Leap of Faith
Chapter 2 – Error in Judgement
Daelynn sensed/heard a person passing close by. Her table was jostled.
"Apologies", said Braxes, barely paying heed to who sat at the table he had bumped.
Daelynn heard the cleric step across the kava house's wooden flooring and exit out the establishment's east side. She slumped in her chair, relief flooding through her. What trick of fate would place her enemy so close to her, and she in no condition to do anything about it? This was a cruel jest!
She could picture the man dressed in his dark red robes, or a suit of similar colour. Late thirties, black hair, of average height and build. Not unattractive, except that his mouth was usually turned down with a sneer. He had never seen her face. The few times they had met she had been masked or hooded, or darkness and distance had obscured her features.
What was the Cleric Braxes doing here? Any 'job' or arrangement in which he was a part could only mean pain and suffering for others. But what could she do? What should she do? The City Guard, lax as always, would do nothing. By the time she had sent word to the Tymoran temple and any help arrived, Braxes would be long gone.
As a Divine Seeker, she could have easily followed Braxes to his lair, ambushed him, or sent for Tymoran Clerics to do battle with him and his underlings, all worshipers of Beshaba, the Maid of Misfortune. But blind and without her goddess-granted talents, she could do nothing against a Beshaban cleric.
Another scrape of a chair behind her. The other man was leaving! Braxes had called him 'Poke'. He was the one who was to carry out some task tomorrow. She let him pass her table, then called Big-Boy.
The dog quickly answered his mistress' summons. Daelynn grasped his collar and directed his nose to what she assumed was the chair recently vacated by Poke.
"Scent", she commanded the mastiff. "Follow."
With a soft 'wuff' the large mastiff led his mistress out of the kava house and into the street. Uttering soft whines, the dog raised his head and headed west.
Grasping the short lead tied to Big-Boy's chain collar, Daelynn scurried beside him. Her right hand held her short staff, now used as a cane to detect and fend off obstacles. Big-boy, however, guided her safely through the early evening crowd, leading the elf around stationary objects, and moving people aside with a low growl, or an occasional sharp bark.
The elf and the dog trailed Poke for several minutes down the wide, cobbled street. She hated cobbles – too many tripping hazards! Those along the Avenue of Scribes were the worst! Thankfully, this street, near the Washer's Quarters, was relatively even and in good repair.
A few turns later and Daelynn knew they were heading south and would soon reach the city's main east-west canal. A stone bridge led over it to Old Town. She'd not risk entering Old Town, not even with her canine guardian. Not as a sightless person. That part of Capitol held far too many dangers for anyone who might be seen as weak. To think that once she had preyed upon the slum's predators. But not now.
Big-Boy stopped.
"What is the matter, fella? Lose the trail?"
The dog whined in frustration, jerking the chain in Daelynn's hand as he faced first one way then turned in another direction.
Daelynn, too, was frustrated. She had no idea what she was going to do once Poke had arrived at his destination. Likely return home herself, then send a message to the Temple. But saying what? Some unknown plan of Braxes was taking place, somewhere in the city, sometime tomorrow? And she might know the approximate location of one of his confederates? Thin stuff.
Turning back the way they had come, a dejected Daelynn headed northward and for home. She and Big-Boy had scarcely walked a dozen yards when the dog turned quickly to the left. Catching the scent of their quarry, the dog pulled his mistress along, entering a narrow alleyway.
Daelynn cocked her head – she could smell food cooking, hear children playing, felt a rough stone surface on her right. The stone wall ended and she stepped into an open space. From the echoes of the sounds about her she judged that she had entered a modest-sized courtyard. Maybe twenty yards wide? Voices above her. Two, no three, stories high. Tenements. Near the canal. Likely housing craftspeople or shopkeepers, and their families.
Big-Boy tugged at his chain, trying to pull her to the left. Extending her walking stick, she encountered wooden stairs leading upwards.
"No dogs, ma'am", said a small voice to her right. Whomever spoke was female, young, and human. As expected in this part of the city, the speaker had a working-class intonation.
"Oh", responded Daelynn, drawing back the hood of her cloak. "My apologies, Miss. I am looking for a friend. He lives nearby."
"Yer an elf!" The young girl stated, her voice tinged with surprise. They were a long way from the Elven Quarter and it was unlikely that the child had had any dealings with the fair folk.
"I am a Moon Elf", stated Daelynn, falling back on the small lie she used when dealing with humans, and most other elves. "I seek Goodman Poke. Does he live near here?"
"Um, yup. Third level. I can call 'im for ye!"
"No, no. Thank you, Miss. I will find my way." Daelynn quickly interjected before the small child started yelling for Poke. "As dogs are not allowed up the stairs, perhaps you could do me a favour and play with my dog while I go speak to Poke?"
