Free Clash of Heroes: Nath Dragon meets The Darkslayer by Craig Halloran Page B

sip. “He’s quite fetching.”
    A head taller than most, Venir rose up on his tiptoes. On the other side of a crowd sat a man with flame-red hair. And Venir’s woman, one of many, hung on his every word.

 
    CHAPTER 19
     
     
    Surrounded by women, Nath chewed on a mouthful of juicy turkey. A pretty woman in fine silken linens tilted a goblet to his lips while another one dabbed his chin with a cloth napkin.
    “Thank you,” he said, unable to contain his smile. He winked at one. “Thank you.” His belly was full of meat, cheese, and hard bread. The strong drinks lifted his spirits up, and the company, full of compliments and flattery, had him brimming out of his boots. He lapped it all up.
    Maybe this place isn’t so horrible after all.
    “Stranger, what is your name?” a woman asked, batting her extremely long lashes at him. Her honey-brown hair was up in a bun, and her outfit accented every curve. Her voice was sweet but forceful as she hugged his arm.
    “Nath,” he said, “and yours?”
    “My name is Naydeen.” She squeezed his arm. “Your arm is firm like the limbs of a mighty tree,” she said with a purr in her voice. “I bet you’re strong.”
    There was a hungry look in the eyes of every woman who surrounded him at the table. One had slipped behind him and began to massage his shoulders. Another continued to stuff chunks of food into his mouth. Probing hands pawed at him, and a surly redhead tried to remove the long leather gloves from his hands.
    “No,” he said, forming a fist. “Let’s leave the gloves on for now.”
    “Aw,” the woman said, sticking out her lower lip. “Please, let me do something else?”
    “You could fetch more of that stew. It was quite satisfying.”
    “And lose my seat?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
    All of the women peppered him with questions—and demands.
    “Where did you get those golden eyes, stranger?”
    “Are they from your father’s or mother’s side?’
    “You must be a Royal from the north. What city do you hail from?”
    “Make me your bride. I will do anything you ask.”
    Naydeen tangled her fingers in Nath’s hair. “It’s softer than a baby’s and yet glimmers like fire. My, you are the most ravishing man I ever saw.”
    “You don’t have tabs on him, Naydeen!” argued a buxom gal.
    “And you think you do, Rosewynn?”
    “I’m far fairer than you, oily skank!”
    The women started arguing, pushing and shoving. They pulled, pinched, and punched.
    Nath interjected, “Ladies!”
    Every one of them went still and glued their softened eyes on him.
    “Ahem, that’s better,” he said. “We have plenty of time. Let’s just sit here and get to know each other better, shall we?”
    “We only want to know about you, Nath. Tell us everything!”
    Disappointed that he didn’t have anything to say, he dodged the subject. It wasn’t difficult. He ate, drank, and offered vague answers to their questions.
    “I bet he can play!” one of the women said.
    “Play, play what?” Nath replied.
    “Yes, yes, you are a handsome troubadour, aren’t you? One that travels the world.”
    He shrugged his shoulders and said with a wink, “Perhaps.”
    One of the waitresses returned with an ebony three-stringed lute.
    “Play it!” they urged. “Play it.”
    Nath took the lute in hand and plucked at the strings. “Seems a little difficult with these gloves on.”
    He plucked away some more, turned the tuning pegs on the upper neck, and said, “I think I have it.” Not knowing why or how, his fingers danced over the strings, and beautiful music poured out, never heard before in all of Bish. The tavern fell silent. When Nath finished, the women’s eyes were wet with tears, and he caught an old bald orc thumbing water from its drooping eyes. The place erupted in applause.
    Astonished, Naydeen said, “There are no words for you and what you do.”
    “Thanks,” said Nath, setting the lute down on the table. “I must admit,