The Rokkaia Chronicles

by Rhys Thomas

  “Mviak was in fucking league with Scar-eye. They stole Lenard’s rifle from our room as we slept. So, don’t go thinking you’re high and mighty Jessel. When ya brother cut up my husbands’ eye.”

  “Wait, Scar?’ I asked surprised and accidentally blurted out without even considering the repercussions.

  My interruption gained a grim nod from Catherine and a glare from Jessel. “He’s a villainous twat, been probing Melancholy for a while. We’ve sturdy walls ya see, and walls mean safety at night from the unexpected. Him and his men bribed Mviak who gave them directions to the house’s with the most valuables.” She explained with a tried sigh. Small world, I thought with a shake of my head.

  “Well, two the of men I killed this morning were of Scar’s group,” I said, and people gasped. Then I raised my vambraces into the air showing those nearby the symbol etched into the leather. “The third was old Scar himself, approached me just after I’d killed the brood-mother and it nest, burnt the place down doing so.”

  A small viscous grin spread across my face.

  Catherine walked closer to me and examined the markings on my claimed vambraces. “Don’t be fooled; you idiot’s. He’s obviously lying,” Jessel yelled at the murmuring crowd.

  “Well you could get off your fat ass and travel south and then west for a bit, the journey only a few hours long. Scars body should still be there, though whatever you do don’t enter the room that’s still standing in the remains’ of the farmhouse.”

  “And Mviak, what of my brother? Do you kill him as well?” He asked suddenly stunned and at loss for words, Ariana’s quiver fell from his grip forgotten.

  “Sorry, uh maybe - what did he look like?” I asked the guardsman.

  “It- it doesn’t… I refuse to believe you actually killed Scar, and- and I will not allow you into my village,” the man snapped in a firmer tone.

  I sighed hearing Scar’s such creative name; I had been pretty spot with my own nickname. Ariana retrieved her bags and then marched out in-front of everyone, bent before Jessel and snatched up her quiver and 1 arrow.

  She then spat on the ground before him and turned making her way over back to my side; I smirked at her small wry smile. Catherine deciding enough was enough; grabbed Ariana and I. Leading us passed the spluttering group of guardsmen and into the crowd of people.

  The crowd gave us enough cover, which seemed to be their intention; as Jessel and his men couldn’t break through without violence.

  “Hilda! Put an arrow in that man,” I heard Jessel yell in outrage and a few seconds later, “I can’t Jessel. Not without possibly injuring our own people.”

  The villages interior was actually quite spacious, theirs houses made were of stone and wood. They were a stock and sturdy builds, the crowd slowly bled away as we moved, and Catherine never once released us though her grip did loosen as we came to a two-story building.

  A yellowish green sign hung above and to the left of the door. Stationary even with the cool winds breezing through. The image shown was that of a bear and a bee—though it looked more like a wasp—wrestling each other. The heading above them read: Honeyed-bear Inn.

  Catherine pushed us up the few steps and inside the warm interior. Booths lined the far side of the commons room with padded benches.

  A fire crackled beneath a pot of bubbling stew in the fireplace. The aroma of the cooking meal made my mouth salivate as my nostrils flared to life and I drank in the scent.

  “You have a lovely place here Mrs Horrigan. Thank you for letting us stay,” I said to the older woman with a slight bow of my head.

  “Think nothing of it dear. Really. Me and Len have been looking after this place since my parents died of some twenty years ago.”

  I nodded, “still I’m grateful even with the trouble we caused.”

  Catherine shook her head, “you caused nothing. That buffoon of a ‘captain’ is nothing but a swindler. Every bit the thief his brother is, only difference is one owns what he is, while the other pretends he’s something else.” Catherine Horrigan passed by us patting my arm, “welcome to Honeyed-bear Inn. If ya make yourselves comfortable at the corner booth- I know how you warrior types like to watch the exit,” she winked at Ariana. “I’ll go and get us a platter of cheese and crackers, and the like, then we’ll have a drink. Afterwards I’ll show ya to your room then we’ll make about your meal this evening.”

