Questing Sucks (Book 1) (39 page)

“Who halts me?” Sehn asked. There were ten heavily armored men, each with their faces completely covered by thick metallic armor. Unlike the Koringrathian guard, these men knew what they were doing. It wasn’t just the way they carried their swords, either. Sehn could tell by their posture they meant business. Good, so did he.

“Did you cut the line, good Elf?” one of them asked. “There’s been some commotion and some off-putting bright lights, and we’re not sure who’s done it. Was it you?”

Sehn laughed at the question. “Of course it was, you fool. I not only cut the line, but I beat up several innocent men and took their money. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll—”

Weapons were drawn and leveled at Sehn—archers poked their heads from the windows and aimed bows at him. The guards fanned out around him, the clinking of their armor resounding as they marched. Sehn didn’t understand what they were doing.

“Ah, is this, umm, is this part of the welcoming ceremony?”

The guards extended their blades and pointed them at Sehn’s throat. “You are under arrest, citizen,” one said. “Make no attempt to resist.”

Sehn tried to make sense of what was happening. Was it possible these men weren’t circling around him to shower him with praise? “Time out,” he said. “How am I supposed to get into the city if you block my path?”

“You’re not!” the guard that Sehn assumed was the leader snapped. “You’re under arrest for robbery, obstructing the peace, and disorderly conduct.”

They’re trying to…get me in trouble?

Sehn curled his lips, and twitched with fury. A dark and venomous rage coursed through his veins, gushing out of him. “What!” he roared. “You dare attempt to punish the Great Sehn! I have magic and shit!”

Sehn heard shouting from behind him. Cah’lia came running, followed closely by Shina, Rina, and Nero. Wolly trailed a bit behind them, with one hand wiping sweat from his face, while the other held up the pants sliding off his rump.

“Wait! We are here on direct order from Prince Patrick.”

The guards reacted immediately to the name, lowering their weapons and turning to face Cah’lia. Sehn grew bitter—how dare Cah’lia intervene?

The leader stepped forward. “That is a treasonous claim to make, young Elven woman. I offer you a chance to deny it, and I'll pretend I simply misheard.”

Cah’lia shook her head. “You heard me properly. What I have here,” she said removing a white envelope, “is an official document signed by Prince Patrick Vasilis, guaranteeing our aid and your cooperation. It is valid in any Kingdom city.”

The guard tilted his chin, and narrowed his eyes in dubious mistrust. He lowered one eye slowly, keeping the other on Sehn. A few seconds passed, and the guard’s expression became animated. He lowered his other eye, and gripped the paper with both hands. “It’s…it’s real!”

The other guards displayed similar reactions, lowering their weapons and huddling around the lead guard. “This is definitely legitimate.”

The situation was being diffused, and Sehn’s anger tripled. It was humiliating. Not only were the guards no longer trying to kill Sehn, but they were even showing him respect. It grated him—it was unacceptable. The only reason any being should show respect to the Great Sehn is because they fear him, not because of some stupid paper.

“Sorry about that, my good Elf,” the leader said. “May you find peace in our city.”

No!
I can’t let this happen. Cah’lia shall pay dearly for this.

Sehn forced mirth into his voice, and laughed at the leader. “That’s a forgery, and you are a fool for believing it to be genuine. In fact, I forged it myself. I am actually a hardened criminal, wanted for over four thousand murders.”

Cah’lia dove at him, and tried to silence him with the palm of her hand. Sehn ducked and spun around—only to land face first into Shina’s hand. He pried her off while the guards looked on in confusion.

“Are you nuts?” Cah’lia hissed, once again trying to forcefully close Sehn’s mouth. “Are you actually
looking
for trouble?”

“Of course I am! I love trouble. Nothing warms my heart more than causing chaos and starting problems where none existed. Unnecessary conflict is my favorite thing. You!” Sehn shouted, pointing at the lead guard. “I intend to murder each one of your citizens, and cause as much trouble as I can.”

The guard twitched, unsure of how to act. His companions showed no clearer understanding than he did. “Is this some kind of joke, my good Elf?”

“Ah, yes,” Cah’lia answered. “Sorry about that. It’s a, umm, Elven…custom-thing we do.”

Sehn watched the situation continue to diffuse, and panic crept into his spine. If he didn’t act soon, he’d be allowed to peacefully pass. Peacefully! It was unacceptable. Since departing Elvar, Sehn hadn’t been provided with many opportunities to create trouble. Now he had one, and Cah’lia was ruining it for him. She was going to pay for this later.

“May I have your names?” the leader asked.

