In a move so swift, Zellrid shed his drunken persona. He ducked under a swing from the nearest gang member, rolled, and came up on the back of one of the spare horses in one fluid motion.
"After them!" the leader roared, but Aerovind and Zellrid were already galloping away, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake.
they thundered down the town's main street, chaos erupted.
Townsfolk dove out of the way, carts overturned, and chickens scattered in a flurry of feathers.
Behind them, the gang scrambled to mount their remaining horses, their curses fading into the distance.
Aerovind let out a whoop of pure exhilaration. "Now this is what I call traveling in style!"
Zellrid, hunched low over his mount's neck, shot Aerovind a glare .
But there was a glint in his eye, a barely perceptible quirk of his lips that hinted at suppressed amusement.
Ela, her initial fear giving way to excitement, giggled and clung tighter to Aerovind. "That was amazing!" she exclaimed. "Can we do it again?"
Aerovind's laughter rang out, clear and infectious. "Oh, my dear, something tells me this is just the beginning of our adventures."
As they crested a hill, leaving the town and its bewildered inhabitants behind, the setting sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and purple.
The thundering of hooves gradually slowed to a steady rhythm, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell over the unlikely trio.
Zellrid broke it first, his gruff voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. "I'll admit, your plan worked."
Aerovind's smirk was audible in his reply. "Of course it did. I am, after all, a man of many talents."
"Hm," Zellrid grunted, but there was no real annoyance behind it.
Aerovind chuckled, his yellow eyes glinting in the fading light. "You know, my taciturn friend, one of these days you'll have to expand your vocabulary beyond monosyllabic grunts."
Zellrid's response was, predictably, another grunt.
Ela, still nestled in front of Aerovind, giggled. "I think that means he likes you," she whispered.
"Oh, I'm sure," Aerovind replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Our one-eyed companion here is simply bursting with affection. It's a wonder he can contain it all."
As they rode on, the landscape began to change. The rolling hills gave way to more rugged terrain, and a chill crept into the air. Zellrid's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, a change not lost on his perceptive companion.
"Home sweet home?" Aerovind inquired, his tone softening slightly.
Zellrid's eye narrowed as he scanned the horizon. "Something like that," he muttered.
---
Three days passed in a blur of hard riding and brief rests. Ela proved to be a resilient traveler, her initial excitement giving way to a quiet determination that impressed even the stoic Zellrid. Aerovind filled the long hours with outlandish tales and banter, much to Ela's delight and Zellrid's carefully concealed amusement.
As the sun began to set on the third day, they crested a final hill, and the Nightstalkers' school came into view. It rose from the mist-shrouded valley like a Gothic fever dream – all soaring spires and imposing stone walls. Gargoyles leered from every corner, their sightless eyes seeming to follow the approaching travelers.
Ela's eyes widened. "It's like something out of a storybook," she breathed.
"Oh, it's a story alright," Aerovind remarked, his usual levity tempered by a note of caution. "Though I'm not sure it's the kind they read to children at bedtime."
Zellrid remained silent, his single eye fixed on the looming structure. Memories flickered across his face – pain, pride, and something deeper, harder to define.
As they approached the main gate, seven figures materialized from the shadows. The Larian guards, their pale skin gleaming faintly in the twilight, regarded the newcomers with a mix of suspicion and recognition.
"Zellrid," one of them called out, his voice carrying a hint of fang. "Didn't expect to see you at our door again."
Zellrid dismounted smoothly, his movements betraying no tension despite the palpable hostility. "Varin," he acknowledged with a nod. "Still guarding the gate, I see. Ordeon must be getting desperate."
Before Varin could retort, a high-pitched squeal pierced the air. A blur of pale skin and wild hair launched itself from the battlements, hurtling towards Zellrid with inhuman speed.
"ZELLRID!" the figure shrieked, resolving into a woman with eyes that blazed with equal parts madness and desire. "My love! You've returned to me!"
With a grace that belied his bulky frame, Zellrid sidestepped at the last moment. The woman sailed past him, managing to twist in mid-air and land in a crouch.
"Lyra," Zellrid sighed, his tone a filled with exasperation and something almost like fondness. "Still working on your impulse control, I see."
Lyra's face split into a manic grin as she straightened. "Oh, my darling, you know I can't control myself around you. It's been so long, so very long." She took a step towards him, her movements predatory. "Let me show you how much I've missed you."
Aerovind, who had dismounted with Ela, cleared his throat loudly. "As touching as this reunion is," he drawled, "perhaps we could continue it inside? Preferably somewhere our young charge won't be traumatized for life?"
Lyra's gaze snapped to Aerovind and Ela, her eyes narrowing. "You brought... guests?" The last word dripped with disdain.
"My guests," Zellrid stated flatly, his tone brooking no argument. "Ordeon will want to hear about the last contract."
At the mention of Ordeon's name, the atmosphere shifted. The guards exchanged glances, and even Lyra's manic energy seemed to dim slightly.
"Very well," Varin said after a moment. "But they'll be your responsibility, Zellrid. You know the rules."
Zellrid nodded curtly, then turned to Aerovind and Ela. "Stay close," he murmured. "And try not to draw attention to yourselves."
Aerovind raised an eyebrow. "My dear Zellrid, when have I ever drawn attention to myself?"
Zellrid's withering glare was answer enough.
As they passed through the massive gates, Ela pressed closer to Aerovind, her eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. The courtyard was a hive of activity, filled with Larians going about their business. Some were training, their movements a blur of deadly grace.
Others huddled in small groups, conversing in low tones that didn't quite mask the slight lisp caused by their fangs.
Many paused to stare at the newcomers, their cat-like eyes reflecting the torchlight. Whispers followed in their wake, a mix of recognition, surprise, and suspicion.
"Is it really him?"
"Zellrid the hollow hunter..."
"Who's the yellow-eyed one?"
"And the child... surely they wouldn't..."
Aerovind kept up a steady stream of quiet commentary, pointing out architectural features and making outlandish guesses about the purposes of various buildings. His light tone seemed at odds with the tension in his posture, but it kept Ela distracted from the less-than-friendly stares.
Lyra flitted around them like a demented moth, alternating between gazing adoringly at Zellrid and shooting venomous looks at Aerovind and Ela. "My love," she cooed, "I've kept your quarters just as you left them. Perhaps later we could... reminisce?"
Zellrid grunted noncommittally, his eye fixed on the looming central keep.