by Rodger Carr
Gerrod gazed up into the dark night sky. Even though it was clear and crisp, he couldn't see any stars. The flickering torches on either side of the old inn door blotted out anything above the city walls where the King's Guard patrolled. "Shame," Gerrod thought to himself, "There's nothing like saying goodnight to the stars before turning in from a rough day on the road." Gerrod hated the city; but unfortunately, it was a good place to do business.
That night, though, Gerrod didn't have any business to do. Gerrod tossed the inn's stable boy a whole gold bill, even though he didn't have to give him anything, and turned to go inside.
The dwarven stable boy, Ace's son, was like his own. Aric looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Gerrod! It must have been a good trip for you, I hope," he cried as he pulled a feeding bag over the horse's head.
Gerrod returned the child's wishes with a wave, and opened the familiar oak door to the lively inn.
It was a brisk, fall night when Gerrod stumbled back into the Wefpub. It was instinct, more than any conscious decision he had made, that led him to the familiar bar. This was the fine establishment run by his dear, dwarven friend, Ace. While all of them owned a part of the business, they let Ace run it and keep more than his share of the profits. It gave all of them a place to go for a good drink and good friends. That's all any of them ever asked for out of the place, and they always got that and much more.
Gerrod walked through the front door, and was surprised by what he saw. There was a halfling swinging from the chandelier! Gerrod got there just in time to see the spry little man fly off the swinging light fixture. He did a double somersault, and landed face first into a giant pool of mud. The mud flew from its huge vat, all over the place, and halfway up the wall. The goopy, brown mess covered many of the people who watched the game. But, most importantly, everyone was having fun.
The small common room was packed. Incited to near riot by the halfling's fantastic leap, the people at the bustling bar, and the people crowded around the tables all pounded their mugs in appreciation. With all this pounding and stomping, most of the beer in their mugs spilled out. The busy bar maidens quickly refilled the empty steins, collecting the patrons' coins off the tables, and everyone was happy.
Ace had proven himself a master at the business, and was always finding new ways to keep the 'Pub different and popular. People never knew what they'd find there, and that's what kept them coming back. Wefpub always did well. In the end, they all agreed that it was a very wise decision to let Ace run the business.
Wefpub had always been a place for adventurers, such as themselves, to meet and swap tales of their great exploits. A place of rumor and tall tales, it could also be the perfect place to find information on just about anything. There always seemed to be someone there who knew what you were interested in. You may have had to pick your facts from the bull, but usually you'd learn something of value. Wefpub was the perfect place for adventurers. It was the perfect place for Gerrod.
Ace could tell, by the look on his friend's face, that something was wrong. He reached under the bar and poured a tall mug of the finest ale from the private stock. He greeted Gerrod at the end of the bar with it and his always-comforting smile.
"It's good to see you again, Old friend," he said in his gruff voice, handing him the mug of fine ale.
"It's good to be back, Ace," he replied.
"Argunthu again?" A pained, sympathetic look came on his face.
Gerrod nodded. That's where he had spent the last several years, and every time he had returned to Wefpub, it was for the same reason.
"Who was it this time? Not Lokai, I hope," Ace asked. Even though Ace had never been to the stone dwarven mines to the North, he had come to know the good people Gerrod had found there through his tales. He'd even gotten to like some of them; warriors he'd never met.
"No, it was Mika," Gerrod lamented. Even saying it then brought back bitter visions of the tip of the orcan spear puncturing the brave dwarf's armor. He heard his final battle cry. Mortally wounded, Mika still revenged his own death. With a will as strong as his stout legs, Mika had pushed the spear clear through his back, just to bring the vile invader within reach of his short sword. Using every bit of his remaining strength, Mika had sliced into the skull of the shocked orc. Tears began to well in Gerrod's eyes for his lost friend. "It was Mika," he repeated.
"Awe, man." Ace felt his pain; their pain. He knew how Mika had become a very close friend. Because of his prominent position as an 'Outsider,' Gerrod had gained many friends and much influence among the troubled stone dwarves. "Don't those orcs ever give up?"
