“Well, we’re not going to be underway anyti soon. What, with so many injured, horses run off and the wyvern’s offspring to find.” Brundle took off his pack from his horse, placing it on a nearby log, then patted the animal. “In fact, we’re probably losing this day. If it was sumr and we had wagons, we’d salvage so ti, but as it is, best we stay here one more night.”
“Morry’s rounding up the horses.”
“He’s probably almost finished then, but there might be so stragglers.” Looking down, he paused, then looked dead in the eyes. “Why, my lady, did you go put yourself in danger?”
“Oh, I just, ok, it was stupid. I wanted to see what they look like and thought Gun would simply capture it.” Yup, then I’d triumphantly mount the beast, we’d beco best friends and sail on the winds. Of course, had he done it, he’d have beco its best friend, ridden the airways with it, and I’d be relegated to the love interest.
“Capture? They’re extrely dangerous.”
“Yeah, stupid. That was stupid of . How many casualties? How many n did it kill?”
“Twenty-one, so far. Probably sixty or more wounded.”
“Damn.” I turned away, looking at my hands. Had I been unafraid of the consequences, I could have just blasted the thing. Though it didn’t occur to at the ti. Perhaps because this was all so new, perhaps fear froze my brain. I didn’t know what to think, still processing but, so part of said, most of those n would have died before I’d gotten there. “Where were the mages in all that? Why didn’t their magic hold it off?”
“Your Highness, it must have been a gap in the magical obfuscation. Mages couldn’t have gotten there any faster than you did.”
“I’m going to talk to Etienne about this.”
Brundle clasped his hands in front of them, “It’s awful for our soldiers to perish in this way, certainly, but these things happen. It is spring, wyverns are more active at this ti of the year. And the soldiers are trained to handle such events.”
“Yeah, I guess. They used rope to tie it down, threw spears and shot it.”
“Shot? I can’t imagine that doing anything, I’ll have to talk to Gun about those n.”
“Sorry, I an ‘loosed,’ they loosed arrows and bolts into it.” It was taking forever to unlearn gun related words for sending missile weapons at opponents. Loose, loosing. Ugh. I’d just have to invent a gun and then correct their language.
“Then they acted appropriately. We’ll have to send parties out to see if any nest is nearby and kill the young.”
“Can they be tad?”
“Many have tried. But they’re wild. Once they beco adults, well, sotis they simply fly away. But most tis, they eat their owners before flying away.”
“Ah.” Kind of like trying to ride a crocodile as a personal kayak. I stared at my feet a mont, then realized I needed our schedule, “How long will this take?”
“At least until late afternoon, but probably longer. We’ll have to ask the nurses on the state of the injured.”
“Hmm. I think you’re right. We should just stay one more night. I don’t like it, but what’s the point in traveling three more hours only to set up camp again.”
“The soldiers will appreciate the rest and it’ll give us ample ti to butcher and process the wyvern and whatever cattle it killed.”
“Wait. We’re going to eat it?” Visions of spider at floated in my mind.
“Yes, certainly. As princess, Gun will most likely bring you the heart.”
“Oh fu . . . dge. Fudge. Seriously?”
“It’s a rare delicacy these days, my lady.”
***
“There’s no way I’m eating that raw.” Staring, horrified as Gun removed the lid off a silver platter with a flourish and flutter of his left hand – no idea where he got the platter from – the beast’s heart resting inside and, yes, it was uncooked. A large predator. Trichinosis, full of trichinosis to be sure. I couldn’t see them, but just knew the little white worms were wriggling around, happily waiting for their chance to live inside my body.
Gun smiled at , “Co now, Warrior Princess, the spirit of a great beast resides in this heart! Surely, it will add to your legend.”
“But parasites!” I couldn’t stop myself. Of course, of course these people ate raw at from apex predators. For that’s where the danger lay! Maybe it was the combination of toxins they consud that protected them, maybe the lead in their diet beat the trichinosis down. Now that I was thinking about it, I probably had helminth worms already. Yeah, no real sewage separation here. I started turning green and feeling sick.
