Chapter 11: Truth and Lies
Flame stretched her legs out from the bench she was sitting on, near the far wall of the arena common room, watching the small troup of entertainers as they sang and danced. The owners of the arena and the gladiators masters were pleased with the success of their current fighters, and thus had arranged for a night of revelry and entertainment. Even though Cain usually kept his fighters from such things, this one time he had agreed to allow his gladiators to participate. He would have seemed churlish otherwise. So, here she was, sitting with Sven, and having the best time drinking and joking with those around her. There were also some courtesans and male prostitutes provided for those fighters who wished to partake in more sensual forms of entertainment. Currently, a rather beautiful young man was performing a sexy dance for them and she had to admit her interest was peaked.
"You're looking at him like you want to eat him little Flame," Sven's low voice murmured in her ear, amusement clear in every word.
"Aye, he is a pretty little thing," Flame chuckled herself, the wine she was consuming making her feel happy and relaxed, almost giddy even. "Unfortunately, I think he's a little too delicate for me. I could crush him without meaning to. I think I'm better off with someone more my size," she replied, raking her emerald gaze up and down Sven's body.
Sven drew in a sharp breath, his eyes heating with lust at the way she was looking at him. "Is that an offer little one?"
Flame chuckled huskily, "Perhaps." She wasn't sure what kind of wine she was drinking, but it definately was loosening her tongue and igniting her passion for the blond giant. Her attention was diverted by a sudden shout. Turning her head she saw Radnor angrily push the young male dancer away from one of the gladiators.
"Go tease someone else gatha," Radnor snarled as he stood between the boy and the gladiator known only as The Bull. No one could remember what the man's real name was. The Bull was a huge mountain of a man and was one of the premier fighters in the arena. Consequently, he was always attracting the attention of those around him, male and female.
The Bull wrapped his arms around Radnor and pulled the smaller man down onto his lap with a loud laugh. "Easy little tiger, you have no cause to be jealous," he rumbled.
Radnor huffed and then nuzzled the neck of the bigger man. "I will tear the heart out of anyone who tries to take you from me," he said fiercely. This was no idle threat, for Radnor was an exceptionally quick and ruthless opponent when angered, giving no quarter and rarely showing mercy. His success in the arena was on par with Flame's and Sven's, despite his slight build.
Flame laughed at the antics of the two, completely at ease with the idea of them as a couple now. That hadn't always been the case, for she had never seen two men in a relationship before, at least not that she could recall. When she had first witnessed the two men locked in a passionate embrace she had been shocked beyond words. She had never imagined that two men, or two women for that matter, could have a relationship in the same way as a man and a woman. Sven had told her it was a rare thing to see, but that it did happen quite often. It was hard to fathom, but the more she saw Radnor and The Bull together, the more comfortable she had become with the idea. Even she could see that they had something special going and now she wished them all the happiness in the world.
The party had been going on for a few hours now and passions were beginning to rise, leading to some arguments and near fights. Those were quickly broken up before they got out of hand, for the owners had stated plainly that the festivities would end if the gladiators started fighting amongst themselves. A raucous cheer caught Flame's attention and she turned to see one of the female whores being pushed down onto a table as her clothing was torn from her body. Several fighters stood around her cheering and hooting as the woman writhed like an eel on the table, her hands running over her generous curves as she spread her legs invitingly. A muscled fighter by the name of Kyle was loosening the ties to his breeches as he gazed lustfully at the wanton display before him. Flame watched with open mouth and wide eyes as Kyle freed his manhood and then grabbed the woman's feet, dragging her to the edge of the table. With a growl, he thrust viciously into the woman, who arched her back and screamed in pleasure as the other fighters cheered Kyle on. The whole display served to make Flame's body pulse and throb and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to grab Sven's hand and drag him to her room. She was unaware that her hands had moved to caress her own breasts as she watched, but Sven wasn't.
Sven had been watching Flame and Radnor while this was going on. When Bull picked Radnor up and strode quickly from the room, Sven knew where they were going and turned his attention to Flame, his thoughts travelling along the same path. Seeing her eyes focused unblinking on the sexual performance playing out in front of them, he felt his own lust stir to the boiling point. Moving behind Flame, he wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breasts in his large hands, burying his face in her neck and nibbling at her shoulder. Hearing her moan and feeling her body wiggle against him, he could wait no longer to have her. "What say we take this somewhere private little one?" he whispered in her ear before nibbling on the lobe. When she whispered her consent, he scooped her into his arms and strode from the common room.
