Please R&R.

Chapter 6

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Bren shivered in her thick, woollen travelling cloak for the chilling, winter winds were blowing in the afternoon light of Saturday. The six men had unconsciously arranged themselves around their female friend, keeping her within a rough circle. She forwent telling them of their protectiveness and smiled inwardly at how close the fourth-years had formed their friendship.

The Coloured Rose Inn, where they were headed, was considered one of the better drinking establishments in Cylus. Conner and Torrance had been there previously and ensured the group that the alcohol was good and the regulars were friendly.

They had decided previously to visit the tavern in the afternoon. Although the patrons of the Coloured Rose were most likely honest, it was better to be safe than sorry. The small inn was already filling with customers when the students crossed the threshold of the main entrance. Bren swept her untied hair off her face as she took in the environs of the establishment.

The pale, wooden walls of the Coloured Rose were neatly sanded down and polished to a dull gleam, while the wide windows facing the street let sunlight douse the few tables scattered around the room. Unlit touches hung in elaborate brackets evenly around the walls and a small lantern squatted on every table top. The bar ran the entire length of the back wall, currently occupied by several men who were already drunk by the look of their flaccid postures. A single doorway at the end of the bar must have led to other rooms behind or above the main area.

She followed the young men to a table in the corner, bypassing benches hosting other groups of patrons similar to their own. Bren noticed that a couple of the men had a menacing air about them and they were staring at her with more interest than she liked. The young woman pushed her cloak back over a shoulder, making a point of taking a seat close to the corner without being boxed in so she could keep a cautious eye out.

As it was his idea and was the most enthusiastic of the bunch, Conner approached the bar first and ordered a round of ales for them. The barkeep greeted the young man in a familiar manner and motioned that the drinks would be brought presently. Shortly after Conner returned to the table, they were served by a stocky barmaid who seemed to be very bored with the whole routine. She gave the man from Haven a quick welcome which Conner returned with gusto. The girl had grey almond eyes in a heart shaped face surrounded by hair of a dullish red shade. She shrewdly examined Bren to ascertain the lone woman’s station against these obvious noble sons.

Lady Brenna had hidden the nobility of her birth for the sake that this was a tavern and she wasn’t going to portray a submissive flower or a conceited courtier. It was these reasons why she chose to don a white long-sleeved blouse, black wool trousers and vest under her cloak along with sturdy ankle boots. Her jet hair was kept loose to let Bren keep a casual appearance.

Bren watched as the girl’s wandering grey eyes narrowed slightly when she glimpsed the hilt of a blade peeking out the top of a boot. She briefly inclined her head in return to the barmaid’s covert glance and the girl quickly moved away, lest she draw attention to her lingering at the newcomers’ table.

Sean made the first toast. “Here’s to the start of break, a holy rest from training.”

“Hear, hear.” They tapped their mugs together in agreement and the young men practically drank half of their ale in one shot. Perri bit back a choked cough at the end but failed to keep a straight face in front of his friends. Bren put down her mug before she spilt the amber liquid. She couldn’t refrain from laughing with the others and Perri soon joined in.

There was a fireplace on both end walls of the establishment; the one nearest to where Bren and her friends sat was lit while the other grate was stone cold. A modest blaze radiated little heat as it slow boiled an iron pot swinging over its licking flames. The young woman leaned back into her chair, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and let what generated warmth there was chase away the wintry chill from her skin.

Bren listened to the men exchanging childhood feats about an hour later over their third round. Sean and Perri, who sat on the opposite side, was discussing something in a highly secretive manner and occasionally glanced in her direction. The woman drank from her second ale, her mind idly wondering what interesting topic could include her.

A voice intruded on her thoughts. “What about you Bren?” Dale asked.

She left those two be and turned her attention back to the main conversation. “Huh?”

“What is an embarrassing thing that has happened to you?”

“Nothing that stands out from the rest” Bren replied evasively.

“There has to be something you can share with us” wheedled Torrance.

Conner pouted. “Come on, Bren. We’ve told you ours.”

