The Relikseekers: Life Before Death
A Korst Story by
Robert J. Morrison
From the Journal of Maklelin Highbain
9th Starmont, 6514kt, the Year of the Weeping Oak
What a rare day! When I approached Narris early this morning I had no idea where the following hours would take me. It all started when I entered my study just after sun rise. It was an unusual summer day for I was not the earliest riser in the Black Spire. Narris sat in his chair of choice; he had pulled it over to the room's sole window. He sat as he watched the busy life of Celldonne, entranced by the hustle-bustle of the city beneath totally unaware of my approach, which in itself is a rare thing, almost never could the wily thief be approached and not be alert to the movement. There had to be something of great import on his mind. His face was locked in a look of pure concentration and he mumbled to himself in a low voice. His black shoulder length hair was pulled back into a tight pony-tail, his brows arched as he tapped his chin with one finger.
"Good morn Narris," I said alerting him to my presence, he almost jumped out of his skin.
"By Kkrassk's Black Balls," he swore as he jumped to his feet, in reflex his right hand flashing to the hilt of his crimson short sword, Firebrand, which hung as ever on his belt. "You scared the shit out of me Mak!"
"I apologise if I startled you my friend," I replied in a warm tone, well as warm as my caustic voice can ever be. A smile made its way on to my face as I willed my chair to me. I had over the years placed a great many different enchantments on my faithful seat one of the first had been a tricky dweomer that summoned the chair to my desired location with but a thought. Impressive? No. But useful! "It is not often that I can startle you so, you seemed lost in thought."
"Just thinking is all," he replied with a shrug, his eyes made contact with my lone remaining right eye and the jet black Drala-Orb that filled my left eye socket, and then they flashed away, nervously? It had been decades since I had last seen that look in his deep red eyes.
"There are two major flaws in your last statement. First, I know you far too well to be taken in by such a pathetic answer, what no witty comment or weak pun?" I took a breath as he refused to lock his gaze firmly with mine. "And lastly because you well know the powers that dwell within the Orb." I said tapping my left temple. The Dralo-Orb could indeed read truth from lie, but his statement had not truly been a lie, but I was intrigued by his manner this day and I thought the bluff may loosen his tongue.
"Who are you for me to tell my secrets? Here you are pecking away at me like an old hen, leave me alone will you it is far too early." His words were all bluster, just another attempt to keep me at arm's length.
"It worries me to see you in a state of unease," I replied honestly. Narris is the closest thing I have to family and if something worries him then it worries me as well. I have known him for over a hundred and thirty years; he was alone in the world back then a mere child living alone and by his wits on the harsh streets of Celldonne. I looked up to him in the first few months I knew him, he was a whole five years my senior and he had seen and done so much on and around the Ring Yard and I had done nothing. Together we grew. Together we planned and executed the murder of my own father. Together we had watched them build the Black Spire. Together we had watched the births of Varanee, Morvarl and Dovrarn. Together we had all but conquered the world, and I imagine if we had to together we could accomplish even that.
"Fear not for me Mak," he said as he pulled his small clay pipe from one of his pouches. He filled the bowl with a pinch of smoking weed and turned to me for a light. With a cantrip I lit a small wooden tooth pick that Narris had for these very situations. And from there he took the flame to the bowl and he toked on his pipe, it came bursting to life with a puff of sweet smelling smoke.
"That is all I needed to hear my friend," I said as his last words had proved he had spoken true, the Orb detected no subterfuge. But if he was not worried about him then who was he wary for? Dovrarn? The boy had been quiet since his parents fell, but I assume that is normal. I do not truly understand the ins and outs of family, as I grew up without one. And if not the human boy then who? Me? Curiosity was burning at my brain; I had always detested secrets, well at least secrets that were kept from me anyway.
"What are you doing up at this time of the morning?" I asked attempting to approach the subject from a different angle.
"To you it might be morning, but it's still really late at night for me," he groaned as he rubbed his temples trying to ease the hang over that was laying heavy on his mind.
"Do you not think you are getting a bit old for these late night parties?" At more than a century and a half in age the half-elven Narris Firebrand was getting on in years, almost reaching the later years in his life, he would be considered the equal of the mid-thirties if he lived the life span of a human.
"Hey, you're as only as old as the woman you fe…." His words faded off as he ended the thought unspoken, at last a clue.
"Who is she this time?" She must have been special to get the rogue in this state. He was handsome, far more handsome than I. His ash-grey skin was first viewed with hatred by most people, but often women had found his appearance desirable, many were sniffing around him for a chance to be seen hanging on his arm. In the seedy underworld that Narris dealt in he was considered a lord amongst thieves, his reputation was deadly and well earned. All who walked the streets of Celldonne knew that the rogue solved most of his problems with the enchanted Firebrand.
"You may think you know everything Mak, but this time you are way off field," he replied he quickly followed the statement with three perfectly formed smoke rings that hovered over me and slowly dissipated into the growing cloud that was gathering over our heads.