Daelynn could not see the child's reaction to her suggestion, but kids were either terrified of the big dog or fascinated by him. She guessed this little one fell into the latter group.
"Does he fetch?"
"Yes", replied the elf.
Daelynn addressed her canine companion. "Big-Boy. Stay. Play."
The elf turned, and using her stick, found the stairs again. She slowly started climbing, counting as she went. Big-Boy regarded his new playmate, turned to give what could have been a doggy-like reproachful look at his mistress, and lazily lay down.
Daelynn had just stepped off the stairs and onto the third level's exterior walkway, when a door opened beside her.
"Watch where yer goin' girl!"
The sharp rebuke came from a middle-aged sounding woman. "Almost knocked ye off the stairs. Ye must… Oh. Oh, sorry girl. Diddna notice the eyes. Yer blind. What're ye doin' here?"
Daelynn was momentarily taken aback by the blunt, but honest assessment of her condition.
"I…I am lookin' fer a friend. We were ta meet at Goodman Poke's place." Daelynn answered, using the western drawl favoured by her former mentor.
"Oh. Well Poke's always comin' an' goin'. I dinna like him much or his friends". The woman paused. Daelynn suspected that she was being inspected, head to toe.
"Yer much prettier than the other girls Poke sends for. Ye could do so much better, but bein' blind and all, well I guess a girl got to make a livin'. And bein' blind I guess it dinna matter what they look like. Wait! Ye said a friend of Poke's? Would ye be meetin' up with that tall, nice looking man? Now there's a looker. 'Cept for the burns. Two of ye'd make a right handsome couple!"
'Yes!" Daelynn interrupted. "The Burned Man."
"Ah. Well, third door on the left is Poke's. Watch the walkway, sags a bit and the railin' is missin' 'cross from the second door. Nasty accident that."
"Thank ye", replied Daelynn. "And if Poke's friend shows up, dunna say anythin'? Surprise an' all."
Taking her leave of the chatty, inquisitive and informative neighbour, Daelynn felt her way along the walkway. She could hear children playing below. Someone's dinner smelled awfully good. The walkway sagged noticeably as she shambled along past the second door.
The third door was closed.
She rapped firmly on the door three times in quick succession. A timid or soft knock would have set the wrong tone. She had to appear confident, or she'd likely not leave the apartment alive.
"What? Who is it? Rents not due 'til next week. Take off!"
Daelynn knocked, again. Harder.
She heard footsteps approaching the doorway.
"I said, take off, ye bugger!"
With creaking hinges, the door flew open. "What? Who're ye?"
Daelynn had pushed her cloak back off her shoulders, hood down. Her hair was loose, framing what she knew was an attractive face. She'd planned on acting the part of a blind streetwalker – it was what the land-lady had thought she was. The elf hoped to fool Poke long enough to get inside his room. But what now? How would a working girl present herself?
Daelynn thrust out a hip to one side, her hands lightly grasping her walking stick in front of her. Her mind went blank. She'd had little experience vamping men. Truthfully, none. Sarise was a master at that… mistress? Whatever! What would Sarise do?
Tossing her dark locks in what she assumed was a suggestive, come-hither way, she was about to suggestively stroke the staff in her hands, at the same time purring (did women purr? They did in the stupid plays Sarise dragged her to) "the Burned Man sent me", when Poke's next words dashed her vamping plans to pieces.
"Wait. I seen ye at the kava house, today! Ye were sittin' behind Braxes. You're one o' his? What, he don't trust me? Has me followed? Git in here!"
Poke grabbed Daelynn by the arm and hustled her inside. He slammed the door shut and turned on the elf.
"Listen, tell that damned cleric that…"
Daelynn jabbed her short staff into the man's gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath. She pushed him hard up against the door, holding her staff against his throat, her other hand, with most of her weight behind it, pinning the man's chest against the door.
"Braxes shall answer to my Goddess", hissed the elf. "But you will answer to me! What are you planning for tomorrow? Tell me, now!"
From Poke's voice when he had addressed her, and his present harsh breathing, Daelynn surmised that the man was about her height. He had a strong grip when he had pulled her inside the room. And the chest beneath her hand was solid. He probably outweighed her by thirty or forty pounds. He'd try to fight.
Poke shifted his weight and pushed off from the door. He got a nasty scrape from Daelynn's staff but managed to bat it aside and turn the elf away from him. He raised a clenched fist, intent on striking the woman on the back of her head.
Daelynn let the man push her away. She swept her arms up and around turning in a circle and capturing his outstretched arm. She continued her turn, pulling Poke across and over her hip, slamming him onto the floor.
