The guard shook his head, voice raising.
Saer pointed again.“Leader!Let me speak!”
Once again, the apparent guard in charge shook his head with more emphasis.Louder words returned.Saer’s temper flared.
Another voice called from the tent, and the group turned.A fourth guard rode towards them in haste.
Leaving one of the flanking sentries to keep an eye on Saer, the lead soldier spoke in hushed, intense tones with the newcomer.He made a sound of frustration at the end of the short conversation and raised his deep brown eyes to glare.Pride lifted his sable eyebrows with a mixture of amusement and impatience.
The captain made the same irritated noise and performed a series of sharp gestures while barking orders.The two original, mounted guards rushed to line up on either side of Saer’s mare.One took her reins at the bit, and Saer just kept from striking the offensive hand away.The interaction seemed to be leading in the right direction, even if he was less than thrilled about being escorted in such a manner.He rested tense hands on the horn of his saddle.
As a unit, they approached the series of hide-dressed tents.It pleased Saer when they bypassed the smaller ones and went straight towards what he’d indicated as his ultimate destination—the general’s draped pavilion.Onlooking soldiers paused during the short journey to observe the small procession before resuming their duties.As usual, wherever Saer went, he invoked an air of curiosity.
The group slid off their respective saddles.One of the soldiers reached for Saer’s mare to tie it to a hitching post, and another took him by an elbow to guide him.Before he entered the large tent, Saer could have sworn the guard shot him a look of apology.
The tent flap pulled back, and Saer found himself ushered into the entryway of the tall structure.A massive, round, wooden table took up a full half of the space.Various scrolls, depictions of maps, and whittled figurines sat arranged atop.
Saer knew a war board when he spotted one.
Various wooden-carved masks and half-masks decorated the walls of the enclosure, the haunting maliciousness of their make evoking a sense of foreboding.Their creators sculpted the eyes at sharp angles with shapes and colors depicting rage.Snarling, oversized teeth projected over pulled back lips from above and below, some jutting far out like tusks.Just like the helmets of the guards, most of the masks possessed horns of various shapes and sizes.Painted in multiple deep shades of sable, crimson, and gray, each one was terrifying in its own right.The vast majority reflected scarlet, just as most had onyx horns protruding forward.
Rather than admire the craftsmanship, his gaze slid to the imposing figure in the center of the room.The air might have stilled in his lungs and throat, if he housed less familiarity with her.
Throughout her locs, Runeak had wrapped bits of gold and silver metallic links, oddly decorative.Though when Saer looked closer, he noticed she had ridged each with fine, razor-sharp spikes—as much a weapon as the rest of her.
Runeak’s irises, as black as the pupils at their center, glinted with predatory intelligence.Chilling and soulless.
She stood behind her war table, palms resting on the surface, a neutral expression on her face.Dressed in armor to match the soldiers outside, Wrath embodied the quiet before the tempest.The air around her buzzed in anticipation.
“You smell like mine.”Runeak made the observation in her low, throaty tone.Saer would never cease to be alarmed at how murderous her teeth appeared behind full, dark lips—like she’d sooner bite someone than speak to them.She spoke in their oldest, shared tongue, one meant more for muzzles than human mouths.
Saer offered a quick glance to either side then behind to ascertain she addressed no one else.
The rest of the guards remained outside.He stood alone with her.
He turned his gaze back upon Runeak with great care.She hadn’t moved, yet Saer knew she hunted.“Yours?”
The subtle cant of Runeak’s head to the side would speed any intelligent creature’s heart.“Yes.”
Runeak had never been one for lengthy conversations.
Clearing his throat, Saer made an effort to relax his shoulders.“You knew I was coming.You sent the extra guard for me.”
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
A glint passed over Runeak’s eyes, and Saer swore something akin to annoyance flickered in her subtle expression.“I couldsmellyou.”
Ah.
He nodded towards the chairs surrounding her war table and made to move towards them.“Shall we sit?”
“No.”
Saer hesitated mid-step when Runeak answered, but then strode forward anyway.He pulled out a chair and sat, relaxing back in a posture the exact opposite of the huntress on the other side of the table.Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempted to appear as neutral as possible.“You sensed my anger.”
He didn’t frame it as a question, and so the demoness remained staring.Of course Wrath herself picked up on his pent up thirst for revenge without difficulty.“You know what Errshek has done?”Saer asked.
