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Chapter Two: Of Boob Armor and Bad Decisions

  There’s a notorious film theory that, in the movie Grease, Olivia Newton-John’s Sandy is dying, with the movie itself little more than flickering misfires of her brain synapses as she sings and dances her way into oblivion, hence why she ends up in a flying car with John Travolta.

  I figured this must be happening to me. I must have hit my head on one of the well’s rocks. Perhaps I had crashed into the water below, and my mind was comforting me with dreams to take my mind off the painful business of drowning.

  Either way, my mind was doing a terrible job at comforting me as I awoke in a damp cave. My hands fell onto walls of solid mud caked into a slippery and cold surface. The only source of light shined from the torches of four large men in Viking armor charging towards me.

  They weren’t Vikings per se - they didn’t have the horned helmets seen in most depictions. Then again, most of what modern audiences knew of Vikings were the product of operas and bad TV. I struggled to think of something useful to say or do aside from mentally grumbling about pop culture’s many inaccuracies.

  The best I came up with was “Hi…”

  My faint greeting did little to calm the moon. The barbarians lunged at me, swinging their torches like maces through the shadows, with embers trailing off their torches like fireflies.

  “Outsider! Outsider!”

  Before I could respond - or then about how to respond - another voice pierced through the shadows.

  One I had not heard in a very long time.

  “He is mine!” a female voice called through the shadows. A form darted to somewhere in the darkness, beyond my field of vision. I saw a feminine figure glad in armor with a long mane of shimmering red hair falling to her shoulders.

  “Back off, Teagra!” cried one of the barbarians. “You got the last one.”

  I saw a flicker of steel in the ember light. A moment later, I heard one of the barbarians cry out in pain, clutching his now bloodied hand. The woman had moved so fast my eyes only just then focused on the now-bloodstained sword in her hand.

  “Curse you, Teagra!” the barbarian nearest her howled. “You took my bloody finger.”

  “Then praise the Prime Lords for giving you nine more ways to test my patience,” the woman said. “But fair warning, once I run out of fingers I will move to taking your head!”

  The barbarians seemed to acknowledge this fact. I saw no sign of the others moving to attack the woman. If anything, they seemed to be actively backing away, growing more one with the shadows behind them. Their leader spit at the woman’s feet before turning his back and proudly striding into the darkness, with his buddies following suit, leaving me alone with the woman.

  She turned to me, and I was suddenly face to face with Teagan Mills.

  How had I not recognized her voice beforehand? There was something strange about her inflection, her voice raising with venomous intent. It didn’t soften when she turned to me.

  This wasn’t the Teagan Mills I’d seen in the newsroom all those years ago. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders in a vibrant crimson red. She wore a sculpted medieval which clung to her generous curves and slim physique. Strangely enough, the armor left her equally trim legs completely unprotected. She held a pair of iron shackles in her hands, which were covered with ornate bracers on either wrist.

  “Alright, outsider,” she commanded me in a cold voice. “On your knees.”

  The more crude part of my lizard brain reminded me there was a time I would have loved Teagan Mills commanding me with handcuffs, especially when she was dressed like that.

  But more and more, I saw this wasn’t the Teagan I knew. Far from it.

  Beyond the strange faux-medieval armor, this Teagan bore only a passing resemblance to the woman I knew. The Teagan I knew came with average height and weight. This was always a frustration when she started dating Jason, a man who could pass for Bear Gryllls on the street and maintained an equally laborious health and workout routine. Meanwhile, Teagan would vent to me about the twenty pounds she gained over the office Christmas party.

  This Teagan, however, appeared far more lean. And oddly enough, taller.

  How is that even possible? Is she wearing high heels or something?

  As Teagan moved towards me, I noted she was only a few inches shorter than me.

  The other, incredibly weird thing was that this Teagan hadn’t aged a day since I had seen her yet. If anything, she looked several years younger, and barely into her mid-twenties - a far cry from forty.

  My mind raced to process all this information. I couldn’t fathom any explanation. I knew Teagan had undergone something drastic. But the stranger before me defied any explanation - at least rationally.

  As she approached me with a cold and menacing expression, I said the only thing my mind could process at that moment - the very thing I’d been struggling to process that very morning.

  “Jason is dead,” I said.

  Teagan stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked a few times, as if trying to comprehend my words. She looked towards me again, and her voice softened, though the intense coldness in her eyes remained.

  “That is unfortunate,” she said.

  “That’s all you have to say, Teagan?” I raised my voice. “After all this time!”

  She gave me a strange look.

  “Who is this Teagan of which you speak?” she said.

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  “Teagan. Mills,” I said, jabbing my finger at her. “You.”

  I probably shouldn’t have been pointing my finger so imprudently, given what happened to last guy. But I was confused, angry, and most of all, hungry.

  I tend to make poor decisions when I’m hangry.

  “You are mistaken, Outsider,” Teagan said. “I am Teagra of Meritown.”

  Merritt.

  I rolled my eyes at the last part. Of course, Simon Merritt has his own town. Honestly, I was surprised he didn’t have his own kingdom, given his ego.

  “Of course you’re still with Merritt. That explains all this crazy,” I said, gesturing to her strange choice in battle armor.

