Chapter Eight:
Merthisan found, not surprisingly, Feryl remained practically under his feet as they roamed the streets towards the bazaar. He was hovering so close he was literally walking in his shade, and keeping the cloak he wore like a shield against those around him. As they headed down the street, the boy cast furtive glances to every ally or dark corner expecting to see his old master. Merthisan doubted the man would be so bold as to try something in such a public place, but one never knew with criminals. He'd have to keep a sharp eye out on the boy just the same.
The swordmaster motioned for them to enter Merchants' Row. Here a variety of shops lined the streets in enticing colors and store banners. Their windows were filled with items Feryl couldn't even begin to imagine their usefulness. Many of the stores also had tables setup to lure customers closer to their wares. The streets were crowded with hawkers and traders alike.
Lyra eyes glittered with all the distraction of various objects catching her attention. She continually lagged behind to look through windows or finger something on a table spread with wares. Pointing out jewelry or unusual dishes, she'd try to explain what the elfling was looking at, before running to another window or table to find something else.
"Stay close, boy." He murmured to Feryl. He didn't have to. The boy was so close, he bumped into the swordmaster, tried to compensate, and then bumped into a stranger. Merthisan couldn't help but chuckle. "Not that close."
Finally stopping at a shop with a sign of a mortar and pestle, Merthisan gave her a wink. "We need supplies." With Feryl's injuries, their stock of healing potions and salves had run low. He also had another idea to bring Feryl here. The proprietor was a Dunmer from the lands of Morrowind.
As they entered the shop, the air was thick with aromas from the myriad amount of alchemical ingredients. On the high counter, an alembic simmered a bright yellow liquid, while a retort purified a brackish substance. Whatever it was, gave off a pungent sweet smell. Flasks and bottles stuffed shelves in neat rows, with bins of herbs and unrecognizable items lined the floor.
Lyra was grimacing to some of the more gruesome ingredients, while Feryl was fascinated with the substance bubbling on the counter.
"Ah Master Kendari, so good to see you!" An accented voice spoke up from the back, gruff but friendly. As the man emerged from the back room, Feryl had to remember to breathe. A Dark Elf!
The shopkeeper was much older, with hair lined in gray streaks through glossy black so much like his own, and having the same dark ashen hue to his skin, though a few shades lighter. The eyes blazed a livid red; even the whites of the eyes carried a vivid crimson hue. Feryl's were white, with pupils a deep wine color.
Garbed in a long robe of deep blue, a wide jeweled belt cinches the waist of his slim form. The long hair was tied back except for two single braids to either side of his head, both wrapped in brilliant red cloth.
The elf was nearly as tall as Kendari but of slighter build. Ears were slightly long, glistening with two gold earrings off his right lobe. The Dunmer had a long face, with high cheeks bones, and a small chin. High arched brows were prominent on the low forehead, and more remarkable was the deliberate facial scarring that rose upon the cheekbones, brow line, and chin. It gave him a savage, dangerous appearance. Formidable indeed when the smile faded and the eyes of blood red focused on him.
"By the Three, who is this?"
Feryl felt his heart flutter, and couldn't recognize if the reaction was from fear or excitement. He simply couldn't stop staring at what he was supposed to grow into some day.
Merthisan placed a comforting hand upon the boy's shoulder. "This is …Talis." He hesitated before speaking his 'name'. Feryl looked up at him, curious to why he gave a false name. He then remembered the meaning of Feryl, and the reactions he'd received from others. Perhaps Kendari meant to also protect his identity.
The Dunmer smiled gently which didn't meld well with the appearance of such a sinister face. "That's an unusual name for a Dunmer boy here in the city. Welcome to my shop, Talis"
"This is Muthsera Relamus Hlarys of the holy city of Vivec." Merthisan continued, giving the alchemist a respectful bow. "He's from Morrowind."
The Dunmer gave a soft grunt, waving his hand dismissively. "The title is hardly necessary, Master Kendari. And I told you a hundred times, I'm from the tribes, not originally from the city of Vivec." He turned back to 'Talis', "And its pronounced Rel-A-mus."
The elf's friendliness contradicted his fearsome appearance.
Merthisan gave Feryl a knowing smile, and turned to the shopkeeper for business. "I have need of some of your healing potions and salves."
The Dunmer grunted, "No doubt beating the stuffing out of those unfortunate students of yours." He muttered in jest. Shuffling to fill the order, he spoke to Lyra. "And when is the young miss taking up the sword?"
