Disclaimer--I do not own the forgotten realms setting, but I do own the characters used within the story. In other words, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THEM! I SWEAR I'LL SIT ON YOU!
AIDEN'S FLAME
Chapter 1
The few people already on the streets stared as he walked past, uncertain if they should summon the town guard, a cleric, or both. Apparently, they all decided on the same thing: go on with their busy day and forget they ever saw anything. Typical city residents.
Aiden entered the inn without incident. He immediately asked the barkeep to have a bottle of Fire wine delivered to his room, and was up the stairs before the man could so much as nod.
Aiden set her on his bed. She was beautiful, without doubt. Black hair, perfectly shaped face and body. She was…bleeding. "Damn!" he cursed, removing his tunic and the piwafi from her and searching her revealed body with his eyes. Most men would have stood staring until next high sun. Aiden was not one of the many. His eyes did not linger until they got to the wound in the lady's stomach. How old was this lady? Surely not a season over twenty!
Aiden cursed at himself again. If he could not manage to focus, she would die pointlessly.
"Sir?" he heard one of the servers call from the door. Aiden grabbed a few gold coins and opened the door. "The Fire wine-" she managed as he put the coins in one of her hands and took the Fire wine out of the other.
She looked at the coins for a second, then turned to the closing door. "Thank you," she called after him, pocketing the gold and taking some silvers out that she would tell the barkeep was the payment given.
Aiden unstopped the drink and poured some onto the girl's wound, then tore a strip of cloth from a shirt and poured some wine on it. He placed the makeshift bandage over the wound and looked her over once more to ensure this was the only wound. It was.
Satisfied, he re-covered her and tried to decide if a cleric was needed. The wound was likely from a spell, not a blade. Though it fascinated him, he did not know much of magic, or if the wound would become infected even after the alcohol. He sighed. Let the lady decide when she woke.
He was not ready to enter reverie, and needed to find out if there would be drow coming for him when he did. The best way to find out right away would be to go and find a smith who might be able to identify the weapons: hopefully they were crafted on the surface, and not some place in the Underdark he could never get to. Writing a note he doubted she could read, he headed again for the barkeep.
"If my lady should awake, keep her here. You may inform her that a man gave the order, nothing else. Understood?" Aiden asked, holding a bag of silvers in his hand.
The man nodded, and grabbed the purse as Aiden tossed it to him and was out the door in less then a breath. He'd always hated people and their greed; he didn't converse with many if he could avoid it. Both people and their greed were useful to start fights, nothing more.
All the merchants would be out by this time. First he needed a smithy, though, and could not locate one. He had not been long in the city, so a smith was not on his list of allies or foes. Yet.
He hailed the first patrol he saw and asked the leader for a smithy. The man laughed.
"What business would an elvish child have with a smith?" he asked.
"My business is my own. Now, if you would point me to the nearest, I would be most grateful," Aiden replied calmly.
"How did you come across those weapons of yours? Steal them, did you, boy?" the guard asked, still refusing to answer the question. Aiden hated looking so young, but he hated more the gall of any who challenged him for it.
"I took them from the drow I killed. The smith?" Aiden asked without inflection.
"You?" The man nearly fell off his horse laughing. "You killed a lord of the Underdark?"
"No. I killed four," Aiden replied, giving up on receiving the information.
"FOUR!" The man and his companions laughed until tears came to their eyes.
"Sir, I would like nothing more then to go on my way," Aiden said, letting his rising anger slowly seep into his voice. "However, if you insist on wasting my time, perhaps you would like me to demonstrate? I challenge your best fighter to a duel."
"Then you challenge me, elf," the patrol captain replied, hopping from his horse and throwing the reins to the guard next to him.
The human pulled his sword and started forward, calling out, "Draw!"
"Now, now, I would not want to injure you too badly, old man," Aiden replied calmly.
They began to circle each other slowly, amid the guards who now surrounded them.. The other guards began a creative chant for their captain: "Faridim, Faridim…"
As Faridim, Aiden's opponent, took his first swipe, Aiden dodged back. This happened at least six times before Faridim tried a lunge instead of a slash. Side-stepping, Aiden kicked the man, light as a fly, in the head. The revenge slash would have easily severed his leg, had he been there still, instead of behind the man.
Aiden sighed again and stood motionless. He did not have the time to play with the captain. He needed to find the smithy and then a merchant before the lady woke. She might not like being kept there against her will overmuch.
Aiden waited for the human to swing. As the swing came, he didn't react. The guards stopped chanting. They were caught between shame and pride at what they assumed would happen. The slash was to the neck: if Aiden did not move, he would lose his head.
At the last second, Aiden jumped back and slapped his hands over the flat of the blade, spinning without losing his grip. The spin tore the sword from the grip of the stunned captain, and Aiden struck him in the head with the hilt of his own blade, taking him to the ground. Aiden spun twice more before he stopped. He threw the blade in the air, letting it come down inches from the captain's face. Some might have considered this a miss: they would be wrong. Aiden didn't kill guards, even in duels.