The n laughed. “Not hardly a parasite, but the most fearso of monsters. You saw how many n it defeated today! My lady, this at was brought to you at terrible cost. You must honor the mories of the n and their battle for you and consu its flesh.” He cut off a bite sized portion, placing it with an odd, gentle motion, on my plate in front of .
I stared at it. White, wriggling worms wanting a new ho. No. Nope. No way! Pushing the chair back, I stood up, put my hands on my face, mind racing to co up with excuses. “Uh, ok, wait.”
“Princess Cayce?”
Morry, Brundle, Rand, a couple captains, so lesser officers, all watching with approval. Calm, be calm, I told myself. Then it hit : this was the ti I’d been waiting for. I held up my hand, a finger, took a breath, “Alright, I was saving it until after the battle. But seeing as how we,” I inclined my head toward Gun, “how you and your n bested such a terror, now is the ti.”
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“My lady?”
I walked over to my pack horse, wondering all the while how long parasites would survive the death of their host and hoping it was less than the ti it would take to return to the table, but knowing otherwise. I grabbed one of two of the wooden quarter-barrels from the packhorse, lugged it over with great effort, breathing heavily, all but dropping it on the table when I got there, the n still watching and none offering to help with the heavy load.
“Whiskey. If we are going to eat raw flesh, I’m going to drown it in whiskey.” Yup! That would kill the parasites instantly! For sure it would, I told myself, that’s how alcohol works. Death upon touch. Oh, I was going to be so sick later. What were the symptoms? Elephantiasis? I couldn’t rember. I think that was so other parasite.
“Pardon , my lady?”
I planted the barrel on the table. “Get your mugs over here. This is the spirit I’ve been working on.”
“You’ve been talking with spirits?”
“What? No, that’s just what you call it . . . never mind. You rember alejack? This is better.” He probably asked more questions, but I ignored him and focused. I had to breach the barrel and the wooden stopper was covered in wax and likely had expanded into the wood. Bunghole, that’s what they called it. I took out my dirk, chipped off the wax, plunged it into the stopper, and pulled and pushed and nothing happened.
“Princess,” Morry said, suddenly nearby, “if you’ll allow ?”
“Uh, ok.”
He rolled the barrel over to him on the table, then slamd his palm right beside the stopper. It popped out with a plunk. “Normally, we use a bung starter for this. It’s a wooden mallet.”
“A bung starter?”
“That’s right. You rember from the night of the ball.”
“Well, no. I just pulled out the stopper then.”
“Ah. Must have been newly plugged barrels. Rand, pass a couple jugs.”
Forgetting about the parasites for the mont, I watched anxiously as Rand placed a few jugs in front of Morry, and the big man hefted the barrel over them, turning it so it captured the liquid rushing out.
It was still more clear than yellow, but it poured clean, free of debris and not at all cloudy, and I felt a sense of relief. At least sothing had gone right today.
After transferring it to mugs and cups, and each person had one, with way too much whiskey in it, full mugs for everyone – these people were used to drinking ale and wine and had no idea what was in store for them – I held mine up, “To you, gentlen, and the brave soldiers who fought the vicious beast, and those who lost their lives.”
I sipped the four-month-old whiskey. Very oaky, notes of vanilla, with a hint of apple and berries, and a dark, robust, sweet taste. Sharp, for it was young. And not at all smokey, since it was unpeated. But not harsh, like the fusel alcohols of Bechalle’s alejack and that alone made smile. We’d taken a narrow definition of hearts, for safety, and that made for a fine whiskey. Ok, not fine so much as drinkable. It really needed more ti in the barrel. And I’d eventually have to figure out how to use peat on it. But drinkable!
The big man looked at the cup he was holding, shrugged, and took a sip, made a slight grimace, nodded, took another. The others weren’t so cautious. Rand doubled over in a coughing fit, Brundle made a face like a toddler trying lemon for the first ti, and Gun was doing his best to politely cough in the manliest, sexiest, most rugged way possible.
“Princess,” Morry managed to get out, “you should probably warn people before . . .”
“Should I?” I took a bigger sip. “What do you think? A girl’s drink?”
