Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2)

by Brent Lee Markee

  “That sounds a lot like what our Elders teach us.” Syranna said, her voice barely audible, even in the silent café. “They say that the more you learn the less you know, and the more you think you know the less you learn.”

  “It’s good to see that someone listens when I speak, at least,” Dean Swiftfoot said from the doorway to the café. “It usually takes becoming an old man to have such thoughts, young man. Whoever instilled the love of learning in you should be commended. Perhaps he has you to thank, Miss Wildthorne? I know you have a gift for instilling many a feeling into men young and old.” He said this with a slight grin as he walked to the table directly behind Shawnrik.

  Turning around, Shawnrik realized that he had missed noticing his petite instructor on his way into the café. She was wearing clothes that made her look larger than her actual size and had a large hat on her head that hid her features well.

  Sighing while removing her hat, Tienna Wildthorne smiled up at the Dean. “You know, Harolinde, if you weren’t my uncle I might take such a comment the wrong way.”

  “My dear, I assure you that while you are rarely sore on the eyes, I see too much of your mother in you to think such impure thoughts.”

  “As to Shawnrik’s love of learning, I’m afraid that has nothing to do with me; he was already like that when I got him.” This admission seemed to take something out of her, as if she had wished she was able to take credit for it. “According to Eve,” she looked at the students, “Instructor Daymarr, to you, it seems that we have a young man by the name of Victor to thank.”

  “Victor, huh?” The Dean said, his brow furrowing in thought. “Anyone I might know?”

  Shawnrik couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the thought and realized that he should explain his outburst before anyone became offended. “No sir, you would never have met Victor. He was raised in the Dock’s District in Safeharbor.”

  “The Dock’s District, huh? If I remember correctly, that’s the poorer side of town, where the houses are built along the path down to the seaside?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “So am I to assume that this Victor was also an orphan?” the Dean said, his tone telling everyone that he meant no offense by the question.

  “Not when I first met him; he was just some spoiled kid being raised by a lady named Shaylyn.” Shawnrik was so wrapped up in his memory of his first meeting with his best friend that he failed to notice the look that passed between Dean Swiftfoot and Instructor Wildthorne. “I met him again on the eve of New Beginnings, after his house burned down. He taught me how to read and write, and I helped teach him…” Shawnrik, thinking about how he and Victor had survived their time in Walkins little thieves den blushed, “…how to survive on the streets.”

  Dean Swiftfoot nodded, as if he understood what that meant, but Shawnrik felt like the old Elf really had no idea. He doubted the man had ever had to survive anywhere near as dangerous as the streets of the Dock’s District.

  “I would tell you to thank him for us,” the Dean said, “but since this place is a universal secret, that wouldn’t be a very good idea. Where is your friend now?”

  “I’m not sure, sir, he gave himself over to the Blood Mages to stop an attack by the Dracair on a small Blood Orc outpost south of Stalwart.” Shawnrik felt the moisture start to gather under his eyes, and closed them for a second to get his feelings under control. He felt a small hand take his, and he knew it was Olivia.

  “My family was captured by the Blood Orcs. If it hadn’t been for Shawnrik, Ashur, and Dunnagan trying to rescue us, we would have all probably died in there.” She squeezed his hand. “Of course, they also managed to get captured. Nim told us that Victor had somehow connected to Shawnrik in his dreams and found out that they were captured. After verifying that what Victor said was true, the High Commander sent Nim and his two best squads to rescue them.”

  Olivia stroked his arm at the look of pain that crossed Shawnrik's features at the memories of his time in the Blood Orc camp.

  “I met Shawnrik a day before the Blood Orcs captured us. He was about the same height as me then, and the next time I saw him, he looked as he does now; though not quite as monumental.”

  Opening his eyes at her description of him, Shawnrik looked down into Olivia’s smiling face. He picked up the story from where she left off. “Whatever deal Victor made, there were at least three Dracairei at that base, and they left with very little bloodshed. He gave up his freedom so that we could have a chance. Wherever he is, I hope he’s warm and has a good book to read, at the very least. I’ll find him someday and bring him home.”