Lyra giggling, having been focusing on some dried flowers arranged to hang on a low shelf. "Ladies do not fight with a sword, Muthsera Hlarys. We use our wits!"
"Nonsense!" The Dunmer feigned surprise, but the twinkle of mischief told Feryl they were playing a common game between the two of them. "Every woman from my tribe knows how to fight with both wit and blade. Why should you be any different? You're not supposing that Master Kendari will always be there to defend your honor do you?"
The girl blushed, giggling wickedly. "Honor indeed! Don't let my mother hear you say that!"
Relamus began filling the basket with potions and herbs, commenting on the approaching bad weather. "If you can spare Lyra, I could use her help with saving my harvest of dried herbs." He told the sword master. "This humidity does terrible damage to weeks of work."
"That is Lyra to say." Merthisan replied. He was distracted at the unshakable stare the young elf child had to the much older Dunmer. "Perhaps you can find some work for him as well?"
The shopkeeper seemed fully aware of his abashed scrutiny and complied by giving a polite nod in his direction. Feryl looked away nervously. His gaze passed over the numerous items scattered on the high counter, and settled on a familiar light blue substance in a tiny flask. He blinked in surprise, recognizing the substance immediately as Shadowbane. The fluid within the slim glass vial glowed in a vibrant blue and promised of delightful pleasure. Feryl felt his body go flush with memory if the Shadowbane he'd taken before.
"Ah, you don't want that." Rel told him, snatching it off the counter before Feryl could even consider using sticky fingers. "That is not for little boys."
He frowned. No it was for assassins…
Merthisan's interest was piqued. "What is it?"
"Shadowbane." Relamus smiled, holding the tiny glass tube between thumb and forefingers, shakings it contents until they bubbled. "Used by some nobles and guardsmen to build immunity to poisons."
Lyra stepped up also suddenly very curious at the wondrous glowing liquid. "Immunity?"
Rel let her take a closer look, "Indeed, to nearly every poison known to man. It's a remarkable potion. The recipe is secret to only a choice few, and its very rare." His tone changed to that of a merchant explaining his wares. "Shadowbane has a narcotic affect when taken, and can be poisonous if too much is used. It has the unfortunate side affect of leaving one sterile." He gave Feryl a chiding cluck of his tongue. "Not something a virile young man such as yourself would want. I only keep it in stock for a few choice customers."
Feryl could barely hear him. He'd been taking Shadowbane for almost six months now. "Sterile?" He asked in a whisper.
"It's a side affect. Doesn't affect anything else though if you take my meaning." The shopkeeper continued with a knowing look to Master Kendari. "But those who take it understand that there would be no children for them in the future. Not many people take it, for obvious reasons."
"Why would anyone take it at all?" Lyra pointed out. "There are resistance potions aren't there?"
Relamus shrugged. "Some like the narcotic effect. Others feel the resistance to poison worth the sacrifice. Potions of resistance are only temporary protection to toxins. Even then, rarely they work a hundred percent, but Shadowbane has a permanent effect after a short time with almost 100 immunity." He gave another shrug, "To most, but not all, poisons."
Feryl stared at the small vial. Having a family was never something he considered before, being he never pondered on a future. Life just was. A family would be unthinkable under Nekros' tutelage. Now in light of this piece of information, he knew the path he had taken was one he couldn't go back. He was, in essence, alone in the world…and now always would be. But then he had always considered his future to be a solitary one.
A hand on his shoulder shook him from his reverie, and Merthisan smiled gently to tell him it was time to go.
Relamus winked again. "Be sure to send Talis down to my shop anytime he wants."
"Will do, Muthsera Hlarys." Merthisan nodded.
By now a light rain had begun to drizzle, causing a flurry of panicked cart merchants to hurry their wares into the shops once more. As the streets grew sparse of people, they could walk at a faster pace to the food bazaar.
Once in the larger area, the only remaining merchants were those with tents. Here one would find foodstuffs from all over the Empire. Meats on skewers roasted over open fire pits, while baskets of exotic fruits and tubers mingled with hawkers of breads and sweets. Feryl had passed through this area before, but at night, the market was empty.
Meanwhile, the swordmaster began bartering for supplies for the school. He bought the usual amount of food, bandages, and supplies for his forge. He handed Lyra some coin to spend, and nudged Feryl to go with her. "I'll keep an eye on you." He promised.
