"Hello, barbarian," she answered with a pert smirk on her bright red lips. "Of my half-brother, Theros."
"Your half-brother would be ashamed to see me now," he admitted as he pushed into a seated position and inched closer to the wall so he could lean against it and sit with some semblance of dignity. "I thought this would be a simple journey—an escort and perhaps a little coin to be made along the way."
She tilted her head and moved to lean against the wall next to him. "And here I'd heard so much of the vaunted DeathEater stamina."
The barbarian narrowed his eyes. "I hate to tell you but I am in no mood—or condition—to fuck you at the moment."
Ahverna laughed. "Perhaps another time, DeathEater. I am not nearly desperate enough and in all honesty, you reek."
"Reek?"
"You smell of the swamp. You may not know much about women but we are not aroused by the scent of rotting vegetation."
He nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. If you wouldn't mention that to Theros, I won't have to endure his rebuke again."
Skharr winced as he stretched but managed to retrieve his pack from where it had fallen. His whole body still felt like he had spent three days running without rest and he needed help. After rummaging through it, he found a smaller healing potion he still had from a previous adventure. He couldn't remember which one but the vibrant red color said it was likely still functional. In his current circumstances, he couldn’t afford to wonder about its efficacy and instead, he pulled the stopper out and sipped the contents slowly.
"And why would my half-brother rebuke you, barbarian?"
"I…might or might not have had a dalliance with one of his paladins. There was a mutual agreement and consent of all parties involved—if it happened at all, which I do not admit to."
She smirked again and he realized that the sardonic look suited her features quite well, especially with the dark makeup that surrounded her brilliant eyes.
"A Paladin of Theros is not a conquest to scoff at," she noted.
"I wouldn't call it a conquest. Merely a…moment of comfort we both enjoyed."
"How?"
"Vigorously." It was his turn to smirk. He began to feel better as the potion coursed through his veins. "And with more than enough of the famed DeathEater stamina."
They both laughed, although he regretted it as his ribs felt like they still needed a little more time to recover.
"I suppose I can understand what my brother sees in you. And why my other brother does not share the sentiment. Which does still beg the question of why Janus chose to help you with your little skirmish with the underworld of Verenvan."
Skharr shrugged. "A service was performed and Janus felt the need to return the favor."
"He expects loyal service regardless."
"From his people. I serve Theros. As such, I did Janus a favor and he returned it. Not willingly, of course. Theros needed to give him a nudge for it, not least of all because I was in dire straits and needed the help."
Ahverna nodded with a small frown. "I heard a tale of how some of Janus' followers managed to kill a magus lich. I didn't believe the claim, of course, and thought the group looked a little too…incompetent to handle a threat of that magnitude. But now that I think about it, Janus owing you a favor might make up for that level of competence."
"I don't know what you speak of," Skharr responded blandly. "But that does sound like Janus. He's an ass."
"Of course he is." She regarded him quizzically. "Aren't you wondering where your companion has wandered off to?"
"He hasn't wandered, he was captured," he corrected her firmly. "And…I planned to wonder once I was in a condition to follow them."
"How would you do that?"
"Follow their tracks."
"You're in the middle of a swamp. There will be no tracks."
"Then I'll ask the orcs. They know all who come to this island or so I've been led to believe."
"You don't speak their language."
"I'll find a way," Skharr snapped. He realized after a moment that he'd lost his temper with a god and continued in a less confrontational tone. "I…I'll find a way. I'll rescue my friend, no matter what."
"Your friend? Not your charge?"
She was asking many questions, although he wondered if she was playing some kind of game with him now.
"He was my charge in Verenvan but is my friend now. I will kill them all."
"How very…barbarian of you," she quipped.
"There is no denying who or what I am."
"Perhaps I can help," she suggested, pushed to her feet, and offered him her hand.
"How?" Skharr asked. He took it and felt some strength return to his limbs so he let her help him up as well. "I was under the impression that gods weren't allowed to interfere directly in mortal affairs."
"Rules set for the more powerful gods do not apply to me," she answered. "And by way of a for instance, I would be able to direct you since the orcs will likely be of little help. They are headed to Tachan, a port city south of here. And if you are looking for another for instance…"
Her voice trailed off as she leaned closer and pressed her lips lightly to his. The warrior stiffened and surprise prevented him from enjoying the passion she put into the sign of affection.
She pulled away after a few seconds and ran a long, delicate finger over her bottom lip with a small smile. "You should clean up."
"Hmm." The barbarian grunted and tried to make sense of what had happened. A little more vigor had filled his body, the kind that could not be attributed to the healing potion he had taken. "Perhaps after I get my friend to safety. And…thank you."
"Now, rescue my follower," Ahverna answered firmly. "And kill them all."
He chuckled. "How very barbarian of you."
"Every barbarian has some humanity, exactly like every human has a trace of barbarian in them. I merely happen to find myself angry enough to tap into that side of myself."
"Anger is a good place to start," he commented and turned to collect his pack and his weapons.
And in the moment when his attention had been elsewhere, the goddess had vanished and was nowhere to be seen, even in the dark tunnel.
"I'll kill every one of them," he promised no one in particular. "And I'll be sure to make their deaths last."
Chapter Fourteen
Ahverna had been right, of course. There was no sign of tracks anywhere in the area. The soft ground had quickly shifted to fill in anything that he might have been able to see and the darkness did not help.
It looked like they had left a trap to catch him if he survived whatever had been in the darts fired into him, but it had already been tripped. The darts that had been intended for him were caught in the mound.
After a moment of thought, he collected them and confirmed that they were still tipped with poison. He bound them carefully in cloth and retrieved the abandoned mechanism. It was interesting, to say the least. Thin copper springs were mounted along barrels that were meant to guide the darts on their path. The springs were released when the thin silk strands were tripped.