“Ah, Hammerhelm, you’ve returned,” the clerk said with a glance of mild interest. He consulted the ledger for a moment. “One corpse and two next of kin?”
“Aye. Tannerson’s widow and son.”
“I see.” The clerk, known as Edmond, flipped through the tome and squinted at a page until he found what he was looking for. He nodded and rang a bell on his desk.
A moment later, two men wearing long gray smocks came through the door. Without a word, they relieved Waresh of Tannerson’s corpse and dragged the mother and child through the door. The child began to cry just before the door slammed shut, muffling the sounds.
Waresh sighed. “One more retrieval down.”
“Indeed. I see here you have two hundred and three more to go. Or twenty years. Keep up the good work, and you’ll be a free man again in no time.” Edmond reached down to a small lockbox and counted out some coins. He plunked ten silvers down on the desk.
“Ten silvers? That’s all?”
“Tannerson was small fry. Perhaps your next mark will be worth more.” Edmond favored him with a condescending smile before turning back to his ledger. “See you soon, Hammerhelm.”
“Right. Good evening.” Waresh pocketed his pay and turned away. He didn’t want to ponder the fate of the woman and her son. Misery for a widow and her child for the measly price of ten silvers. That should be enough to get good and drunk. And then find someone to keep warm with for the night.
***
Waresh’s vision tinged red, and his ragged breath puffed loudly in his ears. The smoke filling the halls made his eyes water, and his lungs tightened in his chest. Somewhere, a bass drum was beating furiously, or perhaps that was his heartbeat. He stalked down the corridor, adrenaline racing and Heartsbane in one hand, dripping blood. Rounding a corner, he faced two of the remaining household guards posted outside a door, standing between him and his quarry. The fire raging in the stronghold’s great hall occupied the majority of the remaining guard force whom he hadn’t already slain.
“Waresh, ye’re a filthy damned traitor,” one of the dwarven guards growled, neglecting his title. He spat on the floor. “May Reiktir curse yer line for all time.”
Waresh advanced, the words barely registering in his ears over the pounding drumbeats urging him on to kill. Energy radiated from Heartsbane’s haft, through his clenched fists, and up his powerful arms, bestowing a sensation of intoxicating invincibility. Concentrating on the axe gave him a focal point of calm in the mad, swirling maelstrom of the evening.
The two guards came at him in tandem, axes and shields raised. They were elite guards but still no match for Waresh’s wrath. Heartsbane lashed out, preternaturally fast, and knocked aside the first guard’s axe. Waresh drove a shoulder into the guard’s chest, throwing him off balance. The second guard struck him a solid blow to the back. His mail caved in, and the blade bit into the muscle, but he felt nothing save the need to cut the guards down with Heartsbane.
He shrugged off the blow and followed up on the first guard, the backswing of Heartsbane knocking his opponent’s shield wide. The axe cleaved through the dwarf’s elbow like a hot knife through tallow. The guard screamed, eyes wide as blood pumped from his stump, the shield clattering to the floor, the forearm and hand still attached. Heartsbane caved in his helm, silencing him forever.
Waresh sensed the second guard moving to attack him again from behind. He spun, his elbow connecting with the guard’s raised forearm and disrupting his attack. With a wordless cry, Waresh hacked deep into his opponent’s breastplate, his enchanted axe cleaving through the fine dwarven plate as if it was brittle orcish iron. The guard gurgled, axe falling from his nerveless fingers as Waresh removed his head.
The beating drums slowed their cadence, and Waresh took a deep breath. He could feel the dull ache in his back, but Heartsbane’s pull was stronger, drawing his attention back to the closed door and the protective runes on it.
Waresh raised Heartsbane overhead and brought it down on the door with the yell of an enraged madman.
***
Waresh shuddered, and his eyes flew open. After a moment, he recognized the silks draped around the room and familiar incense burning in a brazier. Those damned nightmares never leave me a moment’s peace. Reiktir, the dwarven god, had indeed cursed his existence in a fashion. He was bound to continue his crimes by killing and dragging others back to face their own justice.