"Then illuminate me."
"You know sometimes it feels like I'm married," he groaned as he savoured the smooth Balafrean weed.
"It would be much easier on both of us if you just told me now; you know I will not relent until my intrigue has been quenched."
"You need to get out more," Narris quipped as he puffed away on his pipe, adding another pinch to the now ash filled bowl.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? Because you sit in here with that stinky mephit of yours playing with long dead bones! In my experiences of the world that ain't normal."
"Now I am really confused Narris, what has last night got to do with me getting out more?" the words sounded like gibberish to me, I had heard the speech about rotting bones and not going out enough many times from my fellow Relikseekers. What do I need to go out into and among the public for? They are morons and snivelling fools! I go to Qorbach's and get my components and we spend almost six months of every year on the road. I get a great deal of fulfilment from my time spent steeped in my tomes and librams. I do not know why my companions are so intent in getting me to go out; I am not a people person. You would have thought they would have guessed that by all the time I spend with corpses, but for some reason that can not accept it. "Take it slow, start at the beginning and tell me what you are talking about."
"Who knows you better than anyone else on Korst?" The thief began, still puffing away of his pipe. "Me! That's who. So I want you to sit there, shut up and pay attention." Now I know how many apprentices have felt when I have been giving instruction. Not since the death of my father Kyrov Highcliff has anyone talked to me in such a manner, but my body obeyed the command before my brain had a chance to realise what was happening.
"It has been too long since you last went out with us, damn it man even Ral-Lishtyr goes out more often than you and he is a six foot bright red lizard with wings!" Narris tapped out his pipe on the window sill, the ash plummeting to the ground so far below. "As you pointed out we're not getting any younger and before you know it life will be behind us. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"No."
"Damn it why do you always make this such bloody hard work?" He walked over to the drinks cabinet and got his Everflowing Flagon, one of a pair of mugs I had created for Narris and Korvarn Truesteel many years ago. They were wooden tankards, but when you struck the bottom firmly against the tabletop they would fill with a perfectly brewed ale of my own recipe, one which Narris still drank with satisfaction even now after the thousands and thousands of gallons of the stuff that he had drunk over the last hundred years.
"Do you ever think about the future Mak?"
"Rarely," I had never been a great fan of planning out my future. The furthest I ever looked was to the end of our present caper. I have always tried to live for the now, but I must admit that I spend most of my time wallowing in my history and past.
"You may have never looked to your future, but I have."
"And what have you seen there?"
"I see one of two things," he said as he filled his pipe again. This conversation seemed to be making the drow-kin anxious and fidgety it must have been of great importance to him it is very rare for him to smoke so much so quickly. "First, I see you withered, like one of those mummies you have down in the dungeons. I see you alone and miserable, trapped for eternity in some kind of fugue state." I tried to interrupt at this point but he silenced me with a sharp motion of his hand.
"I haven't finished! And secondly I saw your future last night and it was a vision of beauty and grace."
"What? I do not mean to belittle what you say Narris, but how much of that weed have you smoked? You are talking in a riddles, which is usually my role in this partnership."
"You do mean to belittle them and are trying to change the subject in one fell swoop, but I am not gonna let you. I have almost finished so just hold your tongue a while longer." He seemed focused on finishing where ever this was going so I let him continue, possibly just to see where it was going. "What will happen to the Highbain line? Who will have the Spire? As it stands you have no future, nothing. When you pass from this life you will have left nothing, no legacy. But it doesn't have to be that way. I have met someone you need to meet!"
"If Flamekloud trying to persuade me to mate with an Erinyes is not enough, now I have you to put up with too! Wonderful, just what I need."
"Trust me Maklelin, you'll thank me," he smiled for the first time since this conversation had started. Like I had told Flamekloud repeatedly over the past few years, I have no time for the opposite sex. They will just lead me away from my final necromantic goal, the Drala-Lich! But this situation was new to me; my half drow companion had never tried to match me up with anyone in the past, why now?
"Who is she?" I asked, over come with curiosity.
"I couldn't begin to describe her for you; I know not the words elegant enough to help you envision her."
"If she is so wonderful my friend why are you not up her skirt like a ferret?"
"Two reasons really," he replied back in his usual merry tone of voice, the anxiety of the conversation long since passed. "First, she isn't really my cup of tea. And secondly, she'd have my arm off at the elbow and beat me with it."
"You are right; you don't know the words elegant enough to describe her unless she is a half-ogre. And how come she was just the pinnacle of perfection and seconds later merely 'not really your cup of tea'?"
"Because I know you well my some-what warped friend, and I know to you she will be a goddess!" The thief seemed to be getting just a too bit excited by this topic, it actually made my curiosity burn even more intensely, who was this woman?
"When do you want me to meet her? Have her sent for, I will see her here."
