The Beggar's Wrath
Page 5
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” the mage continued as he reached them, his eyes as wide as his grin. “How was it?”
Chuckling, Anise turned to regard Tip and Marshalla.
“Tip, Marshalla, this ill-mannered oaf is my brother, Daniton.”
Tip and Marshalla looked at each other before staring back at Daniton. He and Anise looked nothing alike.
“Adoptive brother,” Daniton offered, sensing their confusion.
“Oh!” they exclaimed in unison.
“Yes,” he grinned before turning to face Anise.
“Anise, please, just tell me! How was it?”
Laughing, Anise shook her head. “It’s a boy, Daniton!”
“Oh, thank the gods!” Daniton sighed as he clasped his hands together.
Marshalla and Tip stared at each other once more. This time it was Anise who read their confusion.
“We don’t have many night mares left, and that stallion in there is our last living male. We’ve been trying to procure another male for years with no success. And now we have another one.”
“Oh!” Marshalla exclaimed, but Tip’s confusion remained until at last his little face lit up.
“Nightmares is what they are!”
Grinning, Anise and Daniton stared briefly at each other before turning back to the little boy.
“Yes, Tip.” Anise replied.
“Ah!” he exclaimed before frowning once more. “But why? They don’t look that scary.”
Anise frowned at Tip, but it was Marshalla who answered. “Not nightmares as in bad dreams, Tip, night…mares as in…like how Kasha’s a night…panther.”
“Oh. Oh! Right!”
“Wait, you know a night panther?” Daniton asked, the sparkle back in his eyes.
“The ranger human who looked after them,” Anise replied. “He has a night panther.”
Daniton turned to stare at her, a question upon his lips.
“And no,” Anise continued before her brother could ask, “he’s not willing to part with the panther, not now, not ever. His words.”
“Ugh, fine,” Daniton glowered, then took a deep breath.
“So, where are the others?” he said after a brief silence. “I must congratulate the whole group.”
“What group?” Marshalla asked, but as she spoke, Anise stared at her, shaking her head as if in warning. Except it was too late.
“What do you mean, what group?” Daniton asked, then turned to his sister. “Anise…?”
Wearing her most winning smile, Anise turned to her brother. “Funny you should mention it, Daniton, you see—”
“Please tell me you didn’t go in there on your own.”
“No, of course not!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah, she had me,” Marshalla added, only for Anise to stare at her with a grimace.
“What…?” Daniton asked.
“Now look, brother, let me ex—” Anise began.
“You took one person in to the birthing of a night mare.”
“Wait, just—”
“Just one.”
“If you could just—”
“And someone who’s completely new here.”
“But she’s not—”
“Please tell me you didn’t.”
“Truly, Daniton, I can explain!”
At this, Daniton folded his arms about him as the kitsune beside him sat staring expectantly at Anise.
“Go on, then,” Daniton demanded.
At this, Tip and Marshalla exchanged glances, grimacing as they did so.
“I…” Anise began, then sighed. “Alright, fine, I’m guilty. But in my defence, Marshalla came very highly recommended. Baern wouldn’t stop singing her praises about how well she handled pets and suchlike.
Daniton raised an eyebrow at this. “Pets?”
“Yes,” Anise replied, but in a tone that made it clear even she knew she’d lost the argument. In response, Daniton stared at his sister as he shook his head in utter bemusement.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“Oh, come now, Daniton. There was no danger!”
“No danger?”
“No! Well…only a little.”
“Wait, what?” Marshalla exclaimed.
Before she could say any more, however, Anise put a calming hand upon her forearm as she smiled at her.
“You weren’t in any real danger, my dear, truly! I mean, look how quickly the stallion took to you. He’s never taken to anybody so quickly! Ever!”
“And the mare?” Daniton asked.
“Well…” Anise replied.
“She bit me,” Marshalla snarled.
“What?” Daniton exclaimed as he turned to stare at Marshalla with quite some concern. “Are you well? Do you feel light-headed? Or do you feel like your blood is about to boil?”
“Wait, what?” Tip and Marshalla exclaimed in unison.
“Now, will you all please just calm down?” Anise yelled.
“Calm down?” Daniton demanded. “She was bitten!”
“Yes, but I cast an anti-venom spell on her before we went in.”
“Those don’t always work with night mares, Anise!”
“Well, this one does. Baern and I perfected it.”
Daniton moved to speak, but no words came. He turned his gaze to Marshalla once more.
“Are you alright?”
Pouting, she looked at a bashful Anise before turning to Daniton.
“Yes.”
“Thank the gods for that,” he sighed, then turned his attention to his sister once more.
“You, Anise, are the most stubborn…”
“I know,” Anise muttered, pouting.
“…reckless…”
“I know.”
“…conceited…”
“Only sometimes.”
“…woman I’ve ever had to work with. Truly, sometimes it’s as if you wish to drive me mad.”
“Only sometimes?”
At her words, Daniton held her in a heartfelt glare, but Anise averted her gaze as she fought to still the laughter building within her.
“Ugh!”
With nothing left to say, the Archmage turned and stormed back the way he had come. As he left, Anise looked down at the kitsune. The little fox glared at her.
