by Aaron Bunce
They said it was a magically binding contract. The dalan asked that their burial sights remained sealed and that their dwellings and ruins not be desecrated. Gladeus agreed with resounding passion, and when the other Councilman scoffed at the dalan demands, he was the one voice that broke their resolve.
Of course, Gladeus was the first to break that treaty. Nor was he the last. Now, if any dalan emissaries visited his home, they would find it decorated with many of their long buried relics.
“After all this time, what is the likelihood of that happening?” Gladeus would often say laughing.
At the end of the entrance hall, there were three doors. To his right was a reading room, to his left, was a large balcony overlooking the gardens, and the door straight ahead led to the guest suite.
Balin reached into his robes and unbuttoned the strap to his dagger, giving the blade a small tug to ensure it was loose. Balin smelled it immediately once the door opened. There was a foul tint to the air wafting from the darkened room. Balin’s thoughts instantly went to the hold of the ship, and the fly infected viscera. He silently cursed the foul odor and lifted his cloak up to cover his mouth.
The door eased open just wide enough for Balin to slip through. He skated around the perimeter of the large room, lithe and silent as a shadow, using only his hands and finely tuned senses to navigate around objects. In the center of the large room stood an enormous posted bed, a silken canopy hanging in the darkness.
He felt his way around the side bar, his fingers crawling over glass bottles and overturned chalices. Balin worked his way around to the head of the bed. His fingers closed around the handle of his agtite dagger, and he loomed above the covers, but his eyes were beginning to focus, and he could see that the bed was empty.
Dust plumed the air and glittered like diamond dust in the bright rays of sunlight as Balin pulled aside the heavy curtains, the large brass rings rattling noisily.
“Goddess of filth,” he cursed, turning to take in the room.
The space was shockingly unkempt. A pile of wadded up sheets and pillows filled the furthest corner. They were badly soiled and trampled. Empty wine goblets and bottles littered the tables and floor. Dishware rattled as rats scurried away, driven for cover by the slivers of bright light.
Balin swept into the bathing room, a quick glance confirming that it was empty. He turned down the dining hall corridor, instantly noticing that its sconces were lit. He paused and for a moment swore that he heard a voice in the distant chamber.
Balin quickly formulated a series of lies to protect himself if Gladeus was indeed with the girl. Confident in his stories, Balin moved down the hall, carefully muffling each footstep. He passed a torch and heard a woman’s laugh echo down the hall ahead of him.
He stopped at the large, arched doorway and pressed his back against the cold wall. He heard her voice again, but she spoke too softly to make out what she said. Balin waited for a moment.
Is she talking to herself?
Taking a deep breath, Balin ducked around the corner. Large candelabras sat atop the long dining table, their flickering flames throwing dancing shadows all along the walls. The draperies had been drawn shut, leaving the chamber dark and closed off.
The chairs around the long table were unoccupied, so he continued down the long hall. He could see a lone figure seated before the sunken fireplace in the adjacent room. He could tell by the dark outline that it was a man, but little else.
“Why do you creep about in your master’s house?” He was halfway past the table when the voice sounded behind him. It was the same woman’s voice he heard from the hallway.
Balin turned, cursing his carelessness. Nestled in the enormous chair at the far end of the table was the girl, her green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. It was the one chair he hadn’t checked upon entering.
“You gave me a start. I did not see you there,” Balin said flatly, his alarm quickly turning to anger.
How did I not see her?
“My apologies,” she said softly. A chicken carcass lay on a plate before her. Balin nodded simply.
“Why are you here?” she asked, tearing loose another mouthful of meat.
“Why am I here?” Balin echoed indignantly. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but my business is urgent and for the Councilman, only.” His voice sounded sharp in the still air. Something shifted behind him. Wood creaked and then went silent again.
“No disrespect was intended,” The girl said, sliding serpent-like from the massive chair. She plucked her wine goblet from the table and padded barefoot over to the sidebar set against the wall.
Balin watched the girl as she moved, but half-turned, trying to find the source of the noise. He cast a quick glance up at the heavy beams overhead, but the candle light could not penetrate the gloom.
