Uroboros Capter 2 part 11

11

The town of Lock was as hot as he remembered. The air was dry and had a faint taste of dust, particles that had been blown in from the wastelands. The streets were busy and a little crowded, but despite this, everyone gave the blonde man and his pet a wide birth.

He had stopped to eat at a little cantina called True Brew not too far from the docks. Steaks. One for himself and two for Fenris. He had ordered water with his steak. This son of the Greene family did not believe in indulging in the drink. It weakened men in an unacceptable way, at least in his opinion. It turned them into jumping, dancing, hollering fools. Both unobservant and careless. He could afford to be neither.

He played with his steak and ate only a little. He didn’t eat much, this one. Fenris ate his steaks almost delicately, tearing off pieces one at a time. The blonde man watched him eat. When he had entered the little dive bar it had cleared out rather quickly. Most of the men and women shooting a nervous glance at the big wolf. The bartender, a skinny woman with dirty blonde hair, stood in a corner with her arms folded across her chest. She looked to be in her late thirties. Frina she had said her name was when she brought the blonde man his food and drink, wearing a very nervous smile. After, she had gone to a corner and stood quietly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the blonde man.

The blonde man’s name was Minos Greene. Cousin to Elven Greene and nephew to Lord Richard Greene of Lock. Minos was the guardian of the flying-spear. Also called the thunder-spear. Just as Elven was the guardian of the great broken-sword. The weapon was wrapped in clean, off white cotton bandages. It was laid on the table before him. He reached out and touched the weapon thoughtfully. There was nothing. You had to be in direct contact with the weapon for it to work. True, but still its strength, or aura could always be felt. A somehow underneath feeling.  

Despite his father and uncle’s warnings, no one had ever come for the spear, to try to take it or otherwise. But that did not mean he had never used it. No sir. Certain circumstances had called for it.

 He had had to most recently when a group of thugs just outside of a small town called Taor had tried to rob him. There had been five of them. Young backwater hellions, who had developed a taste for robbery and beatings. Preying on pilgrims using the great northern road that ran by their homestead. They liked to wait for their victims a few miles out of town and would take anything of value, leaving the traveler unconscious and bleeding, but usually alive.

Normally, Minos would have just set Fenris on them, but one of the bastards had had a gun. Surprising to see out in the southern arc. Wonders never cease, so true. He didn’t want his wolf to be hurt so he had taken the spear off his back and unwrapped it.

The punks had then demanded that he drop his gunna to the ground and lay face down in the dirt. The young man that had pointed the gun at him had had bushy red hair and a dirty and almost greasy face full of pimples.

Minos had smiled at him as he put his purse on the ground. He then grabbed the fine, unwrapped weapon. He laid his fingers on the fine engraved shaft of the spear. The light had then shone.

Within four seconds the young men were all dead. Reis redhead had been the first to go. He hadn’t even had time to fire a shot before the point of the spear had entered his brain through his left eye socket. The other four, who had been carrying clubs and knives, went just as quickly. Blood flew from the spear head with delicate elegance. It had stained a patch of dry grass near the road a dark red-gold color. The bodies of the gang lay this way and that. One of them had apparently wet himself in the moment of dying.

Minos had hunkered down to look at the dead redhead. He was sprawled face down in the dirt, a small pool of blood around his head like an uneven halo.

He had allowed Fenris to eat the redheaded fuck. Carefully, he wrapped his spear as he watched. The ginger would be wolf shit by this time tomorrow and he deserved it for pointing a gun at him. Fenris held the body down with one paw and used his huge jaws tear the redhead’s left arm clean off. There was a ripping sound as the seam of the shirt torn free. Then a meatier tearing plop as the arm tore off. He could see tendon and sinew where the arm had been ripped off. Blood had spurted for a moment then turned into a little dribble. The packed dirt of the road had turned a darker shade of brown as it drank the bloody repast.

He remembered how bright and red the blood soaking into the gingers white cotton shirt had been. A vibrant crimson that spread and flowered and meant life. He had watched Fenris enjoy his meal, pleased with himself. But he did not smile.

By the time they headed out on the road again there were only four and a half bodies left dead in the dirt. The spear once more was slung around his back.

Minos had traveled far, yes. The guardians always did. There was no real need for it, as their line was one of lords. But the general consensus within the family was that the weapons were safer on the road. Away from the watchful eyes of the meddlesome sage fuck, whose servants were everywhere. In every land and every place, one might say. The roads did Minos fine. He never needed much. Not food or drink. His need for pussy was strong sometimes, but these urges came few and far between. A whore every now and again did him fine too. And as for company? Fenris was all he needed. One friend. One true friend was enough. A wolf and a man, an unusual duo yes, but they were quite effective as a team, say true.

Minos looked down at the wolf. Fenris was finishing what was left of his second steak. He had ordered it raw of course. The blood did not show up on the wolf’s black snout. He was now licking his paw in an almost puppy like way. Fenris’s tongue was long and pink.  Minos smiled. Something that he rarely did and almost never around other people.

Fenris looked up at him, as if he had sensed his master’s amusements. His eyes were large and green. They were keen and intelligent in the way only a predators eyes are. But now they shown with affection.

The wolf came to the man. The man reached out and stroked the animals head. He had to reach up to do so since he was sitting on a bar stool. Its fur was a sleek and shiny black. Fenris closed his eyes and put his ears back as his master petted him. He was fed; he was out of the blistering heat. All was well with the beast, yes.

