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Malaric sat in the main room of the Traders Inn in the back corner with his back toward the wall. On the table in front of him sat a full mug of dwarf made beer. The three empty chairs across from him have been empty the past two nights. Watching the evening crowd with an intensity that did not show on his face, he proffered a casual smile with laughter in his eyes nodding and waving to his many acquaintances. While in his middle thirty’s with streaks of gray in his black hair, he is still as lithe as in his younger days.
A huge fireplace filled the room with a pig cooking next to huge pots of beef stew. The inn filled with traders and their close assistants occupying tables haphazardly placed around the room, a long bar at the rear lined with people made for a raucous and lively place. Dwarfs wearing their furs and leather with large axes tucked in their belts, northern clansmen dressed similar to the dwarfs with massive broadswords hanging from baldrics, and dark skin men and women wearing colorful loose fitting robes from the desert city of Khull from below the Southern Mountain Range filled the room. Finally, the end of the trading season has arrived with the traders spending some of their profits that by the end of the week most if not all will be heading back to their homes for the long winter.
Smoke filled the room as people began smoking tabac in their new elf made pipes made of the finest wood possible each graven with elfin symbols. The beer and mead flowed quite freely with large platters of beef and pork beginning to arrive at the tables. A comely serving maid brought him a large plate of pork with a bowl of beef stew on the side. The food at the inn is actually far better fare than he thought he would get in a frontier town. Eating his food, he carefully watched the crowd for any unwanted surprises especially the hooded man sitting in the far corner away from him. Something bothered him about this dark shrouded individual with their hood pulled close over their head keeping their face well hidden in shadow and that troubled him more than he let on, his continence remaining carefree and jovial.
He hated a waiting game, it made him vulnerable sitting in one place exposed to his enemies if he is here, his enemies could be too. Where are those vagabond simpletons I hired? They had a simple job to do go up into the mountains and promise the Orcs the world if they would attack in full force this spring. All they had to do was offer them promises of sweet virgins to eat and come back here with news and I hand them a sack of gold. How hard can that be he fumed to himself? He should have known better than hiring wandering cutthroats to do the job he grumbled to himself.
Glancing over in the corner he looked for his mysterious friend getting a surprise that jolted him back to the grim reality that he is in extreme danger if his enemies found him in the vulnerable situation he is now. Quickly surveying the room, he suddenly realized the hooded man was nowhere in sight. Cursing himself for a fool he casually stood stretching his arms upward and yawning as if very tired, throwing a piece of silver on the table, he sauntered across the room to the stairs leading to the second floor. Mounting the stairs, he moved cautiously up with a hand on his dagger hidden under his cloak. Reaching the top of the second floor landing, he stayed low deep in the shadows as much as he could. He looked down the left hallway lit by oil lanterns with their flicking light making the shadows dance across the floors and walls but saw nothing to alert him to any danger hiding there. A quick look down the hall in front of him showed only more shadows. Edging slowly down the hall he quickly looked back over his shoulder so he could see the stairs leading to the third floor, nothing he thought but more flickering shadows.
Sweating profusely now in apprehension, his clothes felt waterlogged and sticky from not knowing where the attack is going to come from. His room is at the end of the hall on the left deep in the shadows where the lantern light did not quite reach. He stayed low and moved cautiously down the hall with his back toward the wall facing the doors to the rooms he passed. First door and nothing happened, and then the second door and still no attack came. Maybe I am over reacting he thought moving closer to the third door but still no attack came. He heard a creak in the wood like somebody stepped wrong on a loose board and spun back to his left his dagger in his hand. Still nothing, he stood there with his heart in his throat and no sign of an attack. He turned toward his room when suddenly a flash of steel came out of the darkness and he staggered back falling to his knees blood running down the front of his white shirt. His dagger falling from his fingers he reached up touching his neck with his hand that came away bloody. The last thought he had as he fell face forward onto the wood floor was that his masters would not be happy about his failure.
A hooded figure came out of the shadows wiping his dagger on the spy’s clothes before putting it in his belt. Searching the spy for anything that might be useful, he found a large bag of gold and a key hidden in his cloak, I am not stealing it he thought quickly pocketing the gold. Besides, I need to make this look like a robbery not spy business he reasoned walking to the dead spy's room patting the gold pouch. Quickly unlocking the door with the key he had found, he silently entered the room with his dagger in his hand ready for anything. As he surmised earlier, the spy was working alone as his room is unoccupied. Quickly searching the room, he found a change of clothes and a sword.
