The sergeant sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll be glad to be rid of these pests,” he muttered. “Go back to guardin’ stuff that don’t whine and moan.”
“Get out of this place too,” the other guard said quickly. “These caverns are unnatural. Haunted too. My gran had the sense you know, passed a bit on to me.”
“Man, ain’t no ghosts ‘round here. Just your wild imagination after a few drinks.”
“Yeah? How d’ya explain all that blood in the hall late last night? One of the competitors suddenly vanished? These elves actin’ all skittish all the time. You know they can sense the spirit world too, right? They know somethin’ ain’t right and it’s causing them all sorts of hell.”
“What I’m hearing,” the sergeant said in a serious tone, “is that your gran was an elf. Is that right Dawlkin? You’re part elf?”
The guard identified as Dawlkin sputtered and waved his hands in front of himself hurriedly, as if warding off the evil accusation as fervently as possible. “What? No, not at all. She was dragon-touched.”
The other two men snorted derisively in tandem with the other guard going one step further and spitting on the ground. “Ain’t no kin of yours dragon-touched. Elf-blood is more likely. You have the ears for it.”
Dawlkin placed a hand on the sword at his side and raised his other fist in anger. “Say that again,” he threatened. “Call me elf and…”
His tirade was cut short by the sound of commotion from the room. It was clearly indication that a small brawl had broken out, with grunts, thuds, and curses echoing out. It didn’t last long though, no more than five seconds before it was silent once again.
“Curse those fools if they killed any of them,” the sergeant muttered. “It’ll come out of their pay, not mine.”
The other guard, not Dawlkin, gestured to the door as if asking if the sergeant wanted him to check, but the sergeant shook his head.
Dawlkin turned his attention back to the other guard and pointed his finger accusingly, “You still owe me an apology.”
“Hells if I do,” came the response. “Your eyes and ears are longer and narrower than any Tehynshin I’d ever seen. The sergeant has the right of it, I think. Elf blood.” He spat after the last words were out of his snarling mouth.
“These,” Dawlkin snapped back, “are elf ears.” He grabbed Kre’s hood before the boy had a chance to react and yanked it back, revealing the shorter, rounder ears of a Tehynshin.
“What the hell,” the sergeant snapped, pushing himself away from the wall and pouncing on Kre in a single, fluid movement. He grabbed Kre by the chin and turned his face upwards. “Ain’t none of our kind supposed to be serving like this. Explain yourself.”
The door opened behind them and the sergeant snapped back without turning his head, “Get that pet out here. She has some explaining to do about the boy here.”
“Ah’m happy to explain anythin’,” came Ortho’s gruff response. “Yah might not be likin’ the way I do it though.”
All eyes snapped to the wide-open door and to the six armed figures spread out in front of it. Ortho stood at the front of the semi-circle with a guard’s sword in his hand. “Let the boy go,” he growled, raising the sword to point at the heart of the unarmed sergeant.