fantasy

Shirasiau Sai’Li – Part 2

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Sai’Li tried to weigh her options.  On one hand, she was being evicted from the soft and wonderfully enticing life in the Blossom Houses but it would also free her from the rigors of her training and allow her to use the other talents she had been so carefully cultivating.  They had grown like one of the bonsai trees she had been tending for decades, the power they contained having been distilled into absolute perfection.

“I can create my own empire.”  She whispered to her reflection, “Father has honored me with this chance to prove myself.”

The mirrors she kept in her room to remind herself of her own existence.  Of her own mortality.  Of the fact that she was not precisely mortal, but much more so than her honored father.  His vampiric nature had given her unnatural gifts, and unnatural weaknesses.  She would find a way around it though, she must if she was to make her way in the world.

Perhaps that was her father’s goal.  Perhaps he wished her to overcome her weaknesses and establish herself in a position he could respect.  Of course it was much more likely that he merely wanted to weed out the weak.   That was likely why her sisters had been overlooked for this position.

Lian’Tiu was a full blood vampire, gleefully feasting upon the blood of the cattle and expanding the Family’s influence in any number of remarkable ways.  Rian’Zah was a half-blood like herself, but she had not been consigned to The Blossom Houses.  Of course Rian’Zah hadn’t taken well to the embrace of the mortals.  After the first two clients ended up horribly dead, her dear father had decided against such an assignment.

Sai’Li was the only one of his daughters who had been able to endure and eventually come to crave such contact.  Unlike her sisters, she had found the touch of mortals to be more than enticing.  It had become like a drug, the warmth their bodies could give bringing her back to the dancing, the shows and the seduction time after time.  And she was good at it.

Over the decades, her skill in the Houses had brought many secrets to her Family and well had she been rewarded for it.  But now she had begun to feel restless.  After a century of such work, Sai’Li had begun wishing for more.  The outside world was calling and now she had a chance to answer that call.

“Sha.  I require the Obi with the breaking wave.  Ling.  The Kimono with the ravens.”  She smiled, and for the first time her maidservants saw that smile spread to her eyes.  It was terrifying.  She moved behind her dressing screen and opened her top left bureau drawer.

“Pardon Lady, but your Honored Father has given you a gift.  It was his wish that you receive it upon returning to your chambers.”  Sha bowed low, holding a box wrapped with a silk ribbon forward.

Sai’Li took the package and found a pair of shimmering and nearly transparent kimono sleeves.  A note written in her father’s delicate and precise Kanji read ‘So that my Third Daughter may never be without the proper attire.’  She ran a hand over them and felt the thrill of magic running through them, begging to be attuned to her body.

Shivering, she drew on the sleeves and found that with an effort of will she could clothe herself in garb of her choosing.  The fabric whispered up over her body, forming into a perfectly fitting Kimono in pure white with an intricately embroidered pattern of ravens taking flight from a grove of blooming Sakura trees.  The Obi was an elegant grey and embroidered with her favorite traditional Great Wave pattern.

“Oh.”  She said softly, even that small of an expression being almost as outrageous as a shout.  For some this gift might seem frivolous, but for her it was beyond perfect.  Beneath the cloth was another piece of parchment and a small silk pouch.  ‘To ensure that my Third Daughter will complete her mission and honor her house in spite of mishap.’

Inside was a delicate bit of bone as thin as her finger and carved with swirling patterns.  It was a wand that she could use to restore what passed for her life force.  As she was not a full vampire, injuries to her person could not be restored by feasting on the blood of the masses, but the divine light of healing magic burned her flesh even as it burned the true undead.  Snapping open her fan, she quickly covered her face as she was unable to keep the broad smile from it.  This was proof positive that her honored Father wished her to succeed.

“Sha.  Ling.  You have served me with honor and dedication.”  She said from behind her fan, “I release you from your bondage of servitude with a gift of one thousand pieces of silver which I have placed in the top left drawer of my bureau.  Upon my honor, you are free to leave and make lives for yourselves.  Take back your names and depart this night with my blessing.  I fear I must begin learning to survive without attendants.”

The pair bowed low in unison without a single hint of regret, gratitude or relief.  Sai’Li sighed in regret behind her fan.  They truly were perfect servants, but there simply was not a place for them where she was going.  Such delicate flowers needed careful tending, she hoped they would find meaningful placement.  She would not speak to Father about that; he knew all too well how to take advantage of such things and she owed them at least a chance at freedom.

“My Lady, it pains us to leave your service.”  They said together, “However we are grateful that you have thought of our future.  We shall find a place and await your return.  We are loyal to your ladyship and the family.  If it was allowed we would accompany you, however we understand that we would be nothing but an impediment.  Please accept our apologies for not being worthy to serve you outside.”

She bowed in return, although hers was not nearly as deep.  “You honor me with your devotion.  Such dedication is more than admirable, it is deserving of a boon.  Name it and if it be within my power I shall grant it.”

“We require nothing.” Whispered Sha.

“Only to serve.”  Whispered Ling.

Sai’Li closed her fan and moved closer.  She kissed and embraced each of them, giving them a genuine smile.  “I feel undeserving of such praise.  I will make every effort to become worthy of it.  This I swear by my family’s honor and by my black heart.”

“We know when you call upon us that you will be a power to make the world tremble Lady.”  They said in unison, bowing so low that they bent double.

“I will recommend you to The House of Falling Sakura as attendants to the Madam.”  Sai’Li said, “You are loyal, perfect servants with stricture that you be returned to me upon successful completion of my tasks for the Family.  I can offer no higher praise to those in my service.”

“You are too kind my Lady.” They responded in unison, bowing so deeply their heads nearly touched the floor.

“My dears please.”  She implored them, “You honor me too much.”

“It is you who honors us Great Lady.”  Sha whispered.  “I am and will forever be Sha.”

“You have given us nothing but treatment above our station.”  Ling whispered.  “I am and forever will be Ling.”

“We live only to serve the Great Lady.”  They whispered in unison.

“Speak of this devotion to no one.”  Sai’Li cautioned, overcome with emotion at their words.  “It may be more than your lives are worth my children.  I welcome and will not betray your loyalty.”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 8

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The Council of Twelve was meeting and as both Storgar and Brenlena were not just members, but Speakers, Durrak was in attendance.  He wore the formal grey tabard with the thread of gold embroidered sigils of his lineage marching up the breast, mother’s family on the left and father’s family on the right.  They were both proud and ancient; the tabard was heavy with the weight of his family history.  Each of the other Twelve Clans had their own representatives who would speak here, but this time his mother had the honor of being the first heard.

She was standing at The Stone and addressing the assembled dignitaries, so Durrak was required to stand close, holding a tankard of ale in case she needed to wet her throat.  It was silly, neither of his parents had ever taken the offered drink, yet here he had to stand.  He hoped Brenlena was almost finished, he was exhausted.

“Krrakathanak is dangerous and needs to be stopped!”  She was saying, “He has already laid waste to nearly one hundred square miles of mountain range and he is moving this way.  Rumor has it that he is searching for a mate, and a breeding pair of black dragons is not something we want to have within a hundred leagues of here.”

Brenlena stood back from the podium two steps to signal she was finished and ready for any questions and reached out her hand.  Startled, he thrust the tankard into it so quickly he almost slopped some over the side.  She was resplendent in her Mithril chain and Adamantine breastplate.  He was proud to see that she also wore the Fullblade he had forged for her slanting across her back.

“A rousing speech as always Speaker, but who is it that will lead this mission?”  Durrak couldn’t see the questioner and didn’t recognize his voice, “Your duties are with the Kings Own Guardians and they must not leave the fortress.”

“I will lead it.”  Storgar’s voice boomed out into the cavern.  “Any who has the fortitude to follow me is welcome to prove themselves regardless of rank or station.”

Stunned silence greeted this pronouncement.  None had expected a volunteer and even fewer had thought it would be a Dwarf with a long lineage and no need to prove himself with deeds of daring and valor.  Storgar was a well-established battle general, having led many raids against goblin and orc in addition to having a noble family history.