"You clod," he sighed, "you don't have any people skills do you? You can't just call her and have her come running. Tonight me, you and Korvarn are going to go down Voltarr's Ale House and together greet your future."
"Voltarr's? That place is an armpit, in fact an armpit infested with lice. What on Korst were you doing in there? Only the most depraved scum frequent such a place."
"You'd be surprised by the things of beauty you can find in a lice infested armpit," he laughed as he finished off his flagon of ale and followed it up with a long deep belch. "Anyway now I have got that out of the way I think it is time for bed. See you in the morning." Narris replaced his flagon on the drinks cabinet and made his way out of the room, as ever without making a sound.
"It is the morning." But my words went unheard as he had slipped off into the darkness. The whole discussion seemed a blur to me now, I can hear the words but I can not feel the passion the drow-kin revealed. I find it hard to believe that it had really been Narris Firebrand I had been talking to. I tried to put it all behind me as I made my way up to my library. I attempted to sink into the pages of Trawquin's Manual of the Walking Dead. But even this long sought after tome could not settle my thoughts. The day seemed long, Flamekloud was off in another dimension harvesting rare herbs, and Dovrarn was at Hurn Blackteeth's learning the finer arts of combat. Ral-Lishtyr, my drala-kin apprentice was so involved in his own studies that I had not seen him in days. So the hours slowly slipped by every minute an agony as visions of the evening flashed through my mind. As Narris had pointed out I am not very able in social situations. Give me magical duels or the wilds of Drala-Frea any day. So I could see the evening turning in to a disaster beyond my control. The drow-kin had also been right on the count that he knew me better than any other being on this or any plane. And his conviction in his belief of my opinion towards this woman was heart felt.
Women. For all the knowledge I possess I know nothing about how to deal with them. My life has been wrapped in death and magic since as long as I can remember. Varanee, god rest her soul, told me once that the death of my mother had tainted my view of women. 'You lost her,' she had said, 'and now you'll not let any other woman get near that heart of yours for fear of losing another.' Was she right? Maybe, I am not sure. I sat trying to think of the past but for a change all I saw were lonely visions of my future.
"Are you nearly ready?" asked Narris as he stuck his head through the door to the library, jolting me from my bleak thoughts.
"Ready for what?" I questioned it seemed like moments ago I had sat down in my library and picked up the tome. I glanced out of the window to see the sun falling below the horizon. The whole sky was a grand illusion, one cast ages ago by the Founders of Celldonne. They had cast the spell at the cost of their lives, a now legendary casting that mimicked the sky of Korst so far above perfectly. The city of Celldonne was beneath the lands of Korst, Celldonne Prime the centre of the city rested in an immense cavern beneath the burning sands of the Celden Desert. And when the city was young it was felt that the lack of sun was detrimental to a full and healthy lifestyle so the Founders solved their problems with the huge magical reflection.
"Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be Mak," Dovrarn Truesteel said from behind the rogue, he towered over the drow-kin standing at a massive six feet and four inches in height. "You've had all day to get yourself ready and we ain't taking no for an answer."
"But it can not be time already?" I gasped, where had the day gone? The day seemed to move like treacle in my mind but the world outside was not waiting for me to catch up. "Damn it all," I snapped, I knew there was no easy escape route from the looming situation. "If we must go just let me get Draco-Splinter first." I was referring to my dragon bone quarter staff, the most powerful weapon I had ever crafted. That got no complaints from the pair Narris would sooner be parted from his arms than the Firebrand. And Dovrarn wore the axe of his ancestors with a youthful pride, strapped to his back; he was the exact likeness of his great grandfather Korvarn, who Narris and I had met in our early youth all those decades ago.
"He makes me feel old," I pointed out to Narris after I had collected my staff and cloak.
"We are old!" Narris replied he was right we are old. It had never really hit home before but Narris and I were of another generation, relics outside of our time. Maybe not in age but in experience we were as old as they come. The long dead Korvarn had fathered Varanee and she had birthed Morvarl. Then Morvarl had fathered Dovrarn and in that time what had Narris and I been doing? Where were our families? I preyed to Kkrassk at that moment, willing all the luck of the gods to me tonight, suddenly I realised how important a night this might be.
"You had better not have made a mistake," I almost growled at Narris, the apprehension turning to fear and from there it was a small step to anger.
"Fear not my wizardly friend, you won't be disappointed," his voice was firm and confident and there was a steely resolve in his eyes. The further we got from the Spire the more my stomach seemed to fill with fire. What a fool I am! I can face the wrath of a fire-spewing wyrm or dispatch demons with my magical prowess, but the thought of social interaction was soul-consuming. Every step seemed to add ten pounds of weight to my shoulders, as we grew nearer to the Ale House it felt as if the weight of the world was dragging me down. A cold chill ran through my body, sending shivers of ice cold fear racing along my spine. Then all of a sudden there it was, Voltarr's Ale House, in all its dilapidated glory. It was a shoddy building constructed of wood mainly, which was a rarity in the subterranean Celldonne. The whole three story building was leaning dangerous to the left; I am surprised that the City Council had not condemned the rank property.
