“That is quite enough, sirrah! You have both insulted this fine enterprise with your cruel innuendo, and assaulted my person both! You shall leave immediately, as I have already cried for the guards!”
Malek turned to glare at the suddenly trembling scribe he had thoughtlessly moved out of his way but moments ago, before feeling a steely grip upon his arm, catching the icy gaze of his leader, a glare upon him so potent Malek had to resist the urge to whimper.
“That will be enough, whelp. You are coming with me, now!” Refusing to hear his protestations, Morlekai dragged a suddenly docile Malek away from the milling crowd about the Hall, Malek well able to smell the anxiety and discord his declarations and intrusion had caused.
An endless amount of time later they were free of the crowded market and port areas of the grand city, ascending an elevated walkway leading to a plateau well above the teeming masses of the lower city, soon entering a fine plaza constructed of highly polished stone, a number of well cared for ornamental evergreens at its heart serving to accentuate the beauty of the plaza entire, with stately buildings of finely polished white stone on all sides. Malek was certain the boulevard ahead led to the fine homes of Riskordia's most prosperous citizens, any number of stately manors to be seen cresting the ever ascending hill.
If any of the finely dressed rapier wielding gentlemen attending what appeared to be a grand theater with their fashionably attired lady friends in tow saw anything amiss about the oddly dressed party of adventures, they were either too polite or too wise to say a word, even when Morlekai jerked Malek around, gazing at their youngest member with fury and disappointment both.
"Enlighten me, Malek. What insane bit of madness got into your skull sufficient to risk us all being kicked out of the city before final preparations could be made? You put our whole enterprise at risk!”
Malek felt himself wilt under his leader’s glare.
“It was the dream I had,” he began meekly, only at that moment aware of how stupid that sounded.
"Yes, you had a dream. I understand that! Was that sufficient reason to antagonize the head chapter of a consortium our nation has seen fit to formalize treaties with, as if it were its own sovereign state? To terrify the entire crowd of applicants with vague predictions of doom?" He shook his head. "The only shred of sense you had even shown was stripping off your blade first. Heaven only knows what would have happened if you had strolled among them wearing that thing!"
“Morlekai.” A gentle reproof, carefully said.
“I don’t want to hear it, Alacabar. I know damn well that the bloodbath on the docks was due to his obsession with his dreams, and it is only by Delver’s luck that he actually stumbled upon a band of slavers! Gods forbid if they had been throwing sacks of grain and not sack covered children upon their ship, and our mad hound here didn’t stop to think before unsheathing his blade!”
“But it was her, I know it was!” Malek hated how petulant his voice sounded.
Morlekai’s eyes flashed. “So. You actually saw the girl carefully embraced in her mother’s arms. A terrified mother at that. Did she look like she had been caged in a ship like a slave? No. She did not. She looked pale and tired, as if she had been seasick. For all you know, you caught a flash of her suffering sea sickness in the dark last night, and she was crying for her mother who was right there.”
Lucienda nodded. “Precisely. And perhaps it was fate pulling your strings. Had you not had a vision of the girl’s seasickness, you would not have thought to look for trouble in Barlton, and would never have stumbled upon that slaver’s ring. In other words, my dear pup, fate was using you for her own purposes, and nobly done, by the way. But now it is time to make peace with your nightmares and focus on the task before us.”
With that she handed Malek back his sheathed blade, though it took him some moments before hands trembling with humiliation could strap it securely to his back once more.
Morlekai held Malek’s gaze. “I take it there will be no more flights of madness while we are in Riskordia?”
Malek flinched, turning away from his leader's glare. “Fine. No flights of madness, as you say. But I still feel like something’s wrong.”
Morlekai sighed. “I’m off for the great library. Lucienda, attend to me as well. You know what we seek. Alacabar? See to the spring Delvers. Keep them out of trouble, if at all possible.”
Malek grimaced, well aware that Morlekai's humiliation was deliberate, lumping him and Latif together. He supposed it was little more than he deserved, however, focusing his attention on his straps and laces until Morlekai was out of sight.