“Fenris, no one is to come in.” Minos said as he nodded towards the batwing doors of the cantina.

The wolf made a light hoofing sound deep in its throat in response. From experience Minos knew that his partner understood. Fenris went to the entrance and laid himself down just to right of the doors.  

Minos looked at the bartender. She was a bit older then him, but he liked skinny girls. And he especially liked blondes. He got up from his stool and walked to the corner where the bartender stood. She watched him approach wearily. She wore a long, tan dress and corset that was old but clean. Her voice had been a little raspy. No doubt do to the pipe she smoked and the dry, dusty air of this place.

She pressed herself against the wall as he approached. The blonde man was no longer smiling. He had a calm and almost grim expression on his face. His eyes were as green and as predatory as the wolf’s.

 An expression of fear slowly bloomed on her face. Minos came close to her and put his right hand on her shoulder. Frina started to cry quietly. Tears rolled down her tan cheeks.

“You can cry if you want.” The blonde man said, almost gently. He pressed his face into the arch where Frina’s shoulder met her neck and breathed. He could smell perfume and soap and underneath those smell, faintly he could smell the sweat of her. He immediately grew hard. She quivered slightly at his touch. Looking up at the wooden rafters, she cried her tears silently.

During it all she had gritted her teeth and had even cried out in pain once as he had relentlessly thrust into her, pinning her to the wall. Choking her the whole time and biting into her shoulder. But mostly she had been silent. And when the blonde man had finished with her he backed away, buckling his belt and returned to his stool to finish his meal.

 He ate slowly and thoughtfully.  She could feel herself filled with his sticky seed. She felt some of it slowly running down her inner thigh. A tiny line of blood flowed from her shoulder where her dress was now torn. The bite marks she wore were deep and red.

Frina slowly slid down the wall to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and began to sob. Not quite silently anymore.

The blonde man finished his food and once more came around the counter to where she was. She looked down at the floor as he came, refusing to look him in the eyes. He hunkered down and looked at her. The expression on his face was one of faint amusement. The expression of a man watching some small boggle unfolding before him.

“You know sometimes bad things happen, mim. We try so hard to find some meaning in those horrible things. But mostly none can be found. And I know how hard it can be.”

He nodded at her reassuringly. A pleasant enough smile on his face.

“But time has a way of healing all the wounds that don’t kill us, mim.” Minos said in an introspective voice, as he traced his fingers over the bite marks on here shoulder.

“We move out, and move on. Dalay and dalla.” He nodded again and patted her head in much the same way he had petted the wolf.

Minos pulled his revolver and pressed the barrel to Frina’s smooth and tanned neck. She began so cry more loudly and to shake uncontrollably. All the while she looked at the floor.

“Dalay and dalla. Do you understand?” He asked, no longer smiling. He was asking her a serious question. And if she wanted to live she’d better have a serious answer, by the gods.

Frina nodded furiously and starting crying louder than ever.

“Please don’t kill me.” She almost screamed. Fenris opened his eyes and looked around to see what all the commotion was about.

Minos nodded. He was satisfied with her response. She understood that to live, even the way she was now, was better than to die. Any life was better than death. That was what he believed and she understood. In a primal, maybe even instinctual way, she understood. That was good enough for him, say true. The cantina felt warmer now and somehow fuller too. The smell of old stale beer was strong. So was the smell of the hay on the ground. Minos picked up a clean, golden yellow strand of the stuff and put it in the corner of his mouth. It was almost the same color as his hair. He holstered his revolver.

Minos produced a gold coin and tossed it at her. It landed on in her lap

The blonde man stood and made for the door after collecting his gunna. He left the cantina, the wolf following closely behind.

Frina sat the way she was for a long time. Holding her knees to her chest, the gold coin in her lap. Eventually her crying stopped. All that came out were small, dry sobs.

She got up and went to the back where she kept an extra dress in case one of her patrons vomited on her. Which seemed to happen far too often. Slowly she cleaned herself up, changed and from the bar she heard someone call her name. It sounded like Pinkman, one of her regulars. He sounded a little worried. Frina never left the bar unattended. She looked down at her hand. In it was the blonde man’s gold coin. She slid it in her pocket and went back to the bar.

“Dalay and dalla.” She said under her breath and went back to work. A deep sense of angry acceptance filling her. But the men and woman of Lock needed a drink.

A few weeks later a blonde man had come into True Brew for a drink. Not the same blonde man. This one had no wolf in tow. She had served him a beer, then another and then another. By the end of the night the blonde man, Ricci Goodman this one’s name had been, was completely blackout drunk. The place was empty and dirty, except for her and him. The mim had then produced a knife (a fine dagger she had bought with Minos’s gold coin) and proceeded to stab Ricci Goodman to death. She then calmly went to the back, changed her dress, washed herself and went looking for Jonah. The owner of True Brew. When the marshal had come by to ask her about it the next day she had said that she had been in the outhouse out back when it had happened. The marshal had nodded his understanding and Frina had given him a free whiskey for his trouble.

In the next three years Frina killed six more blonde men with her dagger. Sometimes in the bar, but usually in one of the nearby allies. Unfortunately Sarry Adams saw her kill her sixth victim from a back alley window and had turned her into the marshal. Sarry had given testimony and Frina the skinny bartender of True Brew hung the very next week.

Her neck had snapped as fell from the gallows. The last words she spoke, according to the one of the spectators, were dalay and dalla.