Malek felt the blood rush to his cheeks, deeply touched by the kind words. Locking his gaze with her own, he gently placed a small purse in her hands, refusing her protest.
“Malek, you have already gifted me with coin sufficient to keep my children in food and clothes for years, even if the Guild’s offers turned to dross.”
Malek’s gaze turned solemn. “I gave you silver, Anja. And glad I am that carefully spent, it will ease your way for many seasons. But you and your daughters deserve more than that. So much more.”
Anja shuddered, face turning pale when she peered inside the purse. Malek gently gripped her, afraid she'd faint. "Gold! By the lords, Malek! Why? Why would you do us such a grace?" She blinked back tears as she pulled out a several of the brilliantly burnished coins shining a warm golden hue in the lamplight. Her tear-filled gaze touched Malek's heart as she hugged him fiercely. "I could love you, you know. For what you have done for my family. Being such a hero to us. Asking nothing in return, like some ancient paladin that actually cared about a desperate woman searching for her child... By the gods, Malek, I have no words for the gratitude I feel for you!"
She locked gazes with him then, gently drawing him in for a kiss. Fierce, heartfelt. Malek was stunned. Heart racing. He did not pull away. She sighed as she broke the kiss, gently resting her head against her chest. “I wish I understood you better, beautiful one. You are like an angel. Sweet. Beautiful. Beyond human passions and needs. I hope you will forgive me for kissing you.”
Malek sighed, gently stroking her hair. "Several seasons past, my lover was taken from me."
His words were whisper quiet, Anja suddenly stiffening, Malek soothing her with his gentle hug, looking for the words. “He was murdered. By his own father. Whose hatred was so bitter he tried to drive his own son to suicide. And when that didn’t work, he murdered his own flesh and blood.” Malek shuddered. “I cannot even bear to imagine the nightmare that was for my Jacob. To be hated and reviled by one’s own father. I doubt he even had the strength to ward off his father’s blows, save in final desperation, so shattered that his own sire despised him that much; to be murdered by the one who should have fought for him!
“A monstrous thing,” Anja whispered. “I am so sorry, dear Malek. So terribly, terribly sorry.”
Malek’s smile was a haunted thing. “I killed him, you know.” His eyes blazed. “I ran to his house. Beheld the jackals and sycophants pretending to mourn my lover’s death, all cronies of my father. Not a single one of them cared for my Jacob. Not a damn one! And there they were, pretending to grieve. Pretending to mourn. When I knew damn well, damn well! That had any of those sycophants witnessed what had occurred, they would have turned a blind eye, even helped to hide all trace of horrors committed. For favors. For promises. To treat my lover’s life so cheaply!”
Malek turned then, shaking, afraid to let Anja see the terrible rage roaring through him at that moment. His words, when they came, were a choked, guttural growl.
“I killed Lord Trepass.”
Anja gasped at the words. Speechless. Malek could sense her heart racing. Which was good. Good she feared him. He was a monster, after all, and far better she not love him. What a horrible mistake that would be. “I plunged my terrible blade deep into his flesh even as he screamed. I showed him no mercy. I let him suffer on the point. And those guards who dared try to stop me? I killed them as well.”
Malek felt his face crack into a mad grin. For all that, he kept his back to Anja and his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the girls with the horror of what he truly was. “And when I caught the terrified gazes of those sycophants with their crocodile tears at my lover's funeral? I swear to you Anja, had the man I would follow to Hell itself not chosen that hour of that day to reveal himself to me? To take me on as his Hound, to Delve and embrace the fierce joy and darkest madness of Shadow, to forget all the foul corruption of the surface realm? I would have killed them, Anja. I would have killed them all. I would have reveled in their horrified screams, their blood-soaked deaths, as I butchered each and every one of those sycophants, along with any guardsman who dared to defend them!"
Malek shuddered, sickened by his own dark declaration, at how close he had come to becoming a monster in truth.
"So you see, dearest Anja, I am far more a monster than I ever was a saint. And perhaps helping your little ones, saving those children, giving you all hope? Perhaps that redeems my soul in some small way. Or perhaps not. What I do know is that seeing the gaze of a young child shown love and succor gives me some solace, at least, even as I go forth into Shadow once more. Perhaps never to return."