“I see you have made yourself quite at home,” Balin said circling the table.
“I have, and it is you I have to thank for that, Balin,” she said silkily.
She turned her back and worked to remove a waxed cork from a bottle of wine. It surprised him to hear her use his name. In fact, he didn’t remember ever telling it to her.
Perhaps Gladeus and the girl spoke about me in private, Balin considered. The idea made him uneasy. She kept her back turned, the silky shift hanging like spider webs on her frame.
Can I cover her mouth and split her ribs without alerting Gladeus in the next room? Or should I draw her off somewhere private, and tend to her there?
Balin would tell Gladeus that the girl ran off, perhaps carting off a fair weight of his gold in the process. He felt confident that Gladeus would buy his story. Then Balin would simply replace her with another.
The razor-sharp dagger slid free, his heart instantly starting to pound in his chest. He flicked the fingers of his free hand, visualizing his hand wrapping over her mouth. He was three paces away, two….one, and then she turned. She was facing him, a slightly smug look on her face. Balin lurched awkwardly to a stop.
“Help me with this, would you please, good Balin? I can’t seem to get it,” she said, offering him the dark red bottle.
Balin’s eyes flashed from the girl to the dark figure in the next room and back to the girl again. He accepted the bottle reluctantly, sliding his dagger within a fold in his cloak, taking care not to knock it loose.
He crushed the wax with his fingers and with several strong twists the cork came free. He didn’t know why he was opening it for her, but he felt compelled to do so. The girl watched intently, her large green eyes sparkling and inviting.
“Here you go,” Balin said handing her the opened bottle, but she simply held out her cup and smiled. She stepped a bit closer so he could fill it, and Balin caught her scent.
That scent…it is so familiar, he thought, his mind instantly jarred back to much earlier times.
She didn’t smell like the perfumed whores parading around on Braggart’s Way. Yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint why it was familiar, or so pleasing. He tipped the bottle and poured. His mouth watered as he watched the wine fill the glass.
“Would you like a glass?” she asked, watching him intently.
“No…no, I shouldn’t.” But her offer had an unusual effect. As hard as Balin worked for Councilman Gladeus, as dirty as his hands had become in his service, Balin realized Gladeus had never so much as shared a drink with him. Nor had he ever been invited to his table either.
Why am I troubling myself with these petty thoughts?
The wine bottle slipped in his hand just a bit. Her smell washed over him again as she tipped the glass to drink. It made his mind go fuzzy, just like when he hung his head over the leather tanning buckets as a child.
Balin turned and set the bottle down, eager to get it out of his grasp before he dropped it. His hand crawled through his cloak and found his dagger, the wire wrapped handle slippery his hand.
“Might I have a word with you, in the other room…?” Balin asked, trying to shake away the cobwebs in his mi
nd. She was already walking down the dining hall, sauntering towards Gladeus’ shadowy figure. Balin quickened after her in a panic. He slipped the dagger through his cloak, accidently cutting right through the heavy fabric.
“Damn it!” he cursed, fumbling the blade back into place.
He walked quickly, his nerves telling him to run and catch her while his instincts told him to remain calm. She entered the other room and circled the fire. She was speaking with Gladeus when Balin passed beneath the arched doorway. Something shifted above him. He heard wood groan and shift.
Damn late season winds, he thought, brushing it off.
The ceiling arched high overhead, spanning up to a conical roof and an open chimney. Only the bottoms of the aged beams running from wall to wall were visible in the firelight.
Balin circled around the fire and felt a pinch of relief as Councilman Gladeus’ face came into view. He sat upon an antique wooden bench while the dark-haired girl sprawled seductively in his lap.
“Councilman Gladeus, I have urgent need of your ear,” Balin said, but his voice quavered a bit, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.
Gladeus’ gray eyes were locked intently on the fire. His skin looked pale and drawn while thick, white stubble covered his chin. Balin waited a moment longer out of respect before trying to get his attention.
“Councilman Gladeus, I have urgent business.”
