Eventually, all of Gareth’s clothes laid strewn around the room, and he was left standing naked at the foot of the bed. The Dryad kissed him soundly, and then she took a step back. Smiling seductively at him, she slid the shoulder straps of her dress off, and let the garment slide to the floor. Unlike Gareth, she had only the one article of clothing, and stood before him in all of her nude glory.
The Dryad reveled in the appreciate stares Gareth was giving her, and she turned around to let him see her from all sides. Her smiled grew even more when Gareth let out a whispered, but heartfelt, “You are truly beautiful, child of Hadronus.” It took the Dryad a moment to realize that not only had the handsome young man just referred to her using the correct form of address for a Dryad one had just met, but that he had done it in the Language of the Forest. The way he spoke with perfect pronunciation and cadence brought back flashes of memories from when she ran wild and free in the Great Forest. The fond memories he drew forth drove her already high level of need over the edge, causing the Dryad to shove Gareth onto the bed.
Gareth worried that he had done something wrong until the Dryad climbed onto the bed with a hungry look in her eyes that any warm blooded (and quite a few cold blooded) males would recognize. She slowly crawled up towards the headboard letting her long moss like hair just barely brush his body. The Dryad paused every so often to kiss whatever bit of flesh was below her mouth at the time. When their hips were even on the bed, the Dryad sat up and readied herself for their joining. Right before she was about to lower herself onto him, the door to the rented room boomed as someone pounded on it loudly.
“Melinda?! Melinda, I know you’re in there my love. Open up, my little shrub!” a nasally voice yelled through the door.
The Dryad let out a weary sigh and let her shoulders slump before she climbed off of Gareth without consummating their evening. “Woodrot!” Melinda swore in the Language of the Forest. Without thinking, she switched back to the Trade language and muttered, “Bastard wasn’t supposed to be back until next week.”
With all of the stress he was suddenly under, Gareth was glad she had reverted back to the language developed after the Second Great Apocalypse to allow the remaining intelligent species to communicate with each other. Humans grew up learning Trade as their primary language, while all of the others learned it as a second language. Everyone learned it to the point where they could at least understand Trade, even if their mouth and vocal cord arraignment kept them from speaking it properly.
Gareth sat up quickly in the bed and looked from the door to the woman he now guessed was called Melinda. “Who’s at the door?” he asked her quickly.
Melinda gave Gareth an apologetic smile before she answered him. “My husband,” she admitted.
“Your husband?!” Gareth echoed, before falling out of the bed in shock.
The pounding on the door grew more insistent as the man behind it inquired, “Melinda dear, are you alright?” When he didn’t receive a response, he order, “Break it down!”
Melinda crawled to the edge of the bed and looked down at Gareth. “You probably want to get dressed,” she suggested.
“Right,” Gareth agreed, and sprung to his feet. He forced his mind to focus on first retrieving, and then putting on his clothes despite the loud banging and yelling coming from the door which looked like it would give way at any moment. After putting on his trousers, and tightening his belt, Gareth threw on his shirt, and didn’t bother to button it. His right boot was near the foot of the bed, and he was able to put it on quickly. He spied his left boot by the window, and hurried over to it. His attempt at haste was thwarted when he fell over putting on the left boot.
Mostly dressed, Gareth carefully crawled out of the window onto the ledge that ran around the second floor of the inn. Just under the ledge was a sloping roof that led to the open courtyard of the stables. Gareth was about to crawl to freedom when he realized he wasn’t fully dressed for a proper member of the University Arcanum. He stuck his head back in the window. “My jacket!” he mouthed, as he pointed to the burgundy wool sticking out from under the bed. Melinda nodded and grabbed the jacket.
As Melinda tossed the jacket to Gareth, the door finally gave way. Standing in the doorway was a pudgy man with a long, pointed nose flanked by two very, large men with clubs. For a brief instant, Gareth thought Melinda’s husband looked vaguely familiar before the jacket hit him in the face, causing him to lose his grip on the window sill. “Oh bugger!” he moaned as he lost his balance, and fell onto the gray slate tiles of the stable roof. His screams of “Ahhhhhh!” were cut off, and replaced by a loud splash when Gareth rolled off the roof and landed in a horse trough full of water. Luckily for him, this trough was built large enough to slake the thirst of a score of horses, and was nearly three feet high.
Tralnis was in the middle of having a literal roll in the hay with the adventurous couple he had met earlier, when he heard something fall onto the stable roof above him. He stopped snogging the young man as he recognized Gareth’s scream, before his son slid off the roof into the horse trough not five feet from the amorous trio. Since they had only just started their evening's entertainment, Tralnis only needed to tuck his shirt back into his trousers, and latch his belt to be presentable again. “This is probably not going to go well,” he told the couple before giving them each a kiss, starting with the young woman, after all three of them stood up from the hay. The students raced out of the stables, while Tralnis dipped his arm into the cold water. He was forced to feel around with his hand, since he wasn’t quite tall enough to see into the oversized trough. When his fingers found the lapel of Gareth’s jacket, Tralnis pulled him out of the water.