Bren drained the rest of the amber liquid and slid the tankard into the centre of the table, where the rest of the empty mugs had accumulated. “Have you ever walked along an icy stone wall the width of your foot, slipped and land with the wall between your legs?” Her mouth twitched upwards as her friends winced at the implications of that fall to a male. Bren got to her feet and said with a hint of laughter, “I’ll buy the next round.”

She traversed the distance to the bar around the edge of the room, passing the fire. More workers had found their way to the Coloured Rose during the afternoon and there were few tables left unoccupied. The barkeep had an affable nature when Bren spoke to him.

“Another round of ale, please.”

“Coming right up.” He grabbed a clay jug from the shelf under the bar and filled it from the barrel. The man placed the almost brimming jug on the counter. “Torrance and Conner are nice lads. Are you all friends of theirs?”

“Yes sir.” She glanced at their table. “I’m surprised they still have good names here.”

“They’ve done a couple of jobs for me to keep those good names.”

Bren grinned. “Wouldn’t that be right.” She fished out the necessary silver coins from her belt purse and put them on the bar.

The barkeep swept up the coins. “I’ve a gift for the boys but I think you better look after it until they sober up. You can give the boys their drink and come back for it.”

“Sure.” Her friends were laughing at some story Tate had just finished telling. “It’ll postpone them from dragging me into a boasting competition or something.” It was the barkeep’s turn to grin as Bren took up the jug of ale and headed back to the table.

She carefully placed the heavy jug on the wood. The young men bestowed their enthusiastic and slightly drunken thanks on Bren and refilled their tankards. She waved off their appreciation, knowing full well she was contributing to robust hangovers on the morrow.

Bren stepped backwards as she turned to revisit the bar and collided with a man. She would have fallen to the floor for the man had been solid as a rock, but a muscled hand gripped her wrist agonizingly and hurled her around to face him. The man had brutish features and scraggy facial hair. It was one of the men that had been staring at her earlier.

All six of the young men came to their feet when they saw the man grab Bren and heard her utter a pained oath when she was dragged up. Both Sean and Dale clenched their fists at their sides while the rest wore harden expressions. Bren supposed they would have shoved the man away from her immediately except five other burly men stood with the one who had knocked into Bren.

“What do we have here?” the brute posed in a malicious tone.

The woman could hear the strain in the words that marked a man trying to hide the extent of his drunkenness. She stood her ground; it wasn’t too hard as the brute was about the same height as her.

“A confused daughter!” shouted one of the brute’s friends.

“More like a weak girl only fit for servitude.”

Conner shot the man who had shouted a dark look before addressing the brute. “Let go of her” he commanded firmly. Dale took a step and nodded.

Another man commented mockingly. “Look, Rall. Saplings want to play.”

Rall turned his attention to the male students however he did not lessen his hold on Bren. “What if I don’t want to?” he growled.

“Let go of her” Dale repeated.

“If she begs my forgiveness I’ll let her go.”

“That’s disgraceful to demand her to beg when you purposefully hit her.” The student from Spring Mountain had seen Rall move in on his friend.

Brenna had been quietly studying the exchange and could see that Dale was close to coming to blows with this drunken man, Rall. The promise Ashley extracted from Bren to mind Dale gave a mental push for her to do something before the man did something stupid.

Rall shoved Bren from his grip and her back slapped against the polished wood wall. She allowed herself to slide down the wall until she was able to reach the secreted blade. Bren observed the brute’s advance all the while and did not divert her eyes for a second as she slipped the dagger free.

Hardly any time passed between when Rall let go of Bren and his fist ramming into Dale’s stomach. It had been a warning strike as the brute did not follow with another punch. Dale remained bent from the blow and sucked in deep breaths.

“Insolent boy,” Rall spat.

No matter how intoxicated a man was this was intolerable behaviour from any person. Bren crept towards Dale to help him; unfortunately Rall noticed her movements and seized her wrist again. A determined glint entered her eyes and whipped her other hand up to the man’s neck, the blade reflecting the pale light from the fire.