Picking up the sword, he noticed the characteristic specially designed hilt with three steel rings extended forward from the crosspiece identifying it as a rapier. Sliding the blade from its scabbard, he knew instantly what he was holding in his hands but not why an agent of the dark had it in his possession. Gazing upon its beauty the thirty-nine inch long, one-inch wide blade sparkled in the moonlight streaming through the window. The blade is made of the finest steel mined in the iron mines of the Dwalur Mountain Range. He knew the design and the maker of the sword. To own a blade by the famous sword smith Delzarin of Riannon it would take nearly a king's ransom. The sword smith only made one every two years and only for the highest bidders. For the second time in mere moments, he wondered how this agent of the dark came by this beauty. The spy must have stolen the blade from a wealthy person or this spy has wealthy benefactors with an agenda.
He gazed at the sword blade in admiration before quickly sheathing it. Once he had the sword belt secured tightly around his waist hidden from prying eyes under his hooded cloak, he quickly left the dead man’s room returning downstairs none the wiser. Pausing briefly at the bottom of the stairs, he scanned the main room for any enemies. Seeing no one that seemed out of place or conspicuous, he ambled nonchalantly out the front door quickly blending with the shadows to the right of the door. He knew he could be as dead as the spy could if he is not very careful. From the shadows, he scanned the street for any movement. The street lanterns hanging from poles in their wrought-iron hangers cast a dim light on the street. They create more shadows than anything, a boon to him for he considered the shadows his friend, not something to fear, it is what might be lurking in the shadows that one should be cautious of.
The Traders Inn is in the upper-class section of the town of Qenildor named for the majestic Castle Qenildor located down the river to the south. The river splits the town down the middle creating a west side and an east side. The townspeople really did not differentiate between the two but most visitors do so.
The streets in this area are cobbled and the buildings are made of mortared granite with sturdy wood roofs tiled with gray granite. Closer to the docks they tend to change to thatched roofs, granite walls for the places of business or all wood homes with the streets paved in crushed granite and packed dirt. The area closer to the docks is certainly less affluent than where he is now but in most cities and towns, the area near the docks would be considered middle to upper class part of the city. The warehouses were another matter most if not all were small fortresses in themselves with thick walls surrounding them with heavy iron gates at their entrances. The merchants and traders took very seriously the security of their goods.
Orin is not a big man who would wade into a melee swinging a broadsword but what h
e lacked in that area he made up for his stealth skills and his ability to see like an owl in the night. He is slightly above-average height at six feet tall with a medium build lithe and strong. Dark hair populated the top of his head in direct contrast to his hazel eyes. Hidden by his cloak, he had an olive complexion hailing from his mixed blood. He was born in the city of Qendar a seafaring town on the peninsular of Qendar. Originally, his father was a seafaring captain out of the city of Tordar.
His father was in port on a beautiful spring day when he saw his mother walking with her merchant father and was awestruck by her beauty. Her long brown hair hung passed her shoulders framing her soft face with its olive complexion, high cheekbones, and serene dark eyes with a hint of laughter in them. She wore a sleeveless full-length admiral blue spring gown made of light cotton velveteen with a bodice hinting at a firm bosom. He looked dashing wearing his new drop yoke white shirt with full sleeves, leather bracers, and black cape lined in a burgundy color over his shoulders. Around his waist, a gold ring belt supported a black leather scabbarded rapier. His black straight-legged pants that laced up the sides looked nice tucked into knee high black leather boots.
When he walked up, he bowed with a flourish facing her father then respectfully to her. Being the direct man that he is, he asked her father if he could call on his daughter with the pretext of asking for her hand in marriage. At the last part concerning marriage, he looked at her with a serious but heartwarming expression with as sincere a smile as he could manage, so she would know he meant it with all his heart for he was totally smitten by her. He knew he would sooner die than to live without her so to court her he sold his ship and took employment with her father as an assistant. Both were greatly impressed with his sacrifice because they knew how much ships captains loved the sea. As time passed, they realized that he was happy with his new life and did not have dreams of the sea with a ship under his feet. He had bought a modest house with the proceeds from the sale of his ship and settled down to win his loves heart. As time passed, he won his hearts love and they were married.
Still thinking about his mother and father and why they died, Orin watched the shadows across the street, seeing a flicker of movement between two buildings. Being patient is one of his virtues, so he waited knowing he was invisible if he remained perfectly still. Whoever was hiding across the street had made a fatal error. Someone moved cautiously out of the shadows furtively crossing the street toward him, Orin would wait until they got closer before he confronted them. Quickly appraising the hooded person, he watched their movements, learning their abilities with every step closer to him. The person although shorter than he is walking in the manner of a trained fighter, light on their feet ready for anything sent warning signals racing through him that this person is quite dangerous. Something familiar nagged at him about the way they moved gracefully across the street, he felt he knew this person adding to the dangerous situation for if he knew them chances are they knew he was here and they were sent with the express purpose to kill him.