He let out a deep breath. Heartsbane glinted dully in the corner next to his clothes. Even then, it drew his eye like a siren. He wanted to feel its power flowing through his veins when the mighty weapon was in his hand. He knew the axe twisted his mind when he wielded it, but he was unable to resist its siren call.
“What were you dreaming about, luv?” Estella traced one of the numerous scars on Waresh’s chest. Her dark, curly hair tickled his stomach, drawing his attention back to his companion. The soft candlelight illuminated the whore’s round face and dark eyes.
“Nothing good. I’m here to not dream—ye should know that.” Waresh swept her hair back from her face, admiring the curve of her neck and her full breasts, pressing against his side.
“Aye, sir, I’ll turn those dreams into good ones. As good as your clink is, I can surely do that,” she replied with a grin. Her hand snaked down beneath the sheet and caressed his manhood.
Waresh felt himself getting hard in response. “Enough talk, woman.”
He slipped out from beneath her and pushed her down on the pillows. Estella giggled in response, and then Waresh was on her back, mounting her again. The nightmare slipped away to where it belonged—banished from his thoughts.
Chapter 8
“So what kind of a mage are you, anyway?” Nera was examining Malek’s injured shoulder. She had insisted he strip to the waist so she could inspect the wounds.
“Not a very good one, obviously.” Malek winced as Nera poured some type of spirit over the ragged gashes in his shoulder.
She wasn’t very tender but seemed competent at treating his wounds. “I’ll say. Why didn’t you burn them to a crisp or something?”
Malek shrugged. “They were on me before I could focus, I guess,” he lied. He could’ve done much more, but the draw of enough power to do what he needed to would’ve alerted the powers of Nexus, which would’ve been very bad. “What’s with the collar?” He nodded at the crudely hewn rune-inscribed collar around Nera’s slender neck. “It was glowing and sparking in the alley.”
Nera glanced at him with narrowed eyes. She finished slathering some foul-smelling cream on his puncture wounds and bandaged his shoulder. “It’s a restraint, courtesy of the Nexus Magistrate. It prevents me from leaving, using weapons, and the like. I could’ve torn those three oafs new arseholes had I been carrying my daggers.”
“You did a fair enough job without them. How’d you manage to take that one down with the knife?”
“Gotta be quick, which it just so happens I am. I flung it before the collar caught me. My hands are still tingling a bit from the shock.” She frowned and looked down at her hands, holding her fingers outstretched.
“Well, it was a hell of a throw. Thanks again. I owe you one.”
“Aye, well… you looked like a damned helpless puppy or something. I couldn’t leave you to get slaughtered when you’d barely been here more than a few hours.” Nera looked away but seemed pleased at the compliment.
Malek grinned. “But I’m still gonna need my stuff back.”
Nera threw her hands up in the air in what he took to be mock outrage. “Very well. Save your sorry arse and don’t get a lousy copper in return. We’ll see how quickly I move next time you are neck deep in shite, which I expect will be in a few hours once I kick you out.” She mumbled something about “ninety-eight more years.”
“I never said I wouldn’t give you a reward or compensate you for your hospitality. I just need that ring and the majority of my coin.”
Nera’s face brightened at his mention of compensation.
She reluctantly tossed him the ring and coin purse. “Fine.”
“Thanks.” Malek yawned. “Why don’t we figure out a worthy sum in the morning? I’m sore all over from that beating. I think I’d better catch some sleep.” He looked around the tiny room for a clear spot to lie down.
Nera rummaged in a beat-up cabinet and tossed him a musty blanket. “Take your choice of floor space, luv.”
Malek looked around the dusty floor and shrugged. He sat down in front of the tiny fireplace and wrapped the blanket over his shoulders.
Nera pulled a wobbly chair over and sat beside him. She pushed a couple of half-burnt logs back into the fireplace along with some tinder. She took a flask from a cabinet and poured a small amount of what smelled like lantern oil on the wood, then she lit it with a spark of her flint and steel. Cheery flames quickly warmed the chilly hovel.