“Never turn your back on a weak girl.” She spoke in a truculence tone, twisting his former words back at him. Rall’s ruddy face blanched. “To answer your first question, I and my friends here, are more than you and your friends over there could handle sober.” He made to retort but the presence of the dagger resting on his collarbone yet close enough to his neck stopped him. “I suggest you return to drinking and leave us alone.”

The brute hesitated but nodded once, his drunken arrogance gone. Bren sheathed her dagger and Rall skulked to his table then emptied his tankard of its contents. The student heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back into their chairs. Every one had been hoping a fight wouldn’t eventuate but their nerves had been on edge readying for one any way.

Bren leant towards Dale. “Are you okay?”

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” He reached a hand to her arm. “How is your wrist?”

She didn’t rightly know so Bren checked her left wrist, the one that had been caught. An angry, red band of flesh encircled her arm, left where Rall had hung on the first time and bruising highly probable. “It’s still moveable.”

Dale acknowledged her reply and let go. Bren felt too unsettled to sit down straight away. There was that favour for the barkeep but it would mean passing Rall and company. She decided to risk it since her hostile actions were barely minutes old and abruptly walked off to the bar, then a sudden thought struck her.

“Why didn’t you try to break up the dispute?” she asked the barkeep.

“I just came from the back when it started and truth be told I chanced that you youngsters could handle it before I had to throw both parties out the door.” He wiped his hands a cloth. “I do know all of you train at the Academy.”

“Conner and Torr’s jobs they performed, I suppose.”

“Along the lines of it. Speaking of which.” The man placed a wrapped package in front of Bren. The brown cloth parcel had a lumpy form tied neatly with string. “It’s a pair of bands made especially for them with the Coloured Rose Inn ensign.”

She pocketed the package. “I’m sure they’ll wear them often.”

“Tell the boys that I appreciate all their help when you give the bands to them.”

“I will.”

Back at their table, Tate poured ale into Brenna’s mug from the nearly empty jug and she nodded her thanks. Bren swallowed the liquid without reservation.

An alert cock crowed to the sunrise from somewhere in the city, the indistinct noise penetrating the closed shutters of the fourth-year female’s room. The middle of winter would soon be upon them and the amount of daylight hours were lessening. She figured it was about the same time she normally got up during the summer-month of Samma and pulled the thick covers snugly around her ears. There was no point to rising that morning as the men would be doing exactly the same thing as she was, avoiding light until hunger drove them out of bed.

Bren remained with her eyes closed against the first light and mentally took stock of the condition of her faculties. Her head throbbed irregularly from her intoxication but that would pass fairly soon as she only had another two tankards after their altercation with Rall. The woman sniggered at the thought that the others’ hangovers would be three times worse for they had drunk until they could barely walk in a straight line back to the Academy. She shifted under the covers and breathed in a groan when she put weight on her left wrist. Obviously the bruising had come out and it was tenderer than she had estimated, but then again Bren sometimes misjudged the extent of her injuries.

The student lay listening to the sounds of life in the morning. The occasional high-pitched twitter of a small bird that winged over the Academy was a muted contrast to her own even breathing.

Somehow their room felt devoid of life without the accompanying noises of Ashley sleeping on the other side. Only another week until her best friend departed from the Brann duchy and with her would come Kegan to start his magix training.

Her thoughts turned to other events she was involved with in the second winter-month of Dalit. The Academy’s preparation for the Dreaming Festival started when the students returned from break. An array of students would be selected to perform and it was highly likely that she would be one of those chosen.

An unbidden smile graced Brenna’s lips as she remembered the coming picnic Ronan had persuaded her to go on in the Silverwood. Bren pushed her headache to the back of her mind and took the time to consider the nature of her friendship with young man. It had only been a month since they had met unexpectedly in the Queen’s Garden and once again the week before. They had talked for hours that first time, getting to know what each was interested in and discussing a range of topics.