"There she is," Narris said, his words bringing me back to the here and now.
"I still find it hard to believe that you have found my perfect match in this cess pool," the stench of the Ale House struck me like a hammer. The smell of human sweat, vomit and cheap ale hung like a heavy shroud over the place, its rank miasma affecting me before its doors were even open. What was I doing here? What had my friends got me into? That was when I almost turned back for the comfortable privacy of the Black Spire. The urge to leave was amazingly intense, it took all of my considerable willpower to trust in Narris, he would never lead me wrong. Well at least not intentionally anyway.
"It seems strangely quiet for this time of the evening," Dovrarn said, and almost as if in answer to his statement the doors swung violently outward, thrown open by one of Voltarr's two bouncers, a great half –ogre with massive tusks that curled up from his square jaw. In his blood stained hands dangled an unconscious patron. The downed man was thrown up into the air only to crash painfully down against the cold stone floor of Celldonne seconds later. The bouncer just brushed off his hands, nodded and turned back into the smoke filled pub. Whether the discarded patron had made a nuisance of himself or if he had merely been the wrong man at the wrong time I will never know. I stepped over the groaning, writhing man and made my way over to the now open tavern doors.
"We drink only spirits tonight," Narris said, I looked at him for explanation. "If it ain't corked and wax sealed you don't want to buy it from Voltarr," he replied. "Kkrassk only knows what goes into the non-sealed bottles, I dread to think really."
"I hear it said that his ale is brewed by orcs," the young human warrior said, referring to one of the many grim rumours that had been piled on this notorious dive.
"Shit, the stuff Voltarr calls ale would make even an orc sick," Narris pointed out for he was the nightlife specialist of the trio for he spent so much of his time slinking around the dark streets of the city. "In fact I have seen an orc vomiting all over himself in there not three months ago. But worst of all he was the damned chef!"
"So far we can not eat the food and we dare not drink anything in an open container, this really is a bad start to the evening," I complained as we finally entered Voltarr's Ale House. The vile smell of the place was thick and palpable, almost like a warm fog. It left me feeling like I had a layer of grease and sweat on my pristine cloak.
"By the gods," Dovrarn gasped, "this makes Flamekloud smell like a florists." His statement referring to my diabolical familiar, he is a fire mephit a denizen of the smoky plane, the Abyss. His demonic form pumped a sulphuric stream of smoke and gas form various places on his three foot frame. Over the many decades I have grown unaware of Flamekloud's odour, but the young Dovrarn was still at times overcome by the evil aroma.
"I'll find us a table," Narris said just before he disappeared into the smoky haze. I glanced around the Ale House, there were no more than seven customers in the foul place, mostly humans, and it never ceases to amaze me where humans will go for a tankard of ale. I looked down to see the floor was covered in a thick layer of straw, but it appeared old and filthy. You could see places where congealed blood had turned a rusty brown colour and flies and other creepy crawlies feasted upon a variety of pools of days old vomit. My stomach turned at the sight, my faith in Narris swiftly waning. There behind a ramshackle bar that was itself covered in empty tankards and a liberal spreading of grime stood Voltarr, he was a small man in height but his girth was wide with flab and fat. He had the biggest breasts I have ever seen on a man. His head was shiny with sheen of sweat, small patches of greasy hair clung together in clumps, spread out in a weak attempt to hide his obvious baldness.
A familiar whistle sounded from the back left corner of the room, I looked over to see Narris gesturing for me and Dovrarn to join him. The table was tucked up next to the stairs that lead to the rooms above that could be rented out at a set fee an hour, for those in need of somewhere to take their women of loose virtue. As ever the table position allowed Narris to keep his back up against a wall, the thief could never feel safe if he knew he was approachable. When we arrived at the table Narris was already waving to the lone serving girl trying to get her attention. But she either did not notice him or could not be bothered to answer for she made no sign that she was planning to serve us. The rogue's waving continued for the best part of three minutes before his patience finally broke and he made his way over to Voltarr. Upon his return he put a pair of dark glass bottles that were full of a fiery looking spirit on the table between me and the young human fighter.
"I do hate it when you drag me out to places where I can't enjoy and flagon of ale," Dovrarn complained as Narris passed him three shot glasses from one of his innumerable pouches.
"Why the glasses?" I asked.
"Do you really want to drink from anything he has handled?" the drow-kin questioned as he threw a glance at the filthy bartender.
"Fair enough," I could not argue with his logic. "What is this we are drinking?" I queried as Narris poured me a shot of the strong smelling liquor, I have got a particularly low tolerance to the effects of alcohol which may or may not be due to the fact that I rarely drink because of my dislike of being incapable of clear thought. It is most important for a wizard such as myself to have a clear mind at all times, who knows when one of my many enemies will try to strike out against me? And if intoxicated who knows what will happen if I miscast just one spell? I truly dread to think, not for me but for my closest friends those who are in spirit alone, my family.
