Bloodless

by Roberto Vecchi

  "I do not think we should move him, m'Lady. What if he is," the guard paused searching for the right word, "infected." It was common for the dredge of life to have contracted any number of pests, and not entirely uncommon for those pests to carry some form of yet to be defined sickness. Though most often times not lethal, the diseases associated with the poor were most often times manifest as physical deformities such as open soars. Rarely did they contain anything more substantial or permanent. But, such was the condition of Avendia that most healthy people, if health is a term of success and not a flowing dynamic wherein there were many factors, feared what portrayed them as unhealthy. And nothing carried more fear than open soars.

  "Then we will be infected as well. Now assist me or tell your supervisor that you were the one responsible for the demise of an innocent on the castle grounds!" she spoke up forcefully. It was not too long ago that she had almost been one of those unfortunate souls who found themselves on the street. And had it not been for the altruistic and pragmatic nature of the King, she surely would have been one of the "infected".

  The guard hesitated for a moment, but seeing the steel gaze from Nadalize, decided she was not one to test. He quickly closed the gap he had consciously been maintaining and assisted her. They each put their arms under the fallen man and on the count of Nadalize, turned him over. When her eyes settled on the man's face, she stepped back in unison with a breathless gasp.

  "Tell no one of this man! Do you understand me? Tell no one of him! He is to be taken to my quarters. You will then forget all that you know of this night. If you do not, I shall summon The Guild for you!" she said to the guard.

  "Yes, m'Lady, I understand. But who is he?" he asked as he looked more closely.

  "A ghost," she said.

  The guard hefted the unconscious Eriboth over his shoulder and followed Nadalize through a series of less commonly used passageways to her chambers. She knew she would not incur the attention of any of the normal nobility as they would be well into their glasses of liquid revelry or immersed in the song and dance of jubilation. But rounding the last corner to her chambers, perhaps a little too rushed, they came face to face with none other than the High Captain of the King's guard, Lord Captain Coinir. However, it was obvious he was not roaming the halls in an official capacity because he had, held by the waists, two equally beautiful elven girls accompanying him.

  "Oh, Lady Tugori, I did not expect meeting anyone in these halls. My apologies," he said with the slightest of slurs. The two young elf girls chuckled when he finished.

  Hoping his drunken state would prevent his attention from focusing on the man currently laying over the shoulder of his subordinate, she attempted to quickly brush past he and his two companions, "No apology required, Lord Coinir. We will be on our way."

  As she walked past, the captain gained a bit of awareness at the unusual sight, "One moment, Lady Tugori, if I may? What are you about tonight if not tending to the details of this event?"

  "My Lord Coinir, the details of the event are well passed their critical status, as is the King's security apparently," she said, turning around to face him.

  "What do you mean? The High King is in no danger?" he said as he cast an amused glance at his two companions. "And who is that thrown over your shoulder Guardsman Blaekno?"

  While the drink had invaded his inhibitions enough to allow him to grasp the affections of these two young elves, it had not, apparently, invaded his perceptions. Nadalize could think of nothing else to say except a direct challenge. Hoping his mind had been at least partially muddled, she walked right up to him and spoke, "But he is not, is he? Think of this, Captain. What if this man, the one slung over the shoulder of your guard, had been an assassin instead of a drunken beggar? Do you not think he would have been able to infiltrate a hidden perch upon which he would surely have been able to fire a lethal shot at his target? And what if that target was not the King Yahnaros, but one of our esteemed emissaries? What do you think the fallout from that would be? War? Perhaps, but surely, and at the very least, your ability to lead those given charge over the security of the Silver Castle would be drawn into question. I dare say you might even be imprisoned if someone was so inclined to suggest you had conspired with one of the Silver Empire's many enemies. At the very least, you would be shunned, and at the very worst, you would be branded a betrayer."