A great shout rang out from outside the council chamber.  More than a hundred voices raised in a war chant.  Durrak shuddered, wondering how many of them would die, wondering if any of them would return.

“I call for the runes!”  The voice of Cairnara, Head Speaker cut through the noise and everyone fell silent as a door opened and the bent shape of the Moragainnag shuffled out.  The raven on her shoulder seemed to stare directly at Durrak, although he knew it was just his imagination.

She reached the edge of the Stone where a crystal pedestal with an iron bowl resting on top stood.  Reaching into the bowl, she picked up the handful of stone, bone and carved gem runes that rested there.  The raven ruffled its feathers and croaked as she threw them into the air.

“Death.”  The Moragainnag said, “Triumph.  Annihilation.  Fate.  The runes have spoken.”  This was the first time the results had been so unclear.  Silence reigned completely now, everyone waiting to hear what would happen.

“I call for a reading if we do not go.” Storgar said.  Although he didn’t raise his voice it was clearly heard throughout the entire chamber.

The raven croaked again and pecked The Moragainnag on the cheek before she reached into the bowl and picked up the stones again.  She tossed them again and stared into the bowl.  Shaking her head, she picked them up and threw them again, but this time most of them jumped out of the bowl, landing face down on the floor.

She turned an ashen face to look at the assembly.  “Death. Destruction.  Doom.  Chaos.  Annihilation.  Damnation.”  Breaking all protocol, she turned to Storgar and pointed her gnarled finger at him, “I charge you Storgar son of Glardin to go forth with any who dare to join you and bring this dragon to his final rest.  If you do not, all is lost.”

She hobbled out of the cavern, leaving the runes sitting on the floor.  The raven on her shoulder caught Durrak’s eye and held it until they passed out of the chamber.  He swore he could still feel the bird’s eye on him even after it was gone.

–

A low thrumming sound that seemed to permeate through her whole body greeted Callindra when she awakened.  Her entire body felt like she had been beaten with a burning stick.  She tried to open her eyes but it felt like a labor of years.

“What happened?  Tryst?  Are you there?”  She whispered through dry lips, as anxious fingers felt around for her sword.  No answer was immediately forthcoming and she struggled to rise, only to find that she had been strapped to the bed.

“Hey!”  She croaked, forcing her eyes open.  The room was tiny, with barely room for the bed and a small table.  Relief washed over her when she saw Brightfang sheathed and resting on the table, his pommel stone glittering in the light that streamed through the porthole on the wall.

With a determined effort, she wiggled an arm free and unbuckled the restraint across her chest and then the one across her hips.  They weren’t tight she realized, more just tight enough to keep her from sliding out of the narrow bed.  The room lurched and Callindra remembered that she was on a ship.  A flying ship.

Before she could get out of bed, she had to brush out the yards long tangle of her hair and carefully braid it.  Callindra had learned the hard way that if she didn’t, it would quickly get impossibly tangled and while at first she had found its length to be an annoyance she had gradually become accustomed to it.  It even seemed to be a bit of a badge of honor to her now, although she wished it would stop growing.

Her pack was at the foot of the bed and she rummaged for fresh clothes since all she had on were smallclothes.  A line of neat stitches ran down her thigh where her wayward sword had dug into her during her tumble across the deck, but the magic of Jorda’s gift had healed her, likely with some help from Tryst.  Only a thin scar remained where the deep slash had been.

“All the trouble I go through for you.”  She grumbled, giving the leather wrapped hilt of her slender blade a dark look.  His pommel stone glittered, but it was probably a trick of the light.  A sound outside the door made her react instinctively, taking a smooth step to the table, stripping the blade from his sheath and poising by the side of the door ready to strike.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 7

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Callindra was still on edge, their escape had been narrow, but that wasn’t all that was bothering her.  It was as though she could always hear someone talking to her, whispering just barely beyond the limit of where she could understand the words.  It had made her jumpy and irritable, to the point where even Tryst was giving her space.

“Great, I’m sure they’ll be happy to work for their keep.”  Callindra said, giving the refugees a significant look.  None of them protested.

“Relax sister.”  Cronos said, giving her a good natured punch on the arm, “You don’t need to glare them to death after we did all the work getting them here safely.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry, I just have this weird feeling that something’s not right.”

“I trust your intuition.”  Tryst said, “But this place seems like a good, safe place for these folk.  At any rate they won’t go hungry and it’s certainly safer than if they traveled with us.”

Callindra looked around the farm with its busy people and green fields.  The sun was setting red on the horizon; a color like drying blood and she shivered.

“That’s just th smoke from th forest fire.”  The farmer said, leaning on the fence rail.  “Been burning for a couple days now.”

They all turned, following his gaze toward the mass of the High Forest with the towering form of the Grandfather Tree rising beyond it.  The haze of smoke was clear against the backdrop of the setting sun.  Callindra felt the dread inside her build.

“No.  The High Forest is burning.”  She whispered, “We did this.”

“What?”  Cronos said, giving her an incredulous look.  “We didn’t set any fires there.  Besides, don’t you think Jorda could take care of a little fire?”

“Yes, I would think that Jorda would have the ability to put out a fire you idiot.”  She said, losing her patience.  “Why do you think I’m so worried?”  Wind gusted and swirled around her, loosening the tie holding her waist long, wrist thick braid so that hair fanned out around her head.

“Be easy sister.”  Vilhylm said, putting a calming hand on her shoulder.  “No need to get upset.  We’ll head that direction at first light.”

“The Hand seems to be pointing back in that general direction as well.”  Tryst said, “If we’re going to find the rest of the pieces we need to keep following it toward the closest one.”

Callindra forced herself to relax, focusing on the first Korumn.  Inhale.  Exhale.  “I’m still not sure I’m OK with you calling me your sister.”  She said, giving Vilhylm a quizzical look.

“Well you’re as close to blood kin as we can have without sharing parents.”  Cronos said with a grin, “You’re even my big sister.”

“I’m only a year older than you Cronos.”  She said, allowing their playful banter to soothe away her worries for the moment.  “Tryst is older than I am and Vilhylm has got to have at least ten years on me.”

“Hey now, there’s no need to rub it in.”  Vilhylm said with a hearty chuckle.  “Come on, let’s see what kind of accommodations master Gild can give us for the night.”

“Oh not but th best hayloft for certain!”  Tom said with a hearty chuckle.  “And there’s a damn fine stew on.”

“Sounds wonderful compared to the burned meat and hard ground we’ve been enduring.” Callindra said, grinning in spite of her mood, “Anything’s better than my cooking.”

–

Pressing hard, they had arrived at the High Forest in two days.  The smoke had been getting steadily thicker and now a choking wall of it obscured their view of the roaring flames ahead.  All Callindra could do is stare in horror.

“Gods and Demons, what did we do?”  She breathed, the winds curling around her, blowing the smoke away from her face.

“This wasn’t us.”  Cronos said, “We didn’t start any fires damn it.”

Even as they watched, the fire grew, seeming to actively try to surround them.  With a cry of fear, Callindra lashed out with magic and the winds that were curling protectively around her burst forth, blasting a path through the flames.

“Stop it sister, you’re making the fire stronger!”  Tryst shouted over the increasing angry rumble and crackle of the flames.

Vilhylm had put a mask on, his body beginning to drip with mud and flung great handfuls of wet muck at the fire but the heat baked them to brick before they could do anything to smother the blaze.  Tryst stared at the wall of flames, spinning in a circle.

“We have to get out before it’s too late!”  Tryst yelled, looking around them at the shrinking gap.

“How did it get around us?”  Cronos said, breaking into a run.

“I think it’s alive.”  Callindra said, “Somehow it senses us.”  It was then that she saw the motes of pure emerald rippling through the smoke above their heads.

“It’s the Abyss!”  Tryst shouted, “We need to move!”

“To move where?”  Vilhylm asked, “It has surrounded us!”

With a supreme effort of will, Callindra drew in as much power as she could, spinning in circle with a gradual increase in speed until she was balanced on the ball of her right foot.  She released the power and the winds swirled in response, becoming a small whirlwind and keeping the raging flames at bay.

