The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  In the silence that followed, the group made their way as carefully as they dared. Amala was right, the graveyard was teeming with pirates and their mage companions, and it made progress slow and painstaking, but before long the hole beneath the fence came into view.

  “I’ll go first,” Anise whispered.

  “Ever the hero, eh?” Amala quipped.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Frowning, Anise stared the silver-haired vampire, who smiled back at her. Shaking her head, she turned to Marshalla.

  “Wait for my signal,” she said, “then follow.”

  “Alright,” Marshalla nodded.

  “Perhaps Amala should go first,” Anieszirel said as Anise rose.

  “What?” Anise frowned. “Why?”

  “Because my arse is smaller, perhaps?” Amala offered.

  “Amala!” Marshalla hissed just as Anise turned to glare at the grinning vampire.

  “Oh, calm yourself, girl,” Amala chuckled as she turned to Marshalla.

  Shaking her head, Marshalla turned to Anieszirel. “Why not let Anise go first?”

  “Because your ghost friend doesn’t trust me, my dear,” Amala replied, then turned to the chronodragon. “I’ll go first, then, but be a darling and send Marshalla after me, would you?”

  Then, before any could speak, Amala darted forth, and diving to the ground, wriggled through the hole and was gone.

  A few moments passed.

  “Well?” Amala hissed from the other side of the fence.

  Grinning, Marshalla rose.

  “Perhaps Anise should go next,” Anieszirel said.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” Marshalla replied, “she saved my life! If I’m not safe with her, I’m not safe with anyone.” And before either could respond, Marshalla sprang to her feet and disappeared through the hole.

  “What a night,” Anise sighed once Marshalla was gone.

  “Tell me about it,” Anieszirel replied, then turned to Anise. “Your turn.”

  “Right,” Anise nodded, then rose and headed for the hole.

  As the Archmage neared the hole, however, light flooded the area as row upon row of soldiers appeared out of nowhere, forming an arc of two walls before the Archmage, the first a wall of shields, the second a wall of bolts aimed at her, every single one glowing with a soft red hue.

  “Hold right there, pirate!” a voice cried out.

  Slowly, Anise turned to regard the soldiers before her.

  “Has your strength returned?” she whispered.

  “Not enough for this many,” Anieszirel replied as she rose.

  “Damn.”

  “You will relinquish your blades, and you will come quietly,” continued the voice, “and you will do so now.”

  “Can they see you?” Anise whispered.

  Anieszirel shook her head.

  “We have orders to bring you and your young friend back alive,” the voice continued, “but make no mistake, we will end you right here should you force us.”

  “Get out of here, Ani,” Anise whispered. “Get her out of here.”

  “What about you?”

  “Forget about me.”

  “Like hells I will.”

  “Where’s your young friend?” the voice demanded.

  “She’s not here,” Anise replied.

  “You’re lying.”

  Anise shrugged. “She was never here. I lured my darling friends in here while she hid outside. She should be on her way back with the peacekeepers by now.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You do like to repeat yourself, don’t you?”

  “Sir,” another of the soldiers said, “shall we spread out and search for her?”

  The first voice fell silent.

  “What’re you going to do?” Anieszirel asked.

  “What can I do?” Anise whispered.

  “We leave with what we can,” the first voice said at last, “before the peacekeepers arrive.”

  “Lucky me,” Anise replied.

  “You will come with us now,” the first voice continued.

  “And if I refuse?” Anise demanded.

  “You die and we return with your corpse.”

  “Not much of a choice, that.”

  “It’s a choice nonetheless.”

  Taking a deep breath, the Archmage let it out slowly as she regarded the soldiers once more.

  “Get her back safe, Ani,” Anise whispered. “Get her out of this damn town.”

  “Anise, wait!”

  Sighing once more, the frowning Archmage placed her hands upon her head and walked towards the soldiers, and in the silence that followed, Anieszirel watched as her companion was led away by the soldiers, her blades claimed and her hands bound behind her back.

