Page 11 of Hell-Bound

“I was blessed by Nainaur, or my mother was!”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “How was that?”

The small boy flipped an ace through his fingers.

“Well, my paw left me and my mom—but he said he’d come back! But…after a while, my mom…” He stopped, a flash of pain crossing his face before it, just as quickly, disappeared. “She stopped getting out of bed for a while. She kept saying he’d come back—told me that while we waited, that I was themanof the house.”

He puffed out his chest again proudly.

“She would only leave bed to go to the temple of Nainaur every evening to light a candle for paw. One day, after I came home with some food, I saw her note. It said she’d gone to join my paw and Nainaur in The Heavens, to not look for her because she had become a special angel.” He stopped again, this time looking down at his knees. “It was hard at first, knowing she was gone. But…I only had to live alone for a bit before I found the shipping yard.” He looked up at Renata. “And I’m special because I have an angel looking down on me! So nothing bad can ever happen to me!”

Benji looked at her expectantly, but Renata didn’t know what he wanted from her. Even though he had so many more memories than her, he was still just a child. It was easy to forget that he was so young, his air being so capable and independent. She wondered how long he would believe this story that he told himself. That if he would wake up one day and accept that his mother had left him. Or if he’d hold on to that story for the rest of his life.

I guess sometimes memories are what you decide they are.

“I’m very happy to hear nothing bad will happen to you, Benji,” she responded. “I’ll need you to escort me back to Vergessen when I return.”

As the sun started to set and she began packing her new set of cards and piccolo, she felt a tug on her tunic. Before she could fully turn, Benji had slung two stiff arms around her neck. She was taken aback at first, but that gesture wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

The awkwardness came when she realized she didn’tknow what to do with her arms. She tried to imitate the gesture as best she could and hoped that her movements didn’t seem disingenuous. He didn’t let go for a few beats, so she supposed she had succeeded.

This feels nice.

It was warm despite the chilling ocean breeze, she acknowledged before he broke the hold.

She gave one more small wave and walked off the docks, tracing her steps back to the tavern, looking forward to the bitter taste of ale. Her booted feet kicked up rocks as she shuffled down the empty street. It wasn’t long, however, for her ears to twitch slightly, hearing another set of footprints scraping stone.

Someone is following me.

But her body didn’t want to run, and she didn’t feel threatened by the footsteps coming closer and closer. A small whisper in the back of her mind told her to justkeep walking. So she did.

She walked—still looking at her feet but not sure where she was walkingto.She passed the tavern, and soon, the streets became dark. There was very little light in this part of the city, making her pulse tick up a notch.

She then felt the hair on her arm stand on end right before a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She abruptly found herself face to face with a hulking Orc, one of the same she had seen at the tavern.

His skin was a sallow shade of green, like mold on bread. His tusks protruded from the bottom of his mouth and were so long that they threatened to poke holes through his top lip. He was completely bald and had a long scar from his scalp to his cheek.

“Hey, flute girl! Wanna share those coins yeh got there?” he grunted, gripping her arm painfully.

Her ears perked again as she heard some rustling in an alley nearby. He wasn’t alone.

“Right, s-sure,” she said, reaching into her satchel.

With a start, she realized that her hands were searching for something other than coin. She suddenly felt at war with herself—stuck between crashing thoughts—and froze, one hand still in her bag.

The scarred Orc grunted again as two other males approached from the alley.

“You better hurry, little bard,” he said, producing a club from behind his back. “We’z don’t care how well you play that pipe. We’ll beat the coins out of yeh.”

The war in her suddenly stopped. She could feel the blood flood to her ears as she whipped around.

What are you doing?

The losing side of her brain shouted as she raised onto her toes to get eye level with the tall figure. Her patience had run out.

“Fuckingtryit, prick,” she snarled.

His eyes widened in surprise.

---