"Dwarves call it Liquid Fire," he said as he downed his fist shot and was almost instantly refilling his glass. "Drink up Mak." Next to him Dovrarn gasped in satisfaction as the powerful spirit scorched its way down his throat.
"I did not come out here tonight to get inebriated, I thought the goal for this little foray was to meet 'my future'?"
"Goal. Foray. This ain't a bloody mission Mak," the thief laughed, "relax my friend, have a few drinks and let's see where the evening takes us. And anyway you know you never have the courage to talk to the ladies if you haven't had a bit of drink."
"That's a bit harsh, I just need a little bit of alcohol-fuelled inspiration is all," I replied before I downed the shot of Liquid Fire, it was aptly named. The drink left a burning sensation in its wake and almost instantly a warm glow filled my stomach. The taste was foul, it tasted like lantern oil smells. I shook my head as I felt the alcohol strike at my brain like a bolt of lightning. "Damn, that stuff is more than harsh."
"Dwarves make only the finest brews," Dovrarn said, "Hurn makes his own liquor and it is a damn sight better than this stuff."
"That may we very well be true," replied the drow-kin, "but I betcha it doesn't get you half as pissed as quickly as this stuff." The young human conceded that point as his second shot then his third were swiftly downed.
"You two had best drink a little slower if you want this night to last beyond the hour," I thought it best to point this out as I did not fancy having to get the drunken pair home to the Spire later.
"That ain't a problem," Narris said as he had another shot, "with a snort or two of this and I will be back ready to begin getting drunk all over again." He held up a small pouch, it was filled with a chemical known only as Black Friar Powder. It was often used in surgeries to revive unconscious patients; it had a startlingly quick affect upon those under the influence of other narcotics. Sobriety would return to the imbiber within minutes. The pouch looked heavy; he must have spent a small fortune on the expensive drug.
"When is this woman arriving?" I asked as I sipped at my second shot, but I found the taste far too vile to sip and I swallowed the whole lot, once more invoking the involuntary head shaking.
"Could be any when, but don't worry she'll be here she has been here for the past four nights. And I know for fact she hasn't left the city."
"How can you be so sure?" Dovrarn asked in a slightly slurred voice, his cheeks already beginning to show the telltale redness of inebriation.
"Slow down boy," I said.
"I have eyes all over this city," Narris answered to Dovrarn's query. "There isn't much that goes on in this city that I don't know about and that ain't pride or arrogance talking lad its fact."
All of a sudden the doors into the Ale House slammed inwards. A pack of six humans staggered in, obviously already under the influence of a great deal of ale. They were dressed like common sellswords, chain mail and longswords, the uncreative garb of most warriors. Their general appearance was uncared for and unkempt. They made their way to the bar and began ordering in an unnecessarily loud volume. After getting their drinks they took a long look around the Ale House taking in all of their fellow customers before stumbling to a long table across the room from us and slumped down on two benches. Their conversations, which I could quiet clearly hear with out even trying, were crass and juvenile.
"Damn mercs," spat Narris as he lit his pipe from a candle that sat in the centre of our table. "That lot gives companies like ours a bad name, if it was up to me I'd have the whole lot chased from the city." Once again Narris dislike of adventurers stoked his fires of hatred to a higher heat. I still to this day not know why the drow-kin hated these sorts of men with such passion, it seemed to be the only thing he would not talk to me about, it must have been very scarring whatever it was.
"You can't really expect lords and ladies to come strolling in through the doors of Voltarr's Ale House, no this is the realm of the drunken sellsword," I felt the need to point out they we were essentially on these men's turf.
"Do you want me to get rid of them?" Dovrarn asked as he had yet another glass of the potent spirit.
"No one is getting rid of anyone," I stated firmly, I really did not need the city watch looking into my affairs, again. I knew that if there was violence Narris would be swift to draw the Firebrand and that meant corpses. "Now control yourselves or I will end this evening here and now."
"For you Mak, I promise I won't start nothing," I knew the thief was not lying but I also knew that he had many ways of getting them to start the fight for him.
"And Dovrarn I know you are young but really must keep a lid on your temp…" my words trailed off into no where as my eyes fell on the Ale House's newest customer. It must be her, I thought, Narris could not as he had stated earlier in the day, find the words to describe her. The half dozen rowdy drinkers and even Narris and Dovrarn melted out of my focus, both my eyes, be they magical or natural were locked on to her. I watched as she walked the length of the room, her movement was fluid, almost predatory. Her longsword slapped against her long shapely leather clad leg with each step. Her thick mane of black hair slightly swayed as she ordered a bottle of Voltarr's most expensive wine, a bottle of Danavainian Red. Her voice was soft yet powerful, she was confident I could tell from the tone and rightly so if her skills matched her beauty. Her skin was softly tanned from exposure to the sweltering desert sun, but yet it appeared soft and unblemished. Even I a man of words and books could not justly describe her radiance, not even the greatest of writers could come close to managing that feat. Her face would have not looked out of place on an angel, her lips were full and her nose was neither large nor small, but what drew my eye was her gaze. Her eyes, the colour of the desert sky were truly enchanting; I found I could not take my eyes off her as she made her way to a table along the wall no more than ten feet from me and my companions.
