“There! Last piece replaced. Let’s give it a go.”
“Do NOT-!”
Lady Parhelion’s yell was cut off as another crossbow bolt went sailed past her head. With a thunk, it landed itself into the oak paneling behind her, tip imbedded at an upward angle.
“Calibration is still horribly off,” complained Preston as he began using a metal key to wind the crossbow’s strings.
Lady Parhelion, gathering her scores in a huff, began to shuffle to the next room over. Despite her exhaution in the past few days, she had been making great strides towards improving the songs she’d used to free Preston. Her progress, however, was waylaid as of late by Preston’s own recovery.
“You know she doesn’t like being threatened like that,” Tai said, carrying a stack of linens into the room. “Would you cut her some slack?”
“I’m fixing the crossbow. Can’t exactly go testing it outside thanks to the safehouse you chose.”
Despite the attic’s cozy interior, it was a rough setup. The attic in which they resided was seemingly perfect for them, but the story below was an abandoned sea shrine. It was far away from the city (and the sea, for that matter), making acquiring food and water difficult. There was also the matter of the occasional mystic who wandered by to either pay their respects or maintain the shrine. It was a hiding act that they could pull off, but to play it safe they’d been sequestered to the attic for quite some time.
“A few weeks back, and you’re already committed to making this difficult,” Tai hissed.
“I used to do this all the time when Parhelion was head of the pact,” Preston said, loading up another bolt. “It was a great game.”
Preston took aim and fired off the crossbow again. Before the arrow reached the other side of the room though, Tai’s hand show out and snatched it from the air. With a sickening turn of her wrist, she snapped the arrow back at him, full speed. Preston quickly brought the stock of his crossbow up to shield his face and the point of the arrow imbedded itself in the middle of it.
“cHRIST. Fine I’ll stop.”
Tai shoved the crossbow aside and grabbed the front of Preston’s vest, hoisting him up. “Never aim that thing at me again.”
“Gotcha. No shooting in the house. Won’t happen again.”
Tai gave a huff as she dropped him down. “You can repay me by using the rest of the horn to carve a pegleg. I want it to look like a chimera.”
Preston inspected the rest of the horn with interest, sizing it up. “I could probably do that. It would depend on the size of the your ankle though. Plus, this is only big enough for about a seven-inch design.”
“Well I’m missing eight inches of leg, so improvise.” Tai growled, stacking the linens on an upper shelf. Preston rolled his eyes as he limped over to his workbench.
“I have to see the injury too, you know.”
A tense moment hung in the air between them, but eventually the monk caved. Tai sat on the nearby bed and lifted her bad leg up onto the sheets, looking away. Preston looked curiously at the pegleg: crudely cut wood that was hastily coated in copper.
“Don’t take off the bandages.”
“I need to take off the bandages to see the extent of the wound. If it’s a clean cut, I might be able to-“
As Preston began to unwind the bandages though, flakes of blackened flesh came off with. He let out a low hum as he finished taking off the dressings, revealing the heavy burns around the stump. The pegleg had healed into the body properly, by some miracle, but it was secured by a single metal stake that was imbedded in the leg.
“That’s not a clean cut.”
“I am AWARE.”
“This is going to take some work.”
Preston turned back to the bench, pulling aside the piece of ivory and pulling out some tools that Tai had gathered for him. They were poor quality and mostly broken, but it wasn’t like he’d had much experience carving with good tools anyways.
“Are you going to cut off your horns again?”
“Of course,” Preston replied, picking up a small file. “I don’t want to deal with being labeled a demon out with these Drifters. Not when it’s Parhelion’s life on the line as well.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“I can still hear you both,” Lady Parhelion sang from the next room over. “And no he didn’t.”
Lady Parhelion’s head popped out from the doorway, looking in at the two of them.
“He kept his horns clipped for the entirety of his time with the Silver Pact as well, you should know. The only time I’d seen him grow them out was afterwards when we formed the Nine.”
“Well there’s not a lot of use in hiding that you’re a demon when the GODDAMN WORLD KNOWS.”
Lady Parhelion gave a bark of laughter from the other room, and Preston’s lips quirked up into a smile. Tai, noticing this, gave him a sly smirk.
“You miss her while you were imprisoned?” Tai whispered.
“Like hell,” Preston whispered back, dropping the smile and brushing her off to return to his work. “Better than having her trapped with us, though.”
“Mm. You’d best fight like hell when you meet up with the Drifters then.”
Preston carefully pulled up a carving tool and began to set the chimera horn into a set of clamps. “And why’s that?”
“Because whatever the bard did to her, it’s getting worse.” Tai hissed, looking over at the empty doorway. “And if you don’t get that anti-magic, I’ll make sure you have to watch her die alongside me.”
Preston froze for a moment, looking up at Tai, but dropped his gaze and continued his work.
“Go over it again, what I’m supposed to do with the Drifters.”
“In two days time, you’ll be dropped in a mercenary guild with one of the other Drifters. Find the others, and get the anti-magic. Call yourself a demon hunter, pick a new name, and search well. I’ll keep you company, and I’ll watch over Parhelion once things get bad.”
Preston flicked up his glasses, raising an eyebrow. “Can I be the Crossbow Carrier? Or maybe I can be Deer. No, you’re right, too easy to track…. But what if I spelled it BACKWARDS.”
Tai glowered at him. “How are you in such high spirits at a time like this.”
“You know, it might have to do a bit with me not being tortured in a prison anymore. Trust me, I’m sure I’ll be miserable in no time flat, but right now I’m still a little giddy.”
Tai gave a long sigh before staggering off back down the stairs.
“Happy trails then, Reed.”