Unannounced, the beautiful spellcaster from Assembly Hall of His Majesty’s Quests sat beside Perry. She wore her same long robe, bright pink ribbon and sparkling maroon buttons. “We meet again.” Her charm dazzled them. They wiped away their tears, gathered their wits about them, stood and bowed.
“Does this mean you’re joining us?”
“We’ll see,” she said.
“I like your dress,” Perry acknowledged.
“So do I,” Elfindi said. “We’re suited to each other height-wise.” If ever they needed a magic user, Gatby was their man. Now he could afford to flirt.
Perry shook his head. “No, no, no. We’re suited to each other. You’re a magician. I’m a fighter. Opposites attract, they say, in which case we’re made for each other. Are you looking to join a party?”
“I might be,” she answered.
“What do you mean?” Perry asked, resuming his seat. “You must be in search of adventure or fortune. We saw you yesterday. But then you disappeared.”
“Are you here by yourself?” Elfindi asked.
“I’m looking for a knight,” she said simply, her ruby lips still beckoning Perry to forsake manners and kiss her immediately.
Perry desperately wanted to kiss her, but checked himself. “I’m a superb fighter and we need a spellcaster,” he explained.
“We’ll have to see if our objectives fit,” Elfindi cut in.
“We split everything equally – pay, treasure, bonus, expenses. We’re fair,” Perry said. “You can’t beat that.”
Elfindi squeezed Perry’s cheek hard between thumb and forefinger, their secret sign indicating an urgent need to consult. Perry tapped his wrist twice to indicate he understood, but his face did not hide his irritation. Elfindi’s tight grip was unwarranted and painful, and surely would result in a red welt on his dimpled cheek to match the one he already sported on the back of his hand, thanks to Gatby, which he took pains to hide. Elfindi could see Perry was caught in a delusional state of rapture. He clearly believed they were making headway with securing this beautiful spell-caster’s services. For his part, Perry wondered why Elfindi would jeopardise that? Surely he wasn’t thinking of partnering with that crazy old bad-tempered fool?
Elfindi stood up. “If you would be so kind as to remain here for a brief moment,” he requested of the spellcaster. “We’ll get you…what does a spellcaster like you drink? Have you eaten?” She shook her head. “We’ll grab you something to eat.” He brusquely pulled Perry behind him and did not let go until they were hidden behind a handful of fighters standing nearby.
“Have you lost your mind?” Elfindi hissed. “You know nothing about her. You don’t even know her name, and you’re offering her a position on our next expedition? We’ve already found our magic user. Gatby.”
Perry stamped his foot. “No chance!”
Still, Elfindi was right, Perry knew. He was acting rashly. He had been taken in by her beauty and alluring, mysterious inaccessibility. He’d never encountered a woman so irresistibly beguiling. How could a solitary maiden possess such self-assurance, he wanted to know? “Let’s get to know her,” Perry suggested. Elfindi shrugged. What did they have to lose, he conceded? They requested a third meal from a former soldier turned barman missing two front teeth and two fingers, and returned to their table.
“We don’t know your name,” Elfindi said as he sat down.
“Cara.”
They ate and talked for an hour. Both men boasting in painstaking detail about their exploits. Perry bragged about his fighting prowess; Elfindi his cat-burglary.
“I know a bit of magic,” Elfindi said, his intelligent features alighting on hers, hoping to impress her with his versatility. “Early in my career I focussed on stealth instead.”
“Perry, tell me about your mighty paladin brother Aelred,” Cara bade him.
“Why does everyone always want to know about my mighty paladin brother Aelred?”
“Do you not get on?”
“Of course we do! We’re very close.”
“They love each other,” Elfindi explained, “but they’ve chosen different paths. Aelred is a lord and paladin, a mighty hero. Perry is a lowly bounty hunter.”
Perry smiled innocently and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I’m very proud of my brother. Who wouldn’t be? But I’m not ashamed of what I do.”
“Unfortunately,” Elfindi added, “Aelred can’t say the same thing. He isn’t always proud of Perry. Especially when Perry lands himself behind watchhouse bars for disorderly behaviour.”