  Her challenge was enough to give him pause, and had he not been under the influence of a liberal amount of mead, not to mention the company of two beautiful elves, he might have been able to see that her breath was slightly more shallow suggesting her confidence was not rooted in truth, but in a hopeful deception. But as he was, he did not notice anything beyond what she had implanted in his mind. He looked to his two companions, then to the guard, and then back to Nadalize.

  He laughed, a great hearty laugh that sparked the inclusion of the elf girls. "You are quite right! I had best divert my attentions from these two young beauties and include more rigorous training for my guards. I am grateful for at least this one. But the hour is late and I am well past the sobriety to do what is best. Come on my elven beauties. Have you ever seen the moons from the terrace overlooking the Royal Gardens?"

  In unison, they said, "No, My Lord Captain."

  "Then I am quite certain the Lady Tugori will excuse us. It seems she has business to attend to as well," turning toward his two guests, he continued, "Let us go, my lovelies. I promise the moons are radiant tonight."

  As the three of them walked past, good humor restored and the confrontation almost forgotten as quickly as it began, Nadalize motioned the guard to follow her. When they reached the door to her chambers, she pushed it open allowing the guard to enter first.

  "Please set him down on the sitting chair and then go. I will tend to him from here. Speak of this to no one and your assistance will be appreciated. Speak of this to anyone and you will no longer be able to offer assistance any longer," she said as she closed the door.

  "Yes, Lady Tugori. I will not speak of this to anyone. You have my word. May I return to my post? If I am gone too long, it will surely raise suspicions," he responded.

  "Yes, you may go," she said as she placed a pillow under Eriboth's head.

  "Who is this?" said a voice from behind her. She turned around and saw her husband standing in the silhouette caused by the glow of the two moons streaking through their open window. Even though they had been together for years, his attractiveness still stunned her at the most unusual moments. He could be doing nothing at all, or returning from his latest hunting expedition with the king with their quarry slung across his neck, but in those random moments, her breath still caught in her chest. Tonight was one of those moments. However, under normal circumstances she would indulge both hers and his less than savory intentions, but this night was far from normal. In fact, the return of a rumored-to-be-dead legend found lying in the most unpredictable locations on perhaps the most important night for both the races of man and elf, two races he called kin, was something she could not ignore. And, at the moment, she could not quantify the myriad of emotions she was currently experiencing.

  "Come now, wife of mine, surely my good looks have not taken all of your words away," he said as he gently walked over to her.

  She always appreciated his humor, "No, my dearest. It has not, although I do find your charms irresistible. But, as you have no doubt noticed, we have a larger issue in our midst."

  "Does he require our healers?" said her husband as he bent down to examine his unconscious body, "I do not see any visible wounds. Indeed, he appears to be quite peacefully sleeping."

  "I can assure you of one thing, my dear husband, whatever state he is in, I doubt he is experiencing much peace," she said as she put her hand on her husband's shoulder. "I do not think we should notify anyone. He is, after all, rumored to be dead. I am quite certain we do not want anyone wondering why a dead man was found lying in the Royal Garden of the host to the very race that is rumored to have killed hi
m. Not to mention questioning us as to why we brought him to our chambers."

  "You know him well then? I can assume he is from your past. Perhaps from the days of The Dragon's Lair?" he asked as he put his hand on hers.

  "Indeed, he is. Come, let us retire to our balcony. It is a nice night and I feel we will need a whole bottle of wine to get through this story," she said taking his hand, leading him across the chambers. Looking briefly back to Eriboth's peaceful face, she inhaled and then exhaled, adding, "And most likely, two."