  Into The Abyss

  Darting into the darkness, Amala took the room in in one glance, her face a mask of utter seriousness. Soon, her gaze rested upon the only other door within the room, and darting over to it, she swung it open and darted in, her gaze sweeping the smaller room in one swoop.

  “Hrm,” she muttered as she closed the door, then turned to the window across from her.

  Hurrying over to it, she rested upon the wall beside it, and in the darkness, stared past the window’s bars to the quiet world outside, her eyes scanning for danger of any kind.

  She saw none.

  Nodding at last, she pulled the window’s blinds, then turned to the door.

  “It’s safe,” she said, then made her way towards the lantern upon the dining table.

  As she lit the lantern, the door opened wider as Marshalla stepped into the room just as the room was flooded with light. Placing the lantern upon the table, Amala stared at her friend. Marshalla’s face was longer than Amala had ever seen it, the pain in her eyes hard to witness. Taking a deep breath, Amala stood tall and smiled, channelling as much warmth as she could into her smile.

  “Told you we’d be safe,” she said.

  Marshalla nodded in response, a wooden smile upon her lips.

  “We’ll get her back, Marsha,” Amala added. “You’ll see.”

  Nodding once more, Marshalla ventured deeper into the room, closing the door behind her as she went.

  “I still can’t believe they’re no longer looking for us,” Anieszirel said as she glided through the closing door.

  “I can,” Amala replied. “They killed a few peacekeepers tonight, not to mention betraying their most influential patron. Laying low is about the only thing the Jackdaws can do right now.”

  “Betraying?” Anieszirel frowned.

  “Yes,” Amala sighed. “Seems Anise’s tale about gnomes and whatnot stirred a hornet’s nest. Your pirate friends were told to stand down so this patron could parley with Anise directly. Only, their leader didn’t seem to like the idea of our dear Anise winning his patron’s favour, so he decided to kill her and ransom Marshalla here to him.”

  “What?” Marshalla and Anieszirel said in unison.

  “Ransom me?” Marshalla added.

  “Yes,” Amala nodded. “They think you’re not what you seem. Gods if I know what they think you are, but elven isn’t it.”

  “What…?”

  “Your little show in their tavern the other day left them thinking you wield some great power, my dear, the kind of power a simple girl could never wield, elven or not.”

  “So what did they think she was doing here?” Anieszirel said.

  Amala shrugged as she turned the the chronodragon. “Your guess is as good as mine. But, whatever it was, that pirate leader felt certain she knew more than Anise, so no reason for Anise to win their patron’s favour.”

  “I see.” Anieszirel mused.

  “Yes.” Amala sighed. “Poor sod was so determined to see Anise dead he spent much of his fortune hiring mages to bind Marshalla while his men took care of Anise.”

  “But they tried to kill me!” Marshalla cried.

  “Hmm,” Anise nodded. “After watching so many of the
ir number fall at your feet, can’t say I blame them seeking revenge.”

  “Oh…” was all Anieszirel could manage.

  Smiling once more, Amala turned to Marshalla square. “Why don’t you go have a bath, Marsha? You’re always so relaxed after one.”

  Marshalla shook her head. “I’ll be fine. We need to bring our heads together and—”

  “Anise isn’t going to die because you took a bath,” Amala interjected. “She—”

  “How can you say that? She needs us! You can’t expect me to just—”

  “Marsha, we need you calm and—”

  “Don’t patronise me, Amala, I am calm! And I’m not going to sit on my arse and wait for them to bring the—”

  “The bath has been prepared, Marsha.”

  “I don’t care! I don’t need a bath, I just need to—”

  “Marsha,” Anieszirel said, gliding to stand before her, “if we’re going to figure a way out of this, we all need to be calm,we all need to be focused.”

  “Gods, not you as well!” Marshalla snapped, rounding on the chronodragon, “I don’t need a bloody bath, I just need us to—”

  “You care about Anise,” Anieszirel continued. “Well, so do I, and so does Amala…”

  “No, but—”

  “…but you can’t help her unless you’re focused.”