“Thanks for the support, you.”
The kitsune merely scoffed in response.
“What?”
Rising, the kitsune turned and, flipping its tails at Anise, hurried after his master.
“Fine, be that way,” she snarled before turning to smile at Marshalla. Marshalla didn’t smile back.
“You could’ve killed me in there.”
“Ah, but I didn’t,” Anise replied, her winning smile firmly in place.
Marshalla was unmoved.
“Besides,” Anise continued, “you bore witness to one of the most profound scenes you could ever see here or anywhere else. The birth of a night mare. Those creatures are rare beyond imagining. And, admit it, you were in awe of it all.”
Marshalla remained unmoved, except her scowl was waning.
“Come, Marsha, you and Tip can help me get water to bathe the foal, and get feed for foal and mother both.”
“Just the three of us?” Marshalla growled.
“Of course!” Anise exclaimed. “We brought him into this world, so it should be us he bonds with, right?”
Still, Marshalla remained unmoved, though now there was no scowl.
“Come,” Anise continued, offering Marshalla her hand as she spoke. “And after, I shall show you around like I promised.”
Marshalla looked from Anise to her hand before at last sighing as she grasped Anise’s hand.
“Your brother forgot impossible.”
Anise grinned. “I know.” And without another word, she offered her other hand to Tip. Tip looked from Anise to Marshalla, grinning.
“Marsha’s going to like it here, isn’t she?” Tip thought to the chronodragon within him.
Chuckling, the little elf grasped Anise’s proffered hand, and, hand in hand, all three headed off.
Beware A Mother’s Love
With a deep sigh, Lord Tirelin Fairshroud closed the huge, ornate door behind him. His head hurt and his heart ached. He knew this would be their response, even before he set forth to meet them, but to hear them turn their backs on him like they did…betrayal had always been a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how often he tasted it.
“Your Grace,” a voice called out to him, pulling him from his thoughts and his gaze to his right.
“You’ve returned.”
Forcing a smile, he nodded at the elderly elven woman standing beside him with a smile upon her lips.
“Yes, thank you,” Tirelin replied, nodding at his housekeeper. “All is well?”
“Why of course, Your Grace,” his housekeeper replied as she stepped behind him. But there was an undercurrent in her voice, and it set him on edge.
“What is it, Larine?”
“Your Grace?” his housekeeper asked as she relieved him of his coat and walking cane. Frowning, he turned to stare at her square.
“Larine, what is it? All is not well, what is it?”
As Larine stared back at him, her smile slowly faded, replaced by a haunted gaze. A brief silence fell upon them as she tried to form her words.
“Lady Fairshroud is home, Your Grace,” was her eventual response, and though simple her words, they nonetheless bored into Tirelin.
“Where is she?” he asked after a brief spell.
“In young Master Fallon’s room.”
Tirelin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How long has she been home?”
“A while, Your Grace.”
Tirelin frowned. “A while?”
Larine nodded. “We drew her a bath when she first arrived, but it went cold, so we drew another, and that one’s just gotten cold.”
“And she’s been in Fallon’s room the whole time?”
Larine nodded.
Staring up the large stairs before him, Lord Fairshroud took another deep breath before tearing his gaze from the stairs to regard his housekeeper once more.
“Draw another.”
Larine moved to speak, but instead simply nodded, and turned to put her master’s items away. As she left though, Tirelin reached out and grasped her elbow.
“She will be alright, you’ll see.”
Looking up at him, Larine smiled. It was a brave smile, but a hollow one. Not knowing what else to do, Tirelin let her be and returned his attention to the stairs. Drawing one more deep breath, he marched toward it, and without a break in stride, made his way up its steps. Before long, he was stood before the door to his elder son’s room. Standing in silence, the elven lord stared at the ornate handle before him, his mind a blank.
“Get on with it, man, she needs you,” he snarled, and reached for the door’s handle, swinging the door open with such great care it made nary a sound.
Once opened, Tirelin took the room within in in one sweeping stare. It was still as Fallon had left it, everything in its place and a place for everything. Tirelin smiled at such order, such precision, but even as he smiled, he felt an all too familiar ache in his heart, and before long, he forced his gaze to the elven woman perched upon the sill of the large window across from him. Standing in the doorway, he stared at her as she stared out of the window, her hand slowly caressing the walking cane upon her lap. What she saw, Tirelin knew not, nor did he care, for his focus was upon her cheeks, the tear stains upon them breaking his heart all the more.
“You’re home early,” she said at last.
“So are you,” Tirelin replied.
Lady Fairshroud blinked, but remained as she was. Sighing, Tirelin entered the room, closing the door behind him.
“I grew tired of practice,” his wife said as he sat upon Fallon’s bed. “I have no appetite for it anymore.”
Tirelin moved to chide his wife, but thought better of it.
“I haven’t been in here in some time,” he said instead.
“You haven’t been in here since we buried him,” Lady Fairshroud replied.
“And you’ve been in here for too long today.”
In response, Netari stared at her husband out of the corner of her eye before turning her attention back to the window’s view.
“Larine sent you,” she growled.
“In a way, yes,” Tirelin replied, nodding.