Malek nodded at his own words. "Bring the gold to the Guildhall tomorrow. They shall keep it safe within their bank. Draw upon it at need. May you and your little ones always be well." He turned then, sad bitter smile meeting the shocked gaze of the woman across from him, her own eyes strangely indecipherable to Malek. "Let Lucile and Jacey know that they are loved, if you care to, and perhaps it's best that I not return, now that you know exactly what I am."
With that Malek quickly left the humble little home, dashing back to the Guildhall as fast as his powerful form could take him, refusing to look back even once, knowing it would be best if Anja forgot about him forever.
His sleep that night was restless and ragged, haunted by nameless regret and the fear of terrible nightmares plaguing him the moment he closed his eyes. Politely he refused the half drunken offers to soothe his wild spirit as made by one of the smiling doe-eyed beauties heaped about Alacabar's massive sleeping frame when Malek lurched to panicked wakefulness a second time, giving the girl the smallest shake of the head and urging her back to sleep.
For a brief moment Malek smiled, imagining what the Lords Council would have thought about what really goes on behind Guild doors; his whole band of brethren sleeping in adjoining beds in one massive luxuriously appointed bedroom, drunken revelry and orgies of the flesh being part and parcel to those who risked their lives exploring the wonder and terror of the Dreamrealms till the final sleep eventually came for them, modesty being one item quickly burned away in the furious cauldron of Shadow.
For some reason it suited him, that they were as much a pack as they were friends loyal and true. Only Latif slept separately, of course; new to their fold, journeying once and once only, loyal to his wife and with enough on his plate than to be burdened quite yet with the eccentricities of Delvers, for all that he was one himself.
Everyone understood his reasons for retiring early and alone, no one daring to judge. And if Latif had gleaned the understanding that perhaps the extremely vital Alacabar had once known his wife during her time at the Guild, both of them were too courteous to bring the matter up. Delvers falling in love with their favored doxies was not at all unheard of, and Malek would not be at all surprised if any number of girls held the secret hope that a man's love for her would transcend an evening's pleasure and perhaps turn into something real and beautiful; for as sweet a life as a pampered Guild girl had compared to the desperate straits Malek knew only too well was the plight of so many families like Anja's own, the profession all but excluded any hope of love and marriage, save with Delvers themselves, or other Guild employees who understood and accepted the way of life in the Guild.
Malek chuckled softly to himself and closed his eyes in sudden embarrassment, the lithe young woman who had offered him her companionship was now giving him a very curious look and blushing as well. Malek wondered how much he was feeling was written plain on his face. The poor girl was asking if he wanted a good time, not for his pity. He grimaced in apology before rolling over and trying to force himself to sleep once more. When eventually he felt soft arms gently slip around him, a warm body next to his, he smiled softly but did not object, only giving the girl’s hand a soft squeeze. Comfort, nothing more. Affection for a troubled soul, also not uncommon for a Delver, slipping at last into sleep.
Blackness. A rocking ship. The stink of feces and terror. The whimp
ers of children. A girl crying softly for her mother. Malek clawed frantically for the surface, knowing somehow he must do so gently, even as the drowning wolf fought desperately for air.
40
"Malek! Bloody hells. Don't crush the poor girl, wake up!"
A breathless gasp. Eyes squinting against the sharp light of dawn. A shuddering exhalation. Alacabar’s concerned gaze even as he gently helped up a shaking woman gazing at Malek with a mixture of pity and terror.
“By Shadow you don’t sleep easily, do you Malek? Scared poor Amy here half to death! Could have crushed the dear, had you thrashed about any harder.”
Malek flushed. “My apologies, Amy.”
The girl gave him a tentative smile. “That is quite all right, Del Malek. I could tell your heart was troubled, which is why I sought to ease you to slumber like I would my baby sister when I lived at home. I should have known you would thrash, 'tis my own silly fault for falling asleep as well.”
“Thank you, Amy. Thank you for your tender clasp. I think it did help, a little,” Malek said softly, earning a pleased smile from the young woman, tousled blond hair and tired eyes not detracting from her beauty so much as letting him see the real person underneath. Beautiful in heart and body both.