Watching the person draw nearer to him, he readied himself to spring from the shadows like a coiled spring. At the right moment when his adversary was passing his hiding spot, he leaped from the shadows with his dagger clasping his left hand over their mouth placing the tip of the dagger at their throat with the pretext of learning the identity of who was stalking him. His surprise attack and advantage he thought he had instantly melted when two strong hands grabbed the dagger wielding hand and wrist. Painfully they twisted his wrist and hand forcing the dagger down and away followed by a strong kekomi side trust kick to the his midsection sending him sprawling on his back his dagger bouncing onto the street. Quickly regaining his feet with another dagger in his fist that he kept in readiness under his cloak, he watched his opponent gracefully bend retrieving his dagger. Realization struck him like a hammer; he knew his adversary. Far longer than a year since the last time they had met, he would know that body and his opponents moves anywhere even across a crowded market in Riannon.
“Are you always this careless Orin?” the silky voice asked coming from within the hood. “When was it the last time I saw you? Oh yes, I remember you whispered how much you loved me and you spent the next two days loving me and like a craven coward slipped away afterward.”
“You are not still angry with me are you?”
“Before I met you I was an unsullied young maid and you tricked me,” both laughed at her attempt at humor. Flinging back her cowl, she ran to him wrapping her arms with the dagger still in her hand around his neck kissing him soundly. “I missed you so you craven recreant.”
“I missed you to Sakura. Ah, Sakura I am truly sorry for leaving you as I did. I do not know what came over me to do something so egregious to you,” he confessed flippantly.
“No you’re not you scoundrel,” laughing she playfully slapped him in the face. They disengaged from each other and she handed him back his dagger. Looking into each other’s eyes each saw what they needed in the other.
“We need to forego the reunion I had planned for when I finally caught up with you and get our horses.” He arched his eyebrows wondering what kind of reunion, the good kind or the kind that he knew she is capable of giving her long lost enemies. Staying deep in the shadows they quietly headed north to where their horses are stabled for the night.
Suddenly, she grabbed him by the arm jerking him deep into the shadows crouching between two buildings looking toward the stable entrance. “You need to stop thinking about our reunion and from now on pay attention to your surroundings,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
At the end of a street forming a T shape, the stable is a huge affair built the same as the surrounding buildings with its mortared granite and granite-tiled roof its three massive double doors swung wide open with the lantern light streaming from them clearly showed no sign of life inside. There should be horses nickering, a hostler and a few grooms walking about. Too quiet for Sakura, a sudden sharp foreboding feeling caused the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to stand up warning her that something dreadful had happened in the stables. Flitting among the buildings, they stayed as deep in the waning shadows as possible given the closer they got to the stables the brighter the ambient light was.
Moving stealthy toward the third door on the right they peered in surprised at the blood and carnage in evidence. Lying on the blood soaked straw slightly to the right of the door a horse's headrest next to the headless body of a groom. Blood and gore dripped from the stall doors, walls, and ceiling, mostly horseflesh with human chunks as well. Barely able to keep from retching they forced themselves to enter the stable proper moving as quietly as possible across the blood soaked straw. Seeing the blood and gore dripping from the walls and ceiling both knew that whatever happened here had recently occurred. Who or whatever did this may still be here waiting to ambush the unsuspecting curious that might venture in to investigate. What could have done this so quickly, so quietly, without anyone hearing the sounds of a malicious massacre-taking place right in the stables next door to them? Looking furtively about the stable Orin wondered, barely breathing trying not retch, and at the same time not make a sound.
Suddenly, an intense fear gripped Sakura freezing her in place, a fear so revolting it sent shivers racing through her body. Instinct and self-preservation was the only thing that saved Orin and her from certain death. Lunging into Orin, she shoved him hard to the floor with her on top of him ignoring his shout of surprise as a black as night creature flew by them faster than anything she has ever seen. Quickly spinning around it stopped at the far end of the stable staring at them balefully with an astuteness that shocked Sakura.
Getting quickly to their feet, Orin noticed an intense warm feeling coming from the sword hidden under his cloak realizing too late that it had been steadily getting warmer the closer they approached the stables warning them of the danger inside. Moving his cloak aside, he quickly drew the sword revealing that it had taken on a pulsing pure white light. Bo
th looked at the sword in astonishment while the creature growled taking a step back drawing their attention back to the danger at hand. This time Sakura could see fear in its intelligent eyes.
The creature stood on four legs like a dog, its dragon shaped body with wings too small to allow it to fly rippled with heavy muscle. Sakura realized it had to be its wings that gave it the speed it had showed. Its huge dragon shaped head and gaping mouth with protruding five-inch long fangs made it an abomination of a dragon. It did not have a tail like a dragon but its clawed feet certainly looked like dragons feet. Orin did not know what he faced but he knew that it feared the sword he carried and that gave him some assurance that he might have a chance at defeating it.