Cara smiled but her beautiful young face did not seem impressed. “He’s a member of the King’s Council, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Yes,” Perry replied. “He’s General Commander of Lafarrhine’s Army and the National Guard and Lord Protector of the Realm. Maintaining all law and order falls within his agency. All guards, men-at-arms, patrols and militia ultimately report to him. He’s also Chief Guardian of Alonçane. He is highly regarded.”
“You must be very proud,” Cara said. “He’s also led troops against Mugars and orcs, hasn’t he? And they say he’s involved with Guardians of Rohalgamoth. Is that true?” Cara’s piercing eyes glinted.
Perry nodded. “True about Mugars and orcs. I don’t know much about the Guardians of Rohalgamoth.”
“Doesn’t he talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“I hear he knows about rising evil in obscure parts, like the Druids of Purple Ivy. How does he know these things?” Her eyes flashed with interest.
Perry raised his arms as if to stop her casting a spell. “Hold on, Ruby-lips…”
“Cara!” she returned without humour.
Perry studied her, hands still raised. “Why are you so interested in my brother?”
Elfindi probed Cara’s dark brown eyes, intrigued at her keen interest in Aelred. As Lord, paladin and hero he remained Lafarrhine’s most eligible bachelor. Had she set her sights on marrying him? Was he wasting his time courting her?
Cara appeared embarrassed. “Spellcasters are always intrigued by different types of magic users. Did you ever want to be a paladin?”
Elfindi laughed. “Perry, a paladin? Paladins are noble knights who dedicate their life to justice and fighting evil. They love law and order.”
“I dedicate my life to adventure,” Perry said proudly.
“And treasure,” Elfindi added.
“You’re no different,” Perry told him.
“Never said I was. That’s why we’re here.”
“What about you, Cara?” Perry asked.
“Same as you. That’s why I’m here,” she admitted. She lifted her horn of fine wine, placed there by a servant boy when dinner was served. “To adventure.”
They toasted.
“So what exactly is a paladin?” Cara asked.
“Aha,” Perry cried triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn to wax lyrical about a subject in which I am master.” Perry described the different types of fighters, commonly understood by those who live by the sword. He began with guards, then men-at-arms, then progressed to soldiers, followed by veterans. “Then there is the knight. Few make the fighting mastery of the knight. Then you have a hero or champion,” Perry added. “I’d consider myself on this level.”
Elfindi breathed in irritably.
“A special breed of fighters are Rangers. They begin at knight level, but with knowledge of natural healing. They have exceptional abilities in tracking and hunting. They have an ability to communicate with animals and possess masterful camouflage and subterfuge skills. They foretell weather and have trained themselves to go long periods without food or water. Rangers usually have animal companions such as a dog or eagle.
“And then,” Perry pronounced with flair, “one encounters the giddy heights of the paladin, most rare and greatest breed of fighter. In addition to their martial prowess, they are noble, just and lawful. They possess healing and limited magical abilities bestowed upon them when consec
rated a paladin which happens in a grand ceremony officiated over by a High Priest of any worthy Order of clerics. Paladins can slay undead such as ghosts, wraiths, ghouls and phantoms without aid of magical weapons. They have power to kill lesser spirit beings. They see through most illusions and are impervious to spells and potions of suggestion or fear, as are their allies when standing nearby. They detect good and evil and possess a natural affinity with all creatures, be they man or monster if not inclined to evil.”
“Order!” bellowed a terrific voice, silencing all conversation. A bearded man carrying a hippopotamus-like belly anchored himself on a platform beside the serving bar. He stood back from the dais to leave space for his vast stomach, a girth so wide it required special tailoring and much cloth. The platform he stood upon afforded a panoramic view of the floor, taking in hidden booths and dark corners wherein lurked shadowy figures.
Clearly a seaman in former days, his bushy white beard stuck out almost at right angles from his chin. His heavy wrists and massive forearms sported intricate tattoos of anchors and mermaids. He wore a weathered seafarer’s cap. Massive though his head was, his neck extended out from ear to shoulder, like a bull.
