the only
illumination in the smoky atmosphere.

It was several days since she had said goodbye to Leanore, and she had made
good progress. She recalled fondly her encounter with the big farrier, but her
main attention was taken by her journey. It felt good to be on the road again,
after so many months cooped up in the Hall. She had not realised it while
there, but the sense of freedom travelling gave her was exactly what she
needed.

She had ridden into this small town at the end of a long day's ride. Normally,
she was quite content to lay her bedroll under a hedge or in a woody copse,
and sleep under the stars. But the prospect of a night in an inn, a home
cooked meal, and a hot bath, was too good to resist.

Makaar had been left in a comfortable livery stable. She was quite happy to
have left her tack and the Wheelbow with the big mare, knowing it would be a
brave man who would try to remove them from under the animal's watchful eye.
Such a man would end up with his head stove in with a kick from her flashing,
newly shod hooves.

A thick lamb stew with some soft home made bread had been well worth the groat
she was prepared to pay. And now, she leaned comfortably against the bar,
savouring a flagon of good refreshing ale. It had been very quiet since she
came in. All eyes were on her surreptitiously [or so the watchers thought],
but she was used to that by now, and ignored it. She signalled for the
landlord.

"Yes, Miss. What can I do you for?" The publican did not meet Brenhya's eyes.
His gaze was attracted by another part of her anatomy.

"Up here, please". Brenhya's voice held no threat, but her contralto voice was
compelling, and he tore his eyes away. "You'll get no answer from talking to
my breasts".

"Oh, er, sorry, Miss", He was obviously flustered. Brenhya thought he was
probably unused to women being so outspoken. "Another flagon?"

"Not just now, thanks. It's time I settle up for the meal". Brenhya adjusted
her swordbelt, to get at her money purse.

"No need", the innkeeper smiled. "On the house. It's worth it just to have a
warrior here. By this time, this lot", his gesture encompassed the whole inn
and its patrons. "They'd be getting a bit rowdy, by now. Your presence has
kept this rabble quiet!"

He knew it was just as likely to be due to the fact that the male population
were mesmerised by her sexual allure, as to her warrior status, but was still
grateful for the respite.

"Have you got a room for the night?" Brenhya asked. The Innkeeper sucked air
through his teeth.

"Oh. I don't know about a room. We have a doss house, out back. It's got some
cots, and its dry. First come, first served, I'm afraid. Otherwise, it's the
floor".

"That'll do. How much?"

"You don't want to sleep in there, Miss. Not alone with all these drunken
louts".

Brenhya drew herself to her full height, towering over the rotund landlord.
"I'll take my chances. I think I can handle them. How much?"

The man looked up at her, taking in her wide shoulders and tremendous
musculature, and smiled knowingly. "Heh! Reckon you can, at that. Half a
groat".

Brenhya remained standing at the bar, staring straight ahead as she sipped her
beer. She was totally aware of her surroundings, maintaining her usual state
of alertness, but quite relaxed. There was nothing in this building that posed
a threat to her.

She became aware of a presence behind her, but did not sense any tension or
hostile intent, only curiosity. She saw a large figure out of the corner of
her eye as she took a mouthful of beer.

So it came as something of a surprise when a resounding slap landed on her
shoulder and jerked her forward. She spun round, hand on the pommel of her
sword.

A great bear of a man filled her irritated gaze. Widely grinning and dressed
in furs the same dirty brown as his own long, unruly hair and thick beard, he
matched Brenhya in height. He was huge and thickly built, but none of it was
fat, and enormous strength dwelled in his massive limbs.

"Brenyar! I knew it woss you"

"Gurghan!" A welcoming smile transformed Brenhya's lovely face as she held out
her hands. "Nice to see you again. It's been a while".

"It hass, it hass", the big man agreed, engulfing her two big hands in his
enormous paws. "But why iss a lady standing?"

Brenhya gestured around the room. "There are no seats".

