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“Wake up, boy. Our friends have returned.” Malek blinked, gasped, looking into a fearsome countenance full of glaring eyes and crimson beard, before the world came abruptly back into focus.
“Morlekai’s back?” Malek asked, blinking away the sleep even as a grinning Alacabar gave an affirming nod.
“Indeed he is, lad. And the man does not look too happy, I can tell you that for certain!”
Malek felt his heart skip a beat.
“No, it's not you, boy, interesting as your own adventures here in town have been. I think it has to do with his own mission not going quite as planned.”
Malek nodded solemnly, dressing himself in comfortable linens with but a single shirt of mail underneath and heading down in his friend’s stead, feeling the crackling intensity of Morlekai’s barely pent fury even as he seated himself in the fine dining hall. Malek could tell that he was not the only one to sense it, catching the subdued tones and apprehensive gazes of more than one tableful of guests who looked their way before quickly returning to their meals, eating the normally savored exquisite fare of the Guildhall with inordinate haste, and Malek couldn't blame them.
Morlekai's tightly pressed lips and icy glare sent shivers down Malek's spine. He heard the abrupt crack of splintering wood, saw the furious bunching of Morlekai's powerful shoulder. Quick reflexes alone kept tankards from spilling over as all their plates jolted at once. Lucienda's frightened glance was the most alarming thing of all. Few things phased their siren, for few men's tempers were so beyond the purview of her soothing gift.
Alacabar was, of course, completely unfazed, catching Morlekai's fearsome expression with a wry look of his own. "Shall we all go out for a run, then?"
A cold nod. “Change into your gear, and bring what you need.”
An order. Not a request. All their normal banter put aside, Malek and Alacabar changed into their armor and padding, each giving the other an experienced once-over to make sure all was firmly strapped and fitting. "Ah, our fearsome leader looks to be in a fine temper, he does! My recommendation, lad, is don't say a thing about anything ‘lest he asks. 'Tis better we see what twisted path he has for us to follow, since even a fool could tell things have not gone according to plan."
Malek ventured a grin. “Even I could sense that much. And don’t worry. I don’t always see eye to eye with him as much as I respect him, but I have no desire to cross him when he is feeling like this.”
Alacabar gave a wry chuckle, clapping Malek firmly on the shoulder. “Good lad! Who knows? At this rate you might just survive the day. Come. Seal our door with your dread magics, and let’s be off. The road awaits.”
Malek nodded, and with time only for a hastily grabbed and swallowed pitcher of chilled milk, all four were off once more, their ground eating pace easily outstripping any horse or pony upon the snow-packed road where few riders would dare more than a sedate trot.
A flurry of ice crystals brilliantly sparkling about them, Malek couldn’t help but luxuriate in the sheer joy of his legs pounding through the snow, endless energy pouring through him, the fatigue and bruises of the day before gone as if they had never been, a long forgotten dream. He exulted in the stark beauty of the frozen land, leafless trees thrusting bared branches towards the brilliant white sky above, evergreens completely covered by fresh snow, a vast horizon of whiteness in all directions save the walled town they had left.
Malek inhaled the bitterly cold air and grinned, feeling as alive and happy as any wolf on the prowl. No matter the twists and turns of their journey, they always pushed forward, ever seeking their prey.
Morlekai's voice was curt and clipped as he spoke. His meeting had most definitely not gone as planned.
“Our old friend received a Guild Summons he dared not refuse, and on the very night we had finally caught up to the bastard.”
Alacabar laughed, relishing in the run as much as Malek. "Well, bloody hells! Isn't that convenient? Did our vaunted healer say the nature of this summons? I thought you three went way back."
“We do,” Lucienda assured. “He was pale as a sheet. Said he dared not refuse, nor did he give the name of the Guildmaster who had summoned him, if Guildmaster it had indeed been.” Her voice was almost pitying. “We did press him, Alacabar. And I tell you, he was once as eager for the game as we are, though it has been years since he last explored the Shadowlands at our side.” For some moments they all ran in reflective silence before Lucienda spoke again. “I wonder if there was any summons at all. I think perhaps our old friend fears to return to that place of terror and wonder that has claimed so many of our souls.”