  She was right. It was a pleasant night, but not in the quiet peacefulness reflected in the features of her unconscious friend, rather in the knowledge they would suffer no further interruptions to the necessity of telling her tale. Since the days she ruled over her own small domain, the days she felt so many emotions she had never thought she would, the days she thought she lost the two closest people to her, her lips had remained largely silent regarding them. Yes, she did mention some things, but they were not of the informative nature. However, as all things concerning Eriboth and his presence resulted in situations necessitating further explanation, she thought it better to outdistance his questions by providing him a full, proactive explanation

  Her emotions surprised her. Not in their presence, but in their intensity. She had relived these moments at infinitum, and while they did produce some tears, she had believed them to be muted over the passage of time. But there was something about hearing her own words audibly, as if their very sounds breathed life back into the death of times past. Her tears started subtly at first, almost imperceptibly, but when the first tear dripped past the boundaries of her eyelids leaving a damp streak down her cheek, the flood gates were soon to follow. Yet, her tears were not without the accompaniment of her joy induced smiles. That night, her husband witnessed joys and sorrows he had never seen from her before, and he loved her more for it.

  They spoke deeply into the night until the pale rays of the moon had all been dissolved by the early morning sun; and yet the music from last night would continue well past the breaking of the dawn. When they had begun talking, they were sitting on opposite sides of their sitting couch, but her tears and his love would soon close that distance until nothing separated them, not even their pasts. But in this early hour, when the mist and dew was just beginning to be warmed away, and they would no longer need their outer night clothes, she felt sleep spill into her soul from an emotional exhaustion she had not felt for nearly two decades.

  As she was sleeping soundly in his arms, he could not help but remember the day they had met. It was shortly after he had first come to the Silver Palace hoping to expand his pelt trade. But as circumstances would have it, his uncanny knowledge was enlisted by a merchant who was fascinated by the idea of the hunt; knowing about and tracking animals in the sport of killing them. But he was not a merchant of specific materials and textiles as were nearly most of the others, he was instead a merchant of the provocation and propagation of mortal desires, as he described it. Through his fascination of the hunt, he had created, with the help of a hopeful animal pelt trader, a business of providing exactly that.

  At first, the he was reluctant to teach his skills in the knowledge that teaching them may make him obsolete in time, but the businessman assured him that the fulfillment of desires would earn him more commerce than any amount of trading ever could. He explained that the nobles were ever fascinated by the basal and physical skills held by those of lower social status. Their lives were filled with the common, everyday safety that bred boredom; a boredom that needed to be channeled. They were simply going to be the channel. As it was, his business exploded in merely months.

  When word reached the High King of its popularity amongst his nobles, he became intrigued at the prospect of entertaining his visiting guests through something unique. When the High King approached him, he was apprehensive at the prospect of leaving what he had come to know to embark on yet another endeavor. However, just as before, the businessman was there to rest any concerns he might have conjured. So, in a matter of four months from first meeting the businessman, he journeyed from a peasant-born, animal pelt trader, to renowned guide and skilled instructor, ending as the High King's Royal Gamesman.

  Because the High King was very thorough with all aspects regarding the entertainment of his guests, he directed the other newest member of his Royal team to attend the Gamesman's hunting party which included a wild game dinner made from the very animals they killed. When she turned around, the youthful gamesman, full of roguish charisma, was instantly captured.

  Standing nearly a head shorter than the rest of his guests, she nevertheless carried herself with a quiet and congenial confidence portraying her stature as formidably taller.

  "My Lady," he said catching her attention, "I do not believe I have seen you here before. Is this your first time on the hunt?"

  "It is indeed. Clearly it is not your first time though. How many have you been on?" she asked him.

  "All of them," he said with a slight smile. "Please allow me to introduce myself, m'lady. I am Geromain Tugori, the Royal Gamesman. It will be my pleasure to guide and entertain you throughout the day," he said as he bowed very low with a wave of his hand.

  She returned his greeting with a curtsy and smile, "It is very pleasant to meet you today, Geromain Tugori. I am Nadalize Remnesci, Royal Concierge to High King Yahnaros."

  "It appears we may be seeing much of each other then. I will welcome each encounter," he said as he took her extended hand gently kissing it.

  "As will I," she returned with an expectant smile.

