Dragonsbane (Dragonsbane Duology Book I)

Chapter 12: The Passing of Time (Part II)

At the lake with the dragon corpse in it, a prostitute was being chased by a man with a knife. He'd chased her there all the way from the brothel, nobody had done a thing to stop it, the guards at the gate hadn't seen the knife.

"Get your ass back here!" He shouted, he didn't seem to be very well trained with the knife, he was waving it around so much he was just as likely to cut himself before he cut her. He caught up to her at the dead dragon and he pinned her against it while holding the knife very close to her throat. She fought him off as best she could, until the knife was against her skin.

She submitted; it wouldn't be the first time she was forced to do something she didn't want to do. Though she wasn't as good at taking her mind elsewhere as some of her more experienced coworkers. 

He only got the top button of her blouse undone, before the wolf came, rabid. He had to face it, it was a greater threat, and that gave her time to escape, and he realized he could no longer gain anything from the situation, he was fucked. 

He made a run for it, rather than facing it heroically, he ran towards Siladrin, and the dragons. He did not get very far, the wolf tackled him and ripped into his flesh, he only managed one pathetic cry for help before he stopped making noise entirely.

Larian couldn't believe how fast he'd lost control of the place. It was as if they were punishing him for not killing the man on his anniversary. Bar fights were spilling out into the streets, drunks howled, and glass shattered in candlelit windows. Street Vendors chased thieves with brooms. Near the castle stood a tall, balding man named Hans. He was preaching to a group of three or four people, but he wasn't religious, he wasn't quoting ancient books, he was too angry and drunk to do that.

"We all know the pretender isn't ready! We all know if we keep him on the throne our families will be ash! Protect your homes! Your families! Yourselves! Burn him first!"

His small group sounded off drunken war cries for a lost cause with him, he lit their torches with his.

Larian and Amlin stood on a balcony, against a railing above the thrones. It was the space where the King and Queen would stand for ceremony, or for trials. Larian looked annoyed to be having the conversation and Amlin was trying to reach him and it was making her shake with concern.

"I'm worried about you," she said, rubbing his arm.

"Don't know why."

"You haven't even been outside in two days. Do you know what's going on out there?"

She took his waist with both hands. "Please, talk to me. It's okay if you're afraid." She moved her lips towards his but he was staring off into space. "Let me help you."

Larian turned his head, Amlin's mouth went dry, her eyes glistened. "Are you nothing but a coward?" They made eye contact, Larian's stony gaze unsettled her. Ronson Caladin interrupted them, and it was then that they both smelled something burning.

"We need to go, now, Lord!"

Larian watched as the last of the flames were extinguished in the main hall. He pulled Ronson in close with anger.

"You prove your incompetence by the day!"

"I can only apologize, my Lord!"

"How many more times?!"

He let go of Ronson and he stepped away brushing himself off. "Hans is, was, my oldest comrade. I didn't suspect him for that reason."

Larian turned his attention to Hans, he was being restrained by other guards at the door. He recognized him, he'd seen him before he became a shut-in, and was often found sleeping on the wall. He calmed himself with a deep breath then turned back to the Guard Captain he'd assaulted mildly.