Moving closer to the creature, the pure light glow grew more and more intense no longer pulsing. The dragon like creature was on him faster than the eye could follow thinking its speed would save it from the sword it feared. Far quicker than he ever dreamed possible, Orin sidestepped the attack, slashing the creature along its scaly side eliciting a scream of rage and pain. The bone-chilling sound that emanated from the creatures mouth was certainly loud enough to alert the townspeople that something is amiss. Swiftly the creature lunged at him teeth snapping; again, his speed was more than enough to sidestep the attack plunging the blade deep into the creature's eye deep into its head. Quickly twisting the sword back and forth, he pulled it out of the creature's eye dripping blood and gore. Dropping to the floor in a cloud of hay and dust, dripping black blood from its wounds the creature gave Orin one last look of hatred from its remaining eye before making a guttural sound breathing its last.
Over in seconds Sakura watched in wonder as the creature fell to the stable floor and die while Orin stared at the thing on the floor in apparent numbed shock. Noticing the sword had returned to normal when the creature died Sakura took the sword from Orin without protest from him, wiping it clean with a polishing cloth used for polishing brass that had been hanging on a ring on the wall next to her. When the sword was painstakingly clean, she tried hand it back to him but he paid her no mind. To get his attention, she slapped him on the back of the head hard enough to cause him to stutter step forward.
“Easy woman, are you trying to knock the eyes out of my head or what," Orin exclaimed rubbing the back of the head where she hit him.
“No merely trying to knock some sense into that thick head of yours. Mayhap you think we should just wait for the constable, half the town and the duke’s men to get here. Is that rock inside your head going to devise a good excuse why we are here and what that thing is?” Straightway she handed him his sword heading to a rear door between two stalls trying not to brush against or step in any blood and gore.
Leaving the rear door and out into the fresh air away from the stench of death, they turned left into an alley that ran between the stable and a dark warehouse. Hurrying down the alley toward the docks, they reached a large thoroughfare used by traders to move wagons laden with goods up and down during the trading season. This late at night, it is dark and quiet but simply because it looked safe did not mean danger did not lurk in the shadows cast by the flickering oil lanterns lining the street. Behind them, they could hear the alarm raised as someone discovered the massacre at the stables. Cautiously scanning the street before easing to the right in front of a warehouse, they stayed as deep in the shadows as possible. Moving stealthy between the buildings and down alleys for better part of an hour, they finally stopped in front of a rude looking building.
Taking a brass key from a hidden pocket inside her cloak Sakura unlocked the pad lock on the door. Quickly entering they closed the door silently behind them into total darkness. Moving by feel to a small table Sakura quickly lit a small oil lantern with flint and steel. The room is small and dingy with a few crates piled on top of each other with a small straw mattress shoved in the corner. Quickly she went to one of the crates moving it aside, reaching deep inside the bottom one retrieving a backpack and bedroll. Those she handed to Orin reaching in again retrieving another backpack that she slung over her back.
“Only one bedroll?” Orin asked quizzically.
“Why do we need two?” she asked laughing sweetly. He did not have an answer to that so he let it go thinking it is best to do so.
Turning the wick down on the lantern blanketing them in total darkness Sakura paused briefly letting her eyes adjust before silently opening the door wide enough for them to peer out into the darkness. One mistake or misstep could mean their deaths. With their senses alert to the slightest movement or sound, they eased out of the doorway quickly heading northwest toward the barge road. Once there they should be safe all the way to Brookmoor Village, but in the business they are in one could never tell. In a short time they made their way passed the dockworkers homes and small warehouses predominant to this area of town alerting a nearby dog who barked sleepily at their passing.
When they reached barge road, they picked up speed until both were running as fast as humanly possible trying to put some distance between them and the town. They continued this pace under a cloudless night sky for league then slowed to a steady walk catching their breath. Orin looked up at the panoramic view of a bright beautiful moon lighting the landscape with millions of stars flickering across the sky all resting on a giant black background. He did not think there would be any pursuit from the town, but he was still concerned that someone will see them moving along the road on a bright night like this. After what happened at the stables, the duke's men would assuredly question them if they were seen out tonight.
“Sakura tell me what is going on and do not keep any secrets from me.”
“What makes you think I would do such a grievous thing to such a forthright rogue like yourself,” she was laughing by the time she finished asking him.
“You sure are the droll one this evening. Here we are walking up a deserted road, and I mean walking since our horses were slaughtered by some creature that before now I have only seen in my nightmares, I discover a magic sword that I do not know what it can do, for all I know every time I use it I lose some of my spirit and you cannot deny that we are in extreme danger and after all of that you are having a grand time insinuating that I am a devious ne'er-do-well,” he concluded his longwinded speech in mock pain at the slight.
“Well, did you lose any?”
“Lose what?” he asked cautiously.
“Any of your spirit you dolt,” she said punching him in the arm speeding off as fast as she could with him chasing her both laughing their voices drifting off into the night.
Games of the Powerful Page 28