“What was it you called her again?”
Azka smirked at the old druid, sitting on the bench across from her. Despite their current predicament, Elkins maintained the placid appearance of a grandfather sitting on his porch and gazing at rainclouds in the distance. “I called her a bone-faced old bitty.” Her pronouncement pulled another rumbling chuckle from Gor as he prepared his weapons. The lizardman had been in a foul mood since they traveled north, so Azka counted his rising spirits as a win. He loved a good fight as much as she did and she had at least guaranteed them that.
“Ah, yes. That was it,” Elkins said, in feigned remembrance. “And what exactly moved you to say that to the face of a queen?”
“Not much of a face, now was it?” Azka’s smirk turned into a full-fledged grin as Gor chuckled again. “Look, it wasn’t like she was going to exactly hand over the circlet, now was she? We knew we’d have to fight either way to get it. Her living heir pretty much guaranteed that when we took the job.” She could hear that the long seats above them had apparently filled with spectators, their stomping and murmurs filling the small room that they were in. She did her best to ignore the dry rattling and clacking sounds that accompanied their movements. “At least this way we have an audience.”
“You do love an audience,” Elkins said wryly, standing and stretching his back as they walked toward the gate leading to the arena sands. “Although I cannot imagine they’ll be rooting for us to triumph.”
Gor shrugged as he stood to join them at the gate. “Spite is a good enough motivator.” His matter-of-fact proclamation brought a small smile to Elkins face.
Azka turned and looked them each in the eye as the gate began to raise. “Nothing left to do but to do it.”
“Nothing left to do but to do it,” her companions responded, each nodding their head at the mantra as they walked through the gates and onto the frosted sands.
This Map Pack includes: