"Come here, pretty green eyes... what's your name?"
"What do you need my name for?" Rithvik answered, coming forward.
"I like to know who I sleep with and who I gift with my treasures..."
"I think you won't really gift me with that glaive, but give back what is already mine," Rithvik replied with an impish smile. "I'm Rithvik of Ker Eziel."
Druxarlo's eyes widened. "Impossible! He's been dead for centuries!"
"Asleep," Rithvik corrected. "Will you show me that glaive, so I can decide if it's mine or not? You seem to have quite some loot from Ker Eziel – how come?"
"Some things we found in the tunnels," Druxarlo answered sullenly. "I think the dwarves found them, transformed them into magic artifacts, and then abandoned them again."
"And some things you took from the corpses of your former companions." Kerrien's voice startled them both.
The mercenary came forward with his bow ready to shoot an arrow at Druxarlo's head.
"Kerrien!" The outlaw snarled. "Still working for those assholes in Cinnae?"
"At least I didn't betray my commander and my mates by stealing their bracers and reselling them," Kerrien replied with contempt.
"Aelaora was dead," Druxarlo retorted. "She didn't need them anymore. I didn't betray them, Kerrien, we just joined the wrong faction. Just me and Erek survived that battle. We joined Aelud's men because we had enough of fighting wars."
"And attacking merchant caravans was much more lucrative, I got it," Kerrien commented, sarcastic. "Take us to the treasure room now."
Druxarlo's eyes went quickly from Kerrien to Rithvik's amused smile.
"You're with him?"
"He found me in Ker Eziel," Rithvik answered, grinning from ear to ear.
Druxarlo scoffed and shook his head. "You always get the most handsome, you lucky bastard," he told Kerrien.
"And I'm still better than you at defending what's mine," Kerrien replied.
"What happened to gorgeous Braedick?"
"None of your business."
Druxarlo chuckled. "Two men are better than one, eh, Kerrien?"
"Shut up, Druxarlo!" Kerrien shot the arrow and hit Druxarlo's throat, silencing him forever.
"Kerrien!" Rithvik protested. "How are we going to find the treasure room now?"
"There are only three tunnels," Kerrien answered, relaxing his arms. "And it might still be around here." He went to the chest, but it held only clothes. "Grab yourself some clothes, maybe his will fit you better than mine."
"I don't want a dead man's clothes!" Rithvik protested. "And why did you kill him anyway?"
"He's wanted dead or alive, so dead is he."
"You didn't do it because he was about to tell me who Braedick is, did you?"
Kerrien stared at him and flashed a smile. "Maybe," he whispered. "So? What will you do about it?"
"You're an assassin, not a bounty hunter!"
Kerrien dropped the bow on the bed, took Rithvik's face in his hands and quickly kissed Rithvik's lips, silencing him with his surprise move.
"You succeeded in the mission," Kerrien said then. "Good boy. Now let's find the treasure and get out of here."
"Is that all?" Rithvik shouted as Kerrien grabbed his bow and left the bedroom. "That wasn't even a kiss!"
"That's all you'll ever get from me," Kerrien replied from the access tunnel.
He heard Rithvik scream in frustration, then the prince rushed after him, still fuming.
"We really need to work on that reward system," he said as Kerrien took a torch from the cave's wall and started looking into the darkened tunnels.
Luck had it that the first one they entered had an opening on the side that held the loot from Aelud's robberies. The sight of coins, gems and weapons distracted Rithvik. There wasn't much left, but a war axe stood out as the biggest item in the heap. The glaive Druxarlo had described was under a small coffer of gold coins and it was still attached to its belt.
Rithvik forgot his demands and took the weapon and the belt, that had been partially lacquered white. Parts of the metal had been lacquered brown.
"It's my glaive and my belt..." he said, frowning.
"You're glowing," Kerrien said, picking up a crossbow emblazoned with the symbol of a deity and with a grip of knotted leather.
"Why is everything turned to light?" Rithvik wondered.
"Not all of it." The raspy voice startled both.
From the darkness of the tunnel they could see a short, squat form. Kerrien tried to throw light on it with the torch, but it retreated.