The girl grinned, motioning for him to follow her to a nearby tent. The wondrous smell of something delicious hit him hard, making his mouth water. A woman crouched over a low oven and stove, frying flattened dough on an oiled skillet. Her food stall was simple, but sheltered from the poor weather.
"Two sweetbreads and some cider please." Lyra chimed to her. Her eyes sparkled eagerly to share this treat with him. As they received their order, the girl herded him under a tent flap to sit and enjoy the food.
The sweetbread was dough fried in oil, slathered in butter then sprinkled with sugar. He tasted tentatively, surprised at the thick sweetness filling his mouth. He still couldn't believe they ate like this all the time. He'd never eaten so much with so many different tastes and textures.
"Itsth good, isn'th it?" Lyra grinned, her cheeks stuffed with bread.
The elfling nearly choked with laughter at how silly she looked.
The girl made a dramatic show of chewing and swallowing before she washed everything down with the drink. "You know," she told him when she finished, "You should laugh more. It sounds nice."
He shrugged, caught off guard again by her friendliness. "I never had any reason to laugh before." He admitted.
"Well I for one am very glad you decided to stay." She announced, wiping hair from her cheeks that had managed to work its way from her servant's cap. "You fit right in now."
He looked away, silently disagreeing.
"You don't think so?"
A slight shake of his head was his only answer.
Her head tilted to one side, her smile gone. "Why not?"
Eyes shifted to the ground. "I just…don't."
"That's ridiculous. Of course you do." She told him directly. "Its just still new to you, that's all."
He couldn't help but look out among the sparse crowd in the marketplace and see not a single dark elf among them. Even the shopkeeper, Relamus, seemed completely different from him. But even appearances aside, he felt different from everyone else around him. This was perhaps knowing where one comes from, and where one is going.
Going…that was the real problem here. Where am I going? His option to this point had been only what Nekros wanted. Now he had opportunities to do anything he wanted. He could see Master Kendari across the market bartering with an old woman over the price of vegetables. He was a good man, honest, and Feryl liked him, but Renis' words came back to haunt him.
You don't belong here….
You're going to be a problem…
Feryl couldn't have agreed more. Nekros won't wait forever, the young elf was sure of this. Even if his old master had abandoned him, Feryl knew him as the assassin, knew his face. I'm a liability that will need to be taken care of. Those who saw Nekros' face never lived to tell anyone. He made sure of it.
Feryl's attention scanned the crowds for the hundredth time that day, thinking at any shrouded man could be Nekros waiting for his change. He turned back to the girl beside him, and he wondered if he hadn't put her in danger as well. The thought of her being hurt bothered him greatly.
She smiled when she caught him looking at her. Her hand reached out, covered his in soft warmth. "For what its worth; I think you belong." She told him. Her unshakeable belief caused Feryl's throat to tighten.
He wasn't sure how to react to her, and was glad when a sharp whistle from Kendari beckoning them to head back to the school.
The darkening sky announced the ending of the day, and Feryl was happy to be within the school's thick walls of stone and plaster. Safety, he knew, was an illusion, but the walls felt secure to one accustomed to confinement. He helped with putting away the food, and yawned from the exhaustive day.
"I need to walk Lyra home." Merthisan told him, "Go on to bed early tonight. I'll be back soon."
Feryl was so tired, he didn't even bother removing clothes before curling up amid the blankets.
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When a hand covered his mouth some time through the night, Feryl only had seconds to realize that too late his master had found him! In the darkness, the shadow of the assassin seemed foreboding and ominous. Donning his black cloak, he appeared as Death itself.
"Be silent!" A low voice growled above him.
Pinned in the bed, Feryl gave up the struggle out of fear and instinct. He felt the moisture off the man's clothing from the rain, could feel the wind blowing in the open window. The hand was unforgiving, with fingers biting into flesh on his cheeks. A low whimper escaped his throat, sounding pitiful when muffled.
"One more sound, Feryl," The voice warned, "And I slit your throat. Understand?"
The elfling nodded, only allowed the slightest of movements. Slowly the hand released him, leaving him trembling in the damp cot. Nekros clothes were soaked from the continuing rain. He sat on the edge, leaning like a dark cloud over him. The familiar scent of leather and cloth mixed with the scent Feryl knew to be his old master.
"Well look at this…" The shadow mocked, a hand touched his hair and clothing. The man leaned closer, sniffed him. "A bath…a haircut…new clothes? You have been a busy boy, haven't you?"