"Hmf! Wait here".

Gurghan want to a nearby table where four locals were sitting. He did not
threaten them, or even speak to them. He merely stood over them and glowered
fiercely until they got up and nervously moved away. He turned to Brenhya,
indicating the stools with a flourish.

"Spare seats over here".

Brenhya smiled and shook her head as she took a seat. "You haven't changed, I
see. How have you been?"

"Fine. Seeking my fortune, still. No nearer finding it. You?"

"Seriously well". She briefly explained what had happened since they last met.
Gurghan remembered Lon.

"Nice lad", he said. "Bit of a wet, but OK". He gave a bark of a laugh. "Doess
it seem odd to you that, whenever we meet, it iss in a bar?"

"Gurghan, we've only met twice".

"Yes, but even so. Remember when we last met? I told you you were Gurghan's
friend. I don't forget my friends. Landlord!". A hush fell on the room at his
bellow. "Where iss my beer?"

"You, er, you haven't ordered any yet", came the landlord's nervous voice from
behind the bar.

"So? Why else would I come in here? And another for my friend, here."

The beers appeared with remarkable speed. Gurghan downed half his flagon in
one draft. "So, Brenyar. What bringss you here?"

"I'm on my way to Anusol, to meet King Pabloth. Apparently, he has a problem
that he thinks I can help with".

"Hm. Perhaps Gurghan will come with you. Give you a hand. Nothing better to
do".

"I'd be glad of your company". She remembered the big man's motivation. "I
can't pay you anything, mind".

"No?" He pondered for a second. "Well, maybe this king hass a job for Gurghan,
doing what I do best".

"Which is?"

"Bustin' heads! Ha, ha, ha!"

Brenhya smiled quietly. The man was as good as his word; that was what he did
best. But inside the bluff exterior beat a heart as big as the sky. She was
aware of his sense of honour, and he valued his few friends above all else.

"I travel fast", she warned.

"I got a good horse. He can keep up".

He reached forward to grasp his tankard. Brenhya noticed a deformity in the
shape of the bones in his thick forearm. She laid a cool hand on it. "That
never healed properly, huh?"

"Nah". The big man shrugged dismissively. "But it iss fine. Just ass strong
ass ever. Just hass a bit of a kink in it, that's all".

An incautious passer by overheard and stopped. "What happened to it?"

"When Gurghan first met Brenyar", Gurghan explained, unashamed to tell the
story. "We had an armwrestling match". He smiled at the memory. "She not only
won, she busted my arm! Ha!"

The stranger's eyes opened wide. "Your arm was broken by a woman? Heh heh! A
woman beat you? Guess you're not as tough as you look, huh?"

Brenhya frowned and made as if to stand, but changed her mind at Gurghan's
gesture. He reached up and grabbed the yob by the throat. The man gurgled
helplessly as he was pulled down, to within an inch of Gurghan's nose. Gurghan
spoke in a low, quiet voice.

"I think you can feel that Gurghan iss as tough ass he looks, yes?". The
hapless victim nodded as his hands scrabbled ineffectually at the vicelike
grip at his neck. "Lissen. This woman here iss Gurghan's friend. She turned
out to be the stronger, and beat me fair and square. So, when you mock me for
loossing to her, you disrespect her. Don't disrespect my friends. 'Cos, when
you disrespect Gurghan's friends, you disrespect Gurghan. And if you
disrespect me, I will tear off your head and shit down your neck. Iss that
clear?"

The man nodded desperately. "Can't ...breathe", he croaked.

"All right, then". Gurghan let him go, and he almost fell over himself in his
effort to put space between them. "Sorry, Ma'am". He tugged his forelock as he
retreated.

Brenhya and Gurghan looked at each other. Both were trying hard not to laugh.
But it was impossible. Brenhya broke first, and spluttered through her tight
lips, and Gurghan joined in, rocking the entire room with his bellowing
guffaws.