“Even the second ti, this is like drinking fire. Burns on the way down. What did you say about it? It’ll put hair on your chest and ink in your quill.”
“Yeah. It’s not bad. Needs to age more, to get more rounded flavors. Also, probably have to use old wine barrels. It’s way too oaky.”
“Your Highness,” Rand coughed out, “wine barrels are aged before using them. Water first, sotis a charring.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Huh. Thank you. We’ll do that next ti.” I stared at my mug, kinda proud of myself. To hell with the oak, it was whiskey! “Bottoms up.” I tossed the rest back. I couldn’t get hungover, so why not upstage so hypermasculine warriors? Definitely felt it going down and it ward up my insides, making wonder if it was a tad overproof. Possibly. I did not have a asuring device. Hydroter! One of those, could do with one.
The world tilted. Placing a hand on the table, I pulled out my chair, unfortunately to be faced with the raw heart flesh. Sigh. And its parasites.
“I like it,” Gun said, looking at his mug. Then he picked up so heart with his hands, put it in his mouth and started chewing.
Right. The heart. Raw heart.
It was the alcohol hitting, at least that’s where I’m placing the bla. I stuck a fork in the at, brought it up and placed my left hand over it. Then concentrated on the molecules rubbing each other, moving quickly, heating up - cook, damn you! Smoke rose from behind my hand and I quickly stuffed it in, scread inwardly and silently as it burned my mouth, grabbed the nearest glass and chugged, started gagging as soone had refilled my whiskey, doubled over trying to swallow while coughing.
“Princess! Are you ok?”
Morry at my side on the ground, holding my hair up. What true friends do when you’ve gone too far, though in this case, it was entirely the fault of the parasites. Little bastards got into my mind. The grass beneath my gaze was blurry for the tears in my eyes as my sinuses and nose burned from the ethanol. “Yes, yes, oh god that was awful.”
“Maybe this drink you’ve invented isn’t fit for human consumption.”
“Just add,” I coughed a little, “so water.” Damn, when was I going to learn how to eat and drink? How many tis did I have to burn my mouth? Next ti I cook sothing, I told myself, it has to be done outside my mouth. But at least those parasites were all dead.
They had beco calories.
“Morry . . .”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to get a fire going. I want normal, cooked at. And maybe a lot of tea. Lukewarm tea, or even cold, if possible.” I wonder if they’d notice how quickly I could get a fire going. It’d be bad to be noticed.
“Allow .” The big man went over to the fire pit, started working on it.
For , the world spun. Took a few monts to get used to it and steady myself. The danger of spirits. Yeah, I needed water. Boiled water, with crushed, long dead leaves in it. On reflection, I probably should listen to Morry’s advice and give a quick explanation on how powerful whiskey was. The soldiers were in the process of discovering that themselves.
“Lynnex, Hirsfelt, Dran,” said Maitlan, holding up a piece of heart. He continued reciting nas. The laughter died and most of the officers around soon looked at the ground, though others held up pieces of the heart. Morry stood up from building the fire. At twenty-three nas, he stopped. “Our dead, may they be rembered. We feast tonight because of their efforts and in their honor.”
Gun was giving Maitlan a sour stare, but shifted his gaze to , and dropped the awfulness, as I stood, too.
After a long silence, Maitlan lifted the heart flesh and said, “To their mories.” He ate of it, then took a drink from his whiskey and calmly and forcibly swallowed.
Ok, alright, that was my cue to be a princess. “Gentlen, tonight we are indeed resting and rembering our n, and also enjoying our ti as among the living. I ask you to keep all these things in your heart, for battle is approaching. Also,” I held my cup up, “please be careful with this drink, whiskey it’s called. It’s very, very strong. Probably eight tis stronger than ale. Best to mix it with water.” Or soda or coke, if you have it, but I couldn’t say that part.
A smile broke out on Gun’s face and he leaned forward, cup in hand, “No kidding! Eight tis stronger? Well, it’d be a sha to add water to this fine craftsmanship!” and he and most of the n, except for Maitlan and the officers he’d brought with him, held their glass up, cheersed, and drank.
Whoops. n and whiskey. I created evil.
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