Sehn’s ears twitched at the question.
Finally,
he thought.
A chance to show my greatness.

Sehn inhaled, filling his mighty lungs with breath. He would roar his name and delight in the fascinated awe from the guards. “My name,” he began. “Is—”

Cah’lia elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the air out of Sehn’s belly. Instead of bellowing ‘SEHN, SON OF SUHN!’ all that came out was “
Seeeeeee
.”

“His name is Saerith, the Prince to the Elven people, and voice for the grace of the light.”

Sehn was as shocked at Cah’lia’s announcement as the guards. What was the foolish woman up to? Sweat trickled down many faces, and the leader dropped into a steep bow. “For carrying a document signed by our prince, I do not doubt the words. Please, I am in your service, your highness. It has been many years since Hahl was blessed by such an esteemed visitor. Please, you must come with me. The mayor will insist on meeting with you. You will be pampered, and privy to our finest foods and wines. Ah, pardon my rudeness my good Elven woman, but would you perhaps be…you know, since you’re traveling with the good prince?”

“Yes, I am princess Saerina.”

There were more mumbles and gasps from around them. Cah’lia was given an even deeper bow than Sehn received, and Sehn became enraged. It surprised him that steam wasn’t trickling off his face like a brewing pot of tea.

It was bad enough he was receiving respect for something other than his Godly might. He didn’t want or require their pitiful bows. But! If he was going to receive a bow, then how dare it be anything less than the deepest and most formal bow ever offered in the history of living beings? The guard-leader should have bowed so low that his head hit the paved floor. He should have bowed so low that his spine affixed permanently to the position, and he’d be forced to spend the rest of his life slumped over, with his head dragging across the floor whenever he walked.

“Please, follow me, and I’ll take you someplace more deserving.”

“Just a moment, please,” Cah’lia said. “I’d like to have a word with my brother.”

Cah’lia grabbed Sehn by the arm, and pulled him in for a whisper.
“We tried things Patrick’s way,”
she said. “
We’ve kept our heads low, avoided notice, and look at where it got us.”

Sehn grabbed her arm as well, and whispered back. “
Why are we lying to these men? Not that I think lying is wrong, or anything, but…I don’t like using Saerith’s name.”

“
Think about it for a second. We’re broke, dirty, and we’ve got no supplies or horses to even carry them. Tell me, do you feel like walking the rest of the way? What happens when we get to Shinsar?
If we butter up the mayor, he’ll give us whatever we need. Also,”
she continued, and now her voice took on a sly, seductive tone.
“Perhaps he might even shower us with gifts, and coin.”

Sehn’s ears twitched—for once Cah’lia was speaking rationally. As disgusting as acting like a prince would be, the reward might be worth it. Images ran through Sehn’s mind, and he pictured what he was going to do with the mayor’s gifts. His mood brightened at the thought...

“
All right,”
he whispered back.
“I’ll go ahead and meet with this fool, and demand that he—”

“No!”
Cah’lia said in a whispered screech. “
You listen to me, Sehn, and you listen to me well. You’re going to be on your best behavior, and you’re going to act like a prince. That means no swearing, no speaking informally, no anything!”

“I don’t know how to do those things, Fool’lia!”

“Don’t bother denying it, Sehn. Your father is the chief of Elvar—you’ve been taught everything necessary to attend formal gatherings. I’m not messing around here. Not one vulgar word or slip of the tongue, or else I’ll beat you senseless—Got it?”

Who did she think she was, making threats? Still, Sehn was kind of broke, and if all he had to do was act like a rich spoiled prince then he’d oblige. Sehn wasn’t just a master of combat, no, he was so much more. He was also a master of self-control, and a master at maintaining his composure. Acting like a royal prince would be a cinch.

Sehn stiffened, and straightened into his mightiest posture. “I apologize for my behavior earlier,” he told the lead guard. “I was merely interested in seeing the resolve of Human guards. I must say, you’ve impressed me with your stoicism. Thou hath set an example most great, for pride in your prince thee shine with.”

The guards applauded, and beamed at the compliment. Sehn looked over to Cah’lia, and she too looked proud. Even Rina and Nero stood open-mouthed at Sehn’s display.

“Way to go,” Shina whispered in Sehn’s ear. “I never knew you had it in you.”

What were they expecting?
Sehn wondered.
Of course I’m going to put on a good show. I’m Sehn!

“Please follow us, your highnesses. I see your clothing has become worn with travel. Allow us to provide you something more…stately.”

Sehn nodded and followed the man, the rest of the group trailing behind. For a brief moment he wondered why Wolly was still with them—the little Dwarf remained silent. He probably had his heart set on a free meal.

