Chapter 77. Confessions.

  Xantrilexa looked up at Sid. Those blue eyes were cold. Sharp eyebrows scrunched with a centered excuse me arch.

  The chill in her glare forced him to glance at Abram. Then to Fenrir. Slowly meeting the cold stare—get that girl a star in Stare-Down—her eyebrow still held in question. He started to rub the back of his neck. Should he just run? Instead, some words were wrestled into a sentence. “Well, you’re in men’s armor.”

  She broke her visual lock-down. Eyes dropping to her boots. Gold toes with a small gold wing at the ankles. Her armor was without a doubt far better. Then, she did something she wasn’t proud of. She compared herself to him: the ugliest shade of red for padded trousers. Leather striders, good for striding, no real foot protection in a fight. A nasty jacket? Whatever this hooded coat was it was gross. Was it squid? Or fish? No shirt or anything underneath. He was a heavy man too. Look at that hairy bellybutton—gross—and he used his sword as a cane. Honestly, who was he to judge her.

  Her lip twitched at the hooded giant. And she snapped with pride.“Have you seen the women’s armor, thanks for protecting nothing.” she started. “Whosever idea it was to create a tighter chastity belt that rides up and chest armor that isn’t anything more than this little half piece of—”

  As she explained her hatred for the stylist responsible for such promiscuous armors, Sid was hearing another voice—a few of them actually. They were faint, and he had to really listen. But they were there. Whispering things of mental blackness.

  “Silence her—take her tongue—and her eyes—hahahahahahaha—you’re the king now—who is she to talk to you like such—show her your wrath.”

  He shook his head. Tentacles swaying with his motions. The last voice was louder then the others. It worked though. The voices were gone. And he was just shaking his head now.

  Xantrilexa read his headshake as nothing more then disagreement. “No?” She held the vowel for many heartbeats. “You men are all the same. Protect the one and only thing you can think about, its disgusting.”

  “Well there be a river on the way dearie ye can wash it clean when we get there.” Abram decided to take some heat from Sid.

  The vein in Xantrilexa’s head looked like it wanted to strangle the voyager. “Excuse me?” she had never been so offended in her life.

  “Ya said yer, coochie was disgusting. Ye can clean it in the river.” He smiled genuinely. “Me be honored to help ya if ye—”

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  -Smack-whack-SLAP-

  He never got to finish. Xantrilexa was putting hands on the man. Violent. Skin blushing slaps. The kind that made the skin tingle and odd ones begging for more.

  “Another one right here dearie,” Abram smiled looking at her with a lewd expression. “Ye gots the softest, most delicate hands me ever been with.”

  Xantrilexa glared down. Half creeped out half wanting to give him another. She booted him over as he tried to pick himself up. “You’ll keep that to yourself if you like looking at the sky.”

  “Take me eyes, but you won’t take me memories sweetie.” He smiled a charming patchy grin, while poking his temple.

  Sid and Xantrilexa, shared an glance before she barked at him. “I was saving your life you dip.”

  “Well if that be how yer saving people, me sure would like to see how ya thank em.” Abram laughed, curling with a groan.

  As confused as Sid was he couldn’t ignore the silver ball in the tree trunk anymore. He dug it out and looked at it—the hell was this?

  Abram smiled as Xantrilexa slapped him again. She then bent down and pet Fenrir. Instantly pulling back noticing he was not a dog.

  “Look at this?” he said.

  Abram knew what it was. “Lemme have that Sid. Something that needs to be confiscated from the game.” He held his hand out.

  Sid didn’t protest—anything to stop the game. He handed it over

  Abram tucked it in a pocket.

  “What happened Abram. Where are your things and your donkey.”

  “Me keep it simple for someone like you Sid,” Sid’s eye narrowed at the comment. “they got the best of me Sid. All 13 of them.”

  Sid rolled his eye. He may not have known Abram—but the guy was full of shit, everything g that came out of that salty mouth. Nonsense.

  Abram did tell a fairly compelling story though. Even if a sorcerer set him on fire—Sid still calling bullshit on that one.

  “So what way did they go then?” Sid asked.

  “Oh they be stuck by now. We needs to find Arieo, and I haves a damn sure idea where he be too.”

  Sid hadn’t even the chance to ask his question yet—he needed to find the Blue-Boa’s.

  “Me founds something me thinks ye be missin too big guy.” Abram reached into his coat. Pulling the elven pouch of ash free.

  Sod nearly choked seeing it. “Abram. But how?” he took the pouch.

  When he did the bell chimed. Skin tightened as the snarling rippled shadowing the blissful chirp. Even under the hood Abram could see the reaction.

  “What’d she say Sid,” Abram looked at the man with complete desperation. “please tell me. Me be on yer side. I want to stop them too.”

  Sid blinked. Pulled his hood down. “I can’t read Abram. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.” Heat creeping up his neck with each passing beat of silence.

  Abram’s face went flat like a receding tide. The man was illiterate. If Sid couldn’t receive t messages the prophecy couldn’t advance—right?

  Abram exploded at the purpling sky. Swinging at nothing. Throwing rocks here and there. “What the fuck, Lakora? He can’t read? Is this some kind of fucking joke? Yer acting like a god. Not a pioneer!” he glared at the stars trying to punch back as more started to appear just to mock him.

  A bell chimed. Soft and reverent. Gulls and crashing waves in the distance. Abram glared at the words as the rolled through—this was definitely a game.

  [New Quest: The Mentor – Teach the Bear-King to read.]

  [Reward: +5 stars Intelligence, +15 stars tutoring. +20 stars Patience.]

  Abram’s face was flat and mean. His eye twitched as he read the quest. Muttering words under his breath.