Flame revelled in the feel of the powerful arms encircling her, moving her lips to nibble at Sven's neck. She wanted him with a passion and she was willing putty in his hands. When they reached her small room, she felt herself dropped roughly to her pallet and her breath left her in a rush. She gazed up at Sven as he practically tore his clothes off, her eyes raking over the well muscled arms and chest. Despite his obvious arousal and his immense strength, she felt no fear that he would hurt her. It was only in the ring that he was to be feared. Even if it wasn't, her strength and desire for Sven was more than a match for him and she had no fear.
Sven knew that it was mostly the wine that was fueling Flame's passion this night, and he could never forget that she might have someone in her past that she simply couldn't remember. However, he loved and desired her desperately and he wanted this one night with her. He tossed the last of his clothing to the floor, and with a low growl, he reached for her shirt and tore it from her body. His heated gaze devoured the sight of her generous and upturned breasts even as his hands impatiently loosened the ties to her leggings. Pushing them over her hips, he tore them from her as well, taking her slippers with them. Finally, Flame lay naked before him in all her glory. Her rich, red hair spread like living fire all around her, and the sweat on her body glistened like sparkling diamonds. She was magnificent and his desire for her grew to painful intensity. Tonight there would be no gentle words or soft caresses, only the heat of two bodies straining together in passion's dance.
Flame opened her arms and spread her legs, silently inviting her blond giant to join her. His movement was sudden as he threw himself atop her and then stole her breath in a fierce kiss. She moaned as his hands roughly caressed and kneeded the flesh of her breasts, his hardness pressing into her belly causing her womanhood to pulse in anticipation of the pleasure to come. She gasped loudly into Sven's mouth as she felt his hands grab her legs and place them over his shoulders. The feel of his fingers plunging into her molten depths caused her back to arch as a cry of pleasure issued from her lips. When he grabbed her hips and thrust inside her she screamed at the intense pleasure that raced like lightening through her body. Locking her arms around his neck, she met his thrusts with fierce ones of her own, moaning at the onslaught. Fiercely the clutched at each other, their bodies dripping with sweat as they strained against the other. All thoughts fled her mind as her senses took over. Each grunt and groan seemed magnified as Sven worked her to a frenzy. The fires burned too hot for them to last and soon Flame shrieked her release, her mind going blank as her intense orgasm flooded her entire being.
Sven felt her muscles clench and heard her scream as she reached completion and let himself go. With a primal roar of passion and possession, he loosed a torrent of hot seed within her welcoming body, the pleasure so intense it was almost spiritual. Never had he reached passion's peak so quickly or felt so fulfilled as he did at this very moment. He knew that it was the love he felt for her that made the difference. His body shuddered and his hips stuttered in a last few desultory thrusts before he finally stilled. Rolling to the side he gathered Flame to his body and held her close to his heart. Her pliant limbs and heavy breathing let him know that she had succomb to her body's need for sleep. His own eyes started to close but were jerked wide open at a faint whisper from the woman in his arms. He clearly heard her say 'Nevalle' and he felt his heart nearly stop beating. Not his name, but someone else's. Her mind may not recall her past when awake, but clearly her subconscious did. Sadness and pain wracked his body and it was all he could do to keep the tears that threatened at bay. For one brief moment he was insanely jealous of this mysterious Nevalle, but only for a moment. Whoever he was, he was not in her life anymore and might not ever be again. If Flame never regained her memory, then she would have to make a new life for herself. That life would include him, he vowed to himself. He had finally found the woman of his dreams and he would not give her up without a fight, although how he would fight a ghost he didn't know. He was roused from his thoughts as she stirred in his arms.
"Mmm, sorry Sven, I'm so sleepy," Flame whispered as she nuzzled closer to him. "That was wonderful, you're wonderful," she whispered.
"Shh little one, go to sleep," Sven said softly, hiding the pain in his voice. He softly stroked her back and arms and felt her body relax once more. "I love you Flame," he whispered even though he knew she wouldn't hear him. Sighing, he closed his eyes and joined her in slumber.
*********
Two weary travellers sat at a table in the seedy tavern and silently sipped their ales while listening to the talk of the patrons around them. Both were in travel stained, non-descript clothes that had seen better days. One, an elf, appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, but was in reality alert to any potential clues to help them in their mission. The other, a fair-haired man with a few days growth of stubble, stared morosely into his mug. The journey to Waterdeep had been long but uneventful, and now that they were here their mission seemed to be stagnating. This was the second day they had sat at this one table in this run down tavern and they had yet to hear anything of importance.