“
Very well then, my good Human, I shall follow. Lead me to your mayor’s home, that I may be able to appreciate your generous comforts and allow my gratitude to be known. For whilst I bathe in the”—Sehn stubbed his toe on a rock—“FUCK!” he yelled. “FUCKING FUCK-FUCK PISS BALLS! MY FUCKING GODAMMED SHITTY FUCKING TOE! OUCHY-FUCKING-ROO!”

The guards stopped short. Sehn flushed and tried to avoid Cah’lia’s outraged gaze. Several townspeople stopped to look as well, wondering what all the commotion was about.

“I, umm,” Sehn began. “You have all just passed another test! You maintained your composure amidst an unusual circumstance. Be proud, Humans, for very few could have done what you just did!”

There was another round of applause, and the guards laughed. Sehn knew, he knew beyond any doubt, that this was going to be hell for him.

Chapter 38: Sehn the Gentleman

 

“You’re not sure?” Patrick asked. “What do you mean, ‘you’re not sure?’”

Patrick’s voice was agitated, but he knew princess Saerina wouldn’t hold it against him. She cared only about a person’s intent, rather than any words spoken or raised voices. Still, Patrick did not feel comfortable disrespecting the woman—he didn’t feel comfortable disrespecting anyone, for that matter.

“Based on everything I’ve seen since meeting Sehn and Cah’lia, one of two things will happen,” she began. “Without a doubt they will impersonate my brother and I, and it is for this reason I’ve asked us to put on these concealing robes.”

It grated Patrick how he was forced to disguise himself in his own city. Saerina fashioned the two of them dark blue robes, typically worn by the Monks of God
Halinx
. Even with the evening breeze coming off the valley’s surrounding mountains, the heat from the cumbersome robes drenched Patrick with uncomfortable sweat.

He was on edge, and how could he not be? Nothing gnawed at him more than the thought of an enemy force breaching his Kingdom, slaughtering his citizens and burning down homes. Such had already been taking place, only now he’d bear witness to it.

I’m going to give them hell,
Patrick thought.
When that man’s army arrives, I’ll cost him ten lives to our one.

“So, what are these two possibilities?”

At first it was discomforting to be traveling alone with Saerina. Kellar and Rillith were scouting the nearest villages recruiting able-bodied men and women to fight, while Daniel approached the nearby Kingdom Garrisons and prepared the men. Prince Saerith, true to his word, ventured off to rally the Elves. It was hard to believe—with each passing second, an army marched closer and closer to the Kingdom’s Pillar of Hahl.

My Pillar of Hahl!

“The two things should be fairly obvious, Patrick,” Saerina said. Between Patrick, Saerith, and Saerina, formalities were no longer spoken. “Sehn will either pull it off, or he won’t.”

“Forgive me, but these days my mind has issues forming logical thought.”

In some ways Patrick felt disappointed in himself. If the army invaded Hahl, then without a doubt they were heading to Elvadin, and Patrick’s people—aside from those in Hahl—were no longer in immediate danger. Patrick’s relief both shamed and disgusted him, but he fought through it. He would make sure the Elven people were supported, even if it bankrupted his nation in the process.

Besides,
he thought.
If the Elves fall…if that man succeeds, money won’t have value anyway.

 

 

Calen Ariat, first son to chief of the Naris clan, second in line for sword-dominion of Elvar, carefully inspected the Elven steel before him. He refused to pay the outrageous prices in Elvar’s market—it was actually cheaper to venture to the Elven city of Helena, and purchase one from his clan, though it was quite the hassle. Still, if he had fallen for that seductress of a woman, his father’s blade would be the least of his problems. Wherever Sehn was, Calen hoped he was making good use of the weapon.

Helena was one of the few Elven cities not built around trees, resembling more of a Human city than anything. There were still planted trees, and a great deal more flora than what could be found in a Human city, but as a whole it was far-removed from Elvar.

“A shining light thou blade glimmers with,” Calen said. “Burning with the strength of its forger were it not, thy coin yet again thee would nay to be receiving.”

The merchant smiled, and extended his palm. Calen dropped the five golden coins into his hand and sheathed the blade. “Thee business hath left me most full of grate, good Elf. But should thy rump ever be again beaten most foul, and thy sword ripped free of finger from which father hath bestowed, too must you again return, that coin may be placed in palm, as such coin would make thee a receiver of this forger’s finest craft.”

Calen clenched his teeth and whirled around, filled with the desire to punch the rude merchant. No one seemed willing to let him live down his humiliating defeat to Sehn. The tale had spread among the Naris clan, and now he’d often find them offering him “care-cups,” or making quips about losing his father’s blade.