Seeing stars, Poke managed to roll away just before Daelynn's staff struck the floor exactly where his head had been.
Using an adjacent table for support, Poke scrambled to his feet. From the tabletop he grabbed a large knife he had been using to skin a brace of conies. He slashed at the intruder.
Daelynn was expecting a counterattack once Poke had regained his feet. She heard the flat hiss of a blade cutting air just in front of her face. Goddess, that was close! She brought up her staff, changed grips, dropped into a crouch, and swung, striking Poke's shins and upending the man.
Poke landed hard, dropping his knife which clattered on the floor. On all fours, he scurried after it.
Daelynn's attention was drawn to the sound of the knife striking the wooden floor. She dove towards where she thought the weapon and Poke would be, intercepting the man just as he grabbed for the blade.
He got to it first. She had to let him do that. She could not see where the knife was. He could. He stretched out and grabbed it. She was half atop him and quickly ran her hands up his body, seizing his wrists. He had the blade, but she had him. At such close quarters, it was obvious that Poke bathed only occasionally.
Daelynn realized that the man's greater strength would eventually prevail. She could feel his arms slowly pulling the knife closer to them both. She did not even know how long the knife was! Was the tip of his blade a foot away from her or mere inches?
She locked the elbow of her left - the arm holding Poke's knife at bay. It stopped the knife from moving closer to her but the strain on her should was intense. He would soon dislocate it.
Her right hand released Poke's left wrist. Before Poke realized what was happening, she struck him with the heel of her palm. She was hoping to hit his chin or nose but instead got one of his eyes.
Groaning in pain, his left eye now useless, Poke's free hand grabbed at Daelynn's throat. His focus was now on killing her, not protecting himself. And with one hand pushing his knife towards her and his other hand strangling her, Poke felt sure of victory. It was what Daelynn had intended.
She reached over his left arm, and grasping his left wrist, pressed certain nerves. With a yelp, Poke let go of her throat as his hand went numb. Daelynn shifted pressure points. The numbness became a burning pain which grew with each second. Soon it was excruciating.
Trying to pull away, Poke relaxed his attempt to skewer the elf.
Daelynn pushed the hand with the knife away from her, released his left wrist, half turned, then whirled back, delivering a rigid hand strike at her opponent's head.
She had hoped to strike an eye or ear. The nose would have been best. But she had misjudged.
Her father had taught her that strikes inexpertly delivered could be ineffective, or might do more damage or the wrong sort of damage than what was intended. Fighting blind and at close quarters with Poke had proved him right. The side of her hand struck the man's thick neck.
It was an ineffectual blow. Painful, but not debilitating.
Daelynn clamped down hard on the man's knife with both her hands, turning the blade away from her and towards him. Poke used his now numb arm as a club, clumsily striking Daelynn about her head and shoulders.
The elf heaved hard against her foe. Poke, trying to regain his feet, stumbled. The knife slipped between his ribs. Stiffening, Poke looked down in horror at the hilt of his own blade. He slowly sank to the floor.
Not knowing what had happened, Daelynn scrambled away across the roughly sanded wooden floor.
Focussing on Poke's laboured breathing, the elf cautiously edged forward. Her outstretched hand felt a thick, warm liquid. The metallic smell of blood was sharp in her nostrils.
A quick survey of Poke and his injury confirmed her fear. There was nothing she could do for the man. He would be dead in the space of a dozen or so slow breaths. Ùdun! Her only lead to Braxes, and she had killed him!
"Poke! Listen to me!" Daelynn spoke quietly but fiercely. "You have led a terrible life. Of that I have no doubt. You go to an unknown fate but it is likely a horrible Hell. Try to earn some small favour from the Gods! Tell me, what is Braxes planning? Upon your accursed soul, tell me!"
Poke lay on his back staring up at the canvas covered ceiling. Someone, maybe the renter before him, had painted it a soft blue and added clouds. He'd never looked closely at it. Going to Hell? Which one? Couldn't be worse than the hell of living in this world, could it? What's a guy like him to lose?
He pointed at the table across the room by the far wall. She couldn't see what he was doing. He tried speaking.
"Not." He gasped. "Cain."
Poke was in a meadow, lying in the grass, with clouds and a blue sky above him. It was peaceful here at his uncle's farm. He hadn't thought of home in a long, long time. As he crossed over, his last thoughts were serene.
Daelynn shook her head, furious with herself, her idiocy. Her only connection to Braxes was dead by her hand! And what did "not Cain" mean?
The door to the apartment creaked open.
"Well, well", said a deep, masculine voice. A voice she thought she recognized. "It would appear that you have murdered Goodman Poke!"