"See," I heard Narris say to Dovrarn.
"Damn it and to think I thought this was an easy bet to win," replied the human as he removed a gold piece from his money pouch and flicked it, sending it spinning through the air to the rogue. His lightning quick hand snapped out and collected the glistening coin as it began its descent.
"Look at him," Narris chuckled, "he looks like a school boy, all scared on his first time out with a girl." Dovrarn's laughter soon joined the rogue as continued to poke fun at me, but I could not have cared less, they were inconsequential at this point of time there was only her.
"Mak, close your mouth, you are gaping like a fish," I heard Narris say a few minutes later, my mouth was dry with anxiety my palms sweaty as I turned to respond to the thief.
"I need a drink and while you are at it fill your pipe for me please," my mind was whirling with excitement. Narris was right, but I not only looked like a virginal youth but I felt like one as well. All logic fled my mind as it was replaced with a deep longing to be near the startling woman. I watched from the corner of my eye as she drank, the wine staining her lips deep crimson, shudders almost wracked my frame every time she licked her lips. My gaze began to fall lower as I found myself involuntarily staring at her full bosom; she wore a loose white silk shirt that seemed to cling to her every curve. It was only Narris poking me under the table with his leg that pulled my eyes off her.
"Mak, you're staring again," he said as I glanced over to see what he wanted, he passed me the pipe and pushed me my drink. The Liquid Fire was downed in a flash as I gestured for another. With a few puffs I got the Balafrean weed burning in the clay pipe, the cool soft smoke eased my nervousness even as the liquor built up my confidence. Within minutes I had emptied the bowl and another four glasses of spirit had quickly followed.
"Now it is you that had better slow down, Uncle Mak," Dovrarn laughed, his use of his childhood name for me, Uncle Mak, made me feel old and out of place. What would she a young, for she must have only been in her early twenties, beautiful human woman want with a wizened old relic like me?
"I do not say this often Narris, but I do not know what to do," I said nervously in a quiet voice to the thief. He poured me another drink and moved round the table to sit at my side.
"You have been with women before Mak," he said, "just act natural, be yourself all that crap. But honestly you have nothing to worry about you have a great deal of charm within you buried deep beneath that cool façade of yours. Underneath all of that wizardly paraphernalia lays a decent fellow, let someone in for a change, you might be surprised at the outcome."
"I do not know about this," I almost stammered at the rogue, "I was never any good at this stuff, I will make myself appear as a bumbling fool. Do you know how long it has been since I dealt with a woman? I do not have a clue, but it was an awful long time ago, decades perhaps"
"All she needs to do is to get to know you, you have a good heart Mak always have, behind your callous, arrogant, superior bearing lies something special. You look after us like we were kin, you needn't give us anything but we all owe you so much. Maybe this is how I am meant to pay you back for all the years of friendship? When I saw her I knew she was for you! Go on my friend; break the ice as they say." I looked at her then at Dovrarn who was nodding in agreement with the rogue's words.
"Give me a minute to collect my thoughts," I said as I finished off yet another glass of Liquid Fire. The alcohol seemed to be soothing the worries from my body while the potent weed continued to ease the now ebbing tension from my mind. I knew I would have to do something soon or I may miss the chance. "Right, cross your fingers here I go." As I rose to my feet, my head swam and I had to clutch the side of the table for support, the drink and weed had left me unstable so I took a few seconds to compose myself. The blood was pumping fiercely round my body and I could feel the alcohol with every beat.
"Go get her another bottle of Danavainian Red," Narris suggested, it seemed like a reasonable suggestion, so I made my way over to Voltarr on unsteady feet. The man appeared even more disgusting to me now, so I made my order in a sharp no nonsense manner. Within seconds I was clutching at the bottle and on my way across the straw covered floor.
"Look a fella in a dress," one of the six drunkards said as I neared their table, the statement was followed by a chorus of mirth. For some reason, maybe the Liquid Fire, I found the remark intolerable.
"They are robes, you under-educated oaf," I replied calmly as I leant on Draco-Splinter for support. Silence fell over the Ale House, then that sense of calm was shattered by the six sellswords rising to their feet, pushing the benches away as they stood. Even if fully sober I would not fear scum like them, common cut-throats the lot of them, and I had seen off my fair share of goons such as these men in my years on the road.
"You what?" Questioned the largest of them, the man who had made the dress remark.
