Chapter 10a: Shannai’s Story

"The party’s over, the night’s done.

Let’s go home, we’ve had our fun."

~A popular bard closing

Shannai stood in the back corner of the room, arms folded across her chest and her shoulder leaning against the wall while she watched the sleeping woman. She waited in the shadows, not wanting the woman to see her when she awakened. The woman was dangerous; she knew that the moment the witch used magic, throwing her brother thirty feet through the air. Shannai also suspected why the woman had done it, but she needed to talk to her to know for certain, and patch things up if her suspicions were correct.

She couldn’t believe how bad things had gotten. The whole city lost.

She and Marchas, her older brother, had been in Renier for almost a week, entertaining crowds at the local taverns and inns with their music and stories. They were bards, and it was a life unlike any other. She and her brother received coins for doing the one thing they loved to do. Every night they partied, and they didn’t pay homage to any man, god, or employer. They lived a free life and she had thought they held a firm grasp on their destiny; that misconception faded away in the mid morning hours, when they woke up to a city of the dead.

Being bards, they kept late hours and late mornings, usually not getting out of their rented beds until almost lunchtime. The morning the city died was no different, except for the piercing scream that woke her at mid-morning instead of her usual lunchtime awakening.

Her bleary eyes snapped opened, her hand darting to the dagger tucked beneath the pillow as she listened for more noises. Silence. She released the dagger and sat up. It must have only been a dream. Hell of a way to wake up, though.

Marchas lay in the bed next to her own. His loud snoring attested to the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before. There would be no getting back to sleep with that ruckus filling the room.

If his snoring is gonna keep me awake then he’s getting up too, Shannai thought. Her lips twisting into a lopsided smirk. She reached for the water pitcher on the nightstand. Only a cup of water remained, sloshing in the pitcher, but she slung the water at him anyway. The rhythm of his snoring quickened and grew louder as the water soaked through his blanket, but he remained fast asleep. Her smirk turned down, forming a frown. Guess I’m gonna have to do this the hard way.

Picking one of her boots from the side of the bed, she leaned back and tossed it at Marchas’ head. His snoring became a growling snarl as he sat up. He held his dagger held in front of him, ready to combat thieves.

“Rise and shine, you lazy bastard!” Though the words were harsh, her mischievous smile let him know she didn’t mean it.

Rubbing the back of his head in feigned hurt, Marchas replied, “What did you get me up for? We don’t have to be anywhere until this evening.”

“Had a nightmare that woke me up, and I couldn’t fall back to sleep on account of your snoring. Figured this would be a good morning to actually see why everyone raves about breakfast.”

“Had it once. Trust me, it ain’t all that special.” He grinned back, throwing her boot back to her.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in their colorful gypsy clothes, they walked down the stairs to see what the innkeeper served for breakfast. Shannai wasn’t fond of the brightly colored clothing, her in reds and purples, and Marchas in his yellow and orange outfit. She often called it his squash clothes. She wore the outfit because the clothing announced her occupation as a bard and often brought unlikely clients to them.

The main room of the inn contrasted with its appearance from the night before, empty of both patrons and noises. The enticing aroma of bacon filled the air, driving her hunger and making her wonder why she didn’t try and eat breakfast more often.

Looking around as he took a seat at one of the small tables, Marchas commented, “Sure don’t look like it did last night, does it?”

“Nope, but it smells better. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I chowed on any bacon. I remember that smell though. Smell goooood!”

Shannai laughed at her brother, then leaned back in her chair to look into the kitchen. She wanted to catch the attention of Bos Talle, the tavern owner. Her laughter stopped and a frown took its place as she saw smoke drifting through the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugged and leaned her chair back down. “I don’t guess it’s anything. There’s just a lot of smoke in the kitchen. I guess they burned something.”

Propping his head onto his hand Marchas replied, “Maybe that’s why nobody’s out here yet to serve us breakfast?”

“I’m sure…”

The crash of metal, grabbed their attention. She jumped in her seat and glanced into the kitchen again, hoping to see what had fallen.

Shannai looked at Marchas and he shrugged, but his eyes only widened in shock. She turned her attention back to the kitchen.

Bos Talle lumbered through the kitchen door, his apron trailing flames along his right side, and a frying pan dangled from his left hand, dripping grease onto the wooden floor. He didn’t care about the flames, or the grease dripping slimy puddles onto his clean floors.

Marchas leaped from his seat and ran to Bos Talle, knocking knocking the portly man to the floor. Shannai remained in her seat, frozen in shock by the flaming innkeeper and by her brother’s actions. When the innkeeper hit the floor her brother grabbed him and rolled him back and forth on his side, putting out the fire. She breathed a sigh of relief as the flames flickered and died, smoke drifting through the room and the smell of bacon tarnished by the smell of burnt cloth.

The relief changed as the frying pan clattered to the floor and Bos Talle grabbed Marchas’ arm, his teeth closing around the colorful sleeve. The material ripped away as he leaped from the ground and backed away, leaving a pumpkin colored tube of cloth dangling from the innkeeper’s mouth. The mouth opened wide and the cloth fell to the floor as the man pushed himself off the ground.

Marchas voice shook as he asked, “Bos Talle, are you okay?”

The only reply he received was saliva dripping from an open mouth and glazed eyes filled with hunger.

“Something’s wrong!” Shannai screamed to her brother.

Marchas’ turned to her, perhaps to give one of his flippant replies when Bos Talle lunged and grabbed him by the shoulders, his mouth darting forward to take a bite out of his neck. Marchas’ hand flashed up, grabbing the innkeeper by the throat, holding his head back; inches away from the bard’s neck. His other hand slapped the bar, blindly looking for a weapon. Before Shannai could run to his aid, his hand grasped the neck of a jug. He swung it around, shattering it against the man’s temple and sending him crashing to the floor.

Her brother screamed, “Stay back!” as the innkeeper tried to stand on wobbly legs.

Marchas’ foot lashed out, the gaudy boot catching the man under the chin, sending him falling over in a spray of blood and teeth. He didn’t try to rise again.

Her brother stepped back, away from the innkeeper’s empty stare, disgust contorting his features.

“Are you okay, Marchas?”

Without looking away from Bos Talle’s ruined mouth, Marchas whispered, “Let’s get our stuff. We’re getting out of here.”

“What happened to him? Why did he attack you like that?”

“Don’t know.”

“Are you okay? Did he bite you?”

Marchas turned to her. His usually happy face blazed with resolve as he growled, “Quit asking so many damned questions, Shannai. We have to get out of this city, and we have to do it quickly, before somebody stops us.”

Shannai’s eyes blurred as tears glazed her pupils. “It was self defense. He attacked you.”

He looked back to the still form of the innkeeper, his voice cracked, “We are roving bards, gypsies as far as the law is concerned. Do you think for a minute that they aren’t gonna punish me for this? I just kills a city Bos, a respected merchant. Now, let's get our stuff and go.”

“But, they can't…”

His voice rose, almost to a shout. “They can and they will.”

He turned, running up the stairs. Shannai looked at the innkeeper, his head lying in a pool of slowly coagulating blood. She then looked up the stairs and shook her head. She had to trust her brother. He always knew what was best for them. She wiped the tears pooling at the edge of her eyes and followed her brother up the stairs to get her things.