“Get thee to a nunnery!” mocked the voice as Calen walked away.

Calen couldn’t wait to return to Elvar. No one there mocked him—and why would they? Most of them knew full well how annoying Sehn could be. It was a place of empathy for Calen. But here, back in his birthplace of Helena, he found nothing but said mockery.

“Calen!” shouted a voice.

The sound of rushing horses startled Calen. He spun around, and saw what looked like the majority of Helena’s warriors riding directly for him. “What in the Gods!”

There were at least a thousand of them. Archers, swordsmen, all seven of the city’s mages, they galloped towards him with a sense of urgency. Leading them, and dressed in the royal garb, rode Prince Saerith, his red eyes visible even through the dust being kicked up by the horses. Calen expelled whatever air remained in his lungs, and awaited them with his mouth gaping.

He dropped to one knee as his prince pulled alongside him. Calen began the traditional speech. “Prince Saerith, mine—”

“Not now!”

Calen fought against the confusion and halted his tongue. What was the prince doing in Helena? Why was Helena’s entire military force assembled and armed? Prince Saerith leapt from his horse and spoke informally.

“Listen up, because time is short. I don’t know why you’re here in Helena, and honestly I don’t care, because it’s a stroke of our greatest luck that
you
number among us. Calen, as we speak, an army marches on the city of Hahl. It travels in numbers so great that even with the combined strength of man and Elf we’ve not a single chance of victory.”

Calen shook his head. The words were too much to take in. “W-wait, there’s an army? Marching on Hahl? Why does this concern us? Why do we—”

“Silence!” Saerith shouted. “I will explain everything to you as we ride, and you will swear your secrecy to me, but for the time being, pack whatever you can and be ready to depart. The Elven people need you. You’ll be acting the role of war-leader.”

Calen trembled but forced himself to nod. Inside, his mind screamed at him.
Me? A war-leader? But I’m only second in line for sword dominion of Elvar…this is my brother’s job!

“I understand, my prince. I’ll prepare at once.”

 

                                        

 

Cah’lia waited patiently and struggled to conceal the amused grin her mouth relentlessly tried to form. Sehn was being given the clothes of royalty, and just on the other side of the thin wooden door he was putting it on. The lack of screaming made everything all the more amusing.

The walk through the city had been interesting. Hahl was entirely different from Koringrath. Where Koringrath was a market city, with streets crowded by buyers and sellers, Hahl was an odd combination of military outposts and residential housing. It had markets, to be sure, but for most people it was either a home, or a place to be stationed. Koringrath didn’t have many homes, save for the mansions the rich lived in—Hahl on the other hand, was teeming with them. Every street contained dozens of them, all various types and colors. It was a common sight to see a poor farmer’s cottage alongside a Noble’s villa.

Nero, Rina, Wolly, and Shina, had all been taken to a dining area for rest and food. Only Cah’lia and Sehn—Saerina and Saerith—would be permitted to dine in the mayor’s personal hall. Cah’lia wondered how it would compare to the mayor’s hall in Koringrath.

When Sehn exited the dressing room, Cah’lia placed a hand over her face. Otherwise, she feared her eyes would pop from their sockets.

H-he’s…he’s gorgeous!

Sehn was dressed in a purple silk vest, with golden spiraling emblems painted across the breast, forming into a pattern of a fire-breathing dragon, and leading down into a matching set of embroidered slacks. A golden ring decorated each of Sehn’s ears, and jewelry had been placed on each finger of his right hand. He looked more like prince than the
real
Saerith.

“I look like a fucking asshole!” he spat.

Cah’lia placed her hands on her hips, and gave Sehn a warning look. “What if someone had been around to hear you say that? We talked about this, Sehn. None of that.”

He mumbled something that Cah’lia—thankfully—was unable to hear, and walked across the room to stand next to her. She too was dressed her finest in clothing she never dreamed of being able to wear. Pristine diamonds hung from her ears, leading down into a matching blue gown with orange stripes running across. The Humans even provided her with leather sandals, chosen specifically to complement the pale complexion of her feet, and a sparkling coronet running across her forehead.

The two were given adjoining rooms with a dressing area in the center. Mirrors covered both ends of the room, and Cah’lia pulled Sehn next to her, forcing him to stand by her side while she evaluated them. “We look amazing,” she gasped. “Look at us, Sehn. We look better than the real thing.”

For a brief moment Sehn peered into the nearest mirror, and the result was magical. With Cah’lia gripping Sehn’s arm, the two looked like the king and queen of the Elven people readying for a state affair.