Opening the cloth sack she had been carrying before the skirmish in the alley, Nera removed a turkey leg with a bite out of it, a loaf of bread, and a small bottle of wine. She stuck the wine on a small cooking rack in the fireplace to warm it.
Glancing at Malek, she sighed. “I suppose I should feed you, too. You can have some bread, but I get the turkey and wine.” She tore the loaf in halves and tossed one to Malek.
He thanked her, and she grunted in reply but didn’t seem to be up for further conversation. After gnawing on the turkey leg for a few minutes, she retrieved the wine bottle from the fire. Malek winced as she plucked it directly from the flames, expecting her to get burned, but she seemed unfazed.
Malek finished his bread and drank from his waterskin. He curled up in the blanket near the warmth of the tiny fireplace. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what Nera’s story was and how she’d come to be wearing that collar, an item with a very strong magical essence.
***
Nera watched Malek sleeping in front of the embers fading in the fireplace. He snored softly. Even curled up in her blankets on her hard pallet of a bed, the room still retained a chill.
She finished the last of the mulled wine and made her way over to the fireplace, carefully stepping over the sleeping mage. She placed another log on the embers. Wood was expensive since it had to be imported from the other planes. Some few trees grew in Nexus, but they were mostly twisted things and weren’t legal to be cut down for firewood. Besides, fools often burned the wrong type of wood and ended up poisoning themselves with the noxious smoke. Nera didn’t mind the cost too much. That was the one luxury she allowed herself. She was a creature of fire and disliked the cold with a vengeance. On occasion, she had even slept in the crew quarters at the foundry when she was too tired to return home after a long shift.
Malek muttered something and tossed and turned. He rolled over, and his forehead bumped against Nera’s bare ankle. She eased her leg away, and the mage shifted again, trying to get comfortable.
What the hell am I doing helping him? She returned to her pallet and curled up under the covers again. There’s something intriguing about him… some dark secret he’s hiding, I’d wager. I know he’s more than he seems.
Nera turned over in her bed and pulled the covers up under her chin. Outside her hovel, the sounds of the slums were a reassuring presence. Somebody sang drunkenly in the distance, and a dog barked nearby. Nera fell asleep, dreaming of shocking the magister with a huge enough bribe that he removed her collar on the spot, freeing her from her sentence.
***
Nera was roused from her slumber by the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Her hand reached for the dagger that was normally under her pillow but came back empty. She threw away her blankets and sat up to see the young mage guiltily look away from her as he sat in her sole chair before the fire.
He was watching me sleep, she thought uneasily.
“Morning,” Malek said casually. “It was getting cold, so I threw a few more logs on the fire.”
A tidy sum’s worth of clink was burning in the fireplace, but at least Nera didn’t have to wake up to a cold hovel, which was a nice change. She straightened her nightgown, which had ridden up to midthigh, and quickly wrapped herself in a blanket. Without much success, she tried to smooth out her unruly hair.
“Ah, the green mageling. I had hoped you were just a bad dream,” she grumbled as she sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s morning—out you go. I’ve got to be off to the foundry.”
“Fair enough,” Malek replied without argument. He rose to his feet, and she noted he was wearing fresh robes, his gear already packed up. “Thank you again, Nera.”
“Aye, well I did my good deed for the year. Mayhap fate will smile on me for a change.” Nera frowned at her dirty leathers lying at the foot of her pallet. She pulled a clean set from her dresser. “What will you do now?”
“Keep searching for my master. What else should I do?”
Nera shrugged but didn’t reply.
“At least now I’ll know better than to trust a pretty woman who offers to help me out before even buying her a drink first.”
Nera looked over guiltily to find Malek grinning at her. She scoffed. “Well, you’re wiser than yesterday, at any rate.” She tried to restrain her own smile.
“Say, um… would you be interested in showing me about the city? Like a guide, perhaps? Obviously, I’m a bit out of my element here. I’ll pay you for your time, of course.”
Nera raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re talkin’ my language, luv. One gold piece per day.” She expected him to haggle at the ridiculous rate.