"Spare me your light, Humans. Are you here to take away that stuff and vacate the tunnels?"
"We'll need a cart to take everything away, including the dead body in the other room," Kerrien answered, putting the torch in the farthest corner of the opening, so that it wouldn't disturb the night vision of the dwarf.
"You will have it. Rest here tonight, and tomorrow be gone with everything. But let me tell you a few things about the artifacts here. Rithvik's glaive creates solid walls of light, a reversal of the original spell that created walls of darkness. The belt, traditionally used by great warriors – although the prince didn't have time to earn any honor on a battlefield – now allows the owner to glow and forces him to tell the truth. The war axe, on the contrary, hasn't lost its dark power. It gives the owner perfect dark-vision."
"My father had an axe built by a bad guy?" Rithvik asked.
"If darkness wasn't already present in Ker Eziel, you'd never have been able to conjure Manusia," the dwarf replied.
"How did he do it?" Kerrien demanded, glaring at Rithvik who shrugged.
"They had a school of magic in Ker Eziel," the dwarf said. "Offensive spells, chaos and enchantments were their main teachings. Practitioners were typically very friendly."
"I've noticed," Kerrien commented, sarcastic. "Bordering on too affectionate."
The dwarf chuckled from the darkness. "That school used dance to access power. It was easy to learn, but took dedication to master. Larrelyn never really mastered it, since he was busy with his kingly duties, but apparently his son had a lot of free time, and loved to dance..."
Rithvik blushed under Kerrien's stare.
"What's wrong with liking to dance?" he said defiantly. "There were a lot of dancing celebrations in my father's time! And especially the group dances were awesome!"
"It was a solo dance that conjured Manusia," the dwarf said. "And the rest is history."
"Did you dance at the Heroic Wizard?" Kerrien stared warily at Rithvik who shook his head.
"No, I was exercising," he retorted. But his cheeks were still flushed and he quickly looked away.
Kerrien narrowed his eyes, and then looked towards the shadow of the dwarf again.
"Do you know a way to free me of his presence?" Kerrien asked him.
"No, I'm not familiar with Manusia's spells. You can try to find Belfi, he might be somewhere out there... He might know."
"Thank you," Kerrien said with a nod. "We shall leave in the morning, if you provide us with a cart. Come, Rithvik, let's go back to the main room. I'm hungry, aren't you?"
Rithvik followed him in silence, frowning more than ever.
"So you danced and the demon came?" Kerrien said as they sat down with smoked ham and bread.
"Who is Braedick?" Rithvik replied bluntly.
"You don't answer a question with another question," Kerrien chided.
"I'm sick of your questions! Start answering mine and I'll tell you more about myself."
Kerrien stared at him disapprovingly. "I didn't ask to spend all this time with you."
"Fine, find that Belfi and make him free you of whatever spell ties us," Rithvik retorted, jumping to his feet. He hadn't touched the food, and the emerald eyes were stormy. "I can't weave spells anymore, and I don't know how to free you!"
"You've been awake less than a month," Kerrien said. "You have enough of your new freedom already?"
"Shut up, Kerr
ien!" Rithvik stormed to the exit tunnel.
Kerrien heard him scream again, then saw him come back, darker than ever.
"We're locked in," he announced, slumping on the floor and hugging his knees.
"I'm sure tomorrow morning the tunnel will be open," Kerrien replied. "Relax, Rithvik, we're fine."
***
When they woke up from their dreamless slumber, they discovered that Druxarlo's body wasn't in the bedroom anymore. Kerrien went to the chest of clothes to dig for extra tunics and breeches for himself. If Rithvik didn't want dead men's clothes, he'd refurbish his wardrobe. But the chest was empty.
They found everything – clothes, loot, some kitchen pottery – on a handcart that waited for them in the main cave, with Druxarlo's body lying on everything as if he were asleep. Every trace of human passage was on the cart and the walls had been taken down, giving its natural look back to the cave that still had a few torches that would soon run out.
"Thank you, dwarves!" Kerrien shouted towards the inner tunnels. The exit tunnel showed the light of day and it was open, as he had imagined.