Alacabar chuckled. "Fret not over Morlekai, pup. You'll feel much better after we get some food in our bellies, and perhaps some companionship to soothe passions stoked hot with the adventure to come!"
Latif flushed. “I am quite happy in that regard, friend Alacabar. Though some dinner would not go unappreciated. Ever since we got off the ship, my belly has been feeling a great deal better, and my appetite as well!”
Alacabar nodded approvingly. "Come then, lads. It's off to good food, companionship, and a good night's sleep. Our companions will be cross-referencing the final pieces of the puzzle, and we shall be fresh and ready for the final stage of our journey tomorrow."
Knowing Alacabar was doing his best to make peace and smooth ruffled feathers, Malek acquiesced, and was happy to find that his friend's knowledge of the best taverns and eateries extended even here, enjoying a sumptuous repast of succulent roast, stuffed cabbages, and apple pies topped with cinnamon and clotted cream, a feast fit for any noble. All washed down with apple cider and ice cold ale. Malek smiled at last, allowing himself to fall into an easy reverie as Alacabar and a mildly tipsy Latif began critiquing the many fine serving lasses working within the grand inn they had settled upon for their feast, finding that their tastes ran much the same, though Latif forbore to actually try the wares, so to speak, even as Alacabar caught a receptive pair of bright green eyes and a blushing smile, allowing himself to be led up to the largest room the inn had, rented when first they entered.
Malek allowed himself to relax and drift with the gentle patter of the bard’s melodic voice as he wove tales of legend and wonder, bringing to life ancient Riskordian heroes with stories of virtue and glory that brought a gentle smile to Malek's lips. A smile the bard returned, bold and brassy as any lass.
“But how will Morlekai know where to meet us?” A puzzled Latif had asked, pulling Malek out of his gentle reverie.
"Trust us, he'll know." Cryptic words he allowed Latif to puzzle over even as they enjoyed their fare, till at last an exhausted Latif made it clear that wondrous bard's tales or no, he too felt the need to retire upstairs, for all that it was sleep's gentle caress and no other that compelled him.
Malek nodded. “Come, then. Alacabar’s had his fun and is turning in, the serving girl now gone and happy for our friend’s generosity.”
Latif gave a puzzled shake of his head. “Yes, but how do you know all that?”
Malek shrugged. “Don’t know. Just do. How exactly do we do half the things we are capable of, after Delving through Shadow for any length of time?”
A wry chuckle. “Good point.”
Malek spared a final forlorn smile for the bard wrapped up in regaling the attentive patrons with his tale, flipping a silver coin that flashed rather prettily through the air into the young man's hat left out for tips, earning a brilliant smile from the handsome young man spinning such eloquent tales. Malek dipped his head, in appreciation and apology both. For all that he would love a dalliance, he felt the pressure of what was to come, and knew he needed to be ready.
And shortly thereafter Malek allowed himself to sink into the lightest of dozes upon freshly turned beds, linens crisp and white. Only the best for noble guests willing to pay top coin. Soon Latif's tired chatter turned into the susurrations of true sleep, Morlekai and Lucienda returning somewhat later, drifting off after engaging in soft passion, loosely wrapped in
each other's arms.
Malek alone was half conscious, allowing his mind only the shallowest dip in the sea of nod, so light a rest he was fully aware of his friends even as he quietly lay, quickly pulling himself up from his doze into full crystalline alertness. His friends were now all deep in sleep. It was time for him to do what he must.
Already wearing his shirt of mail under his cloak, he took time only to quietly slip on his deadly blade, red magics gently kissing the door handle so the inn would ring with screams, should anyone attempt to enter before he returned. His friends would not be caught unawares, at least, no matter what transpired.