************************************************

In her bedroom. That was where she was, and she was still unsure of how she
came to be here.

She had booked and paid for a cot in the doss house, out in back of the inn,
and would have been quite content to spend the night there. She had told
Gurghan, and he had just grunted. But later she saw him glaring at the
innkeeper, and the next she knew, the little fat man had come to her and
almost apologetically informed her that he had a room, after all, which she
was quite welcome to have, at no extra cost.

However it had come about, she was grateful as she sat naked on the low bed,
brushing out her long chestnut hair. Her hair was her one vanity, and she took
great pains to keep it looking healthy and glossy. She made a point of
brushing it vigorously for half an hour daily.

Her large biceps rolled and bunched and her forearms rippled with the movement
of her hand as she dragged the brush through her thick mane. She watched the
action of her muscles critically, with a professional eye, checking for
smoothness and tone.

The bicep satisfied her detailed inspection. It rose to a high peak cleanly
and effortlessly, rising to a granite-hard mound under her golden, flawless
skin. She prodded it experimentally with one long finger, and was pleased to
find that it indented not at all.

She wished there was a mirror in the small room. She had no vanity at all
regarding her looks [aside from her hair], but she did like to check out her
body from time to time. It was a matter of maintenance. Her body was a finely
tuned machine, her best weapon, and it was to her advantage to inspect it in
detail occasionally, rather in the manner of a craftsman inspecting his most
valuable tool.

And, if she was honest, she loved the way it felt, to be powerful and
muscular. It made her feel good and healthy and, quite frankly, it made her
feel sensuous. She was entirely feminine, and her strength made her feel very
womanly. She grinned to herself when she recalled that it also made for great
sex.

In the absence of a mirror, she had to carry our her scrutiny by other means.
Laying the brush aside, she rose to stand in the centre of the floor. Feet
slightly apart, she bent backwards in a controlled arc, to place her palms
flat on the floor just behind her heels. She raised a long, muscled leg to
point at the ceiling only an inch or so above her extended toes, slowly
bringing the other leg up to join it. All her movements were slow and under
her complete control.

Knees straight, she opened her legs wide until they were parallel to the
floor. Her body formed a perfect 'T' shape, balanced perfectly on her strong
arms. Holding the position, she lowered herself on her arms until her head
touched the floor. Then the defined triceps muscles powered her upwards in a
slow push, repeating the action ten times without effort.

Bringing her legs back to the upended position, she brought them carefully
down to complete a slow motion back flip, rising erect at the completion of
the manoeuvre, satisfied with her flexibility and control.

Starting at her feet, she flexed and relaxed each muscle group in turn,
probing with intelligent fingers and assessing the condition of her body.

Her calves bunched into diamond shapes, as hard as the gemstones they
resembled. Her thighs tensed and became solid pillars of strength with great,
curved muscles and defined structures, particularly the teardrop shaped muscle
just above the knees.

Brenhya tightened her belly into a sheet of steel muscle, the square shape of
each section showing clearly under her silky skin. She drummed her fists
against her abdomen, and was rewarded by the way her hands merely rebounded
from the tight surface. She reached behind, and her hands found the twin
columns of the great erectors at either side of her deeply embedded spine. Her
fingers kneaded and prodded, and she was happy with the rubbery hardness of
the two cables

She placed her hands together and pushed them against each other. Her muscles
jumped into deep relief, transforming her arms into sculpted, teak hardness,
and the slabs of muscle on her chest contracted strongly and lifted her
splendid breasts, pushing them tightly together.

Her questioning fingers found her rounded deltoids and sloping trapezii,
feeling the sleeping power therein.

Satisfied with the condition of her body, she stood erect, shaking out her
muscles. In the absence of weights for resistance training, the only way she
could test the actual power of her body was to improvise. So she performed a
series of deep, one-legged squats with each leg, and alternated with one-arm
push-ups. When she was not out of breath after twenty minutes of strenuous
exercise, she was happy.