Alacabar nodded. "And there's the rub, no? This Delve would be unlike any other! But we dare not tell him the nature of what we do till we have him firmly on our side, which will not happen, since he fears embracing sweet madness once more!"
Lucienda laughed bitterly. "That is the irony, dear Alacabar. He is the strongest healer ever to walk the Shadowlands, exactly what we need to sound the Horn, and his eyes, windows to his soul, radiated fear the whole time we spoke."
For some reason this revelation troubled Malek. It seemed just too convenient, the last key to solving their hard sought prize denied them. It was hard not to suspect deliberate interference, though how their enemies would have even known how close they were to their prize, or even if they had any enemies at all, Malek couldn’t say.
“It doesn’t end here.” Morlekai’s voice was as chill as the winter day. “We will not be stopped. We will not be put off. The bloody Fates themselves will not sway us from our goal. The horn will be ours!”
Malek shivered despite himself. There was a coldness, a darkness to their leader’s tone that made Malek wonder just how far the man was willing to go. He was dreadfully certain that if pushed hard enough, their leader had no limits. No limits at all in what he was prepared to do for that horn.
Alacabar chuckled. “Well, I would like to think that we are running across the countryside for more than just midwinter exercise! I take it we have a plan?”
“We do,” Lucienda assured. “We are acquainted with a certain spring Delver with gifts in the healing arts. We knew him once, and for a time, he was quite taken by us. Before we judged him ready to Delve by our side, however, he had been claimed by that curse that affects so many Spring Delvers, and he was lost to us, or so we thought.”
Malek blinked. “He was affected by a curse?”
Lucienda nodded. "Yes, dear Malek. For Spring Delvers are still firmly a part of the circle of life as you know it, not quite so lost to the madness as we are, and are able to slip back into the natural rhythm of life once more, breaking free of the desperate hungers far easier than those who have fully embraced their gifts as a Delver."
Malek frowned. "Natural rhythm of life?"
"The boy fell in love!" Alacabar's chuckle was full of bemused mirth. "Alvar his name was, no? Fell in love with one of the Guild wenches, if I recall. She had a fair head on her shoulders, could make you smile with the pleasure of her wit, as well as with the curves of her body. Not a foolish girl, that. Good pairing for a boy still green, trying to pull himself free of the Delver's curse. It's a bloody profitable curse we embrace, though, so even a few quests would have earned the boy enough gold to set up a shop or farm of his own, with plenty to spare."
Alacabar gave a sad shake of his head. “And that’s the rub. For so many of us, by the time we have the wealth we risked our necks for in the first place, it’s too late. We crave the adventure, the wonder and mystery that is a Delver's sweet doom as much as we do the gold that inevitably comes with it.” Alacabar laughed, and Malek couldn't help grinning in turn, feeling much as did his friend. To dance with death upon the edge of oblivion, in the deepest reaches of dream and nightmare, was a heady rush like no other, an exhilaration beyond compare.
Alacabar nodded in approval. "It is the glory, the sheer thrill of pitting our powers against the wonders of Shadow that lets us feel as if we truly
live! You know as well as I do, young Malek, that too long in the realm of day with no foray into night's wonder leaves all bland and dull. Color is muted, food loses flavor, and lovers lose their thrill. We are bereft of the joy we once felt in embracing each new day, it all flowing into an endless monotony. A life pointless, flavorless, and dull. So of course we go back. Endlessly. Till we are claimed at last. The wealth just lets us keep score."
Malek nodded, knowing already that he was well and truly lost to the Delver's cravings, hungry even now to taste the madness and wonder that was the opium-laden bliss of the Dreamrealms. One day he was sure to lose himself so completely that he would never return. And so long as he had his friends by his side, he was okay with that. He would accept whatever life sent his way.
They would stand as one, or fall as one. And that was enough for him.
