Vandelar turned the Fiend aside, sending him sprawling across the alley. In a flash, Vandelar was on It, sword arcing down to split Its skull. But the Fiend swung up with a tremendous blow, so mighty that it shattered Vandelar’s trusty sword which had served him on many journeys in the Wild. The largest remnant flew across the alley and stuck in the wall, but one of the many other small fragments flew into his face, ripping open his cheek and leaving in his hand a few inches of weakened, jagged steel above the hilt. Vandelar looked at his once keen blade and his bravery wavered. The Fiend felt that fear and that was all It needed, drinking in the terror and strengthening Itself.
It leapt again. This time Vandelar had no blade to deflect It, so he jabbed at the axe wielding wrist, slashing it open. Blood shot out like a geyser from the severed artery and the axe fell with a “clank” to the stones. Without pausing to revel, Vandelar swung the blade up toward the towering midsection, but his wrist was caught by a strong claw-like hand. The Fiend brought Its damaged arm into Vandelar’s stomach, knocking the breath from him, while crushing his sword arm with Its other claw. Vandelar screamed in pain and fell to his knees, dropping his broken sword and simultaneously, with his other hand, reaching for his great knife. Just as he freed the blade, the Fiend smashed Its palm into his face, shooting Its blood all down Vandelar’s front. Stunned, Vandelar never saw the same blow repeated. This time it was so hard that it whipped Vandelar’s head back and snapped his neck. Vandelar, hero of the Wild, was dead before his body came to rest.
When the Fiend turned, It saw a man at the alleyway entrance, a small sword in his hand. “Hey you, stop right there.” The Fiend, with Its keen senses, heard the footsteps of men coming long before the man standing there could have—five men—and It knew by the clank of steel and the heavy boots, that the City Watch approached. It got ready. As the Fiend expected, when the man heard the approach, he was ready to smile in victory, but as he turned back to face the Fiend, It loosed Its knife. The powerful throw sent the knife through the man’s forehead, up to the hilt, and the blade burst out the backside of his skull.
The Fiend turned and sped off. Using window sills, ledges, shutters, cracks, and drainpipes, the Fiend scaled the building as quickly as a man runs upon open ground. It looked down to see the Watch enter the scene. One stopped, vomiting at the sight, two ran to the other end of the alley, one checked the dead man, and the other was busy picking himself up after slipping in the pool of the Fiend’s blood. None of them looked up and It leapt away from roof to roof. The Watch arrived only in time to comfort the woman as her last breath hissed.
On Its way back, the Fiend spotted a female on a rooftop, her thick, light hair, glittering in the bright moonlight. It was about to move in for a better smell, when another female appeared, this one with short bright hair. As a star streaked across the sky they looked Its direction and the Fiend slipped away. Two more were unnecessary, though It greatly desired to take and then kill them. But not that night, so It passed over the rooftops and stole home unseen.
Selric had taken Will home to a cool reception by his father and grandfather, who insisted that he sleep in the servants’ house. Violet, being the soft-hearted angel that she was, said that if Selric wished, Will could sleep wherever Selric decided, in this case, his room, and with but a glance, she convinced the two older men to her desires.
Though Will was accepted into the home, he was not allowed to speak to the men unless spoken to, and he would eat in the kitchen with the highest ranking servants and the personal valets of the other gents, which is what it was assumed Will would become to Selric. Though both Selric and Will fully expected the boy to disappear at any moment, that moment never quite seemed right to the urchin. Will thought it might not hurt to live that well-fed and safe life, before he would return to the joy of total independence.
When Selric was not present, only Violet, and occasionally Mendric, would even speak to him, and only the mother worried if he had been fed or bathed, etc. It was not that the men were ruthless or cold, but the males of a noble Mendenaran family took no part in rearing their own boys until of fighting age, let alone an orphan in training as a valet.