Alacabar enfolded Amy in his powerful arms, squeezing her as carefully as he would a figurine of glass. “There’s my girl. You’re a sweetheart, dear Amy, and good for a restless soul.” The broad-shouldered bear of a man gave her an almost paternal kiss on her forehead, discretely handing her coins that flashed with silver.
“My lord, you know that isn’t necessary,” Amy protested with a teasing smile.
“I know, dear one. Send it off to your family. We have a habit of looking out for each other’s kin here. Consider it my thanks for soothing my pup here.”
A sensual smile and a soft kiss on Alacabar's crimson bristled cheek. "'Twas a pleasure to look after both of you fine men," Amy teased with a wink before flouncing out of their quarters, showing off her lithe figure to full effect even as she did so.
“Quit your grinning, boy, and get your gear together. The boat leaves an hour after first light.”
Malek smiled but did has he was bid, stretching but a moment and refreshing himself with a carafe of fresh water before donning padding and armor, Alacabar and Malek both checking each other's fittings and straps, their exotic scaled armaments shimmering darkest crimson once more.
“A good cleaning we gave it, pup. And I see you oiled your sword harness as well. Good man. Come, don the silk cloak, easy enough to snap the brooch free if needed, but we give the mundanes less a fright with our hellish armaments covered so. Morlekai and Lucienda proceed us, having made certain our young healer doesn’t find his feet hampered by last minute regrets. To the dining hall, and then we are off!”
A tasty platter of eggs, sausage, and fresh buttered bread soon found their way to Malek’s gullet, tasty fare just perfect for a voyage about to be embarked upon, Malek thought with a happy grin even as an ever elegantly attired Gregorian made himself welcome to their table with a polite nod.
"Alacabar. Malek. Greetings and good tidings to you both. I understand your band is about to embark on the next chapter of your grand adventure." His gentle knowing grin invited confidences. Alacabar answered with a warm chuckle.
"We are indeed, Guildmaster," Alacabar enthused. "Here's to hoping it is profitable, filled with the gold and jewels of lost empires forever captured in the brilliant final memories of time lost to man."
Malek nodded. “To capture that glory. To gaze upon the glimmering white coliseums, aqueducts, and vast domed buildings of those mythical cities; their vaulted ceilings filled with the treasures and wonders of a lost era. Angels above, that would be a tale worthy of the bards.”
Gregorian smiled approvingly. “Such would indeed be a wondrous venture, my friends, and here’s to hoping to a successful resolution, wherever the Fates lead you in your journey through dreams and Shadow.”
“Thank you, Guildmaster, as always, for your patronage of the Delvers under your roof.” Alacabar lifted his great cup of mead in toast, he and Malek drinking deep even as their host raised his hands in gentle protest.
“I am but the steward of this fine chapter hall, my brave Midnight Delvers. It is I who thank you for bringing glory and recognition to our Guildhall. Of course, I won’t deny the humble hope that any wondrous prizes you find in your journey you will allow this hall to conduct the auctions regarding. But whichever hall you use, just know that your Guild, and indeed all of Erovering, thanks you for your loyalty and devotion to our mutual cause.”
His voice lowered ever so slightly, engaging smile still in place. “And of course, should you find a truly notable wonder like that most magnificent prize your party had managed to retrieve but months ago, to the great delight of Guild and king as well, I can all but promise you that the Royal House would not be at all opposed to providing a most exquisite remuneration for any prizes of a similar exotic nature. Do not be afraid to come to me, however odd or eccentric a device you should happen to encounter in Shadow. I can all but promise you that such treasures shall be received with open arms and a most generous purse!”
Alacabar turned to Malek and winked theatrically. “This is why I like our Guildmaster at this hall. He’s not afraid to come right out and say it. Gold near without limit for exotic trinkets, and the finest doxies and fare to be found anywhere!”