Having inherited height and a tendency to gain strength and muscle easily,
from both parents, for as long as she could remember she had been the
strongest among her peers. Her own strength was simply a fact of her life, and
would have been easy to take for granted. But, as a warrior, it was important
to maintain it, and even improve upon it if possible, although in recent years
the latter had become more and more difficult; she was almost at her physical
peak.

Content that her body was still up to her demanding standards, she lay naked
atop the not uncomfortable bed, and was instantly asleep.

************************************************

Brenhya had many talents.

One of these was a soldier's ability to fall asleep anywhere, any time, and to
awake instantly, refreshed and fully awake, fully alert, and without any
residual drowsiness.

This had stood her in good stead on any number of occasions. But on a morning
such as this, rousing from sleep in a comfortable bed with the early sun
streaming through the small window and the birds performing their dawn chorus
outside, she could afford to luxuriate for a little while. She stretched her
long body under the cosy quilt, sending a ripple through her muscles that both
pleased and revitalised her.

She rose from the bed naked, and walked over to the washstand, splashing her
face with icy cold water from the ceramic pitcher. She brushed her long hair,
watching the rise and fall of her biceps, and dressed quickly in her soft
leather halter and short skirt. She settled her stiff leather pauldron over
her shoulders and fitted her brass browband around her head. Placing her long,
elegant feet in her stout leather sandals, she tied the lattice of laces
around her shapely calves.

Fastening her brass wrist protectors, with the beautifully crafted stiletto
hidden inside the left one, around her muscular forearms, she was ready to go
downstairs to seek out some breakfast.

Gurghan was already there, sitting close to the roaring fire, urgently
shovelling bacon and eggs into his mouth. Brenhya raised her eyebrows as he
grinned round a well chewed mouthful, and patted a stool, indicating that she
should join him.

"Landlord!", he bellowed, spraying bits of bacon over the table. Brenhya
jumped back to avoid the shower.

"Your table manners get no better, I see", she commented.

"Manners woss never no good to anyone".

The innkeeper stepped from the kitchen and acknowledged Brenhya. It crossed
her mind that he looked a little shifty, this morning.

"Morning, Miss. Breakfast, is it? I have some bacon in the skillet, if you'd
like it".

"Just some bread and butter, thanks. And a flagon of fresh milk, if you have
it".

"We have goat's milk. And some good goat cheese to go with it".

"Just the milk, thanks". The landlord disappeared into the kitchen. Brenhya
turned to Gurghan. "How did you sleep, in the doss house?"

"Fine. Had it all to myself, ass it happens". He chortled to himself. "There
woss some others that woss going to sleep there. But they changed their
minds".

Brenhya clapped an exasperated hand to her forehead. "Oh, Gurghan. You didn't
intimidate those poor men out of a bed for the night, did you?"

"Me?" His bottom lip protruded, and Brenhya had to smile at his petulant
expression. "Ass if I would do such a thing. You wound me".

"Yeah, right".

The landlord returned, bearing a tray with Brenhya's breakfast. He placed it
in front of her and retreated without a word. Gurghan pointed with his fork at
the man's exiting back.

"He knowss something", the big man observed. "We better be careful, on the
road thiss morning".

Brenhya nodded her agreement, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it in
her mouth. "I think you're right. I can't see him being involved himself. But
he knows something".

The two finished their breakfast, and left some money on the counter. Keen to
get started, they headed to the door, Gurghan slinging his pack over his
shoulder and leading the way.

Approaching the open door, Brenhya's warrior instinct kicked in and her hand
shot out with the speed of a striking rattlesnake. Gurghan was already framed
in the doorway when her powerful hand closed on his collar and jerked him back
into the room. His feet left the floor, and he was left sprawling on his back.

"What the ...?" His indignant remark was cut off abruptly when a wicked
looking serrated blade stabbed into the space where he had been an instant
before. With a finger to her lips, Brenhya warned him to be quiet.