Nevalle's emotions had run the gamut from obssession to despondancy all during the trip to Waterdeep. He didn't know what he had expected, but he certainly hadn't given much thought to how they would proceed once they reached the city. His thoughts had been consumed by the memories of his time with Ashara and by knowledge of all the rules and regulations he was breaking by coming here. He would most certainly be stripped of his rank as Captain of the Nine, and possibly even of his titles and holdings. Even though he knew that Ashara would not care if he was rich or poor, noble or beggar, his family would. Would they be disappointed in or condemning of his choice to defy Nasher all for the love of a woman who might be dead? He had been so certain that he was doing the right thing and that his family would be happy that he had found love when he began this journey. But the silence of his travelling companion had left him to struggle with his thoughts and now that certainty was gone.
"Stop torturing yourself with thoughts of matters beyond your reach or control Nevalle," Daeghun's quiet voice penetrated the fog of despair that had slowly been creeping up on him.
"How can I do that when I have nothing else to focus on?" Nevall retorted, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "We have been sitting here hoping to hear something, anything, to point us in the right direction, and still have gleaned nothing useful."
"You can focus on the good times you have spent with my daughter," Daeghun said softly. "You can also try to think of any other places we might go or people we might contact."
"I have not been to Waterdeep in so long that I no longer know whom I could contact," Nevalle muttered. "As for other places, this is the only one I know of within the city where we might hear rumors of strange happenings. You told me that, in your experience, if we wanted to hear anything other than mere gossip, that we would be better off staking out a place where smugglers, pirates and other low lifes frequent. This place is the only one that fits the bill. The owners never even bothered to give it a proper name, merely called it The Pub."
Daeghun sat in silence, staring thoughtfully at the former knight as he slumped once more in his chair. He had watched the man struggle with his thoughts and fight the demons of his conscience all through their journey. He had listened closely to the muttered words that issued from the man's mouth as dreams and nightmares plagued his sleep in the hopes of hearing something to help their search. He knew that Nevalle would not find peace until they found Ashara, but they were no closer to that now than when their journey had begun. He could only watch and hope that Nevalle would be able to hold it together long enough to complete their mission. One wrong word, one misstep, and they could find themselves in a world of trouble, something to be avoided at all costs. The last thing they needed was to run afoul of the Watch or any of the numerous factions that controlled Waterdeep. His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the tavern door banging open to admit a small group of rough looking men. The smell of fish and brine that wafted towards him told Daeghun that they were sailors and a disreputable bunch at that.
"Oy Harold, pour some of that swill ye call ale for me mates here, but get me a bottle of brandy," the lead sailor boomed out.
"Argh, Foster you scurvy dog, what brings ye to me humble place this night?" the barkeep barked back even as he filled the order. "Last time ye was here, ye said ya was all shippin' out."
"Gods be damned ship sprung a leak two days out, had to turn back," Foster growled. "Blackwell was supposed to have his high and might master shipwright go over the damned thing. Cheapskate, two-bit, whoremaster musta screwed up and forgot."
"Foster, don't ye be saying shit like that," one of the smaller sailors hissed. "Blackwell, he ain't one ye wants to cross or piss off. He's got a rep for some dark dealings."
"Bergin ye wimp," Foster sneered. "He don't scare me none. Tis nuthin' but rumors ye hear. The man don't let nuthin hurt his businesses and I be his best cap'n."
"Best or no', there be plenty others in the city he can get to replace ye," Bergin snapped back but was waived off.
"The man don' give two coppers what others think of him," Foster said firmly. "Long as ye do yer job, ye got nuthin' to be worryin' about."
"Our sudden return to the city may prove that lady luck is on our side," a low, silky voice broke quietly into the conversation.
Daeghun felt a shiver run down his spine as the voice reached his ears. Something in the tone warned him of extreme danger, and with a slight tilt of his head he managed to get a glimpse of the owner. The voice belonge to a short, dark man dressed all in black with a cloak wrapped about him. His casual stance belied the deadly nature of his person and Daeghun rightly guessed the man was an assassin and a spy.
"Damn Zarkan, why ya gotta be sneakin' up on us all the time, eh?" Foster growled and was met with a cold stare. As usual, Zarkan ignored him and continued on as if he had never been interrupted.
"I heard that Blackwell is looking to make a deal on a particularly fine piece of female flesh," the small man continued. "Of such value is this creature that I heard he plans to spirit her out of the city as soon as he acquires her. I imagine that he will pay handsomely the person who manages such a thing."
