CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  DEELAH CHOOSES THE WRONG GUY

  Sitting atop one of the small courtyard walls of the temple of Elion, a young woman watched intensely at the crowd that walked down the busy main street of the growing town of Valtross. Though she looked relaxed, the woman had, in effect, started her work day. That’s because Deelah was looking for her next victim.

  She wasn’t as bad as her sister thought, and there were much bigger problems in the world of Danaria right now anyway, thought Deelah. Besides, what more could anyone say to Anya about her wayward sister anyway.

  With the quickness and precision of a cat, Deelah jumped down to a stone bench to get a better look at the crowd. Then her thoughts raced as she watched each individual that was coming toward her.

  Too guarded, thought Deelah, looking at a rich man flanked by two larger individuals.

  They never have money, thought the young woman, seeing three farmers.

  Too much of a bother, sighed Deelah, as a jester came into view. Oh no! Head down, girl. That elf will remember! whispered Deelah, as she stepped back behind two wizards, who had stopped to discuss which road to take next. Then, as the elf passed her and the wizards moved on, she saw a dwarf. They are too impatient, thought Deelah, shaking her head.

  After running her hand through her short blonde curls, the young woman scanned deeper into the diverse crowd that made up Valtross. She saw a lone Knight of Providence, no doubt on his way to the temple. He may as well be a cleric. Anya would kill me, laughed Deelah.

  An old woman in a horse drawn cart laden with fruits and vegetables started to go by and, after giving her a smile and a nice wave with her right hand, Deelah swiped an apple with her left.

  After the thief wiped the apple on her blouse, she took a quick bite. Then, grabbing a knife from her pants pocket, she sliced the fruit to pass the time. Still, nobody looked quite right. Then after a moment, she smiled. But wait, she thought. Maybe. Just maybe she had finally found a candidate.

  Walking toward her was a mercenary, and one she had never seen before. Yes. He was perfect.

  Well Deelah, she thought, is it your betrothed who’s been captured by bandits, or maybe you and your poor mother need the services of a bodyguard to protect you when you travel to The Crossroads to see your wounded father.

  Either way, that brown bearded, ruggedly handsome looking mercenary is perfect. Besides, she thought, stealing from a mercenary isn’t really that bad. He’ll find another job soon enough. It’s not like I’ll be taking that sword or bow he has.

  When the mercenary was almost to her, Deelah put her knife away and unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Not too much, but just enough for him to notice that she wasn’t just a pretty face. Then she stepped onto the street toward him.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Upon closer look, Deelah could tell now that, though the mercenary was still in formidable shape, he was older than she’d thought initially. Not an old man, by any means, but he wasn’t young either. That would make it even easier, thought the young thief.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said Deelah, as she jumped in front of her victim. “You are a mercenary right? A man for hire?” The opening lines were done flawlessly with a doe-eyed look, simple speak, and hands behind her back.

  Looking down at Deelah, the man patted his sword at his side and smiled. “I am but...”

  “Oh that's perfect,” replied Deelah, cutting off the mercenary as she grabbed his arm. I need someone to guide me and my mother to The Crossroads.” Then the thief made a sad face. “You see, my father is there. He has been gravely injured and it may be the last time we get to see him!”

  The mercenary smiled down at the pretty and provocative woman and shook his head. “I’m sorry, young lady, but I am already employed. What you need is a bodyguard, and I am sure there are more than a few here in Valtross that would be willing to take you to see your father.” Then the man started to walk. “I am sorry I must be...”

  Moving her hand from his arm to his chest, Deelah moved closer, stopping the mercenary, and went on with the ruse. It works every time, she thought, seeing the man now looking down at her in her revealing blouse and then to the rest of her curvaceous figure. She was small, but she had it where it counted. Slowly, with her other hand, Deelah deftly opened the pouch that was tied to the mercenary’s waist and reached her hand in.

  “You know what? Maybe I will help you. I will just tell my employer that I had to help a lovely lady in need, because...” Then the mercenary smiled down at the young thief, and his voice became stern. “As you can see, I have no money in my pouch.”

  After grabbing Deelah’s wrist quickly, the mercenary raised his other hand up and shook one finger in her freckled face. “Not today, thief. Yes, you are good looking, but I am smarter than you are attractive.”

  Looking up, Deelah smiled coyly at the man that held her in a vise like grip. “I am sorry.”

  “Why, because you were caught?” asked the mercenary. Then he gave a short, good-natured laugh. “Do not worry. I am not going to hurt you. Just hold you till...”

  With the speed of a striking snake, Deelah raised her knee up and jammed it into the mercenary’s crotch. Then she watched as he fell to the ground, landing on one knee, while grimacing in pain.

  With a sexy, mischievous smile, Deelah looked down at the mercenary, as she listened to the gasps from the crowd. “I am sorry for THAT!” Then she turned, took two quick steps to escape but ran into someone. After the thief hit the ground, she looked up dazed and saw the constable and his men before her.

  “Back to your old tricks again, are we Deelah?” spoke a stern looking mustachioed man. When he picked the thief up, he happened to spot a dwarven cleric on her way to the temple. “Hemslia!”

  Hemslia looked over the crowd at the constable and then saw Deelah. The dwarf gave a sigh and shook her head, as she watched Deelah being bound.

  “Please tell Anya for me," lamented the constable, but in a stern voice.

  “Of course, Maxwell. I will,” replied the dwarf. Then she gave Deelah the look. It was a mix of sadness and disappointment.

  That look never gets old and hurts every time, thought Deelah. Then she heard a grunt behind her. Looking over her shoulder she saw that the mercenary had gotten to his feet.

  After straightening up, the man stopped the constable. “What was that about?”

  Maxwell looked at the mercenary and then at Deelah. “Well newcomer, this little thief has no respect for other people, especially her sister who serves in the temple, just ahead.”

  Instantly, a look of respect came over the mercenary’s face. “Look, it is okay. I am fine. Only my pride is hurt. Nothing was stolen and I will let what happened to me be a reminder to be more aware.” Then he patted the constable’s shoulder. “I will press no charges.”

  “I can respect that sir,” replied Maxwell. “However, I must do what I have been charged to do, and right now that is to teach this young woman a lesson.” Then the constable looked to one of his men. “Take his name and what he said for the record.”

  After stepping in front of the mercenary, the constable’s man spoke. “Sir, what is your name?” Then the mercenary sighed and replied…

  “Garrick. Garrick Landow.”