After coughing, and spitting out a large quantity of water, Gareth looked over at his father. “Thanks,” he coughed.
“My pleasure, or least it was going to be before you landed on the roof,” Tralnis joked. He glanced up at the roof and then asked, “Did you fall or were you pushed?”
“I fell,” Gareth replied sullenly. Tralnis raised one eyebrow in a questioning gesture. Gareth replied with only one word, “Husband.”
Tralnis nodded his head in commiseration while he stated, “Yep, that’ll do it every time.” He thumped the sturdy trough with his fist. “You know, I think that might be the real reason for this oversized bucket,” he chuckled. This caused Gareth to also chuckle slightly, and Tralnis slapped him on the back good naturedly. Their laughter was cut short when four men who were wearing tight, leather trousers, and blood stained, linen shirts stormed into the stables. They were carrying large sticks with iron bands encircling the ends.
Tralnis helped Gareth stand up, and glared at the newcomers. For their part, the brutes were smiling back in anticipation of violence. “Just the four of you? You might want to go get some reinforcements,” Tralnis taunted.
The lead brute gave the Dwarf a smile that was missing several teeth and shook his head. “Don’t need to,” he replied.
“I guess we’ll see if the four of you can take us then,” Tralnis offered.
The brute shook his head, his smile never wavering. “No shorty, I meant, we don’t need to go and get reinforcements. They should be here in two shakes of a melon lizard’s tail,” he explained. As if they were waiting for their cue, four more men ran into the stables, followed by Melinda’s husband and his bodyguards.
Tralnis looked away from the group of thugs to meet Gareth’s eyes. “We’re screwed,” he muttered, summing up their predicament nicely.
Melinda’s husband stepped forward, but not quite far enough to be in front of his men. He spat on Gareth’s already wet boot. “I should have known it was scum from the University that seduced my wife. My Melinda is as pure as driven snow, and would never betray me. It must have been that blasted magic you freaks teach there that swayed and seduced my little shrub,” he snarled. “Don’t you agree, boys?” he asked smugly.
Gareth watched as the men didn’t respond right away. Both bodyguards suddenly found
either the ceiling, or a leftover horseshoe extremely interesting, and refused to meet their employer’s eyes. A couple of the brutes also shifted around uncomfortably, while one of them tugged on the collar of his shirt in attempt to hide a suspicious looking bruise.
“Damn, that lass must be part Dwarf,” Tralnis observed under his breath.
Melinda’s husband slowly looked at each of his men while he ground his teeth in anger. “We’ll talk about this after you kill these two, and give their bodies to the sea,” he ordered.
Glad for the distraction, the brutes standing in front of the group tapped their batons on their palms repeatedly. Gareth stuck his right hand into his jacket pocket, while he held his left out for the others to stop. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.
This caused the brutes to chuckle in amusement. “And why not?” the lead brute inquired.
“Like your boss said, my companion and I are from the University Arcanum. We possess magic you’ve never dreamed of,” Gareth replied.
A brute in the back called out, “I don’t know about that. After me mum’s squirrel and parsnip stew, I have really weird dreams.”
The lead brute briefly closed his eyes, and shook his head in despair over the men he commanded. He groaned, and opened his eyes. “What sort of magic are you threatening us with, Scholar?” he asked with just a bit more politeness in his voice compared to earlier.
Gareth gave the brute a confident smile, and withdrew his right hand from his pocket. In between his thumb and forefinger was a metal pendent set with a brown river rock engraved in runes. “Nothing less than a Kraunish protection talisman. With it, I will call forth the Unholy Winds to lay low my enemies,” Gareth told them. All he got in response were blank stares. “You know, the Kraunish… a civilization between the First and Second Great Apocalypses, known for their powerful rune techniques,” he tried to explain. When he still got blank stares from the brutes, Gareth whispered, “Grab my arm,” to Tralnis, and held the talisman out forcefully. Tralnis obeyed, while Gareth rubbed his thumb across the stone and shouted the Kraunish activation word.
Everyone, including Gareth and Tralnis, closed their eyes, and turned their heads away from whatever magic Gareth had called forth. After a rather awkward moment of silence, they all cracked open their eyes, and saw that absolutely nothing had happened. The brutes chuckled again, and started to advance once more on their victims.
Gareth cocked his head to the side, confused as to why the talisman hadn’t worked. He had brought the talisman to the University to have it examined, and had a couple of Wizards use a set of miniature divining rods to test it. They had assured him that the talisman was magical and fully charged.
“Ohhhh,” Gareth exclaimed when he realized he was holding the talisman upside-down. He flipped it over in his hand, and softly said the activation word when the first brute was only two paces away. Like a ripple in a pond, a visible wave of magic slowly moved out away from Gareth.
The first brute stopped suddenly as the magic struck him. The magic caused him to make a strange face as he suddenly felt rather bloated, with a recognizable discomfort in his midsection. Before the brute could comment about it, he let loose with an extremely loud fart. It was followed quickly by a seemingly endless supply of flatulence from him. The magic continued to move outward, and interacted with the rest of the brutes with the same results. With his rather large nose, Melinda’s husband turned green, and fainted away before he too was struck with chronic flatulence. The bodyguards soon joined their fellows in what sounded suspiciously like a herd of gazelle running over a field made of whoopee cushions.