Taking a short run, Brenhya launched herself into the air, passing through the
doorway just inches from the lintel, way above where a body would be expected
to pass. Executing a twisting somersault in the air, she landed lightly on her
feet, facing the inn, to confront two men with their swords drawn, on either
side of the door.

"Good morning, boys", she smiled.

The men rounded on her, surprised by her abrupt arrival but grinning when they
saw her relaxed attitude and the fact that she made no attempt to draw the big
broadsword at her hip. They exchanged glances, and rushed her as one.

She seemed to rise in the air as if on a string, her long legs flashing out to
take each man simultaneously in the chest, knocking them both on their
backsides. They stared up at her in surprise, amazed that such a tall woman
could have moved so fast. She smiled down at them, making beckoning gestures
with her hands.

"You boys have bitten off more than you can chew", she advised. "If you want
to leave, leave now. Otherwise, come ahead".

The men growled, and came at her again, swords twirling and slashing. Brenhya
still did not bother to unsheathe her own sword, but met them bare handed.

More quickly than it could register on their senses, she was among them, a
whirling nightmare of arms and legs, punching and kicking like a battalion,
rather than a solitary woman. Her blows connected with such power and accuracy
that she left her opponents feeling as if they had been pummelled by a team of
highly skilled boxers.

Leaning against the door jamb, Gurghan watched the fight with professional
interest. She moved so fast that, from his viewpoint, it seemed that Brenhya
was anticipating their every move. Their strikes were met by a foot or forearm
that appeared, as if by magic, to have been there all along.

One of the men found his swinging sword arm halted and gripped by a large hand
that held him easily. He then found himself flipped, the pressure on his wrist
giving him no alternative but to go with the move and land heavily in his
back. The wind was driven out of him with an audible whoosh.

Before he could note his comrade's plight, the other man felt his legs being
swept out from under him by Brenhya's scything instep. She followed up with a
kick to the head that made him see stars.

"Give it up, boyss", Gurghan said from his comfortable place by the door.
"You're beaten".

The first man heaved himself to his feet, and launched to the attack again
with a ferocious yell. Brenhya ducked under his sword and drove her hard fist
into his groin, feeling his testicles mash under her knuckles. He let his
sword drop as he sank to his knees with a high pitched squeal..

Number two was back on his feet, now, shaking his head to clear it. Brenhya
was upon him before he knew it, her muscular arm snaking round his neck. Her
forearm became a rod of pure steel and her bicep rolled into a hard round
ball, putting enormous pressure on the man's carotid arteries. His face took
on a look of panic as his brain was suddenly starved of oxygen, and Brenhya
reached around with her free hand to pluck his sword from his numbed fingers.

As the other man climbed slowly to his feet, still clutching at his ruined
manhood, the warrior woman used her captive as a fulcrum to lever her long
legs up. Her feet hooked round the man's head and yanked him forward, where
she captured him between her mighty thighs and began to sque-e-eze. His eyes
bugged out as he felt the enormous pressure. His hands clamped on her thighs
in a desperate effort to alleviate their grip, but he might as well have tried
to move a tree.

All three ended up on the grass. She now had both men captured and totally
unable to escaped the grip of her terrific limbs. And she still had one hand
free to wave to Gurghan.

"Where were you?", she asked. "Didn't fancy lending a hand?"

"You woss handling it", the big man smiled. "You didn't need no help. Gurghan
didn't like to intrude".

"Thanks". Brenhya's reply was full of irony. "I think". She address the two
hapless captives, struggling ineffectually against her strength. "Let's you
and I have a chat. Who put you up to this?"

She felt the two heads trying to shake in the negative, and applied her
tremendous strength to increase the pressure even further. "Uh-uh. Wrong
answer".

The man in the crook of her arm was on the point of passing out. The other,
between her legs, tapped urgently on her thigh. "OK! OK! I'll tell!"