  “That would be great - thank you.” She smiled, rather matronly.

  “We’ll discuss the pricing later, now go on.” She waved us off and retreated to the bar and the back room where I assumed the kitchen was.

  Aria immediately made for the booth and I moved to the fireplace. So, these people knew of the madness being gone at least. “Why is it that feel like Jessel is going to be a problem later?” I thought aloud to myself and then made a mental call to Marisa but received no reply.

  I outstretched my hands towards the fire, it felt weak as most of it was encompassed by the pot of good smelling food atop of it. I was so tempted to just spoon some of the hot lamb stew into my mouth but refrained from doing so. I doubted I could stop the noises that would escape me.

  I felt a rush of pinpricks ripple through my hands and up to my elbows, it started mild at first shivering through me like goose-bumps. I flexed my fingers as they started to go numb and tingly. But as I did it, the fire beneath the cook pot flared up and around the iron cookware.

  “What the-?” I hissed confused and stepped away. The fire pushed out, creeping, forming into elemental hands. Flickering and blazing they crept up the sides of the cooking pot one hand reaching for the iron ladle. Then the fire fell away, it’s fragile form returning back to its original state.

  I looked around to see if anyone had seen it, but no one was around, not even Ariana was looking my way as she stacked her bags against the wall of our booth. I could hear Catherine in the kitchen whistling a tone I’d never heard, sweat beaded my brow and a chill slid up and over my spine.

  “Had I- I mean I’d been thinking of the spoon- then the hands,” I shook away my words and swiped at my forehead.

  My hands itched to move closer to the fire, to pull myself into its chaotic currents and torches. I knew I wouldn’t understand anyway, not without Marisa here to guide me. Even then - I don’t particularly feel like burning the place down by accident.

  With a will of effort, I forcibly turned away from the fireplace and move to Ariana. Thankfully she was sat across the table watching towards the door. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat and scooted further into the booth, no longer feeling the beckoning of the fire.

  Unfastening my cloak and with a grunt I removed it, I propped my longsword against the wall next to me. Looking across at her I noticed the head of her axe lay on her lap. “Are you alright?” She asked me looking concerned.

  “Yes… Just warm is all - I’m fine,” I said, but I sounded breathless and exhausted to my own ears. A few minutes past, and I finally felt like I was cooling down, though I kept having to wipe my face as it trickled with sweat.

  A door banged open by the bar and Ariana tensed her grip on her axe, I saw a thin strand of her gaara, webbing across her neck. But my smile at Catherine as she came bursting out with a platter calmed the Valakhari scout, her gaara retreating back to concealment.

  As Catherine made her way over to us, she glanced at the obvious axe head on Ariana lap and eye crinkled slightly in something akin to amusement. “Here ya go, some cheeses and a few strips of the last of our ham, crackers, the last slice of yesterday’s quiche.” She informed us and set the platter down. “Why don’t ya both dig in, I’ll be back in a few with your tankards of honeyed-ale.”

  She headed off to the bar, a dishrag slung over one shoulder. Where I just stared at the veritable feast in front of me, yes it wasn’t much but the sheer sight of prepped food made me want it all the more.

  We began eating almost ravishingly, I felt a boot knock against my shin; I looked up to see Aria staring at me. I rais
ed an eyebrow at her in question. she swallowed a piece of quiche and whispered, “I’m getting the feeling that our host knows what I am.”

  I nodded having come to the same conclusion earlier, “let’s just be cautious okay? I doubt she means any harm or plan’s to reveal you to the villagers. she’s probably just curious is all.” I whispered back leaning forward slightly as I took a bite of a tomato. I usually wasn’t one for my fruit and veggies, but being here and seeing this, threw all my prior pickiness away.

  “Ugh,” the tomato half squelch into my mouth and half onto my chin, the small seeds dotting beneath my bottom lip. Ariana smirked at my clumsiness, but when I focused to her side of the table; I saw a scene of utter mess like of a toddler makes.