A roaring sound only barely audible over the flames made everyone look up.  Above them, a shape with a span of flapping wings too impossibly large to be anything but a dragon blocked out the sky as it hovered.  It took Callindra a moment to realize that she was looking at the wooden planks and decking of a sailing vessel.  When a rope ladder fell over the side, stopping a few feet from the ground she stopped caring how it was managing to float there.

“Get on!”  She shouted, sweat pouring down her face as she desperately concentrated.  “I can’t hold this wind forever!”

Cronos was the first to grab the ladder and begin to climb, closely followed by Vilhylm.  Tryst looked at her as though he might object, but the ship above them began to rock and sway, its massive wings flapping in an irregular beat to keep itself steady.  The torrent of air she was maintaining made the ladder begin to slide sideways toward the wall of flame Callindra was only barely keeping at bay.

As the priest in his gleaming maile ascended the ladder, the ship lurched and abruptly bobbed five feet higher off the ground.  The ladder was out of reach.  Desperately, Callindra brought the swirling torrent of air back in and beneath her in a rush.  It shot her into the air with a surprised scream.  Her clumsy attempt to merely raise up a few feet turned into a catapult shot and she flew a dozen feet past the rail of the ship, tumbling to the deck in a barely controlled roll.

“Do get that ladder up and us out of this bedamed torrent!”  A gruff voice sounded behind her.

“Aye Skip!”  Another voice responded.

The scent of Karalan Imperalius wafted into Callindra’s nostrils.  Her head was woozy from the impact and the massive expenditure of arcane energies.  She tried to focus her eyes on the figure standing above her.

“Yer a bedamed fool girl.”  It said in a basso rumble.  “Ya cut yerself up on that blade.  Pretty bad.  Yer bleedin all over Grungie’s deck, holdin onta that thing like it’s a baby or somethin.”

She looked down, and the last thing she saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was Brightfang’s hilt clutched in her hands, his blade buried in her thigh.

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 6

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They broke from their careful ranks and began to scramble over the stone arch, a few more falling screaming into the unknown depths.  Callindra forced herself to ignore them and to focus on the ranks of bipedal lizards who turned as one to focus on what had been happening behind them.

Emerald green ichor oozed from their mouths and they moved in earie unison.  Their motions were uncoordinated, almost as though someone was controlling them and didn’t quite know how to make them move properly.  Most unnerving was the absolute silence that accompanied their approach.

With a shout of defiance, Callindra pushed past the frightened townsfolk and imposed herself between them and the monsters.  She looked back at the pale faces of the guardsmen who she had been scouting with and growled, “Get up here and defend your family’s you cowards!”

This challenge seemed to stiffen their spines a touch and they lost some of their hesitancy.  The movements of their enemies began to smooth out but their unified movement remained, many of them falling off into the yawning chasm when the edge didn’t match up with their ranks.  Tryst and Vilhylm moved to flank her and bolts of Arcane Power flew from Cronos where he stood at the bridge head, chivying the people across.

“We need to keep them moving and confused.”  Vilhylm said, “If they keep having to move in other directions perhaps we can cause more of them to fall.”

With a grin, Callindra darted forward and summoned a vicious blast of wind from Brightfang’s edge, blowing half a dozen of them over the edge, but unfortunately this put her close enough to them to be nearly surrounded.  When she thought she might be overwhelmed, the contingent of guards she had shamed into fighting slammed into the monsters in a loosely organized wedge, hacking limbs from bodies and opening dreadful wounds as they chopped their way to her side.

“You’re late!”  She said, grinning fiercely at their leader.  He grinned back, throwing a mock salute when the claws of one of the lizard men wrapped around his neck from behind, cutting his throat to the spine and spraying her with his arterial blood.

It was all they could do to break free.  The floor became slick with blood and viscera, many of their companions were left motionless on the ground behind them and Callindra noted absently that she had sustained several rather severe wounds.  She had no time to feel the pain now though, and Jorda’s gift was doing its best to staunch the bleeding.

A shout from the bridge made her turn.  The last of the refugees was at the midpoint and Cronos was frantically waving at them.  Tryst and Vilhylm were fighting side by side, Tryst protecting the spear wielding Vilhylm with his shield while the tall, dark man efficiently skewered their enemies from a distance, an old military technique.

“Fall back to the bridge!”  She shouted to her dwindling escort.  “I can hold them here briefly!”

Some of them hesitated, a move that cost some their lives and others just wounds.  The rest fled in a disordered mob, leaving her to face the ravening horde on her own.  Raising Brightfang over her head, she whipped him down in a series of slashing arcs, calling on the Wind to gift her with speed.  She could feel it wrap around her, calling to her, entreating her to trust it.

To the horror of the onlookers, she turned and sprinted down the line of enemies fast enough that her long braid streamed out like a banner, the end snapping in the wind.  Instead of turning aside, she simply ran off the edge of the chasm closely followed by the two score monsters that were close on her heels.

The winds rose beneath her, blowing her hair out of its braid to lash around her in a confusing tangle, but as her enemies plunged silently to their deaths, she kept running.  Somehow the breezes gathered beneath her, allowing her feet to land on nothing but air.  It took an enormous amount of effort to maintain the concentration though, and by the time she had reached the bridge a mere score paces away, her body was trembling from the effort.

Strong hands steadied her, “That was quite a stunt.”  Vilhylm said.

“We can’t relax yet.”  She replied grimly, pointing to where the first line of monsters were advancing up the bottom of the bridge.

They moved much more carefully and slowly than they had before, and not with as much unified purpose.  Whatever held sway over them was having to be precise lest it lose the majority of its fighting force to the depths of the chasm.

“So what was this plan of yours Cronos?”  Callindra said, her voice tight with barely controlled fear and obvious exhaustion.

“We wait.  Just a few moments more should suffice.”  He began chanting under his breath the way he always did before he used magic.  She never understood why he needed to do such things, but then again he seemed disturbed by her silent magic and her lack of a spell book.

When their foes were three blade lengths away, Cronos finished his spell.  A jet of thick black liquid shot from his hands to coat the narrow bridge with a slippery tar like substance.  The lead lizard men continued forward and lost their balance immediately, falling into the depths below.

“OK, now we run before the spell wears off!”  Cronos said, grinning like a child.

Wishing she had a way of collapsing the entire bridge, Callindra turned to go.  She didn’t look back.

–

After a week of travel, they had managed to get the majority of the refugees to the farm of Tom Gild.  The farmer had survived the riots in Levora but one of his sons had been slain and another was gravely wounded.

“I’ll welcome th help!”  He had said, smiling at the several hundred people.  “Hells, I didn’t make it out with my team, barely survived myself.  Without the horses I was wondering how I’d be able to get th planting done, but if these folk are willing we can do it by hand and have enough that none of us need go hungry.”

Shirasiau Sai’Li

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Shirasiau Sai’Li stood before the mirror in her dressing room, water dripping from her naked body as two attendants came to dry her with soft felted towels and powder her skin with talc.  She allowed her eyes to drift over the curves of her body and smiled in satisfaction.  She was perfect. The balance of beauty, grace and strength that had been achieved through countless hours of practice and training.

“Sha.   The dark blue eye makeup, ivory face paint and black lip covering today.”  She gestured with a hand that had inch long lacquered fingernails.  “Ling.  I desire the Kimono with the scenes of ocean.  The gray, seafoam green, surf blue and white.”

The two women retreated silently and returned with the requested accoutrements within a few moments.  They likely had anticipated her mood; good servants always did.  Oh how she would miss her servants.  After a half candlemark, she was dressed to her satisfaction and holding her parasol demurely in one hand as she descended the stairs to have tea with her father.

“My little Sai’Li.”  Shirasiau Kanimari, the Lord of the Silk Fortress and Master of the Saffron Trading Company greeted her with a smile that did not touch his eyes.  “How does my Third Daughter fare this morning?”

“I am well Father.”  She said with a formal bow.  “Please allow me to make the tea.”