Gareth and Tralnis watched the magic ripple in dawning horror as it continued to expand, and make its way to towards the stalls full of horses. “Oh…” Tralnis started to exclaim.
“Don’t say it,” Gareth pleaded.
“…shit!” Tralnis finished right as the magic wave struck the horses. As one, the horses raised their tails, and a sound like trumpeting elephants filled the stables.
The brutes fell to the ground, holding their stomachs. A chorus of complaints followed this latest attack on their senses. “Oh gods, my mouth was open… I can taste it!” and similar woes were voiced from the group.
With one hand firmly clamped over his nose, Tralnis pointed at the stables gate which no longer had men blocking it. Gareth, holding his own nose, nodded in agreement. Making a break for it, they staggered out of the stables, and onto the street beyond it. They ran as fast as they could down the cobblestone streets. Their path was lit by charged Aetherium globes hanging out from brass poles set along the curb.
As it turned out, the two scholars had no need to run. Their enemies were still laying on the ground, contributing to a cloud so rank, it would be used as a story to frighten small children for generations to come.
Chapter 3
Gareth slowly crept down the stairs, pausing every few steps to hold his aching head. He silently cursed the fact that the bedrooms of the two story townhome he shared with Tralnis were up on the second floor. The only good thing about the layout he could think of was that the bathroom was also on the second floor. Having the loo on the same floor turned out to be a blessing when Gareth had been forced to run to the toilet as soon as his churning stomach woke him up.
Their townhome was nestled in a row of similar homes just outside of the University Arcanum’s main gate. Here was where the more affluent professors (or students with rich parents) lived. Since Tralnis was not only a tenured professor, but a practicing doctor as well, he was able to afford the home easily. The inside of their home was painted slate gray to give off the impression one was surrounded by rock walls. Large wooden beams were mounted on the ceiling as accent pieces to mimic the beams found in the Dwarven tunnels.
At the foot of the stairs was a door that led to the large kitchen that also did double duty as a place to share informal meals. The proper dining room was across the hall, and was rarely used, except for the occasional party Tralnis would throw. The floor of the kitchen was the same polished iron wood that ran throughout the home.
This morning, Tralnis was seated at the small table in the kitchen, reading the daily news, and munching on some toast. Henry, their Chim butler, and Gareth’s closest friend, saw that Tralnis’ mug was almost empty, and poured his employer more of the extra strong tea favored by Dwarves. The fact that Henry did this with one of his dexterous feet with opposable thumbs, while frying bacon with his hands, didn’t even rate a raised eyebrow in their household.
Like most of his species, Henry was covered from head to toe in long, fine hair. His impeccably clean fur was a dark, burnt orange color. His arms were much longer than a human’s, with his hands resting halfway between his knees and ankles when standing up straight. Like most of the Great Apes, Henry nose was flat with large flaring nostrils. He was dressed in the traditional uniform of a Chim household servant. The uniform consisted of a black cotton vest with numerous pockets, and a black cargo kilt made of the same fabric.
Gareth’s whimper of pain drew the attention of Tralnis and Henry. “Gods, I feel horrible, and everything has a weird yellow tint to it,” he moaned.
Henry hooted, snarled, and blew his lips out in the language of the Chims.
“No, I took care of my morning absolutions before coming down, so that isn’t why everything looks yellow to me,” Gareth replied as he slid into his chair across from Tralnis.
“My guess is that what you’re experiencing is just one of the possible side effect of the sobriety elixir I gave you last night. Your vision will most likely be back to normal in an hour or so,” Tralnis said, looking over the top of his paper. “You should feel lucky, one of the other possible side effects would have turned your skin green for week. Oh… while I’m thinking about it, thank you for being my test subject by the way,” he added absently.
“The elixir sobered me up instantly. Shouldn’t it have kept me from getting a hangover as well?” Gareth inquired.
Henry stood on one leg again, and pulled out a second teapot from one of the lower cabinets with his raised foot. He then pulled out a canister of tea, and poured some of the loose leaves into the pot. Henry added some herbs to the loose tea before switching the pot to his free hand to add water from the sink. With his now free foot, he turned one of the knobs on the gas stove to start a free burner near the back. He grabbed a thin reed out of a jar next to the stove with his finger like toes. Lighting one end of the reed on an already lit gas flame, he ignited the hissing gas burner. With a practiced swish, he waved the reed in the air fast enough to put it out before placing it back in the jar. Henry served up the bacon with one hand, and slid a plate of dry toast in front of Gareth with his foot.
“Thank you, Henry,” Gareth muttered as he tried to decide if he could stomach even that small amount of food. Henry shifted his balance to grab the honey bowl for Gareth. This motion shifted Henry’s kilt, accidently flashing Gareth his family jewels. “Henry, I know Chims wear a kilt because it doesn’t restrict their freedom of movement like pants do, but that’s not something I want to see this early in the morning,” he complained.
Gareth and th Lost Island Page 2