"Better", she said, and eased the pressure slightly. Her sucked air into his
desperate lungs, and she allowed him to recuperate a little. "Now", she said.

But a quizzical frown came to her brow as the man began to gurgle and choke on
his own tongue. His body began to vibrate and convulse uncontrollably, and the
man under her arm began to do the same. Blood began to run from their every
orifice, and the uncontrollable jerking and twitching of their bodies
transmitted itself through her until she felt as if her teeth were being
shaken loose.

"Brenyar!", Gurghan shouted, running forward and pulling urgently at her free
hand. "Get out of there!"

She did not need telling twice. She dropped her captives and scrabbled away
from them. She and Gurghan put several yards between themselves and the
vibrating, writhing pair before they turned to watch.

"What's happening to them?", the woman wanted to know.

"Gurghan doess not know", her companion replied. "Nothing good, for sure".

The men were rolling about, now, tongues protruding and eyes standing clear of
their sockets. Blood flowed from their ears, noses, and eyes. Their backs
formed perfect arches and they balanced on heads and heels, backs of their
hands beating spasmodically on the ground. One man bit his tongue clean
through, and the wad of pink, bloody flesh flopped to the ground and twitched
in the dirt.

Their bodies had become so rigid, now, that the only remnants of the
cataclysmic convulsions that had wracked their bodies was a twitching of their
cheek muscles.

"Iss it over?", Gurghan asked. The quiet tone of his normally booming voice
told Brenhya he was deeply shocked. She was not surprised. She had gone pale
herself, under her tan, and felt quite profoundly disturbed by what was
happening.

"I don't know", she said, taking a step forward. "Have you ever seen anything
like it?"

"Never", Gurghan replied. He grabbed her arm. "Look!"

Brenhya's eyes followed his pointing finger. The skin on the men's faces was
beginning to crack and split, opening deep, red fissures in their flesh.
"Quick!", she ordered. "Turn your back!"

They both spun in place, covering their faces with their hands. Behind them,
there came two loud, wet percussive sounds as the two bodies exploded. Bloody
gobbets of flesh and shards of splintered bone were spread over a wide area,
and splattered against the backs of the two friends. The explosions seemed to
go on for a long time, and it seemed like minutes before the last drops of
thick, clotted blood fell on their bowed heads.

They turned slowly. A scene of utter carnage met their shocked gaze. Blood and
pieces of entrails were smeared over the grass and up the walls of the inn. In
one or two places, splinters of bone had embedded themselves in the timbers
around the windows. None of it was recognisable as ever having been human.

Except for the eye that burst under Brenhya's sandal as she took a step
forward. She curled her lip in disgust as she examined the sticky mess on her
sole, and wiped it off on a tuft of grass. She walked over the charnel stink,
wrinkling her nose against the stench, trying to make sense of it all.

"Goddess!", she gasped. "What the hells happened, here?"

Gurghan could only raise his arms, to let them fall helplessly by his sides.
He had not moved from the spot, and his eyes roved over the scene
disbelievingly.

"Why did they attack us in the first place?", Brenhya wondered.

"And why did they keep on attacking, when it woss obvious they could not beat
you". He plucked a splinter of bone from his arm as he spoke.

It was Brenhya's turn to lift her arms in puzzlement. She waved a hand over
the area. "Perhaps this was the price of failure", she observed. "And perhaps
they knew it. I wonder who put them up to it in the first place".

"How would we find that out?". Gurghan scratched his thick beard. An unspoken
communication passed between Brenhya and him as his fingers came to a stop.
They looked at each other.

"Landlord!", they both said in unison. Together, they strode back into the
inn, Gurghan yelling for the fat man to show himself.

They found him cowering behind the bar, a total wreck, and from the stricken
look on his face it was clear that he had witnessed the strange happenings
outside his own front door. Gurghan seized him by the shoulder of his shirt
and heaved him out, holding him to face Brenhya. She looked him up and down,
contempt plain on her beautiful face.