  At this, Teagan’s eyes flashed an angry warning as she grabbed my hand and began to twist. I cried out in pain as I sank to my knees.

  “Watch your tone, Outsider!” Teagan growled. “Mayor Merritt has given me a home, a sword and a glorious purpose. And you do know what that is?”

  The smart-ass in me couldn’t resist.

  “Chaffing?” I said. That boob armor didn’t look particularly comfortable.

  Teagan began to twist harder. I cried out again. She loomed over me.

  “I am tasked with protecting Merritown from all who threaten it,” she said. “Which is why you should address me and the mayor with respect.”

  “Now,” Teagan continued. “Who are you and what happened to the Son of Jay?”

  It took me a couple seconds to realize who the Son of Jay was. Jason. Teagan really was buying into this whole fantasy world nonsense. To make matters worse, she didn’t know who I was.

  “My name is Karl,” I said. “Karl Connan.”

  I searched Teagan…Teagra’s features for any signs of recognition. Her green eyes continued to regard, but if there were any remembrances of who I was, I didn’t see it.

  “What became of the Son of Jay?” she asked once more.

  “He died,” I said.

  “How?” I felt Teagan’s grip on my arms tighten.

  “Violently. Other than that, I don’t know,” I said. “We found him on the steps of the paper.”

  “What kind of paper has steps?” Teagan’s eyes flashed once more.

  I looked at her, terrified and confused.

  “W-what?” I asked.

  “Answer the question!” she said.

  “I meant…the place we work…the Evening Watch,” I said quickly.

  “Then you should have said that first,” Teagan said. “Be wary. I suffer lies less than I suffer fools.”

  I remembered how she had dealt with the barbarians who had approached us. I nodded. Teagan removed her grip.

  “If I find you had any part in the Son of Jay’s death, I will cut you down where you stand,” Teagan said.

  I nodded. Many questions swirled through my mind, but I picked the one that seemed most pressing, and was least likely to get my arm broken.

  “H-how did Jason find you?” I asked.

  “In Meritown. He approached me,” Teagan said, taking a step back. “He was, like you, rambling about this Teagan person. It must be a trait common among you Outsider folk. I had no patience for such behavior.”

  “What did you do?” I said.

  “I belted him in the jaw. He crumbled soon after,” Teagan said dismissively.

  Teagan Mills brought down Jason Travis. That was something I wanted to see. Jason worked out regularly and practiced boxing. To get taken down by mostly slender Teagan would have been a sight to see.

  I felt a deep burning within my stomach when I fell back to reality. The Teagan Jason found was a far cry from one that his heart in Chicago. This new Teagan - Teagra - was far fiercer, and the Teagan I knew was no pushover to begin with. Teagra, however, was more prone to violence, and this time, had the taunt muscular body to back up such threats.

  How horrifying it must have been for Jason to meet this terrifying new version of Teagan, who felt nothing for him - not sadness or regret, not even anger - nothing but apathy to a man who was all but a stranger to him?

  In that instance, I began to wonder if a morning star to the head wound up being more a mercy to Jason Travis than anything else.

  Teagan, what did Simon do to you?

  Still, I couldn’t deny that Teagra seemed far less cavalier after I mentioned Jason’s fate. Her eyes looked to the ground, as if weighed down by a heavy weight. Her movements, once ferocious and animated, were far more subdued.

  “What happened next?” I asked.

  My question seemed to break Teagra from her musings. “He was very kind to me. And insistent. Even after I knocked him out. I thought I might have to hit him again but…”

  Kind and insistent. That described Jason Travis in a nutshell. For all his dogged investigative journalism, the guy was an office sweetheart. His death cast a dour shadow over the Evening Watch.

  “But he won you over,” I said. Teagra nodded.

  “I thought he could end the war between our people,” she said. I felt my brow furling at this statement.

  “Do not speak falsely, Karl. Your Outsiders have inflated our villages before, creating malice and divisions with your words,” Teagra’s eyes flashed at me once more.

  I decided not to argue, even though I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. However, since I liked having my arm in my socket, I decided not to risk angering Teagra more.

  “He was searching for something,” Teagra said. “I helped him find it but…bandits attacked and we were separated.”

  “Bandits,” I repeated. Teagra didn’t say anything. Instead, she solemnly nodded.

  That explains the morning star.

  “What was he searching for?” I asked.

  “The Grave of Prince Fritzroy,” she answered. I was silent for a moment. Frtizroy?

  Roy Fritz. The creator of Shield at Dawn.

  How was he tied into all of this?

  “Can you tell me where the grave is?” I asked.

  Teagra began to stir. “I can do better,” she said. “I can show you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I said politely. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Teagra.

  Actually, I didn’t trust Teagan…or this new Teagra….who I feared might murder me in my sleep.

  “Oh it is,” Teagra said with a fierce smile. “Because if I find you are lying to me, I won’t hesitate to remove your head from your shoulders, Outsider. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Teagra sheathed her sword and started to walk ahead of me. I started to move towards the end of the cavern, towards the edge of light in the distance.

  I sighed and reluctantly began to follow.

  Well, at least it’s mutual.

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