Without waiting, she tucked her parasol into her Obi, moved to the sideboard and poured boiling water into a small cup, spooned the tea powder into it and whipped it into a froth.  She brought two warm cups of tea with a tall cone of froth, demurely sliding one of the cups across the table to him before kneeling on the tatami on her side of the table.

For a time, all was normal.  the beautiful birds in the garden outside sang, a soft breeze blew the scent of flowering trees into the room and Sai’Li savored the complex flavor of her tea.  Then her father interrupted the silence.

“I have a mission for you Third Daughter.  Our holdings are in danger now that this new land has appeared.”  Kanimari took up his cup and sipped, sighing in pure satisfaction, “As much as it pains me, this means one of my children must go forth and forge new pathways, set up new contacts and represent our Family.”

Sai’Li’s tea sat getting cold on the tabletop and she stared at him for a few heartbeats.  “Father you cannot mean-“

His hand slammed down on the tabletop, not hard enough to make the cups jump but with the open flat striking like a thunderclap.  “I will have obedience from my children.”  He remarked calmly, taking another sip of tea.

Her lower lip trembled even though she tried to stop it, “Father, how have I upset you?  What have I done to disappoint you?”

“Sai’Li, my darling, you have done nothing to upset or disappoint me.”  He said, taking another drink of his tea.  “I have chosen you because of your exceptional skill.”

The door opened and a servant walked carefully through it, holding a tray with bowls of Miso soup and sticky rice.  He set it on the table and began to bow and retreat.  Something caught Sai’Li’s attention and she moved a hand faster than the blink of an eye, taking her fan from the front of her Obi and striking him on the wrist.

A dagger clattered to the floor at his feet as he shrieked in pain as the razor edges the fan was tipped with sliced effortlessly through his flesh.  Green bubbling foam rose from the wound and the servant fell twitching to the floor.  Within a few moments, he was dead.

“Father.  This is most uncouth.”  Sai’Li said, standing, opening her fan in front of her mouth and giving him a look of mild reproach.  “I must insist that this kind of behavior be reserved for after morning tea.”

Kanimari laughed, a genuine and pleased sound.  “Now you see Third Daughter why I wish you to be our emissary on this mission.  Not only are you clever, you also have the reflexes and mercy of a hunting cobra.  You struck without hesitation and killed without question.”

“But father.  The rugged outdoors?  How will I survive?”  Her voice grew slightly desperate, “You do not really expect me to walk among savages and sleep on the ground?”

“I have of course taken care of that.”  He said with a wry smile.  “Ignis has agreed to be your escort, and I am sure we can find you a pavilion to sleep in.”

Sai’Li folded onto a couch with the delicate grace of a shower of Sakura petals.  “Honored father, you surely cannot mean it.  The scarred Dwarf?  The arsonist?  The crude one?”

“Kanimari, you didn’t mention she was such a prissy whelp.”  Ignis strode into the room accompanied by the smell of old smoke.  “Don’t expect we’ll be traveling much roads, not sure a pavilion or such a delicate flower will be able to manage. Gah, I’ll be making my favor owed a good one for this task.”

Kanimari’s eyes narrowed for a moment at the use of his given name, but… the Dwarf hadn’t given offense intentionally.  Or if he had, it was a calculated risk to show the depth of the favor he was expecting.

“I believe our conversation regarding the safety and security of wild areas was included in the risk and compensation analysis?”  He said, making a minute gesture with his hand.  “Please, won’t you sit?”

Sai’Li saw it and rose silently and gracefully from where she had reclined.  With a whisper of silk, she fixed another cup of tea.  Intuitively, she chose the Dragonfire tea, the sharpest flavor that had been roasted until it was heavy with smoke and bitter as an adder’s sting.

Ignis stumped around the table, nearly tripped over the dead body and paused, raising an eyebrow at Kanimari.  The man’s lips rose in a very slight smile that did not touch his eyes.

“An unfortunate accident.  This fool thought perhaps he might try and sink a knife into my Third Daughter’s back when she was not looking.  As you can see, though she may be a delicate flower, her thorns are long and sharp.

“These new and uncharted lands have great potential for development.”  Kanimari continued, “Of course you will wish to mitigate that development and secure some unspoiled land, perhaps to set up a new Circle since I have heard rumors that you were cast out of yours?”

Ignis grunted, snatching the porcelain cup of tea from the table as soon as Sai’Li put it down and tossing it back without tasting it.  She stared at him, horrified, but said nothing.

“Someday you’re gonna have to tell me who keeps feeding you these juicy tidbits.”  He said holding his cup out to Sai’Li as though he expected her to simply pour more tea into it.  At a gesture from Kanimari, she took it and prepared a second cup.  Despite the way he was treating her tea, the ceremony was sacred and she made a second perfect cup.

“If you pause to appreciate the complexity of this blend friend Dwarf, you may discover it has characters you admire.”  Sai’Li said as she set the tea on the table next to Ignis.

He took a mouthful and swished it around before swallowing.  “All I taste is smoke.  But of course, I was just out in a big fire in … well I don’t need to get into that do I?”

“Honored father, if I may I must retire to prepare for my exile.”  Sai’Li said mournfully, “With your permission I will withdraw that I may ready my things and put my affairs in order.

“Third Daughter, I have something for you before you depart.”  Kanimari said, his smile touched the corner of his eyes this time as he extended an envelope on a silver tray.

She took it, broke the seal with a lacquered nail and read it carefully.  Her eyes widened slightly; something that was as good as a startled shout in her family and she snapped her fan open in front of her face to hide the brief flash of emotion.

“You honor me father.  I shall, as always, endeavor to do my best to ensure the best interests of the Family and Saffron Trading are well represented.”  She bowed and backed up three paces before withdrawing.

Kanimari chuckled, a mirthless sound.  “Her sisters will be furious of course.”  He remarked to Ignis.

“I don’t give a wet rat for your family politics.”  The Dwarf said, drinking the rest of his tea in a gulp.  “You got that contract?”

Kanimari laughed again and produced a roll of parchment with a long and carefully worded contract on it.  With an effort of will, Ignis gestured, and the parchment vanished in a flash of flame and smoke.

“You got my word.  If that ain’t enough for ya then flame burn your thrice cursed mission to ash.”

The man snapped his fingers twice, his eyes not leaving the Dwarf’s face.  Servants came in to clean the table top with lavender scented water and another brought a small ramekin of steaming water with a slender ceramic jar inside.  Two tiny cups accompanied it.

“I had planned for this contingency of course.”  He said calmly, “We will seal the contract in a more traditional and Dwarven way.  With our word and with a drink.  I trust that hot sake will be acceptable?”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 5

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The roar of a waterfall was audible long before they reached it.  Callindra turned to look at her friends and motioned for them to come near.

“I’ll sneak ahead.”  She whispered, “Keep the rest of them quiet.  Once I know it’s safe I’ll come get the rest of you.  Or if it’s not safe I’ll come tell you and we’ll figure it out.”

After they had given their grudging assent, she snuck out carefully eventually dropping to a crawl by the time she reached the edge of a large drop off.  The scene below her was breathtaking.  An underground river was cascading down the side of an immense cavern and had carved a riverbed through the stone, only leaving a slender arch of bedrock that spanned the gap.

The thunder of falling water all but deafened her and the mist that rose from the gorge it vanished into made it very difficult to see.  She sat still for a few minutes, just watching and trying to take in the enormity of it all.  A slight motion against the falling water caught her eye, a swirling in the mist that barely resolved into a humanoid creature with a long tail.

Now that she saw one, she began to see dozens, if not hundreds of the creatures they’d fought before standing before the waterfall or milling about aimlessly nearby.  Beyond them she could feel the wild breezes from the outside dancing and playing between her and an opening to the outside.

Callindra let out a sob of relief.  An exit to the outside.  Until she saw a way out, she hadn’t realized just how closed in she felt in the caves.  It took an extreme act of will to stay put, even though she knew it would be tantamount to suicide to try and run past all the lizard creatures.  Even more difficult was backing away to the others where they stood in the stagnant, still cave air.

“There’s a way out, but the only way to get there is to cross a bridge defended by a hundred or more of those lizard things.”  Callindra looked back at the refugees huddling together more to stave off fear than cold she thought.