"Tell me who set us up", she said at length. "And you may get out of here with
your skin intact".

The innkeeper shook his head vigorously, heavy jowls shaking in fright. The
two were a bloody mess, with other people's blood and gore plastered across
their backs and matted in their tangled hair. Even so, it was obvious that he
was more afraid of what had happened to the two thugs, and what may happen to
him in future, than he was of the two live people who held him.

"You want I should break something?", Gurghan asked. Brenhya seemed to
consider for a minute, holding the terrified publican's gaze with her piercing
green eyes.

"No", she said, finally. "I have a better, more subtle, idea. Bring him over
here".

She crossed to the fireplace, where the fire still blazed in the hearth.
Stepping up on a stool, she beckoned Gurghan to bring the landlord closer. She
reached out a long arm, and gathered the front of his shirt into a bunch in
her big fist.

With a little grunt, she hoisted him clean off his feet and held him, dangling
at arm's length over the flames, close enough so that the heat was
uncomfortable, but not close enough to burn. He struggled and lifted his feet
as high as he could away from the flames, but Brenhya's grip was implacable.

"Now". There was no sign of strain in Brenhya's voice, only a touch of
curiosity. "What you have to ask yourself is this. Will my arm hold steady
enough to keep you from being burned, or will your shirt front give out
first?"

"My money's on the shirt", Gurghan remarked.

"Either way", Brenhya went on. "It looks like you're getting roasted. Unless
you tell us what we want to know".

The innkeeper shook his head adamantly. Brenhya cocked hers to one side. "Are
you sure?. I mean, the men you tipped off are dead. They can't hurt you if you
tell. But me, now. I'm a different story. I can most definitely hurt you. That
fire looks hot, and they tell me that burning to death is the most painful way
to die".

The man seemed to weigh his options in his mind. "Hurry up", Brenhya told him.
"My arm is getting tired".

Gurghan glanced up at the limb in question. The muscles were standing out in
deep relief, and it looked as if it had been carved from polished oak, but it
showed no signs of flagging.

"All right", the landlord croaked. Brenhya merely lifted the corner of her
mouth and waited. "It was you they were after", he went on. "They approached
me last night, after you went to bed. Told me to give a signal when you were
about to leave. They paid me a lot of money, and made it clear that I would
not be killed, but I would wish I had been if I told you anything. Whether or
not they succeeded".

"Who were they working for?"

"I don't know". Brenhya let her arm sag just a little. "I don't know!", the
landlord repeated urgently. "They never told me. Honest! Please believe me, I
don't know!"

Brenhya thought for a moment, and relented. She stepped down off the stool,
swinging the man away from the fire but keeping him suspended clear of the
floor. She drew him close to her face, so her nose was close to his and the
hard leather of her pauldron pressed against his chest. His fat belly jiggled
as she shook him slightly, and she wagged the index finger of her free hand in
his face.

"Now listen to me, you little worm". Her voice was low and full of loathing.
"You will go into the kitchen, now, and put the copper on to boil, so my
friend and I can bathe and get this gunge off us. Then, you will take the
money you were paid, all of it, and donate it to the widows and orphans of
this district. Is that clear?"

The little fat man nodded eagerly, ready to agree to anything to get out of
the clutches of this terrifying woman. She dropped him to his feet none too
gently, and he scuttled away to the kitchen. Brenhya sank down on the stool, a
disgusted expression on her features.

"What a little toad", she said to Gurghan.

"He iss", the big man agreed. "But he sure iss frightened off something. And
not just you. I like your 'subtle' method, by the way". He smiled at her for
the first time since the horror they had witnessed. "But I still think you
should have let me break something".

"You always want to break something", Brenhya smiled back. Then her face grew
sombre again. "What could have caused those men to explode like that?"

"Beats me", Gurghan said. "But one thing is for certain sure. Somebody doess
not want you to get to this king fellow. The question is, who?"

"You think?"