"It's the dangedest thing, Ace," Gerrod said shaking his head. "Those orcs are persistent if nothing else. They win any battle by sheer number, not by any kind of strategy. If you kill fifty of them, there are at least a hundred more to take their place. We can beat them all the way back to the foothills, but in only a few months, they'll come right back."
"Nasty, smelly creatures, they are," Ace agreed.
"And they always seem to have a knack for finding cavern openings that lead them back into the dwarven mines, too. Then we have to flush them out, and drive them back up to the surface, and to the foothills again."
"Well, you're a good friend to these people, Gerrod," Ace encouraged him. "Sometimes I don't think they know what kind of friend they have in you."
"Mika knew. We'd gotten to know each other pretty well, for me being an Outsider, I mean. He saw past my blade, and really cared about me." Gerrod thought a moment about all the good, honest folk he'd met in the darkness of the mines, and how they accepted him. They respected him as he respected them.
"He still couldn't have cared like we do, though," Ace said with an infectious smile Gerrod couldn't help returning. "Them stone dwarves are an odd lot, you know. They pick their friends carefully, but once they decide you're good folk, you've found friends for life."
"Better be careful, Ace. Sounds like you're deciding to be a stone dwarf," he warned kiddingly.
"Bah!" the dwarf blasted. "That'll be the day! Just you don't forget who you are, half-elf."
"Never," he vowed.
"You're early, you know," Ace said as he wiped out wine glasses.
Gerrod took a long, slow drink from his mug while he considered what Ace said. Could his ways have gotten so predictable that his old friend had anticipated the timing of his inevitable return to the 'Pub? It felt good to have a friend who understood him so well.
Gerrod simply nodded, knowing it would be enough for Ace, and it was.
"Don't be telling me you've forgotten again!" Ace seemed alarmed and disappointed.
Gerrod didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and it showed, but Ace continued to be understanding as always.
"Reunion. Reunion is next week," he explained. "You couldn't have forgotten Reunion again," though he could see that he had.
Reunion. The word brought back a flood of memories to Gerrod. Most were happy, some were sad, but all were good. Reunion. It seemed like a breath of fresh air forced into Gerrod's tired heart -- which quickly changed into an explosion of panic.
Wefpub was the small cluster of friends who owned the inn by the same name. Reunion was a time for the five members of Wefpub to gather. They kept up with old times, and let everyone know what they were all doing. It seemed the five of them had known each other for ever. They had each joined this very exclusive group in their own way, and at their own time. They had shared much during their years of adventuring together. Gerrod's greatest adventures had always been with this party.
When it came time to break the group up, they took a solemn oath to meet here once a year, no matter what. They vowed to stay friends for life.
Reunion meant what Gerrod needed most. Reunion meant friends.
"You will stay, won't you?" Ace pleaded, his big brown eyes peering through his thick, graying beard.
However, Gerrod also remembered that he had chosen to skip
the last few Reunions. He remembered Corinna, the one love of his life. He had skipped Reunion all those years because he knew she would be there. He had stayed away trying to avoid her. Corinna and he hadn't broken company on the best of terms, and he didn't want to deal with seeing her again. He knew he couldn't deal with it.
While Reunion meant what Gerrod needed most, it also meant what he dreaded most. Reunion meant friends.
"I haven't heard from nobody yet, but then I never do. Everyone just always shows up," Ace argued against the silence. "It's like homing pigeons returning to the roost. No matter what they're doing, or where they are, they come. Everyone will be here. I guess it's one of the few things in life we can count on. It's good to be able to count on something. Besides, it would be rude of you to leave now that you're already here."
Gerrod considered running out of the inn and back into the mines. It would have been easy to hide from his fears by slaying a few hundred orcs, but then he remembered Mika. He knew he had to stay and face his fears, as Mika had faced the orc that had killed him.
"Okay, since you insist," Gerrod gave in. He smiled at his friend's persistence. "Besides, it would be rude to leave now."
The argument won, Ace changed the subject. "So, what do you think of the mud diving?"
Gerrod couldn't help laughing as he watched a human, drunk with too much cheap mead, leap to his fates into the vat of mud. The resulting splash of mud, while much larger than the halfling's, wasn't nearly so well directed. A wave of mud spread over the heads of all those within ten feet of the event. The crowd went wild again.