“That old bitch should mind her own business.”
“That old bitch cares for you, and has cared for you since infancy. I know you care for her more than that.”
Netari stared at her husband out of the corner of her eye once more before once again returning to the window’s view, but Tirelin could see his words had stung. Forcing a smile, he pointed briefly at the cane on his wife’s lap.
“I remember when you gave that to him,” he said. “Drove Durlin mad with envy.”
Lowering her gaze to the cane, Netari held it in a blank stare at first, but a warm smile soon parted her lips.
“It did, didn’t it,” she snickered.
Then, she looked up at her husband, grinning. “He did that silly frown of his all week, didn’t he? And when Fallon chased him about the manor with the sword within, I’d never heard him scream so loud.”
Tirelin laughed. “He did, didn’t he? Even after Larine chided him for it. What was it she said?”
“Uhm…” Netari replied, her gaze dropping to her knees as her brow furrowed in thought. “No…no master…gods, what was it?”
Remembering the words, Tirelin moved to speak, but Netari spoke up before he could.
“Ah!” she exclaimed as she stared once more at her husband, her eyes growing bright and wide. “No master of this house should ever make such a childish sound, Durlin,” she said in a tone unnervingly similar to Larine’s. “You’re already of age to have babes, boy, stop sounding like one!”
Tirelin laughed as he clapped for his wife. “Yes, yes that was it! And Fallon wouldn’t stop parading it about the place, would he? Everywhere he went, the cane went with him. I feared he would take it to the Tower and have it confiscated.”
“And you said he would never take it,” Netari continued, her smile now with an ever so slight tinge of smugness. “You said nothing could dissuade him from his daggers. But I know my son, I know my Fallon.”
Smiling still, Tirelin nodded. “Yes, you did, my dear, you knew him well.”
Then, Netari’s smile faded. “They killed him, Tirelin, they killed him the day I was to show him how to wield it. They killed my Fallon, and the king did nothing. The Tower did nothing.”
Tirelin tried to speak, but words failed him.
“They took our sons, Tirelin, and the Tower treats them like heroes. How is that just?”
At that moment, a knock came at the door.
“Bath is ready, Your Grace,” Larine called from the door.
“I said in a moment!” Netari bellowed, glaring at the door.
“Allow me attend you,” Tirelin interjected, stopping Netari just as she was about to unleash a tirade at the door.
“Pardon?” Netari asked, frowning as she turned to him him.
“Allow me attend you,” Tirelin repeated as he smiled. “Like I used to when you carried our sons.”
In response, Netari merely stared at her husband, her frown remaining, but Tirelin’s smile grew as he rose and walked over to his wife. Reaching her, he offered her his hand.
“Shall we?”
Netari stared at the offered hand as if it were a coiled viper, but after a spell took it all the same. With a wide smile, Tirelin led his wife from their firstborn’s room, Fallon’s walking cane returned to its place. In silence, he led her to the bathing room, Larine leading the way.
“Leave us,” Tirelin said to Larine once she’d opened the door, but as his eyes met Larine’s, La
rine smiled, and this time it was a smile with warmth. Smiling himself, Tirelin watched her leave before leading his wife inside, closing the door behind them.
Once inside, Netari stood still as her husband attended her. She stood still as he pulled free the pins with which she held her hair in place, her long black hair falling down to her shoulders once freed. She stood still as he undressed her, the care and attention he lavished upon her not lost on her. And she stood still as he finally stared at her nude frame, his eyes wandering over her every curve and contour with eyes filled with both want and reverence. As their eyes finally met, both smiled, the air between them as charged as it was welcoming.
Smiling still, Tirelin led his wife to the bath, allowing her clamber in as he undid and removed his tunic, and as Netari sat within the bath, a deep satisfied sigh escaping her lips, Tirelin knelt behind her and began bathing her. For a time, neither spoke.
“Forgive me,” Netari said at last, breaking the silence.
“For what?” Tirelin asked as he moved to kneel beside his wife.
“My actions,” she replied as she stared at her husband. “I was rude, I was cold. Forgive me.”
Tirelin smiled as he gently lathered her left thigh. “You’re in mourning, it’s quite alright.”
Shaking her head, Netari laid back as she stared skyward, and as another sigh escaped her lips, silence fell upon the pair anew. Except this time it was calmer, as if an unseen weight had been lifted off both their shoulders. Neither spoke again until Tirelin had finished bathing his wife and was seated on the far edge of the basin. Once again, it was Netari who spoke.
“I never asked you how it went.”
The soft smile upon Tirelin’s lips dissipated as he sighed, his gaze going briefly skywards as he leant against the wall behind him. As he looked at his wife, what she saw in his eyes forced her to sit upright, a slight frown upon her lips.
“That bad?”
Tirelin nodded. “We’re alone in this, Netari.”
Gritting her teeth, Netari spat out a curse as she glared off into the ether.
She stared once more at her husband. “Truly alone?”
Tirelin nodded, his frown deepening. “Lord Gladespell, in his infinite wisdom—”
“Wait, Gladespell was there?”
Confused, Tirelin nodded. “Yes, he was.”
“You never told me you’d invited him.”