"They really want to get rid of Humans," Rithvik commented, grabbing one handle of the cart. He seemed back to his happy-go-lucky disposition, as if sleep had taken away his anger.
"Let's go, then."
Kerrien took the other handle, but he had to drag the handcart through the narrow tunnel, with Rithvik pushing from behind. They stopped to catch their breath outside and saw the stone close the entrance of the dwarves' cave system.
"To Cinnae, we'll sell what we can, and keep what we want," Kerrien said. "Push for the first half, I'll do the second."
Dragging a handcart through a forest wasn't easy, but better than carrying all that stuff on their backs. Guards waved them through the gates with bored expressions, obviously aware of their mission. They left Druxarlo's corpse to a funeral parlor on the way, and Kerrien gave away his last coins to take care of the former mercenary.
Then they took the cart to Veralie's house.
"I want her to check all the artifacts," Kerrien said, stopping in the alley where the mage lived. "I don't want to keep anything dangerous. Veralie will take care of the magical items better than any of us."
Rithvik nodded, serious. "We can keep the clothes and some gems to buy food and a normal sword and horses and sell the rest, what do you think?"
He looked worried as he held his glaive tight.
"I think you're right," Kerrien said gravely. "I'll take you to the best blacksmith in Cinnae and get you a glaive like this one – without the magic. What do you say?"
Rithvik's smile blossomed again, and the prince nodded.
"Thank you," he whispered, relieved.
Kerrien smiled and knocked.
Veralie opened the back door to her backyard where she examined everything on the handcart.
"Quite a collection you've found, Kerrien," she said admiringly, after making two different piles of items. She left the silks, damasks, gems, coins and a few more items on the handcart, but put almost all the weapons and a few more things on a bench in her backyard.
"Bandits' loot," he answered. "You can keep the magic items, but I'd like to know something about them, just in case there's something that might be useful to me."
Veralie nodded and picked up a bow that appeared rusted but solid. The shafts had gold fletching.
"This compound bow is usually used by assassins," she said. "It creates walls of ice. It can only be used by females. Therefore, useless to both of you."
Kerrien nodded as she picked up another item – a crossbow covered in bloodstains.
"This crossbow is traditionally used by paladins. The limbs are made of lemonwood. It can conjure up hundreds of lights. It has been used to kill a suspicious number of former owners. Do you want it?"
"No thanks," Kerrien muttered. "We know about the glaive and the axe," he added quickly, seeing she was about to pick up the Ker Eziel spoils. "What about that baldric? It looks innocuous enough to me..."
"This?" Veralie held it for a moment, eyes closed. "This baldric was forged by a great queen to avert a disaster and is perpetually wreathed with flames. The buckles are inset with garnets. It allows the owner to control flames. It requires an invocation to work." She looked at him and shook her head. "I don't see you using it."
"No." Kerrien exchanged a glance with Rithvik who looked even more puzzled than him. "What about the crossbow?"
"It was forged by a great hero to be used by warlords and it enhances the owner's accuracy and gives the owner semi-prophetic dreams. When unclaimed, it will sometimes follow a person around."
"Is it called Rithvik by any chance?" Kerrien joked.
"Not funny, Kerrien," Rithvik muttered. "What about that dagger?"
"The dagger was forged by dwarves to avert a disaster and is heavy and menacing. The grip is knotted green leather. It allows the user to slice and smash stones as if they were butter and prevents its owner from aging. It can only be transferred to a new owner upon the current owner's death."
"I wonder why the dwarves gave us one of their weapons," Kerrien commented.
"Maybe the dwarf who made it is dead." Rithvik shrugged. "Since there are no weapons here, you'll have to use the coins to buy me a sword..."
"We will split the rest, don't worry. Veralie, thank you. You can deal with those artifacts better than us."
Veralie let them go, thanking them for the gifts. Kerrien and Rithvik took the cart with whatever was left to the Heroic Wizard to divide the rest among them. They'd keep the gems and coins and resell everything that would encumber them in their travels – even though they planned to buy horses, they didn't want a pack-horse to carry their stuff.