Will refused to sleep in the bed that Selric had moved into his room for him, so Selric secured a mound of cushions, pillows, and blankets and put them near his bed: though it seemed mean and base, as he would do for a pet, it was how Will described his old accommodations and Selric thought he would appreciate such. But when he woke, Selric found that Will had moved the bedding mound into the corner of the room, out of Selric’s direct view.
Selric’s room was at the base of one of the towers in the manor proper. When one entered the door, the room wrapped around in a semi-circle back to the right. Selric’s bed was as far around in the room as it could go, so Will put his bedding near the door. Just outside the room lay a hallway to the main foyer and a staircase up into the tower. There were two other doors in the foyer. One leading into the main room of the manor, the hearth room, and the other entrance was actually two large, heavy double-doors leading out onto the front landing.
For the first week, Will thought seriously of running away, but the fact of having to find a new home, they knew where his old one was, and since he had a warm dry bed where he was, he decided to stay. Selric taught him bits of etiquette, how to dress properly—with clothing Lady Violet had bought personally for him—and other things that someone associating with the upper class needed to know. More importantly, Selric bought Will ‘work’ clothing and a knife: Will had been begging for a sword. The boy had beamed with happiness when he unfolded his new silk shirt and the blade rolled out from inside onto the bed.
After the first trying days, where Selric despised having someone to watch over and thus limit her free-wheeling style of living, Selric began taking Will on his fact finding missions and he proved to be an eager mind and a quick eye. Selric began to think having a helper and a lookout might in fact be quite handy. The two spent much time together and grew reasonably close, needing what each other offered. Selric was protective and sheltering; Will, admiring and eager to please. Selric found that Will proved especially useful at running messages to and from his many paramours. To make him even more useful, Selric began to teach him techniques of stealth, speed, and how to pick a simple lock or the pocket of a passer-by. Selric saw in Will a boy who was learning what he had wanted when he had been young. Will saw in Selric the man he wanted to grow up to be. As time passed, this symbiotic relationship would allow them to read each others actions and facial expressions, and they could relay a great deal of information without saying a word. But that would be discovered in the months to come. Right now they were still getting to know each other and they worked on finding the temple thief.
It took a week-and-a-half of long nights for one of the group to even spot who they thought might possibly be the temple thief. One night as Melissa sat, bow in lap, on a flat warehouse roof within bow shot of three major temples, she saw a short figure in a long cloak leaping across the rooftops.
“Stop,” she yelled. The figure paused, looked her direction, and as quick as a ferret, bolted out of sight. Melissa followed him in her sights and fired, her arrow snapping as it hit the chimney behind which he disappeared. Melissa, a deft and a strong leaper, took off after him, but when she got to where she had last seen him, there was no trace. The next afternoon, at their daily lunch meeting at the Harvest Hearth, Melissa relayed the story. But with no other leads, the group had to keep on with their current plan of spending any free nighttime hours on the rooftops. Their lunch over, Selric, Will, and Dirk went to Master Sellore’s House of Arms. Melissa and Fiona, free of work that day, wanted to relax, and Fiona knew just the place.
She led Melissa and Cinder past Bessemer’s and out the South Gate. They bore right, along the wall, and came to a sandy beach a longbow’s shot from the city. The ocean, calmed by natural off-shore break waters, gently lapped the shore. Cheers and whistles came down from the walls that encircl
ed the city and the girls spied what must have been a dozen guardsmen waving happily. Fiona had her shirt halfway removed, but quickly pulled it back down.
“Come on,” she said, leading on through a large outcropping of rocks to the beach on the other side. The guards booed loudly, and before Cinder stepped behind the rocks, she waved to them, eliciting a hearty cheer. Melissa hurriedly picked Cinder up and carried her down the rough footing, off the rocks to the sand below.
“Stop it,” Melissa said. “They’ll never leave us alone with you taunting them.” Cinder simply smiled. When they had descended to the sand, Fiona, stark naked was already running into the surf.
“A true lady should not be tanned,” Cinder whined.