"Now…the smith?" Aiden asked, pulling the sword from the ground and helping the captain up. He wiped the sword and handed it hilt first to the captain.
The entire patrol went as one from shock to amazement to uncontrollable amusement. An elvish child had just bested their best blade…to find a smith! "What is your name, boy?" one of the guards asked him.
"Aiden," he responded, and the chant began "Aiden, Aiden…", along with offers to join the guard, and teach their sons, as well as the suggestion of one man that he take on the General who commanded the guard.
After what seemed like hours, Faridim raised his left hand to silence them, offering his other to Aiden in a warriors' grasp. "Good duel. My patrol and I shall ensure every guard knows your name: they will aid you however you require. Now, I would be happy to escort you to the smith, and tell you how to go wherever else you might need to," the captain offered.
Aiden nodded with a smile, "My thanks, friend."
He was escorted to the closest smithy and given directions for first a merchant with decent prices, then back to the "All Coins Inn."
The smithy could not identify the crafter of the drows' weapons, except to say he was skilled. However, the dwarf was capable of crafting the armor Aiden wanted, and for less than expected. Aiden gave the dwarf twice what he asked, answering the dwarf's raised eyebrows with, "Information is expensive," and a shrug.
The dwarf turned to his work with a nod, saying, "Return at next high sun for the armor."
Aiden made haste to the merchant, hoping he could get back before the girl awoke. The merchant, a human with horrid breath, offered two silver pieces for all of the loot.
Aiden nodded, playing dumb. Then he asked in a polite voice, "Would you care to change that offer, or should I, mayhaps, relieve you of your manhood?" Aiden smiled nicely, as though he were discussing the weather over tea.
"Are you threatening me, child?" the man half yelled, half spat in his face.
In the same gentle, polite tone Aiden responded, "Yes, and I would be glad to remove your head from your shoulders, then tell the patrol how you attacked me. With a knife." Aiden rested his hands on a dagger and a sword, fingering them both with a smile.
The man turned pale as he recognized the piwafi as drow and realized how it must have been taken. He had hoped this was a gullible boy, but this was clearly not what the boy was. Sighing, he made a reasonable offer, which Aiden excepted without letting the smile fade.
When he returned to the inn, the barkeep told him the lady had tried to leave and had not been at all pleased by the orders left to keep her there. She had taken a lot of alcohol before returning to his room, telling the barkeep to put it on the tab of the man who had given the orders.
Aiden sighed. He'd amassed quite a sum from the thieves he had killed all across Faerun, and from the smile on the barkeep's face Aiden surmised that the lady must have discovered his money and not only paid for the alcohol with platinum, but tipped him in platinum.
He had received enough from the merchant for the drows' belongings, though, to keep him from being too hurt by whatever she had paid the barkeep. He had kept only the spell books and the crossbow and darts he intended to start carrying.
Although he fought mostly with his hands, he did acknowledge that a crossbow might be needed if he were attacked by a foe from above, or a wizard. Range was required, even if he hated the idea of using it. He loved to feel his fist impact against a man, a feeling no dart could provide. It was the feeling of one's fist against another's face: nothing had ever come close to that for him.
Aiden covered the stairs and opened the door to his room in a breath and was in the door before anyone registered his movement.
He jumped back as a bottle was swung at his head. Immediately, he turned in the direction of the strike. She was standing there, nude. The bandage was off; she must have been changing it when he came in. At least that explained the nudity.
As his mind went over this, she dropped to the ground and tried to sweep his legs from under him. He jumped over her leg with ease, landing light as a feather. She kicked out to his right shin, then hooked his left leg. He fell on his stomach, turning as fast he could and trying to jump up.
Too slow. She was already on him, pinning him. She placed one hand on his throat, trying to decide if she should strangle him or not, the other raised to punch him if he moved. She asked, "Who are you, elf?"
"The idiot who saved your life last night, in Skullport," he choked, slightly perplexed.
"Saved me?" she asked, loosening her hold on his throat slightly. Her eyes took on a dreamy look, as she tried to remember. "Last night…There was a human mage. He dueled me. I was winning, then something hit me on the head from behind…I was on the ground, someone was on top of me. He…" Tears were falling down her cheeks now, her chest convulsing.
"It's all right," Aiden choked again, placing his hand soothingly on her arm. "You don't have to talk about this now. I know what happened. I was there. The man you dueled was likely one of the four drow I killed, who also attacked you. He was likely capable of illusions. Where did you fight him?"
"Outside of Waterdeep…I was on my way here, to Waterdeep, and he came out of nowhere. He threw a fireball…why did they attack me?" she asked, more to herself than to him.
"I don't know. However, this is not helping our current situation. Would you mind allowing me up, so that I might tend your wound and give you a tunic?" Aiden asked.
"What? Oh. My apologies. Tell me, how did you defeat the drow? You are young to be fighting," she said, still not getting off of him.
"And you are young to be entering into wizarding duels," he replied with a smile.
