Master of Chains - Jess Lebow [81]
Two of Phinneous's men stepped in front of Liam and pushed the doors open. Before them was a large room, filled with wooden tables, flagons of ale, and a whole mess of drunken guardsmen.
Still carrying his helm under one arm, Liam stepped through the door, and a cry went up.
"Three cheers for Liam."
The room exploded in noise.
"Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"
The next moment, Liam was surrounded by other soldiers slapping him on the shoulders and back (and even a time or two on the rear). Someone grabbed his helm, but before he could reach for it someone else replaced it with a large stone flagon.
Claudius appeared at his side. "Drink up," he said, lifting a flagon himself. "All of this is for you."
"For me?" Someone pushed the bottom of Liam's flagon toward him. Faced with the choice of drinking the golden liquid or letting it slop wastefully to the floor, Liam chose to take a huge quaff.
It was both sweet and bitter at the same time. Liam recognized it immediately. "Honey mead," he said, taking a breath followed by another drink. He looked at Claudius, a big smile on his face. "My favorite."
Claudius lifted his flagon, clinking it against Liam's. "I knew I liked you, lad." He took a drink. "Yes sir, I knew I liked you."
The mead flowed all night. Songs were sung and stories were told. Soldiers climbed on the tables and did little dances. As the night drew on, the crowd of drunken soldiers got rowdier and rowdier, and from time to time, chunks of bread and even an empty flagon or two flew through the air.
All the while, the accounting of the fight with the undead and of Liam's bravery grew larger. Pretty soon there was an army of vampires, each standing as tall as the highest tower of Zerith Hold. And Liam cut them down two at a time.
Liam's head spun. He wobbled unsteadily, a smile plastered to his face. This wasn't such a bad thing. These men liked him. They threw parties in his honor.
He raised the flagon to his lips again. He smiled even wider.
They had an endless supply of honey mead. What more could a man ask for?
He spotted Knoblauch in the corner seated against the wall, a sling over his arm. Liam wandered over and sat down next to him.
"How you feeling?" he said as he plopped down.
Knoblauch laughed. "Not as good as you, I'm afraid."
Liam lifted his flagon. "I'll drink to that."
Knoblauch lifted his empty hand and nodded his head.
"What? Don't you like honey mead?" asked Liam.
The veteran shook his head. "I like it plenty," he said. "It's the torment I endure the morning after that I don't like so much."
"Ah," said Liam, pointing his finger at Knoblauch, "but no one said you had to have too much." He brought his thumb and forefinger almost together, leaving only a pebble's space between them. "Only a little." Liam squinted for emphasis.
"Thank you Liam. I've already had my fill," said the veteran.
"Already?"
Knoblauch shrugged. "I'm an old man now, Liam. That stuff hits me a little harder than it used to." He leaned forward and grabbed hold of an empty flagon on the table, turning it over and letting the last few drops of mead drip out. "When I was a young man like you, I could drink all day and all night and never feel the wrath of the mead." He righted the flagon and put it back down on the table. "But then I got old, and the stuff caught up with me." He shook his head then laughed. "It's just not worth the pain anymore."
Liam sighed. "Suit yourself." He took another swig.
Knoblauch pointed across the room. "Look who came to your party."
Liam followed the veteran's finger. Beside the door, looking on with a rather disapproving frown, stood Captain Phinneous.
"Bah," said Liam, "what does he want?"
Knoblauch leaned back against the wall. "I don't know. That one's a real manure bag-always steaming and never pleasant to be around."
Liam nearly blew mead out of his nose. "You should-" He coughed, spitting a little errant mead onto the table- "You should warn me when you're going to do that."
"That wouldn't be