Chapter Seventy-seven

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ BLOOD AND VIOLENCE

Gaalin stood at the end of the stairwell glaring at Eskil who had successfully wandered about the entire first floor of the house. He had thoroughly raided the kitchen, trashed the dining hall, and discovered and raided all the boxes in the storage room looking for who knows what. He had started to venture into the drow's quarters, but decided against it when his nose turned up at the stench of cologne.

Now he sat at the dining room table with fresh loaves of bread and cooked meat piled onto plates before him. He had found numerous books stashed away on shelves and was taking his time to read through them, his long nails clawing at the wooden table while he read, leaving faint scratch marks that would undoubtedly turn into deep gouges if he continued.

He heard the splash of water in a room above him, his attention turning towards the stairs that led to the upper level where Libelle's room was. How distasteful it was that he had to remain down here with grey skin.

"Don't even think about climbing those stairs," Gaalin snapped as he threateningly twirled a dagger in his hand.

"Silence, grey skin," Eskil snarled back, his new and favored nickname for the drow already decided. He would give the man no honor by calling him his given name. He bit into the salted meat in his hand, glancing upwards at the ceiling again when he heard another splash.

Gaalin crossed the room impatiently. "You'll be sleeping in the cellar with the rats tonight, beast."

"I said silence, grey skin. I'll sleep where I want, and perhaps it will be in your beloved lord's bed."

He heard the hiss of Gaalin's words, and suddenly a silver dagger plunged down into the pages of his book. He pulled it out, holding the delicate blade between his fingers as he glared at the manservant.

"Cowardly man with cowardly actions," he chuckled, tossing the blade onto the table. "If you're going to threaten me, do so to me, not this innocent book."

Gaalin stormed across the room and kicked the leg of Eskil's chair, causing it to skid backwards across the floor. He retrieved the dagger and held it against Eskil's throat, the gold eyed man never flinching at his attacker.

"You vile creature," Gaalin snarled. "What's to stop me from killing you right now?"

Eskil was surprised but failed to show it with his expression, instead, he looked tired and uninterested in the conversation. He shrugged at the question. "The anger and wrath of your so-called lord upstairs. She'd surely not appreciate my death after all the trouble she went through while bringing me here." Heh, trouble.

The cold blade pressed closer against his throat, the sharp metal beginning to sting at his skin. "I know you're up to something, dragon scum. What is it? What do you plan to do to her?"

The dark elf's face was inches from Eskil's. Grey skin was not composed, and his animalistic rage was seeping from all over him. The middle-aged man was glaring with his brows narrowed and his teeth bared.

Who was the animal here again? Eskil slowly flashed a raw and sinister smile. "Nothing that you wouldn't do to her."

Gaalin's narrowed eyes slowly widened at Eskil's words, jealousy and the desire to protect Libelle overwhelming him as he struck his closed fist across Eskil's jaw. The man-beast didn't flinch but turned his head back to stare at him.

This corrupt and vile beast, Gaalin thought. Eskil, the death bringer, is in my home. Brought by none other than my lady. How could you, lass? This demonic creature who refused to die was now enjoying the warmth of your fire and the taste of your food when he should be surviving on scraps in a faraway dungeon.

This beast, he must have her under a spell! This demonic creature! My lady, my sweet Libelle, I will free you from his magic.

Gaalin snapped. The many negative emotions he had developed for Eskil over the years finally had a chance to surface and be directed at none other than their root cause.

"Bastard," Gaalin growled, once again pushing the dagger against Eskil's throat. This time, a trickle of red blood oozed from beneath its sharp edge.

"Oooh," Gaalin said with a wicked smile. "So the immortal prince can bleed now?"

He pulled the blade from Eskil's neck, and in an instant, he slammed the blade through Eskil's unsuspecting hand that was resting on the arm of the chair. He would have been delighted to see Eskil howl in pain, but the bastard didn't even flinch.

"I should do my lord a service, whether she disapproves of it or not," Gaalin growled. "I should slice your innards from your belly and watch them fall to the floor." He stood up and stared down at Eskil who remained calm and just stared Gaalin down.

"What's to stop me?" Gaalin continued. "You're weak. You can bleed. You could die." He pulled a fresh dagger from his belt and drove it down into Eskil's opposite forearm.

Eskil spoke slowly, allowing his voice to rumble from deep within his throat. "You are trying my patience, you wretched drow. You are incredibly wrong to think I could die."

