THE WIZARD AND THE SYLPH

Chapter Eleven

Akaru's Tale

After the disastrous and disturbing meeting at the Hall of the Steward, Brogan, Damond, and Grol made their way together to the Armoury Tavern, which was hidden away in the city's industrial area, well away from the eyes of the city's more sheltered inhabitants. There, they unexpectedly came upon Celedhan and Amrhost discussing the meeting with Garnak, Gart, and Akaru, the half-troll.

Even to the eyes of battle-hardened soldiers, Akaru was an intimidating figure. He wore a short hauberk over a leather shirt and weather-beaten old leather leggings. His black hair, which stood straight up, stiff as a wire brush, was peppered with white. His teeth were slightly fanged and his fingernails were thick and black. His bare arms looked as solid as old oak; his disconcerting eyes had no white, but were rather deep red-brown with yellow-brown iris', and were altogether

unyielding, hard, and intelligent. His features would have been demonic were his square, powerful jaws not bunched with bitterness learned of personal pain; and if his brows were like thunder, it was a thunder directed mostly at the cruelty and unfairness of his own life.

"I have no time for regret," he was saying. "If I erred, as you say, then so be it! But I would not have done otherwise. They were many, we were few. Our mission was to gain information. We couldn't risk detection so far from aid. I saw no alternative but to take from them one who seemed best suited to our needs. We were witness to the girl conducting some sort of ceremony, so it seemed to us that her knowledge was greater than the others. In this I was not entirely mistaken,




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