Declan Durinson
The Butcher King
Declan turned his back on Brynjar, not bothering to give the rest of his words his time or attention, though he heard them all the same, as he left to find a way down to the river below and the carriage within taking the time to remove the dirk from his back as he traveled.
Declan Durinson had made his oaths, that was true. He made his oaths and he kept them. He'd forsaken no vow where Aelin was concerned and Brynjar's accusation gave him a moments pause. He thought of turning back and taking what was owed in blood; Brynjar's or his own. The moment was only that, however, and floated away on the breeze just as quickly as it had come.
Brynjar and Aelin both were no longer of his concern. The King would speak with Aelin once more and after that he would feel well to be rid of them.
The banks of the olv here under the marble bridge was of sharp shingle stone. The water, normally clear and crisp had grown murky and spoiled from blood and body soil. A hundred corpses or more were in the water here.
The ivory carriage stood out amongst the bodies. Beautiful in is design and craft but ugly in the naturalness of it it's being here in the mighty olv. Declan reached out with the Gods Gift and plucked the carriage from the water as if it were a stone.
Under the water where the carriage had been, amongst the swirl of sand and shingle, Declan spotted the unmistakable shimmer of something shiny. Something of a value he did not understand.
Declan dove into the murky blood filled waters of the ølv. It was not as deep as it looked, four kicks of his powerful legs and he was touching his prize. A glint of silver among the dead and drowned. Declan reached a hand out to collect his tithe and nearly swallowed all the olv from shock when something reached out and wrapped around his wrist.
Pallid, thin, hard and brittle, Declan was certain he had been seized by a skeleton or a ghoul right out of a hearth story. He tried to pull away but the grip of whatever now held him was stronger than it had any right to be. There was a steadfastness to whatever had hold of him.
A desperation.
Life.
Declan shoved his arms down to the elbow into the pile of bodies rummaging around until he was certain he had it.
Had her.
When Declan rose from the water and was again on shore, he was not alone.
In his arms was a girl. She was frail and thin. Perhaps malnourished. Perhaps underdeveloped. Perhaps both.
She felt as light as kindling in his arms. The water had left her hair heavy and dark as pewter; strands sticking haphazardly to her face. He dress was made of some delicate fabric turned heavy and see through from the water, a plank of ivory carriage wood the width and length of one of Declan's massive hands protruded from the girl's left side.
Declan felt an unbidden pang of pity to look at her. To be robbed of her dignity in her final moments. Human or no, this girl deserved something better.
Even without the difference in aging between human and Lupo, Declan could not hazard a guess at this girl child's age; though he thought her to be older than a glance would suggest.
Declan grasped the prize he had dove in the water for. A silver pendant around the girls neck came free with a swift tug.
Twice the size of a standard credit chip, the silver pendant was wrought with the shape of a canine on one side, a wolf? No, a silver fox. The same as the green knight had on his surcoat. On the other side a bird perhaps? Declan studied it, ignoring the shallow water logged breaths that came more and more infrequently from the girl.
A pretty face. He thought. Even now as you are
As she was.
For the first time since being pulled from the water the girl's eyes opened, silently, suddenly, and with great shock to the both of them. Declan took a few steps back from the girl who seized and shook violently on the shingle shore, new cuts opening on her arms and legs from thrashing on top of the rocks.
She shook, shaked, and opened her mouth to scream but no sound came from her save for a violently uncomfortable gurgling.
Declan had seen death thousands of times. Good deaths and terrible. This was unlike most.
Declan watched the girl's final moments horror struck.
The girl's legs bent the improper way from a human. The nails on her fingers had grown longer and come to a sharp point. Her torso even was too long for her proportions and her face…
Her face too had began to grow long, the shadow of fur crept from under her dress and up her neck.
When finally she stopped thrashing and her chest stopped rising, Declan picked her up again and moved her to a place on the bank with grass, nearer to the trees but not too far that the others would not find them.
He would be found sitting among a patch of wildflowers. Purple, yellow, orange, bright and hopeful. He sat and the body of the girl, half transformed lay next to him. He had lain her down with as much care as could be found, posing her as if she had simply fallen asleep.
She looked almost peaceful.
The lie of it stung. There had been no peace to the way she died.
"I still do not know the words." He explained to the corpse apologetically.
Aelin Erevos
Brynjar Threist