“I thought you were an elf…or half of one anyway,” Melissa said, shading her eyes as she watched Fiona.
Cinder glared impatiently at Melissa, but said nothing else. She moved instead to find what shade she could against the rocks. Melissa took off her boots, shirt, and pants, leaving her in her half-shirt and underpants, laying out her clothing on the sand so that she could lie atop them. Her skin was naturally tanned and by the time they left that afternoon, she had gotten a warm, golden tan, much like Fiona, who often spent many a day at the beach in the few months the weather permitted.
“I hope nothing happens to her,” Melissa said as she watched Fiona swimming farther away. Soon the priestess turned and waved, calling them out. Melissa rose and went in. “Come on Cinder.”
“No, not me,” she said snobbishly. Melissa shrugged and went in alone. She did not even go half as far as Fiona, soon turning and coming back.
“What is she doing?” Melissa asked with mild frustration, shading her eyes as she stood on the sand gazing out. Though she had keen eyesight, she could barely see Fiona as she neared an island much more than a mile off shore. Cinder sat up and looked to see.
“She’s lying in the shallows of that island and she’s...with a man!?” Cinder said, saying the last part in astonishment.
“Where did he come from?” Melissa asked. Cinder sat back, intrigued, especially about the man, but more concerned with being too hot. Melissa heard Cinder mumbling to herself and when she turned to see, Cinder’s hair had been transformed into a shade of platinum blonde, as light now as it had been dark before. “Is that some of the magic that Fiona was talking about?” Melissa asked. It took Cinder a moment to realize what the farm girl meant. Then, fluffing her hair out, Cinder nodded with a slight smile. When she realized that her discomfort was making her grumpy, she called Melissa over, sighed an elven chant of relaxation and smiled.
“It is cooler, this color,” Cinder said, patting the sand between her legs. She had taken off her shoes and hose and laid them on a stone, burying her feet in the cool sand there in the shade. Melissa knelt between Cinder’s legs and Cinder spun her around so that she was sitting, facing the other way.
Cinder opened her velvet bag containing her necessities and took out her instruments of beauty, brushing and braiding Melissa’s hair to pass the time. Melissa could hear Cinder chanting and mumbling the whole time, she thought maybe it was some strange elven song. Half-an-hour had passed when Cinder threw a long, golden-yellow braid over each of Melissa’s shoulders, and they fell between her legs.
“There,” Cinder said. “Now you look like a northern warrior.” Melissa fondled them.
“I like my own hair,” she thought silently. “You can change it back, can’t you?” Melissa asked aloud, worried.
“Of course,” Cinder answered. “The color is easy as pie. The length I’ll have to cut, but that’s no problem either.” Melissa felt her hair again. It was much softer than before and she admired Cinder’s intentions, if not her work.
Melissa rose and walked down to the beach, her braids bouncing off her buttocks, as Fiona came trudging, panting, back onto shore. But she was smiling.
“Oh, I love your hair!” Fiona said eagerly and seemingly not surprised it had grown two-years worth of length and turned golden while she had been away on her swim.
“Thanks. Who was that?”
“Did you have fun?” Cinder yelled, smiling slyly and batting her fingers at her.
“Ooo, I like yours too. Cinder the Faerie Queen,” Fiona said, alluding to Faeries, like Cinder’s mother, with hair of gold. She looked at Melissa again. “To answer both of you: It was a merman. So, no Cinder. We didn’t have sex...or fun. I know that’s what you meant, you slut,” she said, jokingly. Cinder stuck out her tongue. “What could he do, spawn over me?” She and Cinder laughed again while Melissa looked at them peculiarly. “We were swapping lore,” Fiona then said honestly, as if in afterthought while looking for a place to lie, thinking her friends would not appreciate her love of history and general knowledge. Melissa strained her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the merman, to see if Fiona spoke to truth, sad she had missed sight of him if she spoke truly.
