Arc 1: Chapter 15: Shadow Council
I’ve been in danger many times in my life. I have escaped death by the narrowest of margins, danced with it, even gone beyond its threshold.
Few times have I been as near to it as in that room.
All eyes, human and eld alike, fixed on me. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. In my mind, I moved through the series of actions I would take next — draw my dagger, move under the ogre’s legs and hamstring it. If Green Cloak comes at me, I use the ogre as a shield and get my axe out. Make for the window on the far side of the room, cut down anyone who gets in my way. Use Art if I have to.
The ogre bared its yellowed fangs and flexed fingers near as thick as my wrists. I tensed.
“Hold, Karog.” The Baron’s melodic voice filled the room. “He is here under my invitation, and bound by the protections I offer all guests in my house until he proves himself unworthy of them through action. Stay your hand.”
“You said yourself you did not know him,” the old woman said to the lord.
Orson Falconer nodded. “Indeed. But, as you recall, my invitation to this gathering was not specific. He is late and unknown, true, but that does not change the fact that this is my house. It is my judgment that will pass here. Karog?”
The ogre hadn’t taken his burning yellow eyes off of me. To be fair, I hadn’t taken mine off of him. He growled again, the sound low and threatening. His reek hammered my senses — I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed it when I’d first entered the room. Like a furnace beating with the stench of copper, sweat, and rotting meat.
A significant part of me wanted to tremble, to run, to attack. It took every ounce of my will and training to remain still, calm, and composed. I’d faced ogres before — the Briar often allied with them. They were the enforcers, bodyguards, and even the assassins of many of the most ancient and deadly of the Eld, the favored warriors of fey lords and darker powers in the continent.
Dangerous.
The Baron’s voiced hardened. “Karog. I will not ask again.”