26 Talmot

The general had been riding with Lorna for days. The pair finally stopped at a ramshackle inn called the Hen and Feather after trailing behind Grier and Basla for some time. At each town the two of them had stayed in, it was easy to find word of the vampire captains. The two vampires had managed to murder a serving girl or stable hand in each location for their nutritional needs. Talmot had sent a falcon ahead to the nearest fort, asking them to meet him there, surely that was where the captains were traveling.

Talmot lamented the loss of life, but only so much as a general in his position could. The vampires were valuable assets to the army, and while he did admit that he would prefer the two to be more judicious in their feeding habits, it was a necessary evil at times to keep them in his employ. Vampires were the most deadly predators in the nation. Most remained as aristocrats, and to have even a small number of the creatures on his side was an incredible advantage.

The ends justify the means he supposed. Although, he would not complain if the world were rid of vampires as well as witches after his mission had ended.

Talmot had instructed Lorna to stable the horses and reserve their rooms while Talmot did a quick perimeter check of the dingy inn. It never hurt to be too careful in times like these, especially in a place such as Ibudal. Violence was more prevalent here than in Mera. He did not miss his nation of birth, though, Talmot was not the kind of man to become attached to people or places. He was simply looking for the most coin and the best ale and maybe a decent whore to calm his nerves. After all, he had earned it after his years of military service, he thought to himself.

After doing the short round observing the building, taking note of the exits and number of rooms, he removed his black riding gloves and entered the building. The room smelled like stale beer, and the condition of the furniture reflected years of neglected cleaning. Talmot was hesitant even to touch anything, let alone possibly soil his Ibudali army uniform. Even the days of travel on horseback had been kinder to his appearance than he feared this tavern would be. He thought briefly of perhaps traveling through the night, but the thought of listening to Lorna's criticisms put a halt to that particular notion.

A greasy barkeep greeted him and took his order. Talmot tried to keep the interaction as short as possible; the man's smell was rather unpleasant. He sat alone at the cleanest looking table he could find, gingerly resting his back against the seat. Sipping on a large mug of surprisingly decent ale, he waited for Lorna to meet him. They had formed somewhat of a routine on the road, and she typically met him in the common room, and they would briefly discuss the next step of his plan.

The witch sauntered in the front door of the establishment, and she couldn't have been far behind him.

Likely she was tending to the horses they had secured in the last town they passed through. The woman made no effort to look even mildly interested in meeting him. The woman had changed somewhat since their journey to Ovandale. On the boat, she was simply as indifferent as any other witch he had met. Neither pleased or disagreeable, the woman was calm and spoke with surety. Now though, she was prone to sharp glances both directed at him or their surroundings. The witch seemed almost jumpy.

She had also become less direct, never expounding on her words. She would only relay the most minimal amount of information and in as few words as possible. Talmot didn't think she realized yet that he noticed her changed behavior. Talmot preferred to be considered the fool. People tended to become laxer in their demeanor when he let them believe he was not a keen observer. The skill had always served him well and was the reason behind his success in the military. Talmot knew how to gain an advantage.

Lorna sat at the table, her eyes darting quickly to the window and then back to him. She declined any refreshment with a quick wave of her hand before the innkeeper could even approach the table.

"What news, witch?" he asked gruffly. She typically spoke with the proprietor looking for word of anyone who met Cora and Gareth's description.

"We are the only patrons here at the inn, and I gave the barkeep the description of the fugitives," she said, merely resting her head on her hand, long waves of violent red hair hung limply around her face. She didn't even try to hide her boredom anymore, Talmot thought. He nodded to her and continued nursing the ale before him.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, Talmot drinking and Lorna staring off into the setting sun through a grimy window until the sound of wheels crunching on the dirt road outside disturbed the quiet. The barkeep hefted himself from behind the bar and went outside to greet the next patron. Lorna suddenly got up from the table and made her way upstairs without bothering to excuse herself.

Back in Ovandale, the woman had been fiery and explosive, ready to use her magic at every turn to aid the cause, but now she had become a shadow of the person in just a few short days. Talmot grumbled at the thought, but he knew he would have to speak with her. Something was bothering the woman, and it was making her quite useless to him of late.

As the woman disappeared to her room, the barkeep entered with the new patron, Daler, his name was. A farmer from the south who was transporting goods to Astophel's castle a little further north. Talmot knew this because the two did not bother even slightly to keep their voices down. They were continuing their conversation from outside the inn as Talmot sat with his back to the men listening intently. At the mention of the Daler's passengers, luckily still sleeping in his cart, his ears perked up.