She took her hand off his throat, but refused to get off of him. "What is your name, little one?" she asked.
"You may call me Aiden. Now, would you please dismount me, Lady -- ?" he replied.
"Zenalic," she replied. "Why? Why not keep walking? Why not let me die? Why risk your life for mine?"
Very well, he thought. I suppose she intends to maintain this position all day! He threw his hip up and rolled, taking her with him and reversing their positions. She gave a small, startled shriek.
"Milady, I would be more then happy to discuss this at another time. Now, however, I need to tend your wound," Aiden said, standing up and offering her his hand.
She took his hand and let him pull her up. "Lay down on my bed. I need to bandage the wound. You wanted to know why I helped you," he said as she lay down. "For the simple reason that I can: I have done this for some time." He handed her one of the unfinished alcohol bottles, saying, "Drink. This will hurt."
She took the bottle and drank, then handed it back to him. He ripped another length of cloth from the shirt and poured the liquid on it. "The first time you did this, why?" she asked.
He poured the rest of the bottle onto her wound, watching it bubble as the liquid turned to a foam and rolled off of her. The only hint she gave of pain was a slight intake of breath. "I enjoy having nude women who just learned my name in my bed after a very entertaining night," he replied sarcastically.
He removed one of his tunics from the wardrobe and handed it to her. "Shall I summon a cleric?" Aiden asked her.
"No," she replied. "Now answer me!"
"I do not know, Zenalic. It seemed to be the correct thing at the time. However, you have shown me the flaw in my ways. I swear upon my honor, I will never save another woman again!"
She glared at him for a moment, then said, "Why will you not answer me? Is there some dark reason to save a woman's life?"
"I do as I please. Now, rest. In the morning we shall talk more," he replied, stepping toward the door.
"I will not stay here, not with a man who would kill four without giving a reason!" she called to him, hoping for an answer to satisfy her.
"Then go. I will not hold any against their will. But know this: one of the drow is left alive. He will come after you, and likely with more to back him," Aiden replied, turning to face her as he reached the door.
She stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was lying or not. No harm could be done in staying, she decided. If he was telling the truth, she'd be dead by nightfall without her spell books. She rolled over on the bed and pulled a cover over herself.
Aiden laid against the door and fell into the only form of sleep the elves took, reverie, content that she would not leave until morning, at least.
Zenalic waited until she was sure he was deep enough in reverie not to hear her get out of the bed and poke around. She had to know why. People do not just walk around helping whoever they can. Unless they have found a way to profit from it.
First, she searched the closet, then the rest of the room. Nothing. Just tunics and trousers. The most interesting items were a few lore books on a dusty shelf, and they held little meaning for her.
Who is this Aiden? she asked herself. He must have a reason to help humans. No one helps another without profit involved, and he was an elf as well! Why would he care about a human and her fate?
She had to get answers, and didn't know how to get them. If Zenalic had her spell books, it would all be easy, as she possessed multiple divination spells that could tell her everything about him.
She was not sure why he kept her here, either. Strange enough to save her, but to board her without asking payment? What did he want from her? Her body? No, he could have taken her while she slept. Mayhaps he wanted her body, but would not take her against her will?
Zenalic sighed. All she could do was guess, and that was not good enough for her. She went through the room twice more, then laid down. Everything he had was normal, nothing coming close to satisfying her curiosity. Zenalic turned onto her side, wishing she could take out her frustration on someone. Nothing of the boy made sense. She had gone through the room three times, and nothing. She had looked everywhere!
She smoothed a lump in the sheets. There was nowhere left to look. Zenalic smoothed another lump. She had to be missing something… Where had she not looked?
The bed. That was the one place in the room she had failed to search. But was he really that witless, hiding his secrets right under her? Or, that witty? It had taken her so long to think of such…
She lightly hopped from the bed and began to take it apart, piece by piece. She checked between every layer of the bedclothes, the cushioning, everything. And found nothing. She sighed and put her hands on her hips, bowing her head in defeat. Then she saw it.
The slightest of lights from underneath the bed: a faint purple glow. She ducked down and saw the light's source: a sheathed sword strapped to the bottom of the bed, with a glowing amethyst in the pommel. Even without any of her spells to sense magic, she could feel the power radiating from the blade.
She reached to pull the sword from its scabbard, curious to see the blade. Her fingers almost touched it…then a strong, firm grip pulled her hand back. The shock almost made her scream. She looked to her side, the quick action making her wound throb painfully. Aiden stood there beside her, his face emotionless and his voice the same.
"Milady, anything that you would like in this place is yours, and I swear on my honor and my life that no harm will come to you here. However, I must ask that you never touch that sword." He led her to her feet and let loose his grip upon her.
"Why?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.
"You need not know. Now, sleep, and when you wake we will find you some more…suitable clothing." He eyed the tunic that was hanging limply from her form, almost revealing as it sagged low on her chest.
She smiled slightly and nodded in mild submission. She would have her answers -- she knew not precisely how, but she would. She always did, in the end.
A.N.--Stubborn, isn't she?