Gladeus’ eyes slid slowly from the fire to Balin’s face. The orbs looked glassy and unfocused. His mouth opened, and then abruptly closed several times before he spoke.
“N…not now,” Gladeus said simply.
Balin’s frustration grew, spurred on by the stifling heat from the fire.
Maybe it was a mistake to come. If Gladeus will not bother himself with these problems, then why should I?
The girl eyed him neutrally, but then squirmed around and began whispering in Gladeus’ ear. The overweight man chuckled, and his eyes rolled back strangely in his head. He leaned over and gave a hearty laugh, sending his belly into a grotesque dance.
“Balin when is the last time you had a woman?” the girl asked.
“I beg your pardon, I don’t believe that is any of your business,” Balin spat angrily, looking to Gladeus expectantly. The older man only smiled.
“I see how you look at me, disrobing me with your eyes. You want me,” the girl said, slipping to the ground and circling him.
“That is ridiculous,” Balin retorted. Again he looked to Gladeus, but the man only chuckled. The buzzing returned to Balin’s head, and it was so hot.
“You could have me…” the girl cooed. She was behind him. Her hand slipped inside the cowl of his cloak and pulled it down. The agtite mail, his last layer of security, gleamed in the firelight. Balin spun away, looking from her to Gladeus.
“What is this, what are you doing?” he growled. Balin’s mind moved sluggishly. A seductress, he thought in alarm, and he wondered if she had poisoned him with something. Yet he had not tasted the wine.
“You deserve it, Balin. Take her to your chamber, and bed her. You’ve earned it!” Gladeus said drunkenly, and as he talked his head wobbled a bit.
Balin blinked in confusion. He could see no reason in Gladeus’ eyes.
Am I under a spell? Is the girl controlling me somehow?
“My needs are taken care of, and well mind you,” he argued, but she continued to circle, playfully pulling at his cloak. She rounded the fire, her figure showing through the sheer garment. His eyes fell longingly to the gentle curves of her hips and breasts. She moved closer, and Balin became dizzy, struggling to push her away.
What was this game they were playing? He had never known Gladeus to be generous with anything, least of all women. Balin knew better than any.
How many jealous husbands and suitors have I killed? How many families have I torn apart?
Her smell grew more intense, making his thoughts even more turbulent. Why would she want him? He was not an attractive man. He had to find his pleasure in the back alley brothels, more often than not paying more gold for the homeliest of women.
“Wouldn’t the hard working Balin deserve the same as any other man?” she said, whispering in his ear from behind. Balin jumped. He had been so deep in his self-loathing that he didn’t notice her move behind him. The girl’s eyes shone brightly in the dim room, like fiery emeralds that burned clear through him.
“Take her,” Gladeus mumbled, chuckling strangely. Her smell and the heat became too much. He could no longer tear his eyes from her body.
“Let me please you,” she whispered, and Balin didn’t even try to fight her off.
Why would I want to kill such a lovely creature, so innocent? Balin reasoned, as all of his previous plans flitted away.
Lust crept in like a maddening poison and overtook his reason. He grabbed her and pulled her close. Her skin felt soft in his callused hands, almost buttery smooth. She wrapped her arms around him, snaking under his cloak.
She fumbled with his heavy cloak, but it had grown tangled. Balin grabbed the neck of the heavy garment and pulled, the fabric was heavy and well sewn, but after a mighty heave, it gave way with a loud rip. He pulled her in again, reaching down and cupped the tight curve of her buttocks.
His dagger rattled to the ground, but he wouldn’t need it now. The shiny scales of his polished agtite vest reflected like reptilian skin. The girl continued to breathe her warm, intoxicating breath on his neck as she untied the strings holding the protective garment together.
Balin’s skin started to burn, he never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. His mail vest fell in a pile at his feet. The girl pulled off his sweat-stained shirt and tossed it in the fire.
It’s just a shirt.
His trousers did little to hide his excitement. The girl’s hands roamed down over his stomach and then onto his cock. She felt like ice against his fevered lust-fevered skin.
