Chapter 21 The Babbling Drunk
“And that’s when the chief looked over the table and flung his knife across the room, stabbing the guard in the throat. Guy went down like a bag of stones, dead on impact.” Alric laughs, sipping from an obviously alcoholic flask. His cheeks are ruddy, his grin widespread and unfettered.
His attendant is in front of us, Calder behind, and I’m stuck on a path no thicker than two men standing side by side with a man who thinks I need to know his life story.
“He killed him? Your chief killed his own guard?” I’m trying not to sound shocked. Everyone knows the people in Flamepeak are wild and untamed. Sylvain herself said they live for the moment, aiming to enjoy things like peace and a body that’s still breathing while they have it.
“Well you’d have to, I expect, if you found out what that guard was doing with the daughter of the chief!” Alric barks a laugh.
“How…entertaining,” I mutter, standing on my tiptoes and trying to see where Oberon and Zaries are on the path. I let this fool distract me and now I’m stuck with him for the whole hike? It doesn’t seem fair, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel like I’m fated to be at his side right now.
“Everything in Flamepeak is entertaining, little girl. Everything. When you have no king or queen breathing down your neck, freedom is dangerous. Weapons and alcohol make for brawl-filled evenings, but if you’re lucky, they lead to broad-filled evenings. Do you know what I mean when I say broad? Flamepeak women are, mmm.” Alric grunts in appreciation as his eyes close at a memory.
“Sylvain seems about the same build as any other woman I’ve seen,” I muse, catching her red curls flying over her shoulders far in front of us.
“Sylvain is a little girl like you, Anara. She’s not a woman.”
“You keep calling me ‘little girl.’ I’m an adult, Alric,” I snap.
“You were a babe when I bedded my first woman. So to me, you are a little girl and you always will be. Get used to it.” He reaches back and tugs my braid gently, his eyes clouded from drink.
“You really think getting drunk on a walk like this is a smart idea, Alric?” He’s an idiot. A complete idiot. I’ll be surprised if he makes it up the mountain. I’ll resent him forever for making me watch his demise.
“My life is at risk. I could die any moment, or I could live till old age. I’ll enjoy every second of life I have, regardless of the danger at hand.”
“How in the world did you survive the trial?” I roll my eyes, trying to draw back and put Calder between him and me.
“Luck, fate, human fault, you pick. I stumbled upon my scale and got out. I was the first, you know that?”
“I did not know that. You were very lucky indeed.” If I roll my eyes anymore on this walk, they’ll keep rolling in my skull even when I’m sleeping. “How did you break it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alric asks, turning towards me and winking.
“You’re infuriating!”
“You need to learn to relax.”
“Anara?” Calder calls from behind. “It’s time to put your hood up. We’ve reached the snow.”
I turn to him and smile as I tug my hood up and tuck my braid into my armor.
“Here, take these.” He hands me a pair of leather gloves with fur lining.
I tug them on and thank the kid, patting his knee.
“You’ve got a good one there. My attendant hasn’t said a word to me!” Alric yells from ahead. He mimes as if he might hit the donkey’s ass and I suck in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t do it.
“I’m not surprised, you talk enough for the four of us!” I shout back. Something about Alric is making me start to smile. As irritating as he is, he’s full of life and optimism. I think it’s growing on me.
“He’s a fool,” Calder says under his breath, leaning toward me. “Ignore him, if you can. It’s jokers like him who won't make it up the mountain. He isn’t paying attention and he’s distracting you. You have to make it to the top, Anara. We have to make it up.”
“Don’t worry, Calder. You’ll see the slayer fortress. I’ll make sure of it.” I pat his knee again, wondering at how he seems older than his age, wiser even.
“It’s you I’m worried about. You defeated the odds to get this far, to have a fool like him putting you at further risk just isn’t fair.”
“I’ll be okay. I can focus on what I’m doing, no matter what he’s doing,” I promise him.
When the wind starts to whip and blow ice into our faces like daggers, Alric begins singing. Some jaunty bar tune, I’m sure, but his voice echoes off the mountain. He walks with his arms spread wide, twirling in the snow as if we aren’t on the precipice of a cliff.
“Your libations seem to warm you far more than your coat,” I call to him, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him away from the edge for the umpteenth time.
“Would you like some?” he asks, slurring his words.
I shy away from his flask as he holds it out to me. “Absolutely not.”
“Your loss,” he laughs, turning on his heel and stumbling up the path more.
“You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“If that is fate’s design, so mote it be.”
The wind howls, carrying away his words as if he’s sworn it to the gods themselves and dared them to try.
The higher we get, the thinner the path becomes and the worse the storm rages. Sleet peppers my face like needles, cold creeps in no matter how tight I wrap my coat around me. Thunder crashes somewhere in the distance, and lightning cracks, making the donkeys nervous at a time when steady footing decides whether this is the last beat of a heart.