  She had devoured the quiche in such a way that the pastry’s crumbs now litter her end. We went about separating the cheeses into an equal share, when Aria started growling at me for having consumed more than my fair amount I backed off with a laugh as she actually raised her axe at me.

  Catherine Horrigan came back a few minutes later, carrying three tankards of slushing liquid. She set them down and pulled up a chair to join us.

  Ariana gulped down her drink, in four loud gulps, her throat moving as she drained the last few drops. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the satisfied look she held, that quickly turned to disappointment when she realised there was none left.

  She eyed my own, but as she made to move for it, I withdrew the tankard and sipped it.

  The dark smooth liquid slid down my throat almost languidly, the honeyed flavour felt hot to my tongue but it past instantly as I consumed more and before I knew, I was staring across as Ariana in amazement. I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Aria nodded knowingly. “Holy shit that was good,” I said to Catherine.

  “It is, pain in the ass to brew though, but Lens got a good hand at the craft and we keep bees out in the back but with the weather getting colder, we’re trying to stock as much as possible,” she said smiling.

  I’d stopped sweating at some point during the meal and now I just sat back, my hunger not fully satiated but definitely on its way there. I was surprised that Jessel and his men hadn’t barged in yet, I said as much to Catherine and she nodded understandingly.

  “Well since his father died, the last captain of our villages little guard. Jessel self-appointed himself and convince a few other’s to join him. There was more of them; but life is harsh out here, ya go outside at night and sometimes never return. Now Jessel has taken to relieving outsiders of their own good’s even the people of Melancholy don’t try and stop it. To us we’re just waiting for the inevitable.”

  “The inevitable what?” I asked intrigued.

  “Well sooner or later someone will come and not take his shit. Thought that someone might be you honestly.” I shrugged and stuffed a cracker bundled with cheese and ham into my mouth.

  Catherine then turned her attention to Ariana, “so what’s a native of Pyhronia and a Valakharian at that doing on Haroxi?” Spluttering and choking on the cracker, I looked to Catherine.

  I didn’t feel or see any fear or malice from her. Her question and tone just sounded curious. Ariana audibly swallowed her ham wrapped tomato.

  yuck!

  She glanced to me and I gave a nod, “how did you know?” the scout asked slowly.

  “Mainly ya weapons and leather armour. Though I know he’s no Valakhari,” She said; shooting a thumb in my direction. I gave a grim nod knowing I wasn’t really much of a warrior at all.

  “No, he is not, though dangerous in his own right,” Aria replied and gave me a small polite yet honest smile. I couldn’t help but scratch my head uncomfortably.

  “I met a few Valakhari raiders as a child- it was not long after we’d left Bastion, they were a kind folk though I didn’t understand a lick of what they were saying. You though are an oddity, most of them are tanned and freckled skin, their hair all the same shade of light brown and reds.”

  Aria nodded, “yes. I was adopted,” she said, and I could just hear Marisa now; chanting ‘I told you so’ over and over.

  “Well I’ll show ya to your room and let ya rest, dinner well be around the 5th strike of the candle in your room. I’ll have Nathryn come and get ya about then, he should be back soon. A good lad that one,” Catherine told us. She led us upstairs and handed Aria a loop with a single key attached. “Usually I’d give ya two key’s but with the recent break-ins were keeping the second keys locked away in case the first goes missing.”

  I nodded as it made sense. “Well here ya are,” she had taken us to the second floor, the third of three rooms. Inside was a neat and quiet room, a bed lay in one corner, a double mattress with two feathered pillows. To the opposite corner was a mirror and makeup table with drawers, a chest was propped opened at the foot of the bed’s frames with a wardrobe standing diagonal to the corner.

  “I’ll leave ya both to rest, if either of ya want to bathe now or later just let me know. There’s an outhouse in the back and the bathing room is just to the right of the back door, ya do have go through the kitchen though which is why I’m telling ya to ask me first.

  “Extra blankets are in the dresser, so pick which ya like and if ya need anything at all just let me know downstairs.” And with that Catherine left us.

  Aria slumped her bag to the floor and rested her axe Thion against the bed frame. I shut the door and turned back to the room.