With nary a look at the few late night patrons in the tavern hall who turned as he quietly made is way down the steps to the main floor, he was out the main entrance and quickly making his way through Riskordia’s fine upper city, donning armored muffin cap and mail lined gloves as he did so. Discrete in attire save for his eldritch blade strapped upon his back, he was sufficiently protected now for anything save full pitched battle. Despite the tension he felt, he allowed himself to enjoy the view, admiring the fountains and carefully maintained parks he found himself winding his way through, knowing it would help him blend in as a late night reveler.
He found himself distracted by the sounds of song and revelry from the various quality establishments that catered to the young lords and dandies inhabiting this part of the city, their uniformly worn rapiers an odd contrast, Malek thought, to the delicate silken attire that hugged their forms as tightly as a courtesan’s dress. Strange they weren't feeling the same bite of winter that Erovering was, though he recalled the ship's captain saying something about warm currents caressing seaward Riskordia this time of year. A mini spring before winter began once more, regular as clockwork, just one of the many peculiarities that supposedly made the nation such a fascinating place to visit. Malek couldn’t help flashing a bemused smile at several of the more gregarious dandies among their number, uniformly blond locks oiled and beribboned, cheeks flush with rouge, one even being so bold as to catch Malek’s eye with a speculative smile of his own.
In another place and time, Malek would have been more than happy to buy the young man and his comrades a round, share jest and laughter and perhaps even more, as they would discover together what sweet fruits the night would reveal. He grimaced, realizing how utterly that innocent part of him had been consumed by a far darker whole. A being fierce and terrible enough to survive the horrors of deepest Shadow, the wounds of his bitter heart.
And perhaps there had been some hint of his darker self peering outward from his gaze. For the young man suddenly paled, his inviting smile morphing to a startled apprehension. An apologetic grimace, quickly turning to drunken friends and pointing to a likely looking eatery full of rowdy good cheer back the way they had come.
Malek sighed, adjusting his custom harness. Of course, it could have been the great big Zweihander blade radiating dark menace he currently had strapped upon his back, he thought. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of exposing his heart to any more pain than it had already suffered.
Brushing away lingering regrets, Malek made his way steadily down towards the lower city until he was once more before the founding branch of Lilithon Montid textiles once more.
Malek was no fool, even if he did sometimes give his friends cause to think it, when his fury and passions got the better of him. He did his best to be discrete, concealing himself within a shadowy nook between two prosperous looking merchant houses across the now empty plaza that had been home to so many scores of hopeful applicants and apprentices, but a handful of hours before.
Finely attuned ears heard not the slightest trace of unrest or discord, though more than a few of the stained glass windows had lights flickering from oil lamps within. He smelled no whiff of terror, had no sense that tragedy was somehow unfolding right under his nose. Yet he still felt a sense of unease, as if he bore witness to a trap soon to be strung, a killing ground in the making.
But there was nothing amiss. It was quiet as the grave. Malek shook his head, grinning sheepishly at his own folly. Perhaps his friends were right. An overactive zeal due to a guilty conscience; the marvelous luck that was a Delver's curse leading him on a windy path to catch slavers in the very act, the incident at Barlton fortuitous coincidence, and perhaps nothing more. Maybe Morlekai was right. The child from his visions could well have been in distress from nothing more sinister than simple illness, seasick in her mother's arms through the night, in distress but safe in the care of someone who loved her.
Troubled dreams and a troubled conscience, regrets he still had yet to come to terms with, all churning a flash of worry into something dark and brooding, imagining monsters in the dark, when the creature he really feared gazed back at him every time he looked in a mirror.
Shadows and remnants of guilt for a tragedy that had haunted him for years, a horror committed by his own folly. He shuddered in that instant to recall a pair of pain-filled eyes in a face once of such serene beauty, gazing at him with such despair it was almost as if he could read her mind, sense the horror of what she intended, and was still unable to save her from the terrible act of remorse that once committed could never be undone. Malek shuddered, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his roiling stomach prepared to heave, the hot taste of bile burning his tongue.
No! He would not think those thoughts. He would not let her face burn through his soul with such an epiphany of sorrow and regret as to leave him screaming endlessly in the damnation of his own self-loathing. He lurched and shuddered, fighting back the urge to vomit as he slammed terrible doors shut within the most hideous crevices of his own mind, locking, sealing, voiding a memory too horrific to bear, even now.