All three shared a genial chuckle, Malek hoping the others couldn’t tell his smile was slightly strained. He suspected that Alacabar was both playing the man and half serious, happy to sell Gregorian any interesting wonders they discovered, save of course the prize Morlekai sought with such fervent dedication, the wondrous horn that, just perhaps, might resonate with the majesty and beauty of an artifact of truly heavenly origins. The very thought left Malek breathless.
If Gregorian sensed anything amiss he gave no clue, even being so gracious as to do them the courtesy of escorting them personally to the grand front entrance, an honor that did not go unnoticed by the wondering patrons of the dining hall, wishing them a safe journey and hoping they all returned hale and hearty with tales of adventure and wonder to share with the bards.
Malek couldn’t help grinning in satisfaction as they made their way towards the docks, both excited at the prospect of new adventure, and comforted by the knowledge that he had performed at least one truly good deed while he was here, for all that he had spilled blood in the process. He turned his gaze in the direction he knew Anja's home to be, sighing forlornly before turning his gaze firmly ahead, excited about the prospect of adventure to come.
Every day, a new horizon. Every journey, a fresh chance to experience the wonder and majesty of worlds lost to Shadow and dream, years or centuries before.
"It is invigorating, is it not, lad? A beautiful morning blessed with the cry of gulls and the smell of the sea as the wind blows upriver, and a new adventure with endless possibilities before us!"
Malek nodded in happy agreement. “It always feels good starting off on a fresh journey. Like we are somehow born anew, our past a distant echo, the future a glorious dream waiting for us to explore its mysteries, to embrace its beauty, and forge a story worthy of song and wonder.”
Alacabar gave a firm nod. “Exactly, good Malek. This is what makes life worth living!”
“Agreed. There is no way I could spend the next thirty years cramped on a farm, doing the same endless tasks, haunted by the same endless dreams.” Malek shuddered at the thought, earning a wicked grin from his companion.
"Sorry lad. For you, it would be at least a century, if not two."
Malek blinked, his friend chuckling and slapping his back with sufficient force as to leave even Malek breathless, nearby townsfolk gazing about in surprise at the sharp crack, then quickly turning their heads and looking away. It was Delver business. No one was so foolish as to interfere with that, not even with a chance stare that might unwittingly cause those
mercurial warriors grave offense.
"Face it, boy. If you've the grit to Delve to the depths that our band does, to swim and glory in that insane madness that strangles lesser Delvers to nothing, then you share our burdens as well. We Delved deep, Malek. Beyond what any adventurer has dared since the earliest tales, in our mad quest to seize that Orb." Alacabar gave a fierce nod. "Maximilian, one of the first, the greatest among us, embraced his wyrd for centuries. And centuries you too shall be burdened with, should you survive your adventuring days. Not a mere handful of years."
Malek gazed at his suddenly solemn companion, filled with a sick sudden sense of dread. "Midnight Delvers... bloody hells. Alacabar, I have to ask. Did we have... another with us, not that long ago? I can't seem to recall, but just for a second there..."
An uncharacteristically solemn Alacabar nodded. "I am sorry to say we did, lad. Jason was a good sort, with a ready wit and a cheerful smile, and if not as powerful as us, quick and deadly with his blade nonetheless." He sighed. "Unfortunately, his luck and wit were insufficient to save him from the crushing weight of the last living nightmare we Delved within, deep and black with a foul potency that shames me even to think of how we roared and seethed with the glory of it. A dream of madness closer to Purgatory than Dawn, I fear. Yet we reveled in the frenzy of it, the sheer joy of cleaving through our enemies left and right, moving as fast as thought, butchering everything in our path, even as our poor friend screamed and died, crushed to oblivion by the hideous weight of Shadow pressing against him, the very same darkness whispering such sweet promises of power as we devoured eldritch abominations rich with the potency we so dearly crave."
The very thought sent shivers of horror down Malek's spine. Seeing flashes of a beautiful golden-haired man he realized he had once known so well, a man he had laughed and drunk with, happy to welcome into their band, and into his bed. Jason.
Malek shook with dread, suddenly overwhelmed by those final awful moments. His poor, poor Jason, so excited about being a part of their search for that cursed music box. The sharp anxiety they had all felt, when a steady decent into ever darker dream turned into a sheer plummet.
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