"What maggot got in yer brain? There ain't been no fine females in the city for months ya daft bugger," Foster snickered.
"Seeing as how you were never one to attend the games in the arena, I'm not surprised you don't have a clue," Zarkan sneered disdainfully. "A little over three weeks ago Cain Felgarn arrived in the city with some new fighters in tow. One of them happened to be a particular beautiful and skilled barbarian who has since made quite the name for herself."
"Ha, even I heard rumors about her," Harold chuckled. "Heard so much it got's to where I had to go see myself wha' the fuss was about."
"As if you could afford tickets to the arena," Zarkan sneered contemptously.
"Nah, don't have ta pay to see a fight," Harold laughed. "Not if ya knows someone with access to a roof right next to the place. 'Course, could'na see too good what's what, but see her fight I did. She was something, she was. Tall, long legs, curves in all the right spots, and wielding this huge sword like it was a toothpick. All the people chanting her name, "Flame, Flame" and cheering when she won. Quite the show, I tell ya."
"At any rate, she became the most popular fighter in recent weeks, and not just because of her fighting abilities," Zarkan interrupted the barkeep. "From what I heard, she has half the men in the city lusting after her, and all the women hating her with a passion. Rumor has it that she has the kind of beauty worth killing for, exactly the type of woman that would interest Blackwell."
"Yeah, but what he'd be interested in her for, eh?" Bergin muttered.
Foster shot Bergin a dirty look that plainly told him to keep his opinions to himself, before fixing his attention back on Zarkan. "Is this just guessing on yer part, or do ya know for sure what Blackwell's gonna do?"
Zarkan smiled slightly, a cold smile that never reached his eyes, one that made you shiver just to see it. "Blackwell wants to see you tonight. He sent his men to the boat and they told me to find you in whatever hole you were hiding in and get your ass up to the manor on the double." He saw the grimace Foster tried to hide and smirked inwardly at the knowledge the pirate captain was mad he wasn't going to be able to drown himself in brandy that night. "I guess you'll be able to bitch at him about not getting the ship fixed properly when you see him," he added snidely.
Foster paled, belying his earlier boast about Blackwell not caring what other people thought. Truth was, the man was a bit of an odd duck in that one could never predict what would set him off. Blackwell was a scary person when mad, capable of almost any atrocity. "Well, best not keep the man waiting eh?" he said, forcing his voice to be cheery and not fooling anyone.
"No, I think it would be better that you didn't," Zarkan said quietly. He had once been on the receiving end of one of Blackwell's rages. It had left him with permanent scars across his back and chest. No, it was not wise to test the man's patience. Dropping some coins on the bartop, he nodded at the bartender before following Foster and the others out the door.
"I didn't like the sounds of that Daeghun," Nevalle said softly. "Whoever this Blackwell is, he certainly doesn't sound like the kind of person you'd want to get their hands on you. Perhaps we should see if there's anything we can do to help this woman he's after."
"That is not our concern Nevalle," Daeghun said firmly. "You cannot save everyone, no matter how much you might wish otherwise. You need to focus on saving the woman you love, my daughter, before you even think about trying to rescue this unknown woman." He saw Nevalle struggling with the idea of leaving the poor woman to her fate. "I know this will not help ease your conscience very much, but the woman is a gladiator. That means that she is more than capable of holding her own against an opponent and most likely has friends inside the arena who can help her."
Nevalle clenched his teeth once, then took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them and turned to look at Daeghun he could see the worry and concern the elf had and felt guilty that he was the cause. "You're right, I'm sorry, it's just," he stopped himself and took another deep breath. "It looks like we're not going to have any better luck tonight than we did last night," he said, changing the subject in an effort to ease the tension of the moment.
"No, I believe that you are correct in that observation," Daeghun sighed and downed the last of his ale. As he was digging into his pouch for coin to pay for their drinks, he overhead two men talking and what they were saying caught his interest.
"See, it's like I told you," a short, stocky man whispered. "Blackwell's got it in his mind to have that new gladiator Flame and I shudder to think what he will do to her if he does get his hands on her. I remember that pretty little baron's daughter two years ago that fell afoul of him. She up and disappeared and somehow no one ever connected him to it. I heard she was found in a whorehouse in Amn a few months later, out of her mind on glitter dust and nothing more than skin and bones. You know as well as I do that the place was a front for some of Blackwell's businesses. But, no one could prove he had anything to do with her being there and so he got away with it."
