She lay on the cold floor, naked, moaning softly as I moved above her, kissing her deeply and making love slowly. Her legs held me in a loose lock, our hands clasped tightly, arms stretched above her head. I don't recall how many times it has been, I have even exhausted the 3 Helene's potions that I came with.
Soon I felt that tremble of hers that I've become too familiar with, but this time we climaxed together, though what I shot in was faint, barely noticeable.
She kissed me back, exhausted, and I rolled off her, lying beside her on the floor, both of us breathing heavily. I glanced at her. Her eyes, fixed on the ceiling, carried that familiar glint of guilt.
My eyes caught on the mark on her arm. It was like a ringworm patch on her arm, but more pronounced, fleshy, and fresh. I had noticed it the first time I took all her clothes off. It was exactly like that of the old woman and the little girl.
"What is that?" I asked and she jerked her arm away, almost like reflex.
"It's nothing" she replied, struggling to her feet.
She made efforts as if not seeing it would make me forget about it. Was it a disease? A curse? My hands had grazed it countless times in the heat of passion, but now they bother me.
"I would give you a much better life" I said as she gathered her dress. "Come with me"
"I can't leave Keith," she replied, not meeting my eyes. "He'll never leave this place."
I said nothing. I had no intentions to argue with her decision. I wanted to bring her with me to introduce her to the kitchen so that I can eat with more ease, but that becomes complicated if she feels like I dragged her away from her life.
She finally found the second of her slippers and walked out the room with them and her dress in hand.
I lay back on the floor, staring at the cracked wooden beams of the low ceiling, their edges softened by years of smoke and damp. This travel has been a fucking disaster, and it has already cost 2 [Copy] time. I have been away for too long for them to not have noticed that I am not in the kingdom, even though I told them no one should disturb me no matter what. Mother in particular would come in. I wonder if she would be worried?
I suddenly realized how cold it was and got up. Ophelia was still at her position in the cot, casually drinking. She always drank, yet never seemed drunk. I wonder if it numbs her pain and trauma, or has she totally given up on life?
I picked up my clothes and started putting them on.
No, the second doesn't make sense because she wouldn't still be with me. At least that's what I thought.
I got ready and we left the room. The woman was nowhere to be found, but her husband sat outside, hunched by the door, hands clenched against his face. I looked at him for a moment. That's a stronger reaction than I thought. How long had he been like that? His sleeves were rolled down a bit and I saw a glimpse of what must be the same patch as the one on his wife. Hoping not to get involved I tossed him a silver coin, which he allowed fall in the dirt, and we left the village.
It was either a curse, or a disease, that I was certain, but the thought of helping didn't even cross my mind because it meant encroaching on another's efforts. That would have been doing too much for too little. It was none of my business, I had thought. I had too much on my plate already.
Fate must have laughed at that.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
Small town, West of Montreal
The tavern was dim, smoky, and smelled of stale ale and unwashed bodies. It was alive with loud chatter, laughter and the clink of mugs. Drustan sat in the corner, nursing his mug, its surface speckled with foam. The door creaked open, admitting Jonas. He knew exactly where Drustan would sit so he didn't have to look for long. He pushed his way through the crowded tavern, dodged a swaying drunk and slid into the seat beside Drustan. "We've got another job" Jonas said, his voice low but eager.
Drustan drank from his chipped mug. Their bellies were still full from their last work, dulling the usual hunger for work.
"I can't afford to work right now, Jonas"
"I know that but this is too good" he said leaning closer, dropping his voice to a near-whisper, his eyes glinting with a spark Drustan knew too well. "I had to pay a lot of money to get this information and reserve a spot for us"
That piqued Drustan's interest. He set the tankard mug down, the faint clink swallowed by the tavern's clamor, and leaned in.
"There's a dwarf in Urba hiring"
"Dwarfs are not loose with coins" Drustan argued. His voice carried no real disappointment; Jonas knew that as well as he did.