"I said they are robes or are you deaf as well as ugly?"
"Please we don't want no trouble," Voltarr called as he motioned for his bouncers to control the situation. But his hired thugs were outnumbered and saw no reason for themselves to get involved, they thought that a cocky wizard was about to get himself thrown around a bit, so they sat back and watched eagerly. It was then that I noticed her looking my way; a smile upon her face, her gaze scanned me once or twice and then shifted to the six mercenaries. I turned from the group to approach her.
"Excuse me, I was planning to offer you a drink," I said to her as I placed the bottle down on her table, "but it would seem as if something has come up I shall return in but a moment." I did not give her time to respond as now my hand was empty I hefted my staff into both hands and twirled it once to get my bearings.
"Would you prefer to settle this with fists or blades?" I questioned as I stood no more than six feet from the largest one. I heard Dovrarn stand and I knew that Narris would be up on his feet, silently, as ever his hand clenched tightly around Firebrand's hilt.
"Oi Goradon, ignore the runt, he's all skin and bones, where is the fun in that?" Said one of his cohorts.
"Yeah right, you count yourself lucky I am in a good mood and I don't really fancy another night in the cells, so just piss off!" The hulking Goradon said with a dismissive hand gesture. He turned back to his friends and they returned to their drinks, I was not entirely sure if I was glad or not, true if he had decided to take it further with just fists I would probably have taken quiet a beating, but with the aid of Draco-Splinter I could easily felled them all, for my staff is of course, highly enchanted. The adrenaline was surging through me now and my head felt a lot clearer than it had scant moments before. I turned on my heel and returned my attention to the fair maiden.
"Greetings madam," I said, the two words almost running into each other as my nervousness now began to show. "As I was saying, I was interested if you fancied a drink? It is so rare to see some one of taste in Voltarr's Ale House, I am Maklelin Highbain." I gave her a shallow bow and waited for the rejection I was sure was coming.
"Yes, I would very much like a drink" she said, "sit yourself down Maklelin." I blinked twice in astonishment, she had said yes! That was the one scenario I had not anticipated, never did I think she would agree. I sat down opposite her and broke the wax seal on the wine, pouring us both a drink in pair of goblets that I had in my Bag of Holding, they were usually only used in the casting of spells but they were crafted masterfully from pure silver and originally intended for grandiose functions and high class gatherings. I noticed my hands were shaking as I finished pouring the drinks.
"Is something wrong?" She asked as she watched me cork the bottle nervously and pass her drink across to her, she nodded her thanks.
"Yes. Well, no, well actually I did not expect you to say yes," I honestly admitted, she smiled, and with that smile I thought my heart had stopped. "I ….am not ….um, very good at this."
"You seem to be doing alright so far," she replied with a laugh, "Next you will want to ask me my name."
"Yes of course, sorry."
"No need for apologies Mak, I can call you Mak can't I?"
"By all means, all my closest friends call me Mak and I would very much like to number you among my friends. And now as you have suggested could I be granted with the honour of your name?" This was going well! Too well! Something had to go wrong soon so I sat there waiting for it all to come crashing down around me.
"Damenella, Damenella Doesfang, but you can call me El, all my closest friends do." That smile again, I would have climbed to the highest peak on the entire world to see that smile again. I glanced over to my two companions; Narris flashed me a wide smile and gave me the thumbs up gesture. Damn I owed him big for this!
The evening flowed on, hour after hour, conversation came easily to my lips and I felt like I was walking on air. It was three bottles of Red later, and then it happened. The six sellswords who had consistently drunk great volumes of Voltarr's foul brew all evening long and now it had began to take its toll on them. Their voices had gradually been rising and their language more abusive, those seated closest to them came under regular verbal abuse.
"Oi Dress Man," called the ring leader as he stumbled to his feet and made his way in my direction. "What's a nice looking bird like her doing with a bookworm like you?" The alcohol I admit had clouded my judgement at this point; I felt the need to defend Damenella from his soon to be smutty remarks.
"I had think you had better walk away," I said as I rose, my left hand behind my back flickering in the process of a abjuration spell, that is a spell from the school of magical protection, it would cover me with an invisible layer of energy that would shrug aside any blows made with steel. The situation may have turned dangerous, but I was not going to let him get away with irritating me twice! Then I saw El stand and lay her hand on the hilt of her blade, a steely look of determination in her eyes.
"Ah look fellas," he jeered, "The bookworm has got his whore to protect him." As his companions laughed I heard Damenella's blade slide free of its sheath. But before she could get it to bear my staff lashed out. With a solid thud the enchanted Draco-Splinter slammed into the side of his head, he dropped like a felled tree, a spray of crimson blood jetting from the wound. The blood could have splashed into my eyes for all I saw was red as I rushed the on coming mob of drunkards, it was then I noticed El at my side, her sword glistening in the candlelight. A smile made its way on to my face, it felt right standing by her side, almost like I had found a piece of me I never knew existed. I crashed into the humans, their blades slipping off the Iron Guard spell I had summoned up moments before.