An elf, just as doused in mud as any, measured the height of the splash of mud on the wall. He pointed out that it clearly fell short of the mark made by the halfling. This was the true test of the leap, and most of the crowd, still pleased with the performance, yelled consoling encouragement. Still, the human faced enough boos and hisses to let him know his shortcomings.
"The best thing is," Ace explained, "each jumper pays two gold pieces just to take their turn. Some of the drunkest and proudest will even make two or three jumps!"
Penfield, the human who had just leapt, refused to leave the mud vat. He still tried to rally support for his efforts. He egged the audience on by waving his mud-soaked arms in the air, and flinging the goop at them. This quickly lost him approval, as the crowd recognized his bad sportsmanship. He soon faced more discouraging remarks than he had before. This disapproval only angered the drunken man even more, and he started to push at the patrons closest to him.
Eventually, as he went down the line pushing at whomever he could reach, he finally came upon someone he could pick a fight with. A spry, slender elf, somewhat shorter than the human, took great offense to being pushed. With a quickness the drunken Penfield could barely perceive, the dexterous elf turned the man around and, with the same twisting shove, had him back face-down in the mud. The crowd roared.
Embarrassed still further, the big man staggered back to his feet, turned to the elf, and pulled out a knife. The elf jumped back to avoid a clumsy swipe, and soon produced his own weapon, a short dirk. He wielded the weapon masterfully, and teased his opponent on.
"Looks like Penfield's gotten himself into trouble again," Ace sighed, producing a thick club from under the bar. "This usually does the trick," he winked at Gerrod.
"Shall I take care of the elf?" Gerrod asked. He'd helped Ace take care of bar fights before, and even though he knew Ace needed little assistance, you could never be too careful. An unwary bouncer could easily find a blade in his back.
Ace smiled and motioned him on. Fights weren't as common in Wefpub as they were in seedier bars and inns, but they were inevitable costs of doing business.
By the time they pushed their way through the rowdy, excited crowd of spectators, both Penfield and the elf sported many nasty cuts to their faces and hands. Penfield took another vicious swipe at the elf. The agile man easily dodged the attempt, but it forced several spectators to scamper out of the way of the wildly striking dagger.
"All right, you two," Ace yelled over the buzz of the crowd, "Break it up before I start doing some breakin'!" To accentuate his point, he swung the heavy piece of timber that was almost a whole tree. This cleared a path to the two combatants. Gerrod followed closely behind.
"Awe, let 'em go at it, Ace," a man requested. While the two men didn't make any more attacks on each other, they still circled around defensively, each waiting for the other to strike first.
"I said enough!" Ace bellowed. "The show's over, folks. Nothing more to see here, right fellas?"
Lost in the concentration of the contest, they refused to hear the stodgy old dwarf. To end the battle now would prove no winner, and they both wanted to win. The elf made one quick jab to the left, bringing Penfield's dagger out wide, and a second strike low and inside. The human matched his blows, deflecting them both wide, but found himself too pressed to make a quick attack of his own.
Ace had always been proud of the old saying, "Dwarves don't fight fair, but they always win." With a powerful whack of the club, he took the tall human out by the back of his knees. Forced down to a kneeling position, a second whack landed on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
Still eager for the last swing, and seeing his opponent dazed, vulnerable, and forced to his knees; the elf lunged forward, leading with the sharp point of his dirk. The clang of steel rang out, as Gerrod's sword intercepted the blow, and diverted its energy to the floor. The weapon stuck deep in the hardwood surface.
The elf scowled at Gerrod with disdain. Gerrod smiled in return and shook his head. "Don't even try it," he warned.
But of course the elf didn't listen. He spun around, sending his cape flying out full, and when he faced Gerrod again, he held a long sword at the ready. The elf bore a satisfied smile at the challenge. His long, auburn locks had barely come to rest on his shoulders before he leapt forward again. This time he led with the long, curving blade of his sword where the dirk had been just seconds before.
Gerrod's eyes locked onto the man's silvery orbs, as he swiftly deflected the charge with a back swipe of his own blade. Gerrod knew the elf's eyes would tell him where he'd strike next.
