Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

it down by throwing enough human—or elf—misery at it. Hunters who aimed for particularly dangerous prey would buy up slaves in bulk—usually the very young, or very old—hand them a spear, and then overwhelm the creature with sheer numbers. It wasn’t a well-liked strategy, and even the stoic elves looked down on hunters that employed it.

What it was, however, was effective. And hunters could sell the carcasses of dangerous monsters for a small fortune, either to traders like Synel, who could resell the pieces to crafters, or to wealthy individuals who would display the trophies as their own. The gains of a successful hunt almost always outweighed the cost of the slaves you’d lost.

And because Asle was most assuredly not their own, the people who saw them had assumed she was the only survivor.

“What the fuck kind of fucked-up shit is that?” Summers asked. He raised a hand. “Don’t translate that, Asle.” Summers covered his face with his hand.

“Ms. Synel is asking what we did to beat it. She’s being really complimentary now, especially to you.” Asle looked up at the woman, just to make sure she didn’t understand her. “What do you want to say?”

They’d talked about this, and with Asle’s advice, they’d only come to one solution.

“It’s none of her concern.”

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Synel sat watching the strange traders, as the young girl across from her answered her question simply.

“My friends won’t disclose their secrets so easily, you understand.”

Synel caught the glint in Asle’s eyes. The child was far too assured for her age. The very fact that she’d nearly sabotaged the meeting before it had even begun bothered Synel to no end. And she damn well knew it.

For the past two days, she and her men had been inspecting the corpse of the monster; it had to be prepared for their journey. However, her more skilled craftsmen had noted the severity of the damage to the creature’s body. It was as though it had been burned from the head down and then stabbed a thousand times. Experts with more than thirty years of hunting in these woods had claimed that it was magic. Others thought it had taken more than a hundred men to inflict such wounds.

It was both frightening and fascinating. There were no signs of arrows, or even spearheads. All they found were strange, metallic shards in its flesh. Whatever the strangers had done, however they had killed the creature, she had no doubts that they held power.

The young girl spoke with her friends, then turned to her once again.

“It’s getting late. Perhaps we can hurry this along?”

Synel bit back her irritation at the child’s barb. These travelers were the answer to her prayers. They could be her only chance.

She would never have made this trip if she’d known it was the rajin’s breeding season. As it was, she’d expected to lose a third of her men, even with the travelers’ trophy.

But if she could attract powerful warriors to her side, then she may be able to save lives as well as line her coin purse. She had no doubt the others would risk the road without her were she to hesitate. The war in the south ensured they’d make a profit regardless of their losses. But that wouldn’t do for her reputation.

She needed this to work. It had to work.

“Perhaps we should eat before we get to business, if it pleases you and your companions, Ms. Asle.”

She inclined her head to the young girl and noticed Asle almost breaking into a smile. That was the thing with the young, so eager to be treated like adults. She watched as the girl sat back and spoke to her friends.

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

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Their meeting concluded without any issue. They’d already decided on the answer they were going to give, which was a solid maybe.

The woman clearly knew there was something off about the remains of the creature they’d sold, so they wanted to play up that mystery. If they traveled with the caravan, they’d eventually have to show their hand. It was a risk-and-reward scenario. They’d have safety in numbers, but they’d have to chance the curious elves and possible theft. Given the kinds of monsters they’d seen on the road thus far, it might be worth that risk.

Regardless, their best chance at being left alone was to frame themselves as otherworldly, magical even. That started with cultivating Synel’s curiosity. No matter what they chose, they needed time to bring it up with the rest of the group. Which was made easier by the gift Ms. Synel had graciously left them with.

“I say we do it. Like right fucking now.” Cortez practically purred while cradling a bottle in one hand.

They’d been delivered a crate of “berry” liquor. That was the translation Asle had given them, but by the taste, it resembled more of a hard cider that could double as paint thinner. Maybe it was the weeks of travel, but Summers was feeling slightly buzzed after just one swig.

“You said this caravan deals with that fog we ran into?” Logan was eyeing the bottles himself.

“This whole city does, more or less,” Nowak answered. “It’s apparently their number one export. More so since the elves are fighting . . . someone or another. Asle couldn’t really understand the details, and neither could I.”

“Doesn’t that make her a weapons dealer, more or less?”

“Probably best if you don’t look at it like you would someone from our world,” Summers started. “Besides, it doesn’t matter much what she’s like as a person. She’s not the one we have to worry about. It’s the other guards, or people who think they can rob us in our sleep.”

“Hvor gar det?” Adams said, looking at Asle.

“Hvourd gar det,” Asle corrected.

“The hell are you doing?” Summers looked over at the pair.