“And now we are going to entice him with one final venture, and gold enough to assure that neither he nor his wife need ever worry for coin again, no matter how their livelihood fares,” Lucienda said.
Morlekai grunted. “We’ll make the boy rich, and he will hardly feel the pull of Regio at all. For we go in a direction unlike any we have traveled before. At right angles to Heaven itself, then home once more.”
Alacabar nodded. “A fair trade, that. If we can tempt the lad.”
“And you will be so gracious as to not bring up the girl’s past, Alacabar,” Lucienda cautioned.
Alacabar looked almost hurt. "Lucienda! I'm a boor, not an ass. No wench has ever shed tears at my name, and I've never shamed them living their daily lives in public. When have I ever disparaged any man or woman? Me? With all the bloodstains upon my soul? The hell I would!"
The siren nodded once, mollified. “Very good. Still, perhaps it would be best if you hung back a bit, seeing as you and the girl have a history.”
Malek grinned at his friend’s reddened cheeks. “And that’s one reason why I don’t mind saying no to the doxies. You never know when one of them is going to marry your friend, and then what do you say?”
Lucienda's laugh was melodious even as Malek gave his companion a friendly pound on his shoulder, Alacabar agreeing to wait by the stables while the other three trudged up the path to as fine a home as a farmer could ask for, made of stone and carefully treated hardwood, windows of actual stained glass, and a slate roof so skillfully made that the snow slid off effortlessly, leaving the tiles to glimmer in the winter sun, the stately home surrounded by fields that Malek had no doubt were fertile lands indeed, and what looked like the start of what might one day be an impressive apple orchard. Malek had spent sufficient summers with Jess on her family estates to easily recognize the trees, even snow covered first years that one could only hope would survive the cruel winter.
A gentle knock upon the sturdy front door and Lucienda’s smiling face positioned to be the first thing the curious servitor saw upon opening it, quickly calling for the lady of the house, as guests had arrived.
A comfortably dressed young woman then came to greet them all before her expression went from welcoming to alarmed in the breadth of but a second, as she sensed the nature of her guests. Malek, however, had seen in that brief moment the captivating warmth and beauty of her tender smile, and understood at once how a man could fall in love deeply enough to break free of the seductive lure of living dream. He found himself suddenly longing for a man or woman with such a heavenly smile to hold him tight, promise him their heart, and run away with him, leaving the world's cares and worries far behind.
Malek blinked and shook his head, hoping the young woman would forgive them for what they were going to do.
“Adventurers.”
In that one word Malek sensed a well of despair emanating from the girl that made him cringe.
Lucienda gave a gentle nod, her smile as warm and welcoming as any man or woman could possibly desire. “Yes, indeed we are, dear. And we were hoping we might intrude upon your hospitality. May we come in?”
The girl squeezed her eyes shut, shaking ever so slightly, before bowing her head as if in defeat. “Yes. Come in, by all means. But please know, whatever it is you are doing, my husband is retired.”
It was then Malek heard the wail of a small child.
"My daughter." The young woman smiled, despite her anxiety. "She is teething and needs her mother's thumbs to nibble on. Allow me to see to her, and I shall attend to you all shortly." She turned toward the servitor faithfully at her side. "Gerd, would you be so kind as to escort our guests to the dining room and tell our cook to prepare them refreshments?"
“Of course, my lady. Come this way, honored Delvers.” The servant then lead them past the foyer to a well-appointed dining room with a fine polished hardwood table and matching chairs, as elegantly constructed as the Guildhall’s own.
"If you will wait but a moment, I shall see to your refreshments." With a nod from Morlekai the man quickly made his exit, Malek and his companions taking in the finely appointed room accoutered with beeswax candles upon polished silver candelabras, elegant portraits and landscapes lining the walls, cabinets full of well-polished silverware, and furniture all made out of finest hardwood, their feet treading silently upon plush woolen rugs.
“Our young friend does appear to like the finer things in life,” Lucienda noted with an approving nod.