  “I’m going to be there when you do,” Olivia said. “My family owes you and him a debt. Besides, from all of the stories that I heard around the campfire that night, I think I’d like to meet him anyway.”

  Shawnrik thought about telling her that it would probably be a dangerous road, but decided that he could talk to her about it later. It would still be some time before he had learned enough and come fully into his strength before he would start that journey. He had time to talk her out of it. They stared into each other’s eyes for some time before they each seemed to realize that the entire café was staring at the pair after hearing such an amazing story.

  The Dean cleared his throat. “I see you two have been through more than most. You should enjoy the time you have together while it lasts. You never know when it will end.” Shawnrik realized that the Dean knew what he was talking about in that moment; something in the man’s tone spoke of a very personal loss. He saw Tienna Wildthorne reach across the table and squeeze her uncle’s hand in support, and smiled at the pair before turning to enjoy the company of his friends.

  Conversations started up around them, starting in a low buzz and quickly becoming the usual chatter that one expects in a busy eatery. They ordered their food and enjoyed quiet small talk. When they went to pay, they found out that the man who had been seated beside them had paid for their meal before leaving. Shawnrik had never heard of anyone doing something like that and it almost brought him to tears as he realized just how different this place was from the one he had grown up in.

  After hearing more about what Gnorman was making for Shawnrik and Verrian, the girls decided unanimously that that was their next destination, saying something about making sure all the colors matched or some such nonsense.

  Verrian watched his roommate walk down the street ahead of him. Olivia walked beside Shawnrik, and Verrian noticed her almost grab his friends hand several times before she decided to settle on putting her arm through his. Vivianne and Rebecca seemed to have none of the reluctance that Olivia displayed; both had their arms wrapped in his, each holding one of his hands possessively. Vivianne walked on his right and Rebecca on his left.

  To him they were like opposing storm fronts. Vivianne was like a cool breeze that promised a respite from the heat of the day but also carried with it the chance of sudden storms. Rebecca was a warm front that promised sunny skies, but the ease with which she blew one direction or another increased the chances of getting burned. Verrian realized that they wanted him to ask one of them to the Winter Dance, but something told him doing so would be a mistake.

  His thoughts otherwise occupied, it came as a surprise when he looked up and saw a familiar sign.

  “Gnorman’s Family Jewels?” Sara said with a grin tugging at her lips. “How quaint.”

  Entering the shop, Verrian nearly laughed at the wide eyed looks from the girls as their eyes darted from one wonder to the next. Having grown up coming into the store on a regular basis, Verrian realized that he had grown jaded. Seeing the wonder in his friends' eyes reminded him just how skilled Gnorman truly was. There were stones and gems cut into thousands of shapes tastefully displayed throughout the room.

  One statue that seemed to have caught Rebecca’s eye was a lapis lazuli statue of a sea creature leaping out of the water. Syranna seemed entranced by the rainbows that several of the gemstones were casting in part due to
the small lights positioned near them for full effect. Walking over to where Olivia stood, Verrian saw her staring at a pair of simple stone heart necklaces, one said “Together,” and the other “Forever.” Shawnrik moved from whatever he had been looking at towards where Verrian and Olivia were standing, and Verrian noticed that she quickly found something else to investigate. Not sure if he should give his roommate a heads up—or a warning—Verrian decided to keep his mouth shut. Olivia was his friend too, and if she wasn’t comfortable with the idea yet he wasn’t going to be the one to push either of them.

  Gnorman came bustling out of the back room and managed a rather entertaining double take as he cleaned his hands on the rag that he kept at the desk. A look of mischief came over the old Gnome’s face and Verrian groaned internally.

  “I’m sorry ladies, are these hooligans bothering you? They didn’t kidnap you, did they?”