“Done,” he said instantly. He reached into his purse and withdrew two gold pieces—not Nexus crowns, but they’d do. “For yesterday’s assistance and today’s retainer.”
He’s so green. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help gazing at the captivating golden shimmer of the coins in the firelight. “The first thing you need to learn is to haggle, fool. Now wait outside so I can get dressed. Then I’ll walk with you a ways to the foundry. Not all the way, though. I don’t want anyone I know to see me with a green oaf.”
Malek bowed mockingly. “As you wish, madam,” he said with a grin. He unbolted the door and stepped outside. A cold draft blew in before the door shut.
Nera smiled even as she berated herself for not giving the mage a boot in the arse. What the hell are you getting yourself into, silly wench? she asked herself. But she knew exactly what she was doing—the same she had planned the previous night by robbing Malek in the first place. Mayhap if I milk this job long enough, I’ll get enough clink to get the magister to reduce my sentence after all.
She grabbed the mostly intact logs from the fireplace and patted out the flames. Then she quickly cleaned up, dressed, and joined her new employer outside.
Chapter 9
Idrimel stepped outside the temple to see Athyzon approaching her.
“What news, Sister?” he asked. “Did the priesthood divine the cause of the erratic portal?”
Idrimel shook her head. “The priests and mages cannot agree on what caused it to appear. It would be an unexpected and truly ghastly occurrence if it was somehow opened from the Abyss itself, indicating a stunning shift in the hierarchy, perhaps an alliance with powerful new forces. The likelier explanation is they fear Nexus has been corrupted by some means.”
The two of them walked down a path from the courtyard into the gardens. Idrimel closed her eyes for a moment, committing the beautiful scene to memory. The bright warm rays of sunlight shone on her face from a clear blue sky. Walls of deep-green hedges and a stunning rainbow of flowers surrounded them. Birds chirped merrily, and bees lazily circled their favorite blossoms. The intoxicating flowery scent teased her nostrils. She wanted to remember it all, for the news she was about to deliver disheartened her yet was exciting at the same time.
Athyzon’s face tightened as he evidently sensed unpleasant tidings were coming next. “What is it? What else did they say?”
Idrimel opened her eyes and turned back to her brother with a sigh. “The high priesthood commands that we go
to the Nexus of the Planes to investigate further.”
“Nexus? Us?” Athyzon grimaced. “That is an ill place, Idrimel. Even with the light of Sol in our hearts, it could prove difficult to penetrate the shadows of that realm.”
Idrimel raised her eyebrows. “I thought you might be pleased at a quest. Surely the chance to spread the light will stir your soul?”
“Of course. I was surprised that they would send the two of us, that’s all. This would seem to be more a task for the scholars—the senior priests and mages.” Athyzon smiled at her, but his eyes were troubled. “Will the priesthood send a missive to the court?”
She nodded. “Already in progress—a page was dispatched a short time ago. We are free to be on our way.”
“Very well. Let us attend evening worship and get a good night’s sleep, and we can be on our way in the morning.”
Idrimel was about to agree with Athyzon when a shadow briefly blotted out the sunlight. With a rush of air, a celestial landed a few paces away, feathery wings spread. The being was a messenger of the court, even taller than Athyzon and beautiful to behold, skin seeming to radiate light.
The siblings took a knee before the messenger.
“Greetings, high one. How can we serve?” Idrimel asked. She recognized Marius as the messenger.
In Ellorya, the nobility was composed of full celestials. Those with mixed celestial blood, like Idrimel and Athyzon, were of the warrior and priest class. All others comprised the servant class.
“The highest powers send their best regards,” Marius spoke, his voice deep and resonant. He furled his wings behind his back and gestured for them to rise. “They recognize the critically important nature of your quest and would see you have a blessing to protect you in the dark places you may be required to tread in.” He placed a hand on each of their heads with a benevolent smile. “Go forth in peace, armored in righteousness and unafraid to strike down the forces of the Enemy wherever it tries to smother the light. Spread goodness wherever you may go and take joy in the fact that Sol smiles upon you.”
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