Tajor

Hauling himself to his feet Tajor turned to face his assailant. Arganthus’ sizable frame blocked the only escape route.

Rather than feeling fearful or angry, Tajor’s overriding emotion was one of irritation. The girl was gone, the Orb was gone and now this oaf was delaying him further. He didn’t have time to deal with such trivialities. Tajor turned and drew his short-sword from its scabbard.

“What have you done with Faddius?” Commanded Arganthus. He was breathing hard, his face distorted in a mask of fury. His sword and face were spattered with fresh blood. Blood that no doubt belonging to Tajor’s companions.

“You’re standing in him,” said Tajor flatly

Bewildered, Arganthus looked down. The tunic and sandals that Faddius had been wearing were lying on the floor between them. Arganthus noted how part of the earth was discoloured by a blue-grey ash. Could this really be the last remnant of Faddius Creel?

“What dark magic is this?” asked Arganthus Incredulously.

“This is not my doing!” protested Tajor “Someone else was here. A girl.”

Arganthus could not help but feel that the events of the day had been manipulated by an unseen hand. He recalled the hooded figure from earlier, weaving in an out of the shadows trying to stay undetected. Could the mercenary be telling the truth? He was not sure.

“My companions, do they still live?” asked Tajor changing the subject. There seemed to be genuine concern in his voice.

“One died like a man the younger one wept like a child and begged me to spare his life. He is unharmed.”

On hearing the news Tajor’s demeanour brightened. He was pleased.

“So, my cousin is alive. For that I am grateful. Thank you.”

Arganthus grunted his acknowledgment. “There is no pleasure in taking the life of one who is not worthy” he said.

Aganthus picked up one of Faddius’ rags and wiped his sword blade before returning it to its scabbard, then he turned and walked away.