The drow had tried his patience, and his patience had completely worn out. He flexed his hand and forearm, the pain from the blades was nothing compared to the pain he had experienced by Libelle's hand. This fool thought him weak, powerless, defenseless. He would gladly prove him wrong.

Eskil pushed himself up from the chair at an alarming speed, the motion causing the blades to release from the wood, but not from his flesh. The surprised Gaalin jumped back, but his reaction was too slow as Eskil's large hand wrapped around his throat. Gaalin gasped for air when he felt the constricting strength Eskil possessed; even in a mortal's form, he was not to be trifled with.

Eskil's eyes went wide, then he crumpled to the floor as his body convulsed. He became rigid as waves of incredible pain surged through him.

Eskil mentally cursed.

How could he have forgotten this part of the curse?

Gaalin's masculine face turned upward in a sadistic smile. He reached for the sword above the fireplace mantle and raised it above his head to strike down upon his lord's lifelong foe. His hands came crashing down, and as they did, so did the sword.

CLANG!

Gaalin paused, the decorative sword he had been holding in his hands was now split into two pieces. The hilt in his hands, and the blade embedded into the wooden floor in front of Eskil's waist. Shakily, he turned towards the stairwell where Libelle was standing in a silk, floor length robe.

A bow in her hands, her icy eyes on fire with anger. She descended the last few steps and crossed the room barefoot until she stood before him. Glancing down at Eskil, she felt an unfamiliar pain stab at her heart; she didn't want to see his blood, not now, not ever. Gaalin began stammer out an excuse, his tongue twisting over the words.

She didn't want to hear any of it. Using the end of the bow, Libelle swung hard and fast and struck Gaalin across his face with the weapon. She looked at him threateningly, her stoic expression gone, replaced with pent-up rage that was quickly being directed at no one else but him.

"M-my lord. My lady, I-I," Gaalin began to stammer out, holding his cut cheek.

Libelle snapped at him, her lip curling over her teeth. "Silence! I do not want to hear a single word from you."

She knelt down by Eskil's side, ripping the daggers from his flesh and tossing them at Gaalin's feet. Eskil looked exhausted, the effects of the spell and the subsiding electric pain having drained all his energy. She helped him to sit up, then helped him back to the chair he had originally been resting in. He offered her a sarcastic smile as he rested his head against the chair's back.

Libelle spun on her heel and cornered her retainer. "What were you thinking?"

Gaalin was taken aback, he did not expect such rage from her.

"I only intended to help. If he is truly Eskil, I thought it only best for him to be dead."

The answer did not sit well with her. "Did I ask you to take his life?"

"No, but if he's dead, he will no longer be a burden to you, my lord."

To his surprise again, Libelle struck the opposite side of his face with the bow. "That is not for you to decide. Eskil is my responsibility. Do you understand that?"

Gaalin nodded slowly.

"He will not harm anyone, and he is not to be harmed. That means you do not touch him without my permission. Understood?"

Gaalin nodded again, despite his desire to argue with her. Why should the death bringer be protected? He had slain so many mortal men and women, and he had prevented their souls from ever reaching Valhalla. He was a vile creature, worse than the most evil of men in the land. Why should such a being be offered sanctuary?

Ignoring the many potential remarks he could use in an argument, and disregarding his frustration, he backed away from Libelle. She lifted Eskil's less injured arm over her shoulder and aided him in returning to his feet, guiding him towards the stairs.

"My, my lady. You can't be intending to allow him onto that floor. What if he were to try something?"

She paused for a moment and then glared back at him. "Return to your quarters, Gaalin, and do not disturb me for the rest of the night. I have to repair what you have done."

She started up the stairs again.

"My lady, what if he were to try to harm you?" Gaalin called with panic in his voice.

This time the threat in her eyes was empty of compassion, and the power emitting from her as she spoke was more dragon-like than any normal mortal could possess. "I guarantee you, he won't. But if you speak to me one more time this evening, it will be you who has to fear my wrath, and it will be you who will be left bleeding on my floor."

Gaalin swallowed hard, watching as Libelle escorted Eskil up the flight of stairs where they disappeared down the dark hallway. He felt cold, frozen with pure terror that was inflicted for the first time by the dragon slayer.

She did not speak to him as his friend or as his lord; she spoke to him purely as the slayer, a very hostile and formidable one at that.