"Not this one" Jonas said. "Eleven silver coins per group"
Drustan's eyes widened. Eleven silvers? His shock ebbed quickly, replaced by a wary squint. A job that would see a dwarf part with that much coin is not a job he should be getting involved with.
"All we have to do is escort him in and out of the Demon forest" Jonas continued to make his case. "Whatever we pick along the way, we keep."
Drustan's fingers drummed against his mug, the worn wood cool under his touch. Tempting. Too tempting.
"How far in?" Drustan asked.
Jonas leaned back. "We are not sure yet" he said. "Could be deep."
Drustan laughed. "Are you crazy?"
"We are not going in alone" Jonas shot back. "There are at least 6 other groups, plus that former knights' group"
Drustan's jaw tightened. With that group involved it would be very much safer, still he was hesitant.
"What exactly would he do in there?" he asked.
Jonas shrugged. "Beats me." he said. "Something about a rock"
"And you think the king would approve?"
"Why would the king give a fuck about some rock?"
Drustan was quiet. His gaze drifted to the ale in his mug, its dark surface catching the lantern light. Eleven more silvers into their coffers was a big deal, and not to mention the rare opportunity it gives them to search the depths of the forest. He couldn't say no to that, no matter his reservations. He exhaled sharply, setting his mug down with a decisive thud. "We will do it"
Jonas's face split into a wide grin. "Perfect." He stood, clapping Drustan's shoulder. "I'll get things ready. We're short on time."
Drustan watched as Jonas walked through the smoky tavern. Near the door, he stopped to nod at a rough-looking mercenary he didn't know with a drink in hand. They shared a quick slap on the shoulder, then Jonas stepped out into the night.
Drustan leaned back, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. At this rate, he thought, retirement might come sooner than he'd expected.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
Mhaduk was a man of luxury. He wasn't born rich, but the goddess gave him the perfect gifts to pull himself up from the dirt to the confidence and presence of kings. His office reflected his rise: high-vaulted, stone-walled, with burnished gold trim edging the drapes and the pillars carved with old kings. A single wide window let in a soft blue light, falling across thick rugs and a polished obsidian desk. Born in northeastern Drakoria —in what is now called Montreal— Mhaduk has suffered more than most. But he survived.
The door opened to let in Vyrnmont. The aged man's pace were measured but not weak. His blackwood stick clicking softly against the ground as he walked in.
"I didn't know to expect you today, Vyrnmont" Mhaduk said, lounging in his chair.
Sable Vyrnmont looked at him, his expression unreadable as always.
"You are giving me reasons to question where your loyalties lie" he said to him.
"Loyalties?" Mhaduk scoffed, amused. "You seem to forget why I agreed to join you in the first place. Right now the path with Dragonhart seems more likely to lead to what I want"
"And he rejected you"
"Yes" Mhaduk said, wondering how he knew. "But that doesn't make it less of the right path."
"But is it important if you are alive to be on it?" Vyrnmont said, stepping forward.
Shadow mages dropped from the ceilings and walls like spilled ink , seemingly out of thin air. Terribly weakened, and struggling to get up.
Each step Vyrnmont takes reveals what can best be described as wide spread thin turquoise colored roots on the stone floor. When he stopped they disappeared underneath, as if absorbed back by the ground.
Mhaduk too was drained, but he was seated and has experienced it before so he put up an indifference look that could easily fool most people. Just not Vyrnmont.
"I needed to be sure you wouldn't be a hindrance in my own path" Vyrnmont said. "Do not test my patience again. You've already outlived your usefulness"
And with that he turned and left. The shadow mages groaned, barely able to sit up. The doors opened again and Mhaduk's right hand came in. She casually glanced around. "Is it a bad time?"
"What is it?" he asked, unable to keep his words steady.
She stepped forward, as if the drain in his voice had gone unnoticed. "A message from the king of Drakoria," she said, holding out a folded scrap of paper.
Mhaduk raised an eyebrow as he took it. "When did he return?"
"Past midnight. Yesterday."
The note was folded only once. Curious, he opened it immediately. The message was simple.
Go after the dark elves again, and the continent will know why