The force of the blocking strike forced the slight elf off balance, and he sharply struck back the other way, the only way he could. Another careful placement of Gerrod's sword stopped the desperate swing dead. As their blades locked together, Gerrod kept the lock on his eyes. "Sh-zot," he commanded, and at once, the blade of his sword lit brightly.
Gerrod was glad that he had kept his gaze on the elf's eyes, because the expression on his face was indeed priceless. The elf's jaw dropped slack, and his eyes bulged wide. With little stomach left for the fight, he turned and ran through the front door and anyone who stood in his way.
Quite satisfied, Gerrod looked about at those who had continued to watch. Most of these people had the same, amazed look on their faces. Clearly, they had never seen a magical sword before. "Sh-zot," Gerrod repeated, and the cool blue glow of the blade faded, leaving nothing but the bright, polished silver of the steel. Gerrod sheathed it as he turned to face Ace.
Gerrod expected Ace to be waiting for him, seeing the body of the unconscious Penfield slump to the floor next to him. Instead, Gerrod found Ace in the throws of another encounter; this time with the big man that had wanted the fight to continue. He, too, attacked with a sword, and though he was large and powerful, Ace proved quick and skilled with his comfortable piece of wood.
One swing came in high, crushing into the side of the man's thigh. While this kept him struggling to keep his feet, Ace followed through with a lunge that sent the end of the solid tree limb into the man's groin. This doubled him over. As soon as he bent over, Gerrod knew Ace was almost done. One more powerful swing came down on the top of his head, and the tall man tumbled on top of Penfield, sword clattering to the floor.
Ace picked up the edge
d weapon and looked around threateningly. "No more." There were none that would challenge him and his wicked tree limb. He paid a man and his friend some money, and they willingly carried off the two unconscious fighters.
"I'm truly impressed, my friend!" Gerrod patted the old dwarf on the back. They both enjoyed the rest of the peaceful evening. Come closing time, Gerrod took his private room upstairs. He knew he would sleep well.
While he didn't forget Mika, by morning he decided that being here at the 'Pub made it okay.
It was a couple of nights later when another member of Wefpub arrived. The winds had turned even colder, a sure sign that winter was well on its way. The door of the inn blew open, and a figure, wrapped in a black velvet robe from head to foot, strode in. Even though it had been years since he had last seen her, Gerrod recognized her immediately. She always made for an impressive entrance. Corinna had arrived for Reunion.
It was late and the 'Pub was empty, except for a few leftover patrons. These drunken survivors would end up sleeping on the floor of the common room before the night was through.
Corinna had an urgency to her as she made her way directly to the bar. A bar maiden was busy there, drying mugs and cleaning up from the evening's activity. The young girl was new, and didn't recognize Corinna, who was apparently asking for Ace.
Since Ace wasn't available, gone to bed in preparation for the early morn-meal, the barmaid pointed toward Gerrod as an alternative. Corinna spun around quickly, her steady gaze hitting him like a poisoned arrow shot from beneath the cowl of her black robe. It was the first time he had seen her face since she entered the 'Pub, but he knew it well even without seeing it. The softness of her fair, rounded cheeks, her dark eyes set deep in secretive sockets, soft, full lips. That face was etched upon his tears.
Gerrod knew his presence had surprised her. She neither anticipated his being there nor did she see him when she came rushing in. Though it didn't happen often, Corinna hated being surprised; but as always, she recovered quickly.
Gerrod nodded slowly and smiled an amused smile. It pleased her to see him, but the surprise hadn't amused her. She immediately strode over to his table in the corner with the same, deliberate pace she had entered with. She didn't take time to thank the lowly barmaid who, with a shrug of her shoulders, returned to drying her mugs.
Corinna lowered the hood on her black robe, and her dark brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders. It framed her face and accented the deepness of her dark brown eyes. A man could lose himself in those dark caverns, Gerrod warned himself.
He stood to greet her, and she met his outstretched hand with a surprisingly affectionate hug. While he wasn't exactly sure how they'd left matters the last time they were together, he didn't remember it being this good.
However, he could tell by the desperation in the strength of the embrace that she just needed someone to hold. That embrace would have been Ace's, had he have been there. Gerrod smiled, thinking of how Ace would have reacted. He didn't usually enjoy that much affection, but he would have forgiven her, being upset as she clearly was.