There was something about Ronan that Bren was drawn to, something she couldn’t name. Maybe that was the reason she consented to the picnic as Bren had never thought she would ever do this kind of thing after only meeting with a man twice. Ronan certainly seemed like an honest person and his handsome face had been so earnest when he asked her.

She wondered what Ash would say if she knew about Ronan. Bren had not the faintest idea why she hadn’t spoken to her friend about this earlier but she resolved to do it when Ash was back. The young woman speculated whether Ash had the same confused feelings towards Dale now that Brann woman could no longer consider him just as a friend. Bren’s eyes flew open after the thought crossed her mind. What was she thinking! There was absolutely no reason that the boundaries of their friendship could have been surpassed. She clamped down on everything related to Ronan and put it away until she could discuss it with Ash.

A crescendo of drumming pain echoed at the base of her skull and there was no possibility that Bren could just sleep the hangover away. Unable to withstand it any longer Bren pulled back her covers and set about carefully dressing. She did not bother opening the window shutters to let more light in and felt her way around in the dark dressing room. As soon as she was ready, Bren slowly made the journey to the dining hall and asked the kitchen staff for a hangover cure.

It was one of the older male members of staff that handed over a goblet of thick, orange liquid for Bren to swallow. Her mouth was dry so she gulped the stuff; unfortunately the aftermath was still devoid of saliva.

The man chuckled at Bren’s grimace. “I’m guessing I should make a batch of cure?” Bren nodded wearily. “It takes a minute for it to kick in.”

And sure enough they kicked in with a relieved groan as the throbbing eased to a dull ache and moisture flooded her mouth. Now that she wasn’t occupied with her brain, Bren’s stomach protested that she had missed breakfast. She gave the serving man a half embarrassed, half apologetic smile.

“Is there any chance I could get something to eat?”

“Not to worry. I’ll rustle up food that rests easy after hangovers.” He wandered into the depths of the kitchen with a large platter in his callused hands. Bren only waited a few minutes before the man returned with the platter full and a pitcher of the orange cure. He positioned them on one the benches and pushed through the kitchen door to continue his work.

“Thank you” Bren called after his retreating form. The man just waved and smiled knowingly.

The platter contained thick slices of grained bread, wedges of several fruits and small pots of butter and pâté. There was enough here to share among the fourth-years and Bren silently thanked the intuition of the man from the kitchen. She consumed two pieces of bread, one with the spread, which tasted a bit like avocado, and the other with just butter.

The woman picked up the food tray and the hangover cure and headed for the closest of the rooms occupied by the males. Bren cautiously balanced the jug on top of the platter in one hand and then entered the room shared by Conner and Perri.

It was dark in the chamber; one of them had hung a spare blanket in front of the shutters at the window. She left the door sufficiently open to see by and put down her burden, then pulled down and folded the blanket. The stray sunshine illuminated bulky forms in each of the beds and Conner had his covers drawn entirely over his head. Bren quietly went to the tray and arranged the food onto separate plates then grabbed the jug. She picked up the empty glass from Perri’s side table and poured the orange liquid into it. The young woman placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook Perri awake, careful not to aggravate the effects of his intoxication.

He groaned and half opened his eyes. “What?” he uttered thickly.

Bren grinned. “Drink this.” She passed him the drink then went to wake the other man. Perri sat up and obediently sipped the mysterious juice while Bren whipped the blanket off Conner and punched him lightly on the arm. It took a few seconds for the student to react to Bren’s abrupt actions, the only way to rouse a deep sleeping Conner.

“Someone put out the light” the big man mumbled.

“Later” Bren replied, forcing his full glass into his hand. “Now, drink.”

Conner raised himself onto his elbows and drank without opening his eyes. Both Perri and Bren sniggered when the man’s face contorted and he coughed suddenly for the density of the liquid had caught Conner by surprise. He fell back onto the pillows and Bren removed the glasses from her friends to where the cleaning staff would pick them up later.

Bren stopped by the door on her way out with the jug and platter. “There’s a plate of bread and fruit on the table.”

“Thanks Bren” Perri said.