  “Gnorman, I presume?” Olivia said moving towards the counter. As he nodded she continued, “While these brutes might have thoughts that run contrary to what we might deem to be acceptable…”

  “One never knows until they ask,” Vivianne said in not quite a whisper.

  “… I assure you that we are here of our own volition.” Olivia continued, pointedly ignoring her friend’s interjection.

  Verrian felt his cheeks flush as Vivianne winked at him from across the room. Gnorman for his part was barely managing to suppress a fit of laughter at his discomfort. “That so?” he continued, forcing his expression to become serious once again. “Well, I can tell you some stories about that scrawny one…”

  Gnorman looked over and seemed to notice that Verrian wasn’t quite as scrawny as he had been four Eightdays ago. While he had only gained a few pounds, it was a noticeable difference on his lean frame.

  “Whatever you are doing to yourself, don’t stop!” Gnorman said, coming around the corner, moving in a circle around Verrian. “Has your father seen this?”

  “No sir,” Verrian said. “Shawnrik has been helping me train, and he convinced me to take some physical classes with him. The first few Eightdays were terrible, but I’m starting to feel a difference.” He flexed his arm, feeling the strength it possessed. Compared to Shawnrik’s arms, his looked pathetic, but he took solace in the fact that even Instructor Boulette looked weak when compared to Shawnrik; anyone who had ever taken his class knew the man was anything but weak.

  “Great!” Gnorman said clapping his hands excitedly, like Verrian had just given him a performance. “I won’t say a word to him, but I want to be there when he sees you for the first time.” He laughed as he moved back behind the counter. “That will probably be around the end of the first term, if tradition holds, I’m assuming. Somewhere around your birthday?”

  “That’s my best guess,” Verrian said, trying not to get embarrassed. He knew his father cared for him, but he also knew that on the list of important things in his father’s life he probably ranked in the teens. “We usually have a dinner somewhere between my birthday and the Festival of Life.”

  Rebecca came up beside him and grabbed his arm. “Most of us won’t see our parents until after the Festival of Life, or next year if we decide not to go home during the breaks.”

  “Yeah, but our parents don’t live a league away,” Vivianne said from a corner of the room, her voice subdued.

  “I’ve said much the same thing to the man on several occasions, but he loves his numbers more than he likes good company,” Gnorman said. “Now, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I assume you and the behemoth are here to see how our little project is going?”

  “Behemoth?” Shawnrik said.

  “Oh, don’t take offense lad, I meant it in the nicest way possible.” Gnorman adjusted his glasses. “Just don’t… lean on anything.”

  Sara let out a small burst of laughter at Shawnrik’s look of affront and turned to go find something to look at near the store's front window. Gnorman turned around and headed for the other room. The only indication of his mirth was the slight up and down movement his shoulders made. Olivia walked over to Shawnrik and took his hand.

  “Well, you are kind of…”

  “Gigantic?” Vivianne supplied.

  “Huge?” Rebecca said, trying to be helpful.

  “A Goliath?” Syranna laughed.

  “…Imposing?” Olivia said, shooting her friends a dirty look.

  “Oh, imposing, that’s much better.” Shawnrik sighed.

  “Cheer up,” Verrian interjected. “At least you aren’t ever going to get bullied.”

  “Bullied?” Gnorman said as he re-entered the room carrying two small boxes. “Nah, Shawnrik will probably never get bullied, but he’ll have something worse to contend with. There will always be someone there taking his size and stature as a challenge. Just remember to not take it personally, my boy; vanity is a sin most of us have fallen prey to at one time or another.”

  Verrian realized that Gnorman was right. He had been so wrapped up in his own sorrows that he didn’t realize that there were negative sides to any position. The old Gnome placed the two boxes on the countertop and pulled the lids back. Inside each box was a single earring, each nearly identical to the other. Looking into the beautifully inset stone, Verrian felt as if he should recognize the pattern.

  “It looks like a Dragon’s eye,” Shawnrik stated before picking up the box nearest him.