  “I am focused!” Marshalla thundered.

  Anieszirel smiled.

  The young girl glared at each in turn, a deep snarl upon her lips, but at last the snarl faded and she lowered her head.

  “Fine,” she muttered, then turned to head towards the only other door in the room.

  Both Anieszirel and Amala watched her go.

  “I have no clean clothes,” she said as she reached the door, spinning round to face the pair as she spoke.

  “Call out to me when you’re done,” Anieszirel replied. “I’ll clean your clothes for you.”

  Nodding, Marshalla turned once more, then opened the door and closed it softly behind her.

  “So,” Anieszirel said the moment the sound of splashing water reached her ears, turning to face Amala as she spoke, “what’s so important you couldn’t wait till Marsha was asleep before asking me?”

  “Observant, I see…” Amala said, the smile upon her lips fading as she turned to face the chronodragon square.

  Anieszirel smiled sweetly at Amala. “You didn’t answer my question, my dear. That’s rather rude, don’t you think?”

  Standing tall, Amala stared at the smiling chronodragon a spell, the warmth in the air between the pair fading with each passing moment.

  “Who are you?” she said at last. “What hold do you have over Marsha? And how do you know of me?”

  “Aw, bless,” Anieszirel giggled as she clasped her hands before her, “the little vampire thinks she can command me.”

  “I am no mere vampire, shade.”

  “And I am no shade, child.”

  It was now Amala’s turn to smile, and hers was every bit as cold as Anieszirel’s.

  “That you would call me child shows how much I over-estimated you.”

  “Does it?”

  “Have a care you…whatever you are,” Amala replied as her smile twisted into a snarl, “I have faced many phantoms in my life, and each one I have bested.”

  Waving her words away, Anieszirel turned. “Save your threats for someone who gives a damn.”

  “Why you—”

  “You care a great deal for Marshalla, and so do I. That should be reason enough for us to work together. I owe you no further explanations, just as you owe me none.”

  “Explanations of what?” Amala asked, her tone rising ever so slightly.

  “Must we do this?” Anieszirel sighed, turning to stare at Amala.

  Amala stared back in silence.

  “Very well,” Anieszirel replied, sighing once more. “Who are you truly? And how come a day-walker as old as you can can move freely about a place like the Tower?”

  Amala remained silent, her gaze upon the chronodragon.

  Anieszirel nodded. “Precisely. You owe me no explanations, just as I owe you none.”

  “So, where does that leave us?” Amala asked, crossing her arms beneath her bosom.

  “Wherever you wish, I don’t rightly care either way.”

  “So what do you care about?”

  Anieszirel shrugged. “I care that you’re here, miles from the comfort of your precious Tower. That you would go so far as to dig under the fence of that graveyard rather than simply scale it shows how much of your strength your journeying after us cost you…”

  Rolling her eyes, Amala fought to suppress a smile.

  “…and yet you stayed. Your care is genuine, Amala, hells if I know why.”

  “What do you mean, hells if you know why?” Amala frowned.

  “Well, you share a house with the girl, not a bed…”

  “Ugh!”

  “…and yet you care for her this much?”

  “That is disgusting, phantom,” Amala replied. “That is truly disgusting, I would never…gods!”

  “Be that as it may,” Anieszirel continued, suppressing a smile, “I am not one to refuse a gift. You’re here, you’re helping, and that’s all I need to know.”

  A calm silence fell upon the pair as they stared at each other.

  “Are you always this…accommodating?” Amala asked at last.

  Anieszirel shrugged. “I try to be.”

  “I see.”

  “Though I do have a question for you?”

  “Oh?”

  Anieszirel nodded. “Why a graveyard? If you were too weak to scale it, why dig under it? Why not find an inn and feed in the dead of night like any normal vampire?”

  Amala smiled. “I saw eleven priests, five paladins and two crusaders on my walk from the gate to the graveyard. Chances are good, any inn I went to would have one, or even all three staying there.”