Footsteps approaching. Low voices slurred with drink punctuated with sharp bursts of laughter. Malek immediately blinked open his eyes, snapping his mind into the here and now, fearing he had almost slipped away into some horrid nightmare.
He could feel his heart hammering within his chest, taking slow deep breaths, utterly confused as to the source of his terror. Not even wanting to think about it. Focus. On the here and now.
Several tipsy sailors enjoying the view of the now empty plaza strolled past, heedless of Malek's darkened alcove as they discussed the merits of various doxies whose services they would soon be embracing. Malek waited for their footsteps to fade away before leaving his alcove, having had enough with stealth, instead choosing to move about with the comfortable familiarity of a man well used to the area and completely in his element despite the hour, taking what for all appearances was no more than a casual stroll about the plaza, never mind the hour. A patrolling guardsman paid the well-dressed man of means Malek had long ago mastered the demeanor of only the politest of nods, Malek finding it easy to project an aura of authority, being trained as an officer and noble-born himself. And if his massive blade inspired a second nervous glance, the guardsman was wise enough to say nothing as Malek strolled by him, not even looking his way.
He was like a dog worrying an old bone with no marrow left to give, he admitted at last, having spent a good hour alternating from the most discrete of investigations to the most casual of meandering strolls. His senses were heightened to a state of exquisite alertness, and he sensed nothing, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Looking for threats where there were none to be found.
Accepting at last that it was his own heavy heart that had spurned him on this fool's journey, Malek made his way back to his rather comfortable lodgings in the upper quarter, looking forward to a good night's rest, having done all he could to placate old ghosts that haunted him still.
42
“Well boy, how do you feel? You slept like the dead. No tossing and turning for a change.”
Malek cracked a fierce yawn, blinking in the brilliant shafts of colored light caressing his sheets from the stained glass window. Morning at last, and refreshed as he had felt in days, despite the late hour he had finally turned in. “I feel pretty go
od, Alacabar,” Malek acknowledged with a thoughtful smile. “No dreams at all, that I remember.”
Lucienda, wrapped in silken sheets and resting indulgently within the powerful arms of Morlekai, gave him an approving smile. “I am glad to hear that, dear Malek. Perhaps it was good that you had a chance to see that hall firsthand, and see for yourself that the child you had so feared for, and nobly so, was hale and healthy in her mother’s arms, distressed by a recent bout of seasickness and nothing worse than that.”
Morlekai also gave a considering nod. “Perhaps it was for the best, for all that I regret your lack of discretion. I would have your heart be at peace, pup, and ready for the grand adventure that awaits us.”
Malek smiled. “Believe me, no one is happier to have a good night’s rest free of foreboding dreams than myself!”
Alacabar nodded in approval before turning his great shaggy head to their door. “Ah! I do believe our young Latif has returned with our repast.”
Malek turned to see the still sleepy looking young healer bringing in a vast tray filled with tasty looking platters of fried eggs, sausage, ham, and cheese wedges, with plenty of soft fresh baked bread to sop up all the juices, and a good flask of cider to wash it all down with. Malek's belly rumbled at the sight as Latif effortlessly put down the tray. A Delver's strength was already present within their newest companion, for all that he would be the first to admit his experience and power was by far the least of their number. Of course, even the greenest of Delvers soon developed that gift, the very essence of dream and Shadow seeming to infuse their bodies with a vitality few mortals could ever hope to match.
“How are you feeling, friend Malek?” Latif’s friendly blue eyes met Malek's own and he had to turn away, so smitten he felt gazing upon the young man’s almost delicate features, wanting to carefully brush and braid the sweet blond curls into some semblance of order.
A sensual smile hinting at such sweet promises, captivating eyes that seemed to caress Malek with their tender observation, the sweet innocence that seemed to radiate out of him entire. Like a beautiful light shimmering within the dark recesses of Malek’s soul.
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