“Hardly ideal.”  Tryst said dryly.

“Try rotting impossible!”  Said Cronos, “We can’t possibly sneak across ourselves, let alone herd this lot through without being seen.”

“With us being this close, it’s actually likely only a matter of time before they hear this unruly mob and bring the fight to us.”  Vilhylm said.  “Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it quickly.”

“What if we tried something like we did in that Kobold cave outside of Vonlar?”  Callindra mused, “I use magic to make a noise, lure them away and then while we lead them on a merry chase, the refugees escape.  Not all these men are completely worthless… a few have bows, we might be able to make a decent fight of things.”

“Not if there are a hundred or more of them.”  Vilhylm said, “Even if we could force them to come at us singly or in pairs that would be very long odds.”

“All we need to do is distract them for long enough for the refugees to get over the bridge.”  Cronos said with a feral grin.  “Then after we get across I can take care of the rest.  It’s a narrow bridge right Callindra?  No railings?”

“It’s really just a narrow piece of granite that has been exposed from the erosion of the limestone around it.”  Callindra said, “That might be a problem too, since the mist from the waterfall has likely made the footing uncertain at best.”

“Wonderful.”  Vilhylm drawled, “A hastily assembled, poorly thought out and dangerous plan that’s likely to get us all killed along with the folk who are trusting their lives to us.”

“Have you got a better idea?”  Asked Callindra with an arched eyebrow.

“Other than going back the way we came and hoping there’s another exit somewhere else, not really.”  He retorted, “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good plan or that I like it.”

“Who gets the honor of selling it to the refugees?”  Tryst asked, and Callindra started to chuckle at him.  As his face took on an even more wounded expression she couldn’t hold back the laughter and eventually it spilled over into the others.

“Well I think you should be the one to tell them.”  He said, frowning at her.  “It’s your bedamned plan, let them hear it from you!”

“I’ll tell them if you want Tryst, but they won’t like it coming from me.”  She said, still smiling, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

Tryst sighed in resignation and went off to speak to the assembled survivors.  Cronos, Vilhylm and Callindra began to creep up to where they could see down into the cavern.  Something was changing, the face of the waterfall began to reflect flickering green lights and all the creatures turned toward it.

“What are you doing?”  Cronos asked, glaring at Callindra.  “We aren’t ready yet.”

“It’s not me.”  She replied, “But now might be our best chance at getting these people out.  See, they’re all moving toward the waterfall, they all have their backs to us.”

“True, but it only takes one of them turning around to blow the whole thing.”  Vilhylm said.

“Hey, same goes for if they see through whatever illusion I could conjure up.”  Callindra countered, “Who knows how long this will last.  We need to get them moving!”  She all but sprinted back down to where the people were splitting into groups, ten civilians with three warriors as guards in each.

“What is happening Callindra?”  Tryst asked, giving her an annoyed frown.

“Some kind of ritual or something, but the important thing is it’s a distraction.  If we move quickly and quietly we might be able to escape before they even notice we’re here!  Hurry!”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”  Tryst said skeptically, but many of the groups were already moving.

“It’s as good of a plan as the other, I mean… it’s not like we could keep these things distracted forever and at least this way they have a running start!”  She punched him in the arm, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “Come on, you’re gonna miss all the fun.”

Tryst narrowed his eyes, “Callindra, this is a serious situation.  People could die.  People are likely to die.  We very well might die.  This flippant attitude of yours is unacceptable.”

“Come on Tryst.”  She said, smiling, “I have to laugh at death.  It’s either that or run screaming.”

He sighed, “You are impossible, but you’re right on one account.  We must move quickly.  This is likely our best chance.”

“You’re too serious.”  Callindra said, but she couldn’t contain the quaver in her voice.  “Come on, let’s get these sheep moving.”

Tryst looked at her, a kind of understanding and empathy beginning to dawn on him.  “Right.”  He said gruffly, “Let’s go.”

By the time they had gotten back up the incline, a quarter of the refugees had begun crossing the stone bridge.  The thunder of the waterfall drowned out any noise they might be making and by some miracle, none of them had fallen off the narrow, slippery surface.  Their presence hurried the others along, but also made them careless.  The first dozen had crossed and were sneaking out of the exit when one of the older men lost his footing and plunged over the edge with a piercing cry.

Without waiting to see what the reaction of the lizard people would be, Callindra sprinted toward them, Brightfang jumping into her hand.  “Run!”  She yelled to the refugees she passed, “RUN!!!”

The Callindra Chronicles Book 2: The Rise of Evil – Chapter 4

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“You must learn to control the flames of Maegera if you wish to master the Adamantine forge.”  Dethen said, “And in order to control Maegera’s fire, you will have to conquer your fear of him.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of an ancient and malevolent being of primordial fire…” He trailed off and belatedly added “Master.”

“This is true Apprentice, however I didn’t say to stop being afraid; I said to conquer your fear.  Do not let it rule your actions, but instead allow it to advise.  Fear of this monster is an appropriate reaction until you realize that it is bound.”

Durrak flinched as he spoke the words in Ignan, the language of Flame itself, which opened the Gate to Maegera’s fire.  The elemental flame roared forth, bathing the ingot of Adamantine in impossible heat.  The metal shimmered and began to run in rivulets down into a flat mold almost the same shape as the sword he would eventually be making from it.

Wearing nothing but an enchanted apron over a loincloth, Durrak took a deep breath and picked up his hammer and squared his shoulders.  This was the only way he was going to be able to face his parents again.  He had to surpass their expectations.  There was no way he was going to fail.

“LITTLE MAGGOT.”  A voice slammed its way into his skull.  “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?”  This wasn’t supposed to happen, the monster was supposed to be contained!

In spite of the pressure he felt crushing his body, Durrak raised his chin.  He was a Dwarf after all, and he had his pride.  If Maegera was going to kill him, then he was going to look the demon in his face when it happened.

“I don’t want to fail my parents oh Master of the eternal flame.  I want to live up to the expectations of my family, my clan and my God.”

“IS THAT SO?  AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WILL HELP YOU?”  The assault on his entire body and soul was more than he could take and he knew it.

“Why not?” He asked, “What else are you doing?”

Maegera’s laugh shook the marrow of his bones, “YOU HAVE SPIRIT YOUNG CHILDE OF THE EARTH.  THE LAST OF YOUR KIND I SPOKE TO THUS BROKE HIS SKULL WITH HIS FORGE HAMMER TRYING TO BASH ME OUT YET YOU HAVE ENOUGH SPARK TO MAKE DEMANDS.  VERY WELL, THE BLADES YOU WISH SHALL BE FORGED IF YOU HAVE THE FORTITUDE TO ACCOMPLISH IT.”

Durrak’s body trembled with the effort of swinging the hammer.  Sweat poured from his body and his breath came in short gasps.  He refused to allow his hand to unclench from the haft of the long handled forge hammer.  The Ignan words of dismissal fell from his lips like lead and the fires cut off as though they’d never been there.  Two flawless swords, each three paces long and made of the strange marbled metal that only one forge he knew of could melt lay cooling on the stone workbench.

“DO NOT QUENCH THEM LITTLE MAGGOT.” Maegera’s voice echoed in his mind, “THEY WILL COOL IN THEIR OWN TIME.”

Durrak wore his exhaustion like a cloak, but he was satisfied.  Now he would be able to concentrate on what gave him passion.  Now he could make jewelry.

A voice that caressed his mind like a tongue of flame touching dry wood.  It carried with it the ring of a thousand distant forge hammers and the implacable strength of the bones of the earth.

“You have done well to bend the metal and flame to your will.  It shows the mettle that is needed to be forged properly.”

Durrak shuddered as the touch of Thraingaar slipped from his mind.  Surely he had imagined his God’s presence.  He was nothing but the first son of the third Noble House.  His parents were mere Battle Leaders and Speakers.  Perhaps more important than some, but not enough to be of anyone’s notice.  Certainly not the God of the Forge.