Fiona laid herself in the sun while a slightly bored Melissa practiced with her sword and took one more short swim. Cinder napped in the diminishing shade and walked along the beach briefly, wetting only her legs as the sun reached its zenith and began to sink over the water. Around four bells, the women started back and after entering the gate, they were followed, or escorted, all the way to Cinder’s home by some of those same dozen guardsmen they had seen on the city walls. The soldiers even took the ladies to dinner at a nearby inn, after which they departed quite innocently. The three friends went to Cinder’s afterwards and drank the small keg of wine she had there. At Melissa’s request, Cinder returned her hair to the way it had been and Cinder changed her own as well.
They talked about men, but Melissa hoped the conversation would not turn to Dirk. At first Cinder and Fiona spoke at length about Selric and his charms, so Melissa relaxed and simply listened to her feminine friends talk as women will do. When Cinder suddenly turned the conversation to Melissa, the girl from Stoneheim flushed and felt immediately overwhelmed.
“You and Dirk are so good together,” Cinder said. Melissa looked down and tried to disappear from sight, unsuccessfully, of course
“I know…don’t they?” Fiona gasped, taking Cinder’s hand.
“What is wrong?” Cinder asked.
“Nothing,” Melissa murmured.
“Oh come now…you are with the girls…you can tell us,” Fiona quipped eagerly, bouncing on Cinder’s broad bed, one hand absently stroking the rich black fur. Melissa shook her head, avoiding eye contact.
“Melissa?” Cinder asked and when she touched Melissa’s hand, Melissa felt her head rising, though she thought she was trying to keep her gaze floor-ward. “I have known you briefly, but I care for you…I know we will be deep friends. And Fiona loves you dearly. You can speak your mind,” Cinder said, her voice somehow different, not so flighty and girlish, more suave, eloquent and enchanting: elven, perhaps.
“Don’t…don’t you want Dirk?” Melissa asked softly, looking timidly at Cinder.
“Me?” Cinder asked, seemingly back to her old self. “Dirk is wonderful.”
“Then why would you…” Melissa fell silent.
“Because if you love him and I love him, what is the bother? We aren’t talking about mating.” Melissa blushed heavily, though she could somehow not avert her gaze.
As Cinder waited patiently, Melissa took a breath. “I can’t compete with you. I have never seen women back home—or anywhere—like I have seen here. So pretty. So smart. So girly. The way you all dress and walk and talk. Especially you. Gosh, how could anyone…”
“Compete? It isn’t a competition, honey,” Cinder said, stroking Melissa’s hand and the sensation was so comforting, her eyes so sympathetic and understanding that Melissa nearly wept. “Until you choose your life-mate, there is no reason to horde love…to not share it.”
“That doesn’t sound very human, Cinder,” Fiona tried to say lightly, though her eyes bore a serious stare. Cinder moved her gaze from the farm girl and Melissa once again was able to cast her
eyes down.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Cinder said plainly. “I have much to learn here. But I know I would not want to deny Dirk and Melissa the joy of exploring each other, body and soul.” Melissa rose and moved to one of the windows, both on the main road outside, and when she threw open the shutters the summer sun streamed in as it sank low in the sky and she took a deep breath. “Well I don’t,” Cinder added, as if to reassure Melissa, no longer talking to Fiona. Melissa continued to breathe, her eyes scanning the busy street as the throngs passed by in their daily business, paying her no heed and the obscurity calmed her. She thought of what Cinder said, of Dirk. And while sharing Dirk was better than losing Dirk, Melissa could not clearly discern how she felt about the whole thing.
After an indeterminate amount of thinking and worrying Melissa suddenly realized she was being left alone by her friends. That idea was so foreign—that one or both would not be prodding her to speak or reflect or share—that she spun quickly, thinking they had snuck out of the room. Her eyes shot wide open when she found Cinder and Fiona exchanging a fiery passionate kiss.
“Hey now!” Melissa called out, her confidence returning to her at the shocking scene.
“Told you!” Fiona said, breaking away from Cinder and both of them laughing heartily.
By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) Page 18