"Ate general, that sounds like the people ye are looking for!" the barkeep called over to him.

"Please don't harm my goods!" Daler called out after Talmot as he made his way up the stairs to retrieve Lorna. He would need her to secure the old witch if it was her hiding in the cart.

"Keep them outside, do not tell them we are coming," Talmot told them sternly as he took the stairs two at a time. Both men nodded in unison urgently, clearly frightened by the look of hatred spread across Talmot's face.

Only three rooms were lining the hall at the top of the stairs. Unsure which one Lorna occupied, he stood close to the first and quickly moved to the second after hearing no noise from behind the door. Talmot understood time was of the essence, but he paused before barging through the second door because he could distinctly hear the witch speaking.

Who could the woman be talking with? Surely she wasn't becoming unhinged to the point of talking to herself. While he could not make out words precisely, she was indeed speaking in cadence as if having a conversation. The general heard footsteps downstairs and was aware the innkeeper must have returned. Talmot knew they must make haste.

Thrusting open the door, Lorna whipped her head around while standing at the open window. "Who were you talking to?" he asked her hoping the binding of her contract would provide him an honest answer.

"There is no one here," she said with a shrug. Talmot was not convinced. What she said was right, the room was small and bare, only occupied by a single bed and cracked washbasin. There wasn't even a closet. He did not have time for this, and if Cora and Gareth were in the farmer's cart, it would not take them long to escape.

He sneered at the woman, she was undoubtedly hiding something, but the general knew he must sniff out the truth later. "Come, I think Cora and Gareth are nearby."

The red-haired witch nodded earnestly and lifted the edges of her pristine white dress, enchanted somehow to remain near perfect and unsoiled throughout the journey, and followed him closely down to the common room of the inn.

"Begging your pardon, general," the greasy innkeeper told him, bowing his head, "but when we went out to the cart, the travelers were gone!"

Talmot swore loudly, kicking over a rickety chair in the process. "Did you see where they went?!" he bellowed at the man. The innkeeper shook his head fervently, sweating beading on his brow. "Lorna, you go search the stables, cast a spell or something to find them! I'll search the surrounding area, see if they ran for it."

Talmot knew in his gut Cora, and Gareth were the ones occupying the cart. Why else would they be gone now? There was nothing but a few dilapidated houses in the area, and he could search them quickly.

Lorna ran off quickly as Talmot began his search. Two of the houses he found unoccupied and the third belonged to the innkeeper and his equally disheveled wife who insisted no one was there but her and the family dog who barked loudly at him from the doorway. His frustration was overgrowing, the general's short temper was close to its tipping point. He could not let them escape again.

Talmot dashed across the road, heavy black boots crunching on the gravel surface and raced back to the inn. He circled to the barn and called for the witch, who informed him no one was there as well. Talmot swore so loudly while kicking up loose stones, the innkeeper's fog began to bark at him once more.

The witch was deceiving him. He wasn't sure how but he could feel that she was omitting some part of the truth to him. He barged into the stable and pulled the black horse roughly by the reins, not bothering even to put a saddle on the beast. The general kicked his horse into a gallop and rushed out the open barn door sending Lorna staggering backward as he rode by. It was apparent now he could not entirely rely on her, if at all.

Talmot rode into the twilight darkened field behind the establishment picking out two moving shapes heading toward a nearby forest, if they made it there he would be hard-fought to find them again. The general knew he was woefully unprepared to deal with the older woman's magic by himself, but Talmot thought that Gareth would likely be of little use to him. Although, if he caught the boy, maybe she would come back for him, and he could capture her then. Either way, the pursuit would have to continue. Talmot quickly weighed the options in his head and knew he could only overtake one of them.

He kicked the horse into a run and quickly overtook his prey just as the forest's edge was coming upon them. In one swift motion, he withdrew his sword from its scabbard and used the hilt to knock his query unconscious to the ground.

All daylight had faded, and only the sound of crickets chirping was heard in the darkness now. Talmot dismounted the panting horse and sheathing his sword back at his belt. The general could no longer see the second running form, as it had disappeared into the encroaching trees. The general let out a long sigh and walked a few long strides around the unconscious body before him.

"Soldier, you have a lot of explaining to do when you wake," he grumbled, heaving Gareth's limp form onto the horse and began the walk back to the inn.