  As much as he wanted this moment to extend much farther into the day, he knew it could not. After hearing her story, he knew the presence of this man, Eriboth, was nothing more than a harbinger for more daunting times ahead. Throughout the world, he was known as many things and by many names, but the one that came to mind as he was lying on their sofa was Enon Audiblin, "Doom Herald".

  "I can assure you," said a raspy voice from the chamber interior, "while that name was once well deserved, it is far from who I am now." Geromain adjusted himself to attend the voice and saw Eriboth standing in the doorway to their terrace, supporting himself with one of his arms. His appearance was anything but legendary. Wearing rags spotted with dark stains, he hunched over at the waist as if he was in pain, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. His breathing was labored and shallow. "Tell me, however do you know Nadalize?" Eriboth asked just before he fell face forward hitting the floor with a resounding thud jolting Nadalize out of her restful slumber.

  Their silence had been understood by each of them, and rightfully so, accepted. With the wind rushing past them, though its effect was muted by the power of the beast on which they rode, streaking toward the Stone Keep, he was acutely aware of her arms around his waist. Though he knew it was only because of the perceived need to secure herself on the back of the Great Gold Dragon, nevertheless, he felt warmed by her touch.

  "Why did you not return?" she asked as the silence was lanced through by the unspoken accusation he knew would eventually be given voice. And although her statement held truth, it was not the complete truth, for he did return for her.

  "My Lady Soliana, your question is unanswerable in its current form. Out of the deepest respect for you and your honor, I will, therefore, let it linger unanswered instead of attempting to offer an explanation for something that never occurred," he said.

  "That is quite the lordly response. Or rather evasion. You did not return, Eriboth. You did not fulfill your promise and I would have my answer before we arrive at our destination," she stated with the devout forcefulness of her developed persona.

  He saw that she was indeed far from the young and innocent girl he had first fallen in love with. So different was she now than the Athlorial he had remembered, he had completely not recognized her when he met her in the elven forest. It was not until his eyes had been blinded and his true sight opened that he was able to see beyond what she had become an
d into who she had been. But, even with her progressed persona, he sensed there was more inside, much more. He saw within her the resolution of a will that would not be denied its inquiry. So, he decided against prolonging the discussion. “I remember many things from my life before I was freed, nearly all of them, including our wonderful week spent in the presence of each other; but what I remember with the utmost clarity was the dress you were wearing when I saw you upon my return," he said after a moment’s pause.

  "You returned?" she said taking no precautions to hold her voice in check from revealing her emotions.

  "I did," he said calmly.

  "Why did you not come to me?" she asked.

  "That was my very intent. However, I thought better of it at the time," he stoically responded.

  Almost screaming, she pressed him, "How could you think better of it? What, in the realm of everything that could be considered sacred by your blessed stars, could have convinced you to disregard your promise? Do you know what I was forced to endure because of your decision? Do you know how much it hurt knowing, or at least thinking, you had forgotten?"

  Again, returning her onslaught of emotionally charged questions with steadiness, he replied calmly, "My Lady Soliana, let me explain that there is no amount of pain that you have felt at my hands that I have not felt because of yours. But even as I say that, I know the blame ultimately rests on my shoulders. Yes, I believe I do know exactly how much you have hurt."

  Exploding from his answer, she tore into him with more accusations, "What pain could I have possibly caused you! You were the one who did not return! You were the one who did not keep his promise! And it is because of you that I was forced to give away the only spectacular thing I have ever known in my life! You forced me to endure what no mother should ever have to endure!"

  Though he did not address it, her reference to being a mother resonated beyond the protected places we keep hidden for fear that if they be exposed, we would suffer great pain. Intentionally ignoring its implication, he responded, "Believe me, please, my intent was no less than to see you brilliantly radiant in your joy and happiness. And as I have said before, the ultimate responsibility of your pain rests on my shoulders. Therefore, I bid you to forgive me."