Feryl wondered how long he had slept, if Master Kendari was still in the school. His gaze drew past his nightmare to the closed door, only to dart back to Nekros who chuckled.
"He's sleeping like a baby in his room." The man told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Do you suppose he could get here in time to save you? Eh?" The glint of steel caught the boy's attention when Nekros showed him his dagger. "But you know better, don't you Feryl? I'm quick…efficient. Most likely, Kendari will find your body in the morning, never the wiser. Do you want to scream?"
Feryl quivered, shaking his head as much as was allowed.
"I didn't think so." The point of the dagger wavered in the dim light of the room, "It's been three weeks, Feryl." The razor's edge came dangerously close to the boy's chin, forcing his head up. Now he could see the deadpan expression of the soulless man above him. Dark eyes stared back with no remorse. "I think its time you come home, don't you?"
Trapped in that stare, Feryl tried to fathom why Nekros had abandoned him in the first place, and why he wanted him back now. He swallowed hard, tried to nod again. The thought of returning to a life without sun, without friends, and the deep loneliness he only now realized his life had been caused eyes to grow hot with unshed tears.
"Fond of this place?" Nekros had watched his reaction carefully. The voice was thick with sarcasm. "Who could blame you? Kendari has taken very good care of you. But I am wondering one thing…" The pause served to press the cold steel to his throat. Feryl felt the bite of its edge. "Did you tell anyone about me?"
"No!" Feryl whispered quickly. His voice cracked slightly. "No…I told them nothing!"
"That's what I thought." The steel withdrew slightly. "Good boy. Your training, no doubt, has suffered. Three weeks is a long time without my guidance, and I'm not entirely certain you haven't been tainting by Kendari and his ideas. I am, however, a man of opportunity, so we will take this situation to best suit our needs." He pulled away to stand on his feet and look down on the boy. Feryl felt even smaller now. "I don't believe you want to come home yet, do you Feryl?"
The boy flustered for the right answer, terrified the dagger would flash out and kill him. He wasn't sure to agree or not, but Nekros lifted his hand with the knife once again, giving a warning glare to remain silent.
"So this will be a test to your loyalties, as well as your skills." The Assassin answered for him. The dagger danced in his hand. He flipped the deadly weapon between fingers illustrating his experience. The steel whipped in the air, carving a dizzying pattern in the dark. "Your first blooding is at hand. Bring to me that lovely young girl…what is her name?"
Feryl clenched fists, "Lyra?"
"Ah yes….Lyra." Nekros purred with a smile. "Bring her to me tomorrow night, and I will forgive you. You can return home then." His gaze sharpened, much like a predator on its prey. "The rules are simple; no word of this to anyone, bring the girl, and expect to be tested. Do we understand one another?"
The elf boy slowly nodded, too trapped and scared witless to do anything agree. Nekros would have him kill Lyra. The test was a simple one, to prove his loyalty, to prove he hadn't fallen into the trappings of Merthisan's philosophies, and to reclaim his role of apprentice. The alternative was even simpler. To die. Nekros left little choice in the matter. Whatever Nekros chose to kill him would be slow and painful.
Feryl also knew that if he didn't follow orders, Nekros would kill Lyra anyway, perhaps in a more horrible fashion. He might even have designs on Master Kendari and Renis as well.
"Very good." Nekros told him, sheathing the dagger. "Then I will expect you tomorrow night then." He leaned forward, scraping fingers across Feryl's cheek, causing him to draw ever so slightly back. The fingers trailed to his chin, gently applying pressure to force his head up to look him in the eye. Nekros was cold, hard, and ruthless. "I'm sure you will make the right decision. After all, we know what happens if you make the wrong one."
Feryl nodded, swallowing hard.
He watched the Assassin leave through the way he came. Even shutting the window, with a brief smile flashed through the rain-slicked window. The expression cut through him, leaving him feeling lost and alone. Burying beneath the damp blankets, Feryl quietly sobbed himself back to sleep.
Poor Feryl. Not much choice for him is there? The question is now; will he follow through? Nekros is an interesting character that has taken a life of his own. He's fanatically deranged, but more complex than your basic psycho. He's always plotting, and rarely does something without reason. Renis is just a jerk. (For those wondering if he is Nekros, he is not.) Renis is that element that reminds Feryl 'he doesn't belong', which he feels regardless.
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