“Order!” he repeated unnecessarily. A vein like an anchor chain protruded from his neck. “All them that got quests, come forward.” As master of ceremonies, for that indeed is what this uneducated seaman turned out to be, he ushered forward two noblemen. As they started speaking, he upturned an hourglass filled with sand.
The dark-eyed nobleman began. “I and my brother, Lord Bathesby, need a treasure chest retrieved. It was stolen from us by dwarven bandits along the Silk Road somewhere between Albatross Mountains and Great Lakes Forest. Our main concern is a diamond studded belt buckle, a family heirloom. We will pay a fixed rate of one hundred and fifty gold pieces for its return plus a bonus if the chest and its contents are recovered in full. We have no concern for what happens to the dwarves responsible for this theft.” Their dark eyes darted quickly to two dwarves seated nearby. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen.” They followed an usher, one of many employed by Adventurer’s Arms and sat at a prescribed table, purposefully set aside for adventure patrons only.
As the hourglass ran its course a huge tattooed hand whisked it away. He placed a second hourglass on the dais before him.
A rugged-looking fighter climbed onto the platform and stood behind the dais. He wore weathered chainmail. A sword hung from his belt. His rough clothes and stubble indicated hard times. His harsh eyes scoured the faces before him. “We are four fighters of knight standard, well-armed, Western orc war veterans. We know of a treasure buried off one of Eldorado Islands. We want two spellcasters and two clerics to accompany us. Must be female. All treasure split evenly. Each pay their own expenses. We sail the day we fill our quota.”
Perry leaned across to Cara. As he did so he inadvertently inhaled a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. “How can a female refuse that?” he whispered conspiratorially.
“Easily.”
“Quiet,” Elfindi whispered severely.
“Next,” the fat-bellied seaman shouted, his vein weighing anchor along his neck. He upturned a third hourglass. Two hardy men in their thirties approached. They wore kilts of Highland folk, their beards rough, red and bushy, their long, wild hair flowing underneath heavy helmets, fashioned to deflect Norse battle-axes.
“I’m Robert.” He pointed to his colleague. “This is Bruce. We’re from Highlands off Gulf of Ice. Norse pirates are abducting our village folk. We believe they sell them to slavers in Gibraltar Straights, to be taken south through the Steppes to slave markets in Carakas-Khālim and Zanzibar. Our Highland Thane and barons wish to hire a war party to hunt them down. These pirates have three galleys and number over one hundred. They have magic users and trained metoh-kangmi, or yeti, as henchmen. We are offering a flat rate of four hundred gold pieces per person negotiable to kill or capture their leaders, to destroy their hideout and longships and kill their metoh-kangmi. Any treasure you find is yours to keep. We believe this to be considerable.”
“How much is considerable?” someone shouted.
“Probably tens of thousands of gold pieces.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Both Highlanders stepped down and retired to their designated table.
Elfindi threw a look at Perry who nodded slowly. An offer worth considering.
Next arrived Perry’s type of party. He and Elfindi had joined a number of them in times past, with handsome results. A female cleric held a staff in her hand, her fingers glowing with rings, probably magical. A mace pulsated at her side, also likely magical. An elven fighter with a majestic bow slung over his shoulder and sword at his side stood beside her. The green tinge of his skin made him look dark-skinned in the tavern’s muted orange light. A tall magician wearing an elaborate hat stood next to his elven colleague. His fingers were full of rings. He wore a matching necklace and brooch. A wand and dagger protruded from his belt, from which also hung a number of gourds and pouches. Beside them stood a rare sight. A halfling dressed in leather armour with a short-sword stood by proudly. He was barely four feet tall but his ears more than made up for his stunted size.
Their leader, the magician, began: “Ladies and gentlemen, our quest is simple. A black dragon has taken up residence on Madagas Island off the Mugar coast of Lūn-Khadun. A large fishing town is nestled in its southernmost tip, and remains outside the boundaries of that accursed Mugar empire. We think because this island produces nothing of value Tāhūbād has not bothered to invade it. This black dragon lives in a northern bluff amid trees, hills and rock shelters. For those who don’t know, black dragons aren’t friendly.”