–

Callindra swore, the oath drawing a startled glance from one of Tanner’s warriors who was scouting ahead with her.  None of his men could get used to her being a warrior, her not being in a dress or her being a competent scout.  She was stuck halfway between exasperation and smiling in triumph.

“Another god rotting dead end.”  She concluded, “Go back and inform the others.”

He jerked awkwardly and saluted, turning to run back as she walked along the wall, double checking for passages that might have been missed.  A glimmer of light caught her eye, and although she thought it likely one of the many clumps of strange phosphorescent moss that grew down here, she wasn’t taking any chances.

The wall exploded in a twisted tangle of misshapen arms and legs and only Callindra’s lightning reflexes saved her from going down beneath the onslaught of a half dozen monsters with scaly skin and glowing emerald eyes.  They hissed in hunger and closed with her more quickly than she thought possible, raking at her with wickedly long claws.

Down here the winds weren’t as responsive to her, being stagnant things that crept around corners and slunk through cracks instead of the vast unstoppable forces that lived on the surface.  Unaware of her reliance on their strength and speed, Callindra jumped to one side a tiny bit too slowly and the curving claws tore into her side.  They cut through the boiled leather of her armor with ease and brought a spray of blood with them as they exited her flesh.

The impact of the blow spun Callindra in a stumbling circle, off balance and leaving her guard down.  With snarls, the others leaped at her in unison.  She managed to turn the stumbling turn into a spin and dropped to a crouch, whipping Brightfang through the thighs of one of her attackers.  The monster fell back and another one screamed in rage as a spear drove into its chest, thrown from behind her.

Fighting desperately, she turned a claw strike aside with her sword and dropped flat to avoid another swipe.  The warrior she had sent back to report ran into the fray, a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other as he attacked silently from one side.  The creatures had been so focused on Callindra that he managed to incapacitate one of them before two fell on him in a flurry of claws and teeth.

A bestial roar announced the arrival of Vilhylm wearing the mask that gave him immense strength.  He cannoned into the side of one of the lizard creatures, crushing it against the wall with enough force to pulverize its bones.  In a flurry of strikes, the other arms men who followed Vilhylm hacked the remaining creatures to pieces.

There were a few human forms laying among the reptilian dead.  Callindra forced herself not to think of it; there was a butcher’s bill to pay to escape these cursed caves and she was just grateful not to be added to the tally.  At least not yet.

She looked past the soldiers making sure of the dead and joined Vilhylm, looking into the hole the monsters had left in the wall.  Beyond was a smoothly sloping tunnel that curved around and down on one side and up at a similar angle on the other.  To Callindra’s surprise and pleasure, a wind from the outside twined around her ankles like a purring cat before leaping up to tease the wrist thick braid of hair that fell to her waist.

“What is it?”  Vilhylm asked, giving her a quizzical look.

Realizing she was smiling, Callindra grinned even broader.  “There’s a way out.  Fresh air is blowing up this tunnel.”  Her words echoed in the smooth walled passageway and realized it wasn’t natural cavern, it was worked stone.

Vilhylm seemed to have noticed it as well.  “Get the others.  We need to move carefully and quietly.  There may be more of those things.”

Reluctant to leave the fresh breeze, Callindra turned back, dispatching the warriors back through the caverns to bring the main group of refugees from where they rested under the watchful eyes of Cronos and Tryst.

Kaleb Bargains With Elvish Nobility

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The door to Kaleb’s shop was swept open and an imperious woman in an intricately embroidered silk gown looked around with a skeptical expression on her face.  She had the dusky golden skin and dark eyes of a Sun Elf and striking, nearly metallic copper hair.  The Goblin Tek smiled a toothy grin from behind the counter.

“Welcome Lady.  How may we be helpful today?”

“Sand and sun!” She took a half step back, snapping a fan open to cover her face.  “It talks!”

“Can I help you?”  Kaleb asked, walking from the workshop and dusting wood shavings off his trousers.

“Perhaps.”  She said, still holding the silk and lace fan in front of her face and eyeing the pair of them dubiously.  “I was looking for a Thiefcatcher, but I think perhaps this is the wrong location.  My Lady has no need for furniture or wood carvings.”

“Carpentry is the family business.”  Kaleb said, giving her a level look.  “The other is my own.  I do have a board at The Wandering Wyvern for folk to leave me messages in addition to a box at the Guildhall.”

“My Lady requires service as befits her rank.”  The woman said loftily, “I am Lady Taryngail’s personal assistant.”

When Kaleb continued to look at her with a blank expression and she snapped her fan shut in agitation.  “Surely there is a more appropriate place we could discuss our business.”  She said with a significant look at Tek.  “Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me back to my Lady’s lodgings?”

Kaleb recalled the contingent of wealthy and powerful Elves from Denoria who had established a trade with the hotter desert and jungle regions of the Eastern realms.  They were a haughty and entitled bunch, but they had brought a significant amount of money into Lanthodell and their trade partners were valued by nearly everyone in the city.

He sighed inwardly, preparing to be obsequious. “If it please you, leave your Lady’s card here and I shall call upon her once I have made myself presentable enough to enter into her presence without giving offense.”

Noting with satisfaction the surprised expression on the woman’s face he accepted the lacquered wooden card from her, showed her to the door and went to change out of his simple trousers and leather smock.  While these wealthy folk were a pain to deal with, they did at least pay well.

–

A candlemark later, he presented the card to a different golden skinned silk clad woman who opened the door. She looked at him briefly before leading him to a waiting room without a word. An array of preserved delicacies was on the room’s sideboard along with a selection of liquors and wines. He ignored all, choosing to stand in an unobtrusive place where he could see all three doors in the room.

A tedious half candle later, Kaleb was considering leaving when a door other than the one he had entered through swung gently open. A tall, willow thin elf with skin a dark reddish gold and hair a myriad of pure white braids the size of his little finger each tipped with a tiny bell wrought from platinum each in the shape of a different animal stepped through it.

She wore a gossamer black veil that covered her below the eyes, and flowing silken robes of an indigo blue that was breathtaking in its intensity. Jet black tattoos swirled over her wrists, ending in elegant runic symbols of power. Her eyes shone with a gentle azure light that trailed out from them in strange lines like the trail the light of a fast-moving torch leaves across the eye in the middle of the night.

Her handmaiden entered behind her, moving quickly to the sideboard and pouring her a narrow fluted glass of emerald green liquor. The Lady Taryngail glided to a chair next to the roaring hearth and sat. “Be sitting if it does please you Thiefcatcher Stoughtbough.” She said, her breath making her veil move ever so slightly. “It would be quite of politeness if you would accept refreshment of my house.”

“Water please.” Kaleb said, moving to sit on the other side of the fire from the lady. Her handmaiden filled a glass with clear water from a pitcher and set it on the small table beside the Halfling. He politely touched it to his lips, not taking a sip. “What have you lost and who has taken it from you?”

She took a delicate taste of her liquor, sipping it through a thin glass straw and looking at him with those eyes that dribbled tiny motes of blue light seemingly at random now that she was seated. “Much with blunt speech have these folk. It is not the ideal of mine to allow such things to be stated so plainly. Perhaps the Nobility of Feycourts have tainted this one’s mannerisms, however it does seem you are lacking in the trust.”

Standing with fluid grace she gestured towards her handmaiden who brought her a small loaf of bread, a dish of dark and pungent vinegar, a small saucer of sea salt and a dish of amber oil. The Lady moved her wrist in the subtlest of motions and a tiny silver knife appeared in it. Cutting a slice from the loaf, she dipped it first in the oil, the vinegar and then the salt. Splitting the bread down the center, she offered him her two hands.

“You are guesting in my tent. I am making the offering of peace. You are safety within these walls, my word and my bread upon it.”

Kaleb took the bread from her right hand and she immediately put the other slice of bread into her mouth, sliding it under her diaphanous veil with practiced ease. He did the same, and followed the complex, flavor of oil, vinegar and salt with a sip of water. The water was not simple or plain either; having flavors of minerals he had not experienced.

“Your choosing of water accentuates the knowledge of our ways.” She said, raising her glass. “Although the sipping of the fermented waters of the cactus would have shown even more.”