“And such things do have a cost. Silver runs out faster than a man might think, if one lives beyond one’s means.” Morlekai’s tone was quiet, but Malek could sense what was being hinted at beneath the words. The young healer had family and servitors that depended upon him, and most farms were not so profitable so as to allow for such ostentatious wealth, unless he was very skilled, very lucky, or living on reserves. And a man with a taste for the finer things could always do with a fresh purse of gold, that precious metal allowing him and his family to live in quiet comfort for years, profitable farm or no.
Malek grimaced, understanding the undercurrent of his companions' thoughts, just as they gazed coolly at him in turn, sensing his distaste.
A single raised eyebrow from Morlekai, and Malek instinctively lowered his head.
“He’s free.”
It was all Malek needed to say, Lucienda placing a comforting hand upon his brow, her gaze gentle. Understanding.
"We know, dear Malek," Lucienda soothed. "And if all goes well, we will only see the glory of the gentlest path through Regio, to behold a wonder so precious it will lighten all our souls. He will have a treasured memory that will bring him closer to salvation, not farther, and coin enough so that his little girl and her future siblings can look forward to a life of comfort, no matter what the tides of fortune have in store for her family's farm."
Malek grimaced but nodded, deferring to their plan, for all that part of him was saddened that this Spring adventurer who had managed to escape the deadly game all Delvers played, with a fine estate and a woman to love him no less, was about to be sucked right back in. A part of Malek honestly hoped that the healer would be able to resist, however much they needed him.
Gerd, obviously the general manservant about the house, soon presented them with a carafe of winter cider, most welcome, as well as a tray of cheese, bread, and preserved meats. "Please make yourselves comfortable, lords and lady. The master of the house will be with you shortly."
The young healer was accompanied by a still worried looking Nadia, babe in her arms, when he came to greet them. Malek was struck by the gentle features of a lad no older than himself, even as he greeted them all with a welcoming smile, hair the same cornsilk blond as Jessica's once was and had become again, eyes the same piercing shade of blue. The young healer was strikingly handsome, no doubt of the same northern stock as the Calenbry clan. Malek could understand right away how the youth had managed to steal his wife's heart.
Malek looked away, unable to face the young healer's warm blue eyes, filled with a serenity and wisdom only to be found in those who devoted their lives to easing the burdens and pains of others. Such a c
ontrast to Malek's own savage and bloody past. He felt oddly unworthy of this gentle man even at that moment bidding them all a warm welcome, greeting Malek's companions as old friends.
“Lucienda! Morlekai! You both look as magnificent as I remember. To what do I owe the pleasure of having Delvers of such renown breaking their fast upon my humble doorstep?”
“Greetings, Latif. And thank you for allowing us to sup with you in your fine dining hall.” Morlekai gazed upon the room anew, giving a nod of approval. “Well constructed and well cared for. Only the finest quality craftsmen and furniture for your home, I see. As it should be.”
Latif's smile was free of guile, pleased to have the approval of those he obviously held in high esteem, even as his wife's soft lips pressed into a tight frown, her jaded gaze measuring their each and every word as she instinctively comforted her mewing child, kissing her babe lightly upon her head, soothing her.
"I thank you, Del Morlekai. You are right. Only the finest craftsmen and construction for my wife and child." He gazed fondly at the well-appointed room. "It took time, planning, and perhaps a bit of coin, but in the end, it was a worthy investment in our future."
“And I commend you on having the forethought to purchase acreage on some of the most fertile lands in the kingdom, Del Latif,” Lucienda said. “May it bloom and prosper under your care.”
Latif grinned, though her use of the honorific was not lost on Nadia, her free hand snaking into her husband’s, giving his a protective squeeze. Marking him as her own, Malek couldn’t help but think.
"Indeed, this tract is part of the famous blackbelt. Some of the finest soil in Erovering. Used to be part of an ancient forest, I'm told. And with that in mind, I thought it would be a most excellent place to set up a fruit orchard of my own."
Gods of Shadow and Flame Page 41