"Well, the man who employs me has powerful connections of his own and he is determined to see that this woman doesn't end up in Blackwell's hands," the other man at the table stated. Seeing his companion was about to ask who his mysterious employer was, he quickly held up a hand to stop the words. "It's better that you don't know any more than what I've told you already. This woman Flame has stirred up all kinds of interest and it wouldn't be too healthy to get too deep into the matter if you don't have to. Catch my drift?"
The shorter man swallowed hard and nodded, "Yeah, I get it. But what makes her so special? It's not like there haven't been other hot female fighters before in the arena."
"There's never been one of her stature before," his companion retorted. "I managed to get a good look at her and never have I seen a more perfectly formed or beautiful woman in my life. If a barbarian goddess were to ever take mortal form, she would look like Flame. Tall, long legged, stronger than her build would suggest. She wields this magnificent greatsword with the ease of long practice. She's so young, I doubt much more than twenty, but she fights like a veteran of forty or more years. She has the most gorgeous emerald green eyes, and combine that with her magnificent red hair and cat like grace," he took a deep breath. "She is a vision that could stir even a saint to have impure thoughts, and as you know there are far more sinners than saints in Waterdeep."
At their table, both Nevalle and Daeghun were sitting stiff and straight, not quite believing what their ears were hearing. Looking at each other, they saw fear and hope reflected in each others' eyes. Had they finally found what they were seeking? Nevalle made as if to stand but was stopped by Daeghun's hand on his arm, the elf's grip like iron.
"No, not here, there is too much danger," Daeghun said softly. "When he leaves we will follow him and if we see an opportunity to speak to him alone we will do so. Otherwise, we will just tail him and see where it takes us." Getting to his feet he said quietly but clearly, "I need to take care of personal business, I shall return shortly."
Nevalle nodded and then relaxed back into his chair, fixing his gaze once again upon his drink. Daeghun was going to wait outside for the men to leave and all he had to do was be patient and then leave after them. He was so close to finding the truth that he could almost taste it. The waiting was going to kill him, he knew it, but Daeghun was right. This tavern was the worst place for a confrontation, of any kind. They couldn't very well help Ashara if they got into a fight and were injured. Fortunately for his nerves, their quarry seemed just about ready to leave. He watched as first the short man left and then a few minutes later the other guy left as well. As casually as possible, he got to his feet, pretending to sway a bit and then dropped a couple of coppers onto the table. Then, pretending to not be too steady on his feet, he shuffled toward the door, watching out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone seemed to look at him suspiciously, but no one appeared to be doing so. Stepping outside the tavern, he breathed deep of the night air. Granted no city smelled that great, but the air outside was a hundred times better than the air inside the little crap tavern they had been in. Hearing a bird call he hurried in the direction it came from and saw Daeghun standing in the shadows of the alley between the tavern and the building next door, the elf's gaze fixed on the retreating figure of their quarry.
"Do not follow me too closely and keep your eyes open for any potential trouble," Daeghun murmured. "I will keep our target in sight and alert you like this," he brushed the back of his ear with his hand, "if I see an opportunity to corner the man for a private conversation. Agreed?"
"Sounds good," Nevalle nodded. "You have the better eyesight after all."
"Yes I do," Daeghun nodded. "Let us move and quickly." With that the elf began to follow their quarry at a measured pace, his elven eyesight enabling him to stay far enough back and yet still see every move made by the man. Hopefully, the trail would eventually lead to Ashara.
Nevalle counted to five and then began to follow in Daeghun's footsteps, trying to keep his eyes and ears focused on the area around them. It was harder than he thought because of the feelings that had been stirred up inside of him at the prospect of finally getting some answers. He kept telling himself not to get his hopes up, that all this could lead to a dead end. But, the description of this woman Flame was so close to that of Ashara that it was hard not to be optimistic. After all, he had never met a woman before or after Ashara that had her color hair and eyes. But more than that, how many women could there be that matched not only the coloring but the height and skill with a sword as well? Taking it further, he thought of the scrying done that said the answers he sought would be found in Waterdeep or somewhere close by. Put that together with Ashara's rare coloring and it was impossible to dismiss the notion that Flame and Ashara were one and the same. Then a disquieting thought crept into his head. If the woman was Ashara, why was she fighting in the arena? Surely she would have made some attempt to alert those in authority of who she was. The possible explanations were unsettling and he firmly pushed them out of his mind. The man they were following had the answer, or at the very least would lead them to someone who could tell them what they wanted to know. Keeping that thought in mind, he managed to maintain his focus and keep his hopes up. Silently, he followed the elf following the man that held the key to his future.