“Without knowing what you’ve lost or who has taken it Lady, I haven’t any way of being able to recover it for you.” Kaleb said, “I trust this ritual to mean you have extended trust to me and accepted mine in return. If I choose not to take the job you have my word I will not reveal anything you have told me to anyone.”

“Yes.” Lady Taryngail said with a nod of her head, “My Blademaster finding himself set upon in street while doing the guarding of one of the treasures of the house. This treasure was being in an iron chest of the size of this.” She held her hands in a shape the size of a loaf of bread.

“Who took it? Where was the theft perpetrated?” Kaleb took another drink of water, surprised by the flavor it had once again. “Have you notified the proper authorities?”

“The master of swords was laid low by deceitful poisons injected by projectiles in the city of Desigoringaraitarial. Known by your folk by the name of Denoria.” Her eyes narrowed, “Guardsman having failed, the matter being brought to Thiefcatcher.”

“What do you offer for compensation?” Kaleb deftly sliced another piece of bread; it really was quite good.

“Upon recovering of the thing lost ten thousand coins of gold would be given.” She said in an offhanded tone, as though the money was irrelevant.

“Ten thousand?” Even though he was prepared for something extravagant based on the opulence of the house and the obvious danger involved, Kaleb nearly dropped his bread. He had been working for five years to build up his shop and hadn’t earned that much profit.

“I requiring the thieving dreksa and returning of the property.” The lights of her eyes glittered dangerously, arcing small stars that crackled when they touched a surface and leaving tiny black marks. “Questions beg the answering.”

Kaleb swallowed hard, “I will attempt to find the perpetrator and your stolen property, however taking prisoners is not always possible in this business. I do not want to promise something I cannot be certain of being able to deliver.”

“Fifteen thousand if captured living. Ten if killed and treasure recovered.” She drank the last of her liquor, “Are you accepting of this requested offer of employment?”

Kaleb’s eyes narrowed, “May I ask a direct question?”

“Why would you be changing how you have been speaking?” The Lady said, carelessly moving her hand to one side and dropping her glass. Her Handmaiden smoothly caught the delicate crystal before it had fallen more than a finger length, set it aside and filled a clean glass with pale pink liquid from another decanter and handing it back.

Kaleb caught the intentional scrutiny in her eyes when he met them. “I have two questions before I decide. Why did you pick me? Certainly there would have been people in Denoria who could have handled this for you. I need to know that and I want to know what is in the box.”

“You were selected for being recommended highly and for not being of Denoria. I am trusting you are not involved. You are to be recovering the iron casket intact. If it is opened then recovering it would be unnecessary.” She sipped her drink and he watched the pale liquid travel up the glass straw to vanish beneath her veil.

“What if I travel to Denoria and either can’t find this person or find the package has been opened?” Kaleb asked, “It’ll take weeks to get there and –“

She cut him off with a sharp motion of her hand. “Matters of cost are not being worthy of my time. Your expendings shall be handled. Are you catching my thief or are we looking elsewhere?”

“I will need more information about the crime, the article taken and the location.” Kaleb said, “But yes, I accept.”

Lady Taryngail nodded in satisfaction, stood and swept from the room without giving him another glance. The flickering blue lights at the corners of her eyes left trails of sparks in the air and an exotic perfume.

“I can answer any questions you might have.” Her handmaiden said, “I am acquainted well with the details of the artifact and the theft.”

By the time Kaleb had gotten all the information he believed he needed, he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to do this alone. The skeptical, analytical part of him bereted him for even considering accepting the job. The thief catcher in him was ecstatic at the challenge.

Gravelox and Gearslayer

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Just another gaming character intro.  I know… seems like with all these games I’m playing I probably don’t have time to write, work, sleep… but hell, let’s just say I’d rather be gaming!  Besides, I need more little inspirational outlets, otherwise I’ll get stuck with the dreaded writer’s block.  Or have to admit that I’m stuck on some of my other stories.  Whatever.  Here’s some steampunk inspired fantasy fiction.  Hope you enjoy it.

–

Gravelox grumbled as he struggled to loosen one of the bolts on Gearslayer.  The adjustable spanner in his hand gripped the heavy iron hexagon in its steel jaws and the gnome hauled on it with a grunt of effort.  The rusted bolt shrieked as it twisted, the only warning that it was suddenly loosening and he very nearly split his knuckles on the construct’s thick leg.

“Blasted rain storm caught us out too long.”  He muttered, “Didn’t have time to clean and dry you off after that idiot Verlak and his blasted orcs forced us to mush ‘em into paste.  Blood gets into the joints and seizes things up.”

The bolt came all the way free and Gearslayer’s leg moved sideways, revealing half an orc’s torso that had gotten crammed into the massive iron scorpion’s leg joint near where it connected to the body.  The orc’s ax was tangled in the cabling there as well and was fouling the motion of the limb.

“Scummer and murrain, the pox take those crow’s eaten green skinned yellow livered inbred slugs!  One joke about the possibility of their mothers breeding with tusked slugs and they get all bent out of shape.”  With the assistance of a pry bar, he began levering the orc free from where it had been mangled into the leg joint.  “Sparkplug, a bit of light over here if you please!  I need the contrast of color to be able to see where to – oof – pry.”

With a soft hum and buzz, a mechanical lightning bug the size of the Gnome’s doubled fists flitted over on thinly stamped Mithril wings to land on Gearslayer’s side and light began to shine from his posterior.  After a few moments of careful prying, the orc’s helmeted skull popped free and the creature fell to the floor with a sickening splatter.

“Rust and ruin I’m going to have to release this cable and re-string it.  This poxy rat of a shoddy ax is crammed in here too tight.”  He busied himself with more spanners, pliers, lubricants and got the cable loosened.  The ax fell, but the gnome’s ears twitched in agitation when he saw that the blade had shorn through half the thick strands of steel.

“Good thing Verlak had some coin on him.”  Gravelox muttered darkly, “This is going to cost me more gold and you’ll be on five legs until I can get a new cable made.”

He shuffled back into the interior of his workshop, past the steam hammer and forge to his desk.  Pulling a pencil from his apron pocket, he sharpened it and scribbled an order with precise tensile strength, diameter and length down on it.

“Sparkplug, I need you to take this to Drandlain’s Ironworks.”  He said, folding the parchment and sealing it with a blob of dark green sealing wax.  “Tell her to deliver it.  And to hurry.  I’m far too busy to be mucking about leaving my shop and engaging in any more tomfoolery of the sort that pox ridden Verlak likes to engage in.  Not that he’ll be troubling anyone anymore eh?  EH?”  Chuckling at his own joke, the Gnome slid the message into his mechanized familiar’s message tube and sent it buzzing on its way.

Gravelox looked around his workshop and sighed.  So many projects he had started and not finished.  So many failures that had nearly ended in death.  So many years of study and research.  Finally, his project was finished.  Predictably, just when his masterpiece was going out for its walkabout, that big jerk had to pick a fight.

He scratched idly at the spot just behind his right ear where his skull was still healing around the steel shunt that plugged into his brain.  Although the others had all said he was insane for drilling holes in his head for the sake of his research, he sure had showed them!  Or he would.  Once things were ready.

“Pressure.  Just like the engine in Wrenn’s ship.”  He muttered.  “But not with the same kind of propellant.  Don’t like that hydrogen.  No booms.  That’s why I use heat, pressure, proper applications of springs, cams and cables, clockwork and just a touch of aethercrafting.  That’s why you’re my masterpiece.”

Gearslayer rattled its metal mandibles in response and Gravelox felt satisfied amusement in his head.  The same device that gave him access to control the metal monster without words or gestures also allowed its collection of gears, wires, crystals and aethercraft to respond with vague emotions and sometimes with single syllable words.  He smiled, thinking about how shocked his naysayers would be.

“Just like I said, once it’s awakened my dear little pet can think!  A thinking machine.”  His grin spread wider, “I think I’m only a few steps away from proving my theory about the former existence of the sentient steel creatures called Warforged that I found reference to in several historical texts.  It’s only a matter of time, eh Gearslayer?”