She just nodded and disappeared into the corridor for the next room of Sean and Torrance. The young woman found her year-mates in an almost comatose like state for it took a lot of persuasion to get both men to respond. They followed her directions like zombies and then torr sobered enough to realise that Bren was in their room and was glad the covers were still over him because he slept naked.

“Bren! What are you doing in here?” cried Torrance.

She shrugged imperturbably, “Helping my very drunk friends.”

A blush crept into the son of Blake-lake’s cheeks as he watched her move about the chamber; Sean had caught the other man’s attention and grinned at Torrance’s discomfit.

Bren noticed the exchanged and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I can see anything, Torr” she commented before closing the door behind her. Outside Bren shook her head in amusement then turned the handle of the neighbouring room.

A tickling hint of warm air brushed against Bren’s skin as she entered and the room stank of heated alcohol despite the gaps in the shutters. She figured Tate must have lit the brazier, for Dale wasn’t capable of doing anything other than sleeping. Bren sought out the table for the tray and pitcher and then circumnavigated the brazier to the window. Fresh winter air and sunlight streamed through into the musty room once she threw the wooden shutters open.

Dale must have tossed badly during the night because his blanket was trailing off the side of the bed, trapped underneath his leg. While Dale was the picture of agitation Tate was the complete opposite, his covers flat and unwrinkled. He probably had practice lying completely still and last night Tate would have slept like the dead.

Bren trod softly around the room in search of their kettle, which was finally found on a shelf in the bookcase. She filled it from the room’s water jug and settled the kettle into the coals of the brazier to warm. The man from Snow Valley was the first to be woken and was grateful to be handed a glass of the hangover juice. Bren gave Tate a quizzical glance and nodded towards the restless position of Dale. He just shook his head and shrugged.

“How are you?” Tate whispered.

Bren put down the drink she was pouring and turned to her friend. “Sore and drunk” she replied.

He smiled. “You don’t seem drunk. Why you’re even tending to us unworthy boys.”

“Would you rather Healer Vaughan in here?” she mocked.

Tate held up his hands in submission as the young woman stole the cloth from the wash basin to use with the heating water. Healer Vaughan was the current Resident Healer at the Kings’ Academy and had solutions to the students’ physical and mental problems that were as gentle as being trampled by a stampede of horses.

Bren roused Dale from his stupor and helped him down the drink she had poured. Dale winced when he twisted his torso as she assisted him into an upright position.

“Take off your shirt.”

He hugged his bent legs. “What for?” Dale asked suspiciously.

“So I can see your muscled body” she commented sarcastically. “I want to examine your stomach.”

“I’m fine, really. Rall doesn’t hit very hard.”

Bren shifted her weight onto one leg and placed her hands on her hips. “Stop lying, Dale.” She addressed him condescendingly. “You can’t tell me Rall was a kitten.” The woman noted the flick of his eyes towards her bruised wrist.

“Alright.” The Spring Mountain man stripped off his shirt and lay back on the mattress in his bed trousers.

She moved to his side and whistled her awe at the sickly colouring of Dale’s flesh. He groaned at the more sensitive spots as Bren gently probed his tender stomach with her fingers.

Tate joined Bren with the wash cloth, “Do you need this?”

She nodded and took the damp, lukewarm cloth. “I see you found the food.”

The man was carrying a half eaten bread slice and was just finishing off a # wedge. Brenna spread the material over the fresh bruising then rolled up the edges on either side of Dale’s abdomen. Black-lake passed her the cold water jug and she proceeded to drizzle a little it into the centre of the cloth above the yellow flesh. Dale didn’t make a sound nevertheless both of the students saw the muscles of his stomach tense against the coldness.

“Next time, remind me to threaten the man before he hits you.” Bren cautiously removed the wet material and Dale redressed, though he left the shirt unbuttoned.

“I’ll let you deal with him by yourself then.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re being gallant” the young woman of Avalon teased.

She was about to leave when Dale stopped her, “You think so?”

“I believe Ashley would think so.” Bren left the still intoxicated Dale to puzzle her words before he or Tate could ask any more questions.