A chuckle rippled through the assembled crowd.
“They breathe a deadly noxious vapour against which we possess a good defence. They’re foul, aggressive, violent and vengeful. They have dragon cunning and love treasure. We’re looking for fighters and spellcasters, especially a druid to join our party. We have magical means of getting there quickly. All treasure is split evenly. Loners or Dark Arts practitioners need not apply. Thank you.”
An impressive party, Perry thought to himself as they stepped down and moved to a rear table.
Next came a quick succession of magic users, clerics, druids and apothecaries who needed strange, obscure or dangerous plant, animal or monster parts. The tattooed seaman invited any interested party or individual to approach a back table if they so desired. His bulk was so imposing floorboards squeaked each time he shifted his weight.
“Some exciting offers there, eh?” exclaimed Elfindi.
Perry nodded. “What about you, Cara? We learnt nothing about you over dinner. Any of those adventures take your fancy?”
“Perhaps,” she said evasively.
Elfindi shot a warning glance at Perry. “We have to talk,” he said, his tone clearly meaning in private.
Cara threw back her shoulders. Her eyes, so pretty from where Perry sat, threw daggers at Elfindi. “I understand. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” She stood up and walked away.
“Easy on,” Perry said. Too late. Cara’s tiny frame disappeared behind a bubbling throng of motley, bohemian and eclectic adventurers. “Touchy, isn’t she?”
“I don’t like her,” Elfindi said. “And you need to watch yourself. What do we know about her?” They considered this. Their plan to find out everything about her over dinner didn’t work.
“What happened?” Perry asked.
“You did nothing but brag about yourself, like you always do.”
“Steady on. Both of us were guilty of that. Besides, I think she was testing us,” Perry stated. “Do you think we passed?”
“I don’t care. I don’t like her. What’s more, I don’t trust her.”
Perry smiled, gently slapping his friend on the back. “That’s the elf in you, always distrustful of humans.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elfindi said dismissively. “Instead, tell me what you think of that black dra
gon adventure?”
Perry shook his head. “I liked them, but I think they’re out of their depth. A black dragon will eat them alive. And us, too. I’d have to go with all of them plus one, maybe two fighters like Aelred, plus experienced wizards and a whole stack of magical items.”
“Where would you get two fighters like Aelred? Maybe these fighters are Aelred’s standard?”
“I seriously doubt it.” Perry held up his hands with finality.
Elfindi sighed. Part of Perry’s genius was knowing which expeditions offered the right risk reward ratio, which drew Elfindi to Perry when they first met. They became close friends quickly and found they possessed a natural affinity for adventuring, making a great partnership.
“That Norse piracy quest is worth considering.”
“It’s far away.”
“What worthwhile adventure isn’t? If we take it, we’ll need a party.”
Elfindi pursed his lips. “I know where this is leading. We’ll need a spellcaster. Who can we get? Oh, what about Cara?”
“She does seem perfect. Tough. Loves adventure.”
“We need to test her credentials and pedigree,” Elfindi insisted.
The obese, tattooed seaman called his tavern audience to order once more. His booming voice cut through conversation, the vein in his neck now bulging like an angry python. He introduced patron after patron, meticulously obeying his hourglass.
Only once did a man speak too long - a Mugar trader - bald, rotund and teary. He wanted guards to accompany his camel caravan back to Har-gazbarlit. His own guards had abandoned him, preferring Alonçane’s organised lawfulness to Har-gazbarlit’s dangers and messiness, much to the trader’s disgust. He unleashed a lengthy tirade of invective in Mugar, there and then on his podium, wasting precious hourglass time. All expenses paid there and back, a sliver piece per head per day, plus a bonus of twenty five gold pieces per head on safe arrival plus...nobody heard anything further. He was dragged away by an angry, tattooed, time-conscious seaman for exceeding his time limit.
As evening wore on, individuals and parties of three, four and more approached patrons whose quests appealed to them. Successful negotiations led to drawing up and signing of contracts in days that followed.
Age of Demons_In Search of the Amulet Page 6