The metal construct tapped at the workshop floor with a foreleg as though impatient.  Gravelox chuckled, feeling his friend’s anticipation of things to come.

“Yes, while I’m waiting for that replacement cable perhaps I will finish your tail and its injectors hmm?”  He moved to his workbench where a rotating set of copper cylinders sat next to an apparatus with a sturdy, retractable needle.  Fiddling with his aether powered brazing torch he brought it to a fine point, heating the copper, brass and glass tubing so it could be twisted into the proper shape and soldered together.  Humming quietly to himself, he continued to work long into the night.

–

It was most of a week before the replacement cable came in.  During that time, Gravelox began playing with other high-pressure systems.  With the addition of aethercraft, he had constructed a modified bolt thrower that could outperform any crossbow.  The biggest advantage it offered, other than being more compact and being able to throw a much heavier missile, was the rotating cartridge that he had modeled after Gearslayer’s tail injector.

By spinning the machined steel tubes, he could fire a dozen shots as rapidly as any archer with a bow without sacrificing the accuracy and compact size of a crossbow.  Also, he could choose certain bolts and load them in certain barrels to be able to choose blunt, armor piercing or regular broad heads swiftly.  He chuckled in satisfaction after firing a series of practice bolts into a target across the workshop.

“Oh this will be perfect!”  He said.  Gearslayer clattered his front claws in derision.  “Of course you can cut them apart or mush them into paste, but I would rather not get that close unless absolutely necessary.”

Drandlin knocked on his front door.  He knew it was her because only that irascible Dwarf knocked instead of using the bell pull.  She always claimed to have forgotten, but he suspected she just liked to punch things.  Setting down his … bolt thrower?  He was going to have to come up with a clever name for it… Gravelox hurried to answer the door.

“Got yer bedamned cable.”  Drandlin grated, turning her head to spit a stream of tobacco juice into the alley behind his workshop.  “The hell’d you do to break the last one I sent ya?  Coulda lifted this pile of rat droppings you call a workshop with it.”

“Ah.  It got cut.  Maybe there was a flaw in it.”  Gravelox said, then had to duck another stream of tobacco juice as Drandlin aimed one at his face.  “I was only joking!”

“Yer sense a humor’s gonna get ya splattered onea these days gnome.”  She said.  “Where ya want this cable then?”

Gearslayer had come up behind Gravelox with far more stealth than a metal beast ought to be able, especially with one of his legs removed, and he reached over their heads to pluck the cable from the cart with its huge crushing claw.  Drandlin gaped as Gearslayer retreated back into the workshop.

“Just a few repairs.”  Gravelox said, and shut the door in her face.  Having the last word really was one of the best jokes ever.

The Death of Flinder Quickfingers

/ thebenraven / 4 Comments

Flinder ran like he had never run before.  It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this; it was a simple job, a quick hit and run with a payout that should have made him look twice but it was for a nobleman and they never knew how much something like this was worth.  Sweat poured down his face as he thought about how wrong things had gone.

Their target hadn’t been a simple merchant; he had been some kind of blademaster.  He fought like a demon and had killed three of Flinder’s crew before the gnome had managed to hit him with enough poisoned crossbow bolts that he had fallen to the cobblestones, paralyzed.  Flinder was far too smart to kill a mark; stealing was one thing, but murder always brought more trouble than any fee was worth.

He had gone personally to recover the merchandise from the carriage.  It was supposed to have been in a small, easily movable iron casket, instead there was a series of strong boxes that had to be individually unlocked.  Every one of them had some sort of trap on it and he only very nearly avoided being poisoned by a particularly nasty needle trap on the last one.

The extra time meant that his crew was fighting the watch off by the time he finally got the casket open.  It was only by luck that he managed to slip through a sewer grate and run before the last of his muscle was overwhelmed.  Then the rats had started running from him.

It wasn’t just the normal running away from a threat, it was a panicked rush of animals that were terrified.  Something was inside the small iron casket.  Something dangerous.  Flinder had no desire to open it and now he just wanted to escape.  But he didn’t dare abandon the job.  If someone wanted this, they were powerful enough mete out retribution if he didn’t come through.

He stopped, his back against the wall and tried to quiet his breathing.  Removing his haversack, he placed the casket carefully inside, making sure to snuggle it between the layers of dirty clothes he had packed inside.  Making sure his hand crossbow was cocked and loaded with another paralytic bolt, he secured it out of sight beneath his rags and slipped out of the sewer into the bustling basement of the laundress’s shop.  This wasn’t the first time Flinder had made use of the slip me out here.  Best ten gold he had ever spent.

Stepping out into torch lit streets, the gnome almost walked straight into the night watchman who was waiting for him.  Maintaining his guise as a rag picker, he squinted at the man and bobbed his head.  “Apologies sirrah, didn’t see ya sirrah, old eyes ain’t what they were sirrah.”

“Flinder Quickfingers.”  He said, his eyes hard.  “Come with me.  We have business to discuss.”

Flinder looked at him for a moment and the man’s gaze was unsettling.  The game was up.  Cursing his luck and cursing the laundress for probably selling him out, Flinder looked for an escape while reaching beneath his rags for his crossbow. He never saw the rope that circled around his neck.

When he regained consciousness, Flinder looked around dazedly.  He was in a prison cell that was apparently built into something resembling a plush office.  Overstuffed chairs were arranged next to a crackling fireplace, paintings were attractively displayed on the walls and various bits of statuary sat on tables and pedestals.  His pilfered iron casket sat on a marble table near the fire.  His stomach churned.  It was open.

“So Quickfingers, tell me what you were thinking you were going to do with this?”  A man in a constable’s uniform gestured at the open iron box.

Flinder licked dry lips and shook his head dazedly.  “I didn’t know what was in it.”  He croaked, his voice raw.  “Just paid to get it.”

“Who would pay for something like this?”  A second man asked.  He was wearing an officer’s uniform; the rank of Nightmaster on his sleeve.  “Do you take us for complete fools?”

“Can I please have some water?”  Flinder asked plaintively, “My throat is parched.”

“God rotting gnomes.”  The Nightmaster hissed, spitting into the fire.

“Sir, I know they don’t understand propriety the way we do, however it makes sense to at least keep his lips moist while he answers our questions.”  The constable said, pouring a cup of water from a pitcher with condensation beading invitingly on the side.

Flinder didn’t even think about it being poisoned when he drank.  After all, they could have killed him any time.  Foolish.  He never expected the truth drugs; he hadn’t known they existed.

“Who hired you?”  The Nightmaster asked, leaning forward to hear the answer.  “What was the payoff?”

“I don’t know the Lady’s name, but she was of noble birth.”  Flinder said, feeling slightly dizzy.  “She offered ten thousand gold, which seemed to be an insane amount but you know nobility.  They’re all a bunch of insane maniacs who have no idea about what jobs are worth, I mean I’ve had Lords insist I assassinate someone for a handful of silver, not that I do those jobs you understand but I’ve brokered-“

“Enough!”  The Nightmaster cut him off, “What is this thing?”

“I don’t know what it was, like I said before, she just said she wanted it and it was important.  Was supposed to just be in that iron casket but they had it in a bunch of other chests and that crazy maniac must have been a swordmaster or something because he nearly killed my entire crew before we took him down.”

“Pox and rot this thing is useless.”

“Perhaps sir, we could sell it to this noble?”

“If we knew her bedamned name.  I’m sure this little bastard has already missed the time for the exchange.  When and where was it Quickfingers?”

“At the eleventh bell.”  Flinder said, feeling even dizzier now.  “In the fountains in the Flower district.”

“Missed it by three hours.”  The Nightmaster sighed, “Another one for the collection I suppose.”  He reached inside the casket and withdrew a hand constructed of a strange shining black material.  It ended right after the wrist in a maw of bristling needle like teeth.  It twitched in his hand slightly, the mouth of teeth opening and closing spasmodically.

“What a terrible thing.”  Flinder murmured, watching the hand as it strove to sink its fangs into the Nightmaster’s arm.  It was the last thing he saw as the poison stopped his heart.