  “Okay, well I guess I’ll be sleeping on the floor?” I said more to myself. Ariana moved to the window, “oh, throw the window wide open. I know it’ll be cold, but Marisa should arrive later.”

  Aria perfect lips pouted but unlatched the window and pushed it open. She then shut the curtains as I went about removing the majority of my clothing, falchion and longsword. Warping them to my inventory.

  Ariana removed the majority of her dark green leather armour which left her in nothing more than her tight-ass black leather breeches, knee high boots and a black lace bralette. I gulped at the naked measure of her ivory skin; the full firmness of her round breasts stood high on her chest.

  Her trim stomach was muscular showing the formation of a six pack. Her Adonis belt the ‘V’ shaped lower abdominal that ran from her waist down into her tight leathers. Her arms looked thin and devoid of fatty tissue and yet her strong biceps were as thick as my wrist.

  She turned towards her pack and I could see her back was an athletic form of geography, small dimples rested like dents in her lower back above the curve of her ass, the texture smoothing the already rippling image of her back.

  This woman’s body was like a contradiction, she was so well defined in muscle, and yet somehow that enhanced her curves.

  She noticed me staring, my mouth agape. “Yes, my tit’s are there. But my eyes are still up here,” I could hear the amusement in her voice as she cocked a fine eyebrow and cup her full chest, rounding them and then squeezing shortly.

  Her black bralette looked to be strained and all I wanted to do was reach out and ease that strain for them.

  But instead, I just scowled as she bit her bottom lip seductively with a smirk. It didn’t help that my erection was trying to bust through my breeches.

  “Alaric, I don’t suppose you’ve got a spared tunic where ever your making thing’s disappear to,” she asked, and I blinked my eyes away from staring at her breasts.

  “Hang on- let me look,” I replied. Closing my eyes to focus—not that I actually needed to of course, it was more so that wouldn’t keep ogling her body.

  I sent my conscious mind into the dimension plane.

  An ethereal ghostly caste of my body formed in the darkness, I solidified the shape with a thought and gave over sliding my mind into the body. Opening my eyes to a pitch-black room, I knew on a subconscious every detail and exact edge of the room though it seemed endless. It had grown larger as I aged and stored more materials within.

  I hadn’t brought myself here into this space for some time. I thought of light to illumina
te my surroundings and seconds later a bright red mist swelled beneath the floor. My steps would formed ripples across the black glassy surface beneath my feet, though there was no actual water on my side.

  The substance—which I presumed to be water, was more so beneath the glass, and yet it responded with each of my steps. Like below, so was the ceiling a black mirror-like glass and both rippled with my movements; yet no reflection showed in either.

  It always did scare me when I wondered what laid beyond the vast expanse of the darkness behind those black-mirrored surfaces. It was an empty place and yet I never could escape the feeling of something lurking just out of sight.

  My friend Wyatt Rosen had been an almost constant comfort in this place, his companionship to my childish self at the time reminded me; that even in my weirdness I hadn’t truly been alone. But even he left me.

  Now I knew the reasons for that. I would often cry at the loss of my friend as a kid. He hadn’t died exactly; but to my 8-year old self then. I had mourned him in a way, all those years ago. I was a child forced to grow faster than he should in a lot of ways, and I experienced some of the utter worse humanity had to offer for it.

  But like Wyatt; my memories of then are both picture perfect and hazy, some of the abuse I’d suffered was like a bank of roiling fog for me. Now and then memories would resurface, small little snippets and insights. But then there are moments like this, when Louise first started to slap me and dig her nails deep into the skin of my legs when she was angry or frustrated. I’d cried and screamed, begging her, telling her I was sorry for god knows what.

  Then she’d stop, as if coming back to herself from some trance of hateful negativity, where she had only dreamed of hurting a child.

  She would cry, sobbing and clutching at my shoulder apologising for the things she had done to me. And I would forgive her every time, holding to her, seeking some bizarre comfort in our fucked up little world.

  I knew why she hurt me.