Venom in Her Veins Read Free

loud. Krailash frowned, and the three humans under his protection looked up from their work, eyes wide over the white cloth masks that covered their noses and mouths, heavily gloved hands pausing in their work. The dark blue flowers they picked, growing on lush green vines that thoroughly entwined the broken pillars and all the nearby trees, filled the air with their sweet, subtle scent as the women and their guards listened to the silence, and then the cry came again.
    “That’s a baby ,” one of the women said. “And hungry, by the sound.”
    “Keep working,” Krailash said. The immense rust-colored dragonborn cocked his head and hefted his two-headed war axe. “I’ll investigate.”
    “Could be a trap,” said Rainer, one of the guards under Krailash’s command. He sounded like he relished the prospect. Rainer was a capable fighter, andmore importantly for his job, he looked menacing—he was unusually big for a human, with a scarred face and broad shoulders, and though he wasn’t a half-orc, Krailash thought he might be a quarter-orc, or at the very least had some orcish influence in his bloodline. Though Krailash made sure the guards under his command drilled and kept in shape, there was precious little actual fighting in the job, which could be difficult for men like Rainer, who thrilled to the impact of metal on metal—or, better yet, metal on flesh.
    “And who would set this trap?” Krailash said. “The family’s business rivals? Hardly seems likely. If they were this close to the source of the flowers, they wouldn’t need a ruse. They’d already know everything they’d hoped to find out.”
    “I was thinking more about the locals,” Rainer said. “We’ve all glimpsed yuan-ti in the ruins nearby.”
    Krailash shook his head. His voice was measured, and solid as the iron shield strapped to his back. “No one hates yuan-ti more than I do, or with better reason.” He’d tried to bury the memories of his first time adventuring, young and eager, his scales still shining and unscarred, and the brave companions who’d set forth with him to seek treasure in an abandoned temple in a land beyond the jungle—a temple that, in fact, had been home to a vast tribe of yuan-ti and their fanatical Snaketongue cultists. One of Krailash’s party had turned out to be a traitor, secretly a cultist working for the yuan-ti, who’d led them in as human sacrifices. Only Krailash had survived, and his loathing for the snakemen had only grown more profound over the years. But the few of thatrace who lurked in the jungle nearby were pitiful, half-starved things barely holding onto life. He said as much to Rainer. “These serpentfolk are broken remnants. Their numbers dwindle every year, and there weren’t enough of them to be a threat a decade ago. They are mad cultists, devoted to feeding the monsters they venerate. When we come too close, they hide in what remain of their temples to Zehir.” The dragonborn spat after speaking the snake-deity’s name.
    The child cried again. “That’s no serpent spawn,” Krailash said. “Sounds human to me.” He’d heard the mewling of human children before, and something deep within his armored heart turned over at the sound. His adventuring days were behind him. For the past ten years and more he’d been a protector instead, and that cry was the sound of someone who needed protection. “There are a few human refugees and halfing tribes in the jungle,” he said after a moment. “Though I know of none so close by. We shall see. Rainer, you and Marley come with me. The rest of you, watch the harvesters.”
    The young, jug-eared guard Marley swallowed but stepped forward. Rainer drew his sword and took the rear as Krailash pushed his way through the jungle. At nearly seven feet tall, and weighing three hundred pounds, Krailash was not the largest or strongest thing in the jungle, but he was far from the smallest or weakest. After spending so many years on the caravan