"What? Magic, he ain't fighting fai…" his words ended in a sickening gurgle as El's blade sliced across his throat. He clutched at the wound and collapsed to the filthy blood stained straw.
"Fair? What is fair about six against two?" I growled as I parried a pair of clumsy attacks away from myself with Draco-Splinter.
"I totally agree," Damenella remarked as she traded blows with one of the ruffians, "They are totally outnumbered." Her opponent steamed at her slicing furiously at the warrior-woman with his well worn sword. She dodged and ducked with the grace of a dancer as his feral attack continued to play itself out. I could see he was tiring and then she chose her moment and struck, her finely made weapon opened him up groin to chin with an explosion of blood.
"Die!" Screamed one of the three remaining sellswords, his blade again slipped harmlessly away from me. Up came my staff, smashing into the underside of his chin. His jaw slammed shut violently and three teeth flew free. He grasped as his broken face and his eyes widened as e noticed the tip of his own tongue lying still before him on the floor, severed by his own teeth. He dropped to his knees and I finished him with another sure blow to the head, I heard his neck snap as his head was clubbed fiercely.
"Two against two! How do you fancy those odds?" I asked as the final duo glanced nervously at the door.
"Go!" El said as she motioned at the door with her sword. "GO!" With a start the two remaining sellswords rushed the door only to be greeted by the now more confident doormen. Within seconds the two half-ogres had finished off the pair, they had not even seen the bouncers coming. The two half-ogres then eyed me and El curiously, not entirely sure what they should do next. Narris answered their question by calling to Voltarr.
"Here," he said, "this should more than cover for the inconvenience." He tossed a small bag of gold coin at the barman and after gazing at its golden glow he waved the two doormen away.
"This is not exactly how I had planned the evening to end," I admitted to the ravishing swordswoman as I wiped the blood from the shaft of Draco-Splinter on the fallen thug's jerkin.
"I can't think of a more perfect way of rounding off an enjoyable evening," she replied with a smile as she brushed her hair out of her face with her left hand as the right returned her blade to its scabbard.
"Where are you staying? I do not mean to be forward, I just wish to offer to walk you home."
"I would like that thank you, but I have not acquired a room for the night yet," she said as she stepped over the fallen human to return to her table to finish the final goblet of Danavainian Red.
"Why don'cha stay at the Black Sphier?" Dovrarn asked, he could barely stand by this point, the dwarven spirits had left the boy hopelessly drunk.
"Dovrarn," Narris said.
"Aye," the human unsteadily replied.
"Shut up."
"Will do," the young warrior said.
"Well that is us done for the night," the rogue stated as he placed a steadying arm around the waist of his wobbling human friend. "I think I had better take this one home, see you later Mak." With that the drow-kin led Dovrarn out of the Ale House in the direction of home.
"It would appear we are alone?" She said as I replaced the two empty goblets to my magical bag.
"Aye, now where is it you would like me to take you? I would recommend the Black Unicorn, it is a fine establishment and I am well known to the proprietor unfortunate though it some way from here."
"That sounds perfect," she purred as she took my free right hand in her left, "lead on Mak." We strolled around the star lit streets of Celldonne Prime for the best part of an hour before we finally arrived at the inn, we had barely spoken on the walk back, we just held hands like young lovers and were thrilled in the comfortable silence that we felt together. I stopped in front of the double doors and turned to face her, my heart was pounding, I could barely hear for the blood rushing through me made my ears ring.
"I shall bid you farewell," I said with a deep bow, "I can not thank you enough for this evening, it was magical. No pun intended."
"There is one way you could thank me," she said, my heart felt like it was going to rip from my chest. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"My social calendar has been empty for the best part of a decade I am sad to say, so yes I am free."
"Meet me here," she said as she let my hand go and moved closer. I could feel her breath on my face; it felt like a cool sea breeze and smelled sweetly of wine. My throat went instantly dry as her lips pressed against mine. The kiss grew more passionate with each passing moment; arousal hit me hard as my hands moved up to pull her yet closer, her body crushing against mine. I do not know how long we remained there, it seemed like an eternity and then all of a sudden it was over. "Sunset tomorrow, here?"
"Wild horses could not keep me away!!"
"Then tomorrow it is then," she kissed me on the cheek, "good night Maklelin."
"Good night," I said as she disappeared in to the smoke of The Black Unicorn. I stood there for long minutes not knowing what I should do next. I had never felt like this, was it love or lust? How would I even know if it was love? I have never been given love or been able to give love in return. I turned on my heels, a smile spreading across my face and made my way slowly back to the comfort and safety of the Black Spire.
And now as I sit recording the evening in you my trusted journal I still do not know what to feel, but mere moments ago Narris found the words that I had never even considered. "Maybe there is life before death."
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