Even though Corinna was a strong woman, the abundant folds of the velvety soft robe that always protected her softened the embrace. It was like hugging a kitten. The familiar perfume of her spell components shot Gerrod back through time to a yesterday when they were lovers. The warmth of her presence flowed through him, and threatened to wash him away to a better time.
But this wasn't that time, and right now she needed a friend, not a lover. Ace would have been better at this.
"Hello, Corinna," he greeted her at last. It sounded stupid, but like always, he never knew what to say to her.
She squeezed tighter in response. He could tell she was glad to have someone there. "Tell me, what's going on?" he invited.
Corinna answered his question with a hard, passion-filled kiss. Gerrod wasn't expecting it, and it caught him short of breath. The passion it delivered burned down his throat like Ace's strong whiskey, and planted itself in his cold heart. It was a familiar passion, a smoldering ember of days gone by.
She continued to embrace him, almost afraid to let go. He could feel her shivering under the thick robe. Something frightened her; and Corinna was never frightened. As vulnerable as he had ever seen her, she never lost her cool control over any situation. It was clear that what ever it was that was bothering her, she had lost all control over it. It was that loss of control that frightened him.
Gerrod asked her if she'd like a drink, but she refused with a shake of her head. Tears streamed down, staining her cheeks. Her arms, wrapped tightly around his shoulder and waist, did not tire or weaken. If anything, she tightened her hold and pulled him closer into her.
Try as he might, he couldn't keep this contact from arousing feelings inside him. This was the passion he had missed for far too long, and he hesitated to let it go. He was afraid it would escape him again.
But Corinna just needed someone to hold onto right now -- not as a lover, but as a strong friend to lean on. She needed the clear-headed guidance of someone who would not lose control. But Gerrod never had any control in matters that concerned Corinna. She was vulnerable, and she needed someone who wouldn't take advantage of that vulnerability. She needed Ace.
"It's late. Let's get some sleep," Gerrod suggested. "Ace will be here in the morning."
"I can't sleep," she confessed, starting to weep again. "I haven't been able to sleep for weeks. I need you to hold me."
"I can't, Corinna. I can't just --"
"Please, Gerrod. Make me feel all right. I just need to know everything's okay."
"Everything's okay, Corinna. You're safe. You're at Wefpub." He didn't know what to say, how to comfort her. He didn't even know what was wrong. Her body shook with great, heaving sobs. She made no effort to control her crying, and while he guessed that was good, he became aware of the attention they gathered from those left in the common room. Even the barmaid had stopped her duties to study them. "Let's go up to my room," he urged her. "We can talk there. You can tell me all about it."
"I don't want to talk about it," she forced out between sobs. "I just want to hold you. Please, Gerrod," she begged, "Just hold me. Hold me tight."
"Alright. Okay," he comforted her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. It felt nice; too nice. "Maybe my room isn't such a good idea anyway. I couldn't be held responsible for what might happen," he said only half-jokingly.
But even that was too much. He realized only too late that he had given life to his greatest fear, his biggest weakness.
"Make love with me, Gerrod. Like we used to," she offered. "You always knew how to make me feel good. As long as we're together, I'll know everything's okay."
"No, it wouldn't be right," Gerrod declined with all of his self-control.
"But we could make it all right," she insisted. "Please, I want to be with you. If it happens, it happens."
"But I don't want it to happen; not this way."
She planted another passionate, desperate kiss on his lips, and that sealed their fates.
She needed Ace, but Ace wasn't there. Damn that Ace! Gerrod wanted to be her friend, to comfort her like Ace would have, but it seemed making love was the only way they'd ever found comfort together. 'Damned me,' Gerrod cursed.
"I just want to be with you," she continued.
It suddenly dawned on him. "But you have to sleep -- your magic."
"Sh-," she warned as if hiding a secret from herself. "It's been so long now, one more night doesn't matter. Nothing matters."
She was crying even as he took her in his arms. He did still love her. He damned himself again because he loved her too much to just be her friend. He knew what would happen, and he knew he'd hate himself because he'd let it happen.
Gerrod lifted her in his strong arms and carried her up the stairs.
Chapter 3
Unholy Alliances<
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