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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1179003
Part C, a continuation of my Crimson Grace short-story series. Please enjoy!
CRIMSON GRACE - The New Threat (Part C)


The crackling amber blaze of the fireplace held her attention, yet her mind was in a distant place. Sitting with one leg propped over her plush, furred recliner, Crimson Grace reminisced on her past targets, who had all been humans, and wished how her coming task would be just as easy. How she wished it would be as simple as sneaking up behind them, and driving a blade into their backs. Or the time when she tried to seduce Drasten Haggleford, the corrupted city official, only to poison his drink and kill him without leaving any clue. Or even the numerous times when she had to actually engage her victims in real, physical combat who, at least, were easily felled by her blades. But these were lycanthropes that she had been asked to deal with. Her mind was extremely weary from the many scenarios that she had tried to envision the last two days. How does one kill a weretiger, indeed?

A sudden series of light knockings at her front door brought her out of her reverie. It had to be Laudenpun, her trusted, venerable secret informer, came back with the valuable information that she had requested. She went to the door, opened the latch, and saw that the rain was beating down upon him quite heavily, so she let him in without hesitation.

“Thank you, milady,” he said as he put a thick tome on the table, and rested his umbrella against a corner. Then, he began wiping his spectacles on his shirt. “‘Tis not too often that one’s calls are answered quite as quickly as those that are answered by ye, and especially in such wet and troubling circumstances.” And, as if to accentuate his last point, he added, “Might ye have a dry towel somewhere I can use to wipe me face?”

Crimson took her eyes off the tome for a moment. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Pun. Of course I do,” she said apologetically as she handed him a nearby towel. Then, her attention was immediately drawn back to the tome’s thick cover with wooden, protruding engravings of strange creatures, and entitled “Secrets of Terleesia’s Fabled Beasts, Circa P.H.Y. 1,000”.

“Methinks that tome doth provide all the information we be needing,” said Laudenpun as he pulled out a pipe. “Oftimes ‘tis in the ancient wisdom that we must turn to for unnatural solutions.”

“I agree with you completely, Pun,” replied Crimson. “Where did you get such a text, by the way?”

“Ah! Forgive me, milady, but such information I am not privy to divulge. I do so hope that ye understand. Perhaps ye would also agree that what is of more import right now is that we understand these beasts as much as possible afore ye go running into a task as blind as a mole.”

“I never run into something blindly,” she retorted by looking at him straight in the face, while flipping her ultra-sharp dagger over and over in her hand and catching it by the blade’s tip each time.

“Good, good! I have no doubt that ye do,” he answered with a tinge of fear, and quickly and wisely steered the conversation to the actual subject matter at hand. “Let us see what we have regarding lycans, shall we?”

Crimson Grace giggled at Laudenpun teasingly and sheathed her dagger as he opened the heavy tome.

“Let’s see here,” he said, flipping through the brown pages. “Krakens. Lamias. Liches. Lunging Deathplants. Ah-ha! Lycanthropes!”

He quickly adjusted his specs, and stared down until his nose almost touched the page. Crimson looked over his shoulders as he started reading. “It says here that, “…A lycanthrope, with the exception of the weretiger, can only be hurt by weapons of silver or magical origin…” And…” He traced his finger through a few more paragraphs, as if skimming, before spotting something worth reading again.

“Werebears. Wereboars. Wererats. Weretigers. Here it is!” he said excitedly. “It says, “Similar to wererats, the weretigers are the only other group of lycans that does not need a full moon to change between their human selves, and beastly selves. They do, however, need to wait until midnight to change, since all lycans are ultimately nocturnal creatures. Weretigers also prefer human and elven flesh to all other types of flesh. They are highly intelligent, and would only keep alive those beings that they feel have potential to add to their cause. Ultimately, such beings will be bitten to induce eventual lycanthropy. The only way to reverse lycanthropy of a victim is by reversal magic from a priest of the highest order. However, if the victim is killed while still a lycan, that victim is beyond help (short of resurrection magic, again by a priest of the highest order).”

Laudenpun paused for a moment, and looked at Crimson with a worried glance. “Oh my,” he sighed before reading on. “Weretigers are also unique to all lycankind in that they are not affected by silver, but copper instead. They have also been observed to shy away from water. Fire burns them normally, and holy water will act like acid upon them. (However, acid itself, have shown no ill effects on them). The ‘Tigersbane’ plant will repel them as long as it still has scent.” He finished and looked up at Crimson.

“That’s all there is, huh?” asked Crimson.

“I’m afraid so, milady. I did find out a little more about our lycan friends across town, however. It appears that the guildmaster is from the north since his name is Boulithine Caerthan. They are also operating as an assassins’ guild, and me sources have informed that they are approximately 75 to 100 strong.” He finished and looked up at Crimson.

“And growing, no doubt,” Crimson added. “It doesn’t matter. This threat must end, somehow. And, the sooner, the better. I wonder, though, if we were to kill this Caerthan, would that be enough to reverse the lycan curse that all his subjects have been suffering from?”

“Would that I know the answer, milady, but alas, I do not. I have also wondered about that me self, but nowhere in all my research have I been able to glean a definitive answer.”

“Oh well, guess I’ll find out soon enough. But, it’s getting late now. Would you like to stay here for the night and wait out this rain?”

“Oh no,” replied Laudenpun appreciatively. “Ye have me thanks, but I must be getting back to me ol’ girl at home. She won’t sleep until I get back no matter what I tell her.”

Crimson gave him a smirk at the comment. “Very well then. How about some company going home?”

“No, but thanks again, milady. I shall be fine. And besides, ‘tis only a corner or two from here. Best of night to ye, I bid.” He bowed, picked up his umbrella, and left.

“And a good night to you as well, Pun,” said Crimson to his back, as he put up his hand to wave farewell one last time.

When he was out of sight, Crimson closed the door and turned back to the tome that Laudenpun had left for her, and read about Lycanthropes once again until sleep took hold of her at the table.

___________________


Laudenpun Bytheward rounded into an empty alley that he had sometimes used as a shortcut to get home. By this time, the rain had suddenly stopped, so he folded his umbrella. A few steps later, halfway through the alley, he thought he heard running footsteps behind him that sounded like those made when they stepped over small puddles of water collected in shallow depressions in the cobblestones. Turning his head to look behind, he saw nothing. When he turned back around, thinking to continue walking, however, he suddenly stood facing a terrifying site, for leering down at him, through greenish glowing pupils, was a humanoid over seven feet tall with a fearsome tiger head. It growled at him through a maw full of inch-long canines.

It took him three seconds to regain control of his muscles enough to turn the other way to flee, but it felt like an eternity. Surprisingly, the weretiger let him go. But, as he approached the entrance from which he came through, he realized why. The weretiger let him run because it didn’t need to chase him, for another one suddenly appeared from the street beyond to block his path. Now, he was cornered as they both approached him. The last thing he saw was a huge, hairy paw swiping at his temple. Then, all was dark for Laudenpun Bytheward.

(*To Be Continued*)

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