Kerrien immediately found the satchel of opals among the loot and took it to Captain Theodenzo, while Rithvik stayed in the room to split the coins and gems into two identical piles.
"I just received news of the delivery of the bastard's corpse," the captain said.
"And here are the opals of the town." Kerrien gave him the satchel. "Can you give me the name of a good pawn shop?"
"There's one right behind the main temple."
Kerrien went back to the tavern and found Rithvik sitting on the floor, staring at the two piles of small items. The clothes and shoes were of various sizes, so they had belonged to different people. They'd been thrown into a heap on the bed and Kerrien went to rummage through it, soon copied by Rithvik.
They kept the ones that fit them and hid the gems and coins in the midst of the two batches of clothes. They went out again with the remaining loot and sold it at the pawn shop along with the handcart.
"Let's get your weapons and a couple of winter cloaks, then we can go back to the tavern," Kerrien said. "We'll buy the horses tomorrow morning."
Rithvik smiled and nodded.
"Are we rich now, Kerrien?" he asked.
"Let's say we're covered for at least a few months," Kerrien replied, patting his shoulder. "If you manage not to squander everything during the winter, you might make it to next spring."
"What would I squander the money with?" Rithvik asked.
"I don't know. You're the prince. You're probably used to a more luxurious life than what I have."
"I like your life," Rithvik said. "I look forward to learning more about it..."
Kerrien nodded. That he could do. He was glad Rithvik seemed to have forgotten the reward system. They'd split the spoils in half, which seemed fair. Hopefully the spoiled prince would be content with his new wealth and wouldn't demand other things.
***
The merchant had non-metal armor in a roomy shop with a pleasant-smelling, poorly-lit interior. Chain mail and greaves were neatly piled on tables and seemed to have reasonable prices. The shopkeeper was a big, muscular woman who was overseeing a male apprentice when Kerrien entered the shop.
Several commoners, a female apprentice, a druid and a priest also checked the items while Rithvik looked around with curiosity.<
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"What kind of armor did you have?" Kerrien asked him.
"Leather armor," Rithvik answered. "Is that what you wear now in battle?" He pointed at chain-mail hauberks that covered a man from head to toe under the helmet.
"Yes." Kerrien could smell the metal and the padded tunic of his war clothing in the shop. "I don't think you need any, unless we enroll in a mercenary company, but I thought you might want to see how we hurt each other these days."
Rithvik smiled. "Doesn't seem much different from my father's time," he said. "Do you think she can send us to a good blacksmith?" His chin pointed at the shopkeeper who turned to them after sending off the male apprentice on some errand.
"Good afternoon, sirs," she said. "I'm Karath. How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you could direct us to a good blacksmith," Kerrien said. "I see you have good chain-mail armor and you look like you can use a sword yourself..."
"I do," Karath answered proudly. "You can try Shytur, he forges the best blades in Cinnae. His shop is right behind the main marketplace."
"Thank you, Karath. How much for those greaves?" He pointed at a pair for shin that looked as if they dated from Rithvik's times. The metal exterior looked rusty and the padded interior quite used.
"They're cheap. Nobody uses greaves anymore." The woman shrugged. "They were used by light infantry centuries ago."
Kerrien turned to look at Rithvik. "Would you like them?"
"If I were to go to war, I'd be cavalry, not infantry," Rithvik replied, glaring at him.
Kerrien chuckled. "I thought they'd look good with a glaive," he said. "You'd look like an ancient warrior."
"I'd rather look like a contemporary warrior," Rithvik said, averting his eyes and pouting.
Kerrien shook his head. "Thank you, Karath, and sorry for taking your time."
"You're welcome. Tell Shytur I sent you, he might give you a discount."
Shytur had his forge in an alley. Short and muscled, he must be a half-dwarf and his blades were indeed of excellent quality. He nodded at the mention of Karath's name, but didn't smile. A permanent frown seemed to be stuck to his high forehead. He'd shaved his head, but had a neatly trimmed black beard.
Fairy Tales Revisited on Silvery Earth Page 19