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“Then very specifically tell him that I am busy. And he is well aware of how to contact me. This is not the way.”
With that, I spread my wings and take to the sky.
“AVEL!” I hear Fang snarl in my wake. I don’t think they imagined an outcome in which I outright refused Thorn’s orders. I don’t think I imagined such an outcome either, for that matter. This city should be absolutely swarming with the alpha’s soldiers. Every bit of it should be taken apart, brick by brick, if necessary.
I take a direct heading toward the old brewery. It is quite a flight away, even at my maximum speed, and of course I am intercepted before I can arrive, because Thorn has sent yet more underlings after me.
Two sets of wings are in the sky, heading right for me. The first to reach me is Cirrus, another one of my allies and a servant of the alpha. He swoops toward me and draws himself up erect, beating his wings in the effort to ‘stand’ in the sky. I like Cirrus. He’s a dark shadow of an aerial saurian, with piercing blue eyes and black scaling and wings. He, like Fang and Karn, is an excellent backup at times.
He is followed by Garris, a pale, golden-scaled aerial saurian with broad bone-hued wings outlined in gold. He has a good nature and a kind visage, and though he does not carry much in the way of outright intimidation about himself, he is also a good backup.
It is hard to act in defiance of those I consider friends. I have worked with these saurians for years. They are my allies, and before Raine I would have lain my life down for any one of them.
“Avel!” Cirrus calls my name, though not in an unfriendly fashion. “Do the skies find you well today?”
“You know very well they do not.”
“Strange skies today,” he smirks, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Tanks seen among the clouds.”
A breeze whips past the pair of us as Garris joins us. Now the three of us are treading air, wings flapping to maintain our location, even as we begin to sink toward the ground. I give a few strong strokes to rise again.
“I do not have time to talk. I need to find Raine.”
“Thorn needs to see you.”
“I heard. I will see him once I have her.”
Garris sighs. “Avel, please, do us a favor and let’s not make two scenes today.”
“I need to find Raine. I don’t need to talk to Thorn.”
They exchange glances. We are not insubordinate as a rule, and I have never disobeyed the alpha in anything. I have been Thorn’s most devoted soldier and his constant enforcer. My rank is a reflection of my obedience. But every rule has its exception, and today is the exception.
“Everybody in the city just watched you drag Wrath into the street like an animal and fly him up. Nobody is going to hurt anything that belongs to you. They know it would be suicide.”
“Unless they already have, and unless this is also a waste of my damn time.”
I am out of patience. I set wing toward the brewery, leaving Cirrus and Garris to follow in my wake if it pleases them. The old part of the city is looming now, rougher buildings carved from the rock that surrounds the caldera in which the entire city sits. I land heavily, kicking up dust around my boots as I stride toward the weeping, glass-windowed doors of the brewery. This place represents the heritage of the city, but also plays home to the elements we have long tried to eliminate.
“Enforcer Avel!” A pleasant-looking female tank saurian with broad features and a red painted horn stands behind the old bar. She is wearing a puffy blouse which gives her even more breadth across her not inconsiderable shoulders. She seems surprised to see me, but not worried about me. The welcome is warm.
“To what do we owe the honor here at the old brewery?” She runs a rag over the bar and looks at me expectantly. There are rows of casks behind her, all containing fermented beverages which would produce a light buzz if consumed. I am not here to drink.
“I want to search the basement. Take me down there. Now.”
“Of course,” she says, not skipping a beat. “Right this way, Enforcer.”
Behind me, Cirrus and Garris have landed. Garris posts up outside the store. Cirrus follows me in. Their expressions indicate that they are not pleased to be part of this, but they are likewise not prepared to let me walk this territory alone. I know this is a test of their loyalty, and that it will likely cause some strife with the alpha when all this is done, but seeing them behind me fills me with a certain warmth. Not everything is in aid of the alpha alone.
A familiar scent meets me as soon as we go down the stairs. I smell Raine, and I smell contraband, and most disturbingly of all — I smell blood.
“What happened down here?” I ask the question sternly.
“I don’t rightly know!” She sounds as disturbed as I do.
A barrel is open to the air, its contents reeking out the cellar. I don’t need to taste it to know what it is. There is only one substance in Grave City that smells this way.
“This is illegal saurjuice.”