  Anieszirel frowned. “So?”

  “So? My dear shade, I hadn’t fed in days. Do you not know what I become when the thirst is all-consuming?”

  Anieszirel shrugged. “So you walk in the shadows till you feed. What’s the issue?”

  “Walk in the…and just how is the bloody shadows going to help me if some stupid holier-than-thou bastard is wandering around the place with some fancy trinket that warns him of an undead’s presence?”

  “Ah,” Anieszirel nodded as her gaze softened. “And with you being in the grips of your thirst, that trinket’s going to be like a beacon.”

  “Now she gets it!”

  The chronodragon smiled. “I take it it’s happened to you a few times in the past.”

  “A few too many times, “Amala winced. “The worst part is always the blasted mobs they whip up. So infuriating.”

  “But a graveyard?” Anieszirel insisted. “Why not stay out in the streets, then?”

  “Because everyone avoids a graveyard, my dear. Especially the holy ones.”

  “That…makes…surprising sense.”

  “Uh, thank you?”

  “You’re welcome.” Anieszirel grinned.

  Amala shook her head at the chronodragon as she sighed.

  “So, what do we do now?” she added. “We can’t stay here long.”

  “Well,”Anieszirel replied, “we wait for Marshalla to finish. And for you to have a bath yourself.”

  Amala shook her head. “I don’t—”

  “You’ve been crawling round in a graveyard, my dear,” Anieszirel interjected, “not to mention gorging yourself in a manner most unbecoming of a lady.”

  “A lady…?”

  Anieszirel grinned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Either way, I can’t look that bad. The clerk would’ve said something otherwise.”

  “Yes, about that…” Anieszirel said, a most mischievous smile parting her lips

  “What did you do…?”

  “Let’s just say he thinks he’s renting this room to two older women ad
venturers looking for one last adventure.”

  “You what?”

  “You’re welcome,” Anieszirel grinned, then turned and floated to the bed in the corner of the room.

  As she went, Amala ran a hand through her hair, and as clumps of dirt hit the wooden floor, she grimaced.

  “Perhaps I do need a bath,” she sighed, then made her way to a nearby chair to wait for Marshalla.

  Anieszirel sat in silence as she watched Marshalla dine upon the simple meal they’d ordered. It was clear the thought of Anise being held captive still bore into the girl, but Anieszirel knew anything she said would make Marshalla’s pain that much more acute. And so, in silence she watched, the sounds from Marshalla’s dining drowned out by the singing and splashing from the bathroom, till at last, Marshalla pushed the bowl away.

  “Finished?” Anieszirel asked.

  “Yeah,” Marshalla nodded, her voice soft and barely above a whisper.

  “Good,” Anieszirel smiled. “Now, let’s see how long our undead friend will be in there.”

  At these words, Marshalla turned to face Anieszirel square. “Amala wants us to leave Anise behind, Ani.”

  “What?” Anieszirel frowned.

  “She’s not—”

  “Hold,” Anieszirel interjected before calling forth a sound barrier about the bathroom door.

  “Why would you say that?” the chronodragon asked once she was done.

  “Because she’s acting like we’re on a picnic! I’m not leaving Anise behind, Ani, I’m just not! Will you help me?”

  A slow smile parted the chronodragon’s lips. “Back in Mardaley’s kitchen, you were repulsed at the idea of travelling with her, and now you’re talking about leaping into the jaws of death for her.”

  Marshalla’s cheeks reddened at this.

  “You don’t have to be so dramatic, you know,” she mumbled.

  Anieszirel’s smile grew in response.

  “But will you help me?”

  “Of course, I will,” Anieszirel replied, her smile now a grin.

  “Thank you” Marshalla grinned, too, then turned to the bathroom door.

  “How much did you tell her?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “About…well…you.”

  The chronodragon leant forward and stared deep into Marshalla’s eyes. “I told her nothing, Marsha, and I suggest you do the same.”