1707 CHAVIAS - No Help

Gilwynn Village, Netherlands

CHAVIAS

It was another brutal afternoon of Chavias forced to do errands in the caves. Hammering metal into blades. A long leather apron his only shield against the hot coals leaping from the stone pit. The hole carved in the stone wall and rising to the surface was narrow and didn’t allow any heat to escape. Smoke lingered, stinging his nostrils as he brought down the ringing hammer again.

“Udora!” Radix’s shout tore through the caves.

A yellow haired woman with curls heaped atop her narrow head skittered down the stone corridor towards Radix’s chambers.

Risking Okine’s torture blades, Chavias set the hammer down on the ridge of the coal pit along with the partially shaped blade. Wiping his palm on the apron he leaned into the stone walkway to see her stumbling into Radix’s scant cavern.

“Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry Liege. So sorry.”

She’s probably already dropped to her knees kissing his withered hands. Chavias had seen it plenty but still the thought made him shudder.

Radix was murmuring quietly enough, even Chavias couldn’t grasp his words with the hiss of coals simmering behind him. He blinked against the curtain of smoke.

“Okine!”

Chavias’ lip curled, and he jerked from the hall. Knowing the ogerish yellow man would come lumbering from further into the caves. Chavias could already hear the scrape of his step.

“Bring me the slave!” Radix roared down the corridor.

Grunting, Okine turned his heel and spotted Chavias with a lifted hammer, pretending he was still hard at work.

They exchanged a hate-filled look.

“Come.” Okine grunted. Tossing his head.

As Chavias headed toward the entryway, Okine lifted heavy chains from a spike on the wall and snapped a shackle around Chavias’ thick neck. Yanking the chain made Chavias stumble a few steps toward Okine before instinctively jerking away until hitting the end of the length of metal. Chavias clutched the thick shackle binding his throat. Struggling against it like a wild animal as Okine half-drug him to Radix’s chamber.

“You will guard her.” The demon ordered.

Chavias’ gaze slid sideways to the curly haired blonde. She was thin. Ugly. With slitted yellow eyes. Like a serpent.

Some kind of a Dread. Someone able to wield magic. Dark magic, in her case. Chavias suspected.

“I will send Firoque to ensure you do.”

Chavias growled low in his throat, edging away from the woman. She exuded the foul odor of Cimmerii.

Death. Rot. His contempt curled his lip.

“For what?” He spit on the stone in disgust.

Radix’s eyes flitted to Okine who wrapped a fist nearly as large as Chavias’ head and cuffed him soundly by bringing that fist backward across his jaw. Snapping Chavias’ head and dislodging his jaw at a painful angle.

Chavias grunted, tilting away as he cupped his jaw. Trying to ease it back in place but it was obvious tendons were torn.

Udora gasped in shock.

“He will be fine.” Radix dismissed. “He heals remarkably fast.”

“Master tells what Master want.” Okine snapped.

Chavias straightened. Standing pridefully despite his injury.

“Take the boy.” Radix said.

“He’ll be of no help.” Chavias argued.