  “Right you are, my lad,” Gnorman said, leaning in towards the boys as they examined his handiwork. “Now, if you come to the back room we’ll poke a hole in ye.”

  “Now?” Verrian said, placing his hand on his ear. “I thought it would be closer to the dance.”

  Gnorman laughed as he followed Shawnrik into the back room. “Your ear needs time to adjust to having something foreign inside of it. It is better that you don’t leak any pus on one of these fine young ladies' dresses.”

  “Ughh.” Vivianne made a noise deep in her throat, and began to push him towards the back room. “Get in there you big baby, it only hurts a little.”

  Dracair Territory

  Death’s Edge Forest

  “For a while there I thought we would never see the end of this durned forest,” Corporal Jameson said from beside her.

  “Durned? You’ve been around Mcdowell too long,” Elandria whispered back with a snort.

  “The man has a point, though. It is nice to see something besides trees and rustling bushes in every direction, even if our new scenery is a town in Dracair controlled territory,” Trenton Grimbash said his voice rumbling through the tree he was propped up against.

  “You lot on your first scout?” Sergeant Mcdowell asked, moving through the brush unheard by any but Elandria.

  The Dwarf might be getting up there in years, but he was still one of the most skilled men that Elandria had ever met who wasn’t at least a General. She still wasn’t sure how he managed to move so quietly while wearing all that metal.

  “Elandria couldn’t shoot an arrow into that little hamlet over yonder,” Rundig said, the antithesis of Mcdowell’s quiet and control. “I could chop down a tree and they probably wouldn’t hear it.”

  “I assure you that even if they did not, something would. Have you noticed that there are no cut trees anywhere along the tree line? I have seen few towns with an overabundance of building materials near them not take advantage of such a boon.” Warren breathed in deeply. “These people can either feel that this forest is protected, or they have learned the lesson the hard way in ages past.”

  “Where are those twins?”

  “Well, Jameson, they are probably shacking up with some village girls just to spite you. I’m sure Za’kereth wooed one of them with his magic tricks, and Za’erath probably won the affections of some nubile vixen by healing her poor old grandma.” Trenton goaded in a rare show of humor.

  “Damn, I didn’t even think of that,” Jameson said, “You don’t think…”

  “Those Grey Elves are professionals,” Mcdowell said. “They’
d at least wait until they reported back to us first.”

  “They had to go several miles north before they swung around onto that dirt track these people call a road before they could go into town, and I’m assuming they left town in much the same manner. It could be awhile before we hear anything.” Elandria swatted at a buzzing insect. “Warren, can’t you do anything about these bugs?”

  “I could ask some spiders to make their webs around us, if you wish; I noticed several well-constructed cobwebs this morning on my walkabout.”

  “Ugh, no spiders,” Trenton cringed. “Those little creepy things make my skin crawl.”

  “Like any spider could bite through that thick hide of yours.” Elandria laughed for a moment, but a sound to the south made her freeze.

  “Actually…” Warren started before he saw Elandria’s hand raised, commanding silence. “Ahh, it seems we have company,” he whispered. “Two people, from what I’m sensing from the forest.”

  Elandria knew that he couldn’t tell if it was the Grey Elf twins. The trees and shrubs couldn’t tell who was moving through them, just that there was something there. She unlimbered her bow and quickly strung it with a well-practiced ease. Moving away from the group, Elandria darted from cover to cover while her companions began to stretch in case a battle was about to begin. She heard them talking before she saw them, but maintained her cover just in case something was awry.

  “…you notice that no one was smiling? Not even the kids.”

  “That town councilor was smiling.”

  “Yeah, but that wasn’t a real smile. That was more of a predatory smile that said, ‘how can I use these fools to my advantage?’” Za’erath said.

  “True, that bastard is just as slimy as dad was.” Za’kereth mumbled. “We should be getting close to where the rest of the Vigilantes were waiting. I’ll be glad to sit down for a little while.”