Balin wrenched her closer and kissed her. Her lips were full and warm against his. He ran his hands up through her black hair, becoming even more frantic with lust. Her hair was soft and smooth, but then his finger snagged on something sharp.
He hardly had time to recognize it as she started to laugh softly, he worked his fingers over and over in her hair, there were two of them, and they were bony and hard.
Sixth arm! A distant part of his mind screamed. Does she have horns? The girl chuckled and talked into his ear, smashing him closer and closer until he could barely breathe.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Something large dropped silently to the ground, emerging like a pale ghost from the darkness above. Its skin shone pale and white in the fire’s light. Balin looked into its horrible bulbous and milky eyes. Long dagger-like claws scraped against the stone as it stalked towards him.
Balin wiggled around for his dagger, but it was gone. He tried to break free from the girl’s grasp, but she squeezed with incredible strength. Balin tried to scream, but his ribs popped and snapped, squeezing the air from his lungs. The girl threw her head back, her large green eyes suddenly glowing bright.
The smile that had softened her gentle face was gone. Balin felt her body spasm and then he knew only agony. Searing heat tore through his chest, rolling through his body like boiling water.
His feet went numb, and then his hands and Balin quickly lost all strength. Only the girl’s crushing hold held him up. Balin struggled to break free one last time, but she was so strong, and he could no longer feel his body.
The girl released him and Balin flopped to the ground. He watched in horror as a long sharp protuberance retracted back into the girl’s body, disappearing beneath her milky white skin.
“Whaa…aat did you do to…” Balin choked, the words dying in his throat as the girl casually knelt over him. The monster loomed behind her, its ears pointed like sharp javelins to the sky.
“I gave you a gift, Balin, a powerful gift. You will see,” she whispered.
It didn’t feel like any gift he h
ad ever received as his body started to convulse uncontrollably. The pain crept like spiders up his back and into his head.
“Balin the scourge, the rogue, the deceiver, the murderer…a man so cold in his principles he rarely feels remorse. Tell me, now do you know fear? Genuine fear?” she asked, tracing her finger up his neck.
Balin cursed and threatened, or he tried to. He couldn’t seem to move his tongue anymore.
“Exquisite mail,” the girl said, picking up his prized agtite vest. “Someone like you probably sleeps in this, don’t you? Probably don’t turn your back to anyone. I noticed it about you right away, Balin. You refuse to trust. That is wise! I knew you would not let your guard down, would not bare your heart to me.” She put her hand on his chest, covering the seeping wound directly over his heart. Behind the girl, the hulking white skinned monster held something out over the fire, letting it dangle low enough that the flickering flames licked it.
“Despite all of your tricks, and strength, you have a weakness, like all of your kind. And no matter how hard you fought, you could never hope to hide it from me. I can look into your soul, Balin, and see your real face. Do you want to know what I see?” she asked softly.
Balin so badly wanted to put his hands around her neck and squeeze, to squeeze until her face turned purple and her neck broke. His hatred burned with an all-consuming fire. She stared into his eyes as he choked, white foam bubbling out from his mouth and nose.
She doesn’t really expect me to reply.
“I see a horrible darkness in you, an all-consuming void…no love, and no compassion. Your heart is black as naught. You are driven mad by hate, cruelty, jealousy, and murderous rage. You kill without remorse, and for what, for this man?” She said, turning towards Gladeus, who still teetered drunkenly before the fire, paying them no attention.
“Power is the only truth, Balin. You will see. I will show you,” she said and abruptly walked away.
A single tear broke from Balin’s eye and ran down his cheek, falling silently to the floor. He was in so much pain that he begged silently for death, wished for it, and its blessed relief.
But there would be no relief. The pain in his head grew, seeping into his bones and echoing around in his mind like a million shouting voices. The skin around his eyes itched and he longed to scratch it, but then it was gone. As quickly as it had come, it faded away. A strange cold fell upon his skin, like a sheet of snow draped across him. An overriding sense of calm settled in. He no longer knew why he wanted to fight.