.... Ten Months Ago
"What do you mean she escaped?"
The question filled the alcove veined off a larger chamber, the lack of furnishings and tapestries allowing for sound to bounce off the stone walls. Only a meager assortment of crates occupied the space, their small stature lending little substance to absorb the sudden burst of a gravelly voice. Two men stood in the alcove, one with his back to the parted velvet drapes and another with his back to the rounded masonry carved at the corners to give the appearance of scallops. The shorter man glanced over his shoulder rather than answer, convinced that a sharp dagger was about to make its presence known into the middle of his spine. Lord Marcus Traevelin was not a man accustomed to having his demands unfulfilled, and right now it was Jacom Serros' task to inform the Lord of such.
"I was told you found her in that ... that place," Marcus took a step forward, lowering his voice but maintaining a chilling menace of frustration. The sneer on his mouth angled the thin line of his lips down at the edges, enhancing a long stretch of a scar that slashed from one cheek to the other, finishing under a growth of dark whiskers along his jaw. "Tell me you at least hunted down the mage." Jacom's silence caused Marcus' teeth to grind, and it was made complete with a flex of his jaw muscle when the other man's gaze averted to the ground. It was, without a doubt, the expression of personified failure. "So both of them still roam free?"
"N-no, my lord," Jacom stammered, instinctively lurching back by a half-step when the other man moved forward. "I--- I mean, she is there. The men... they confused another for her. They happened upon her at the docks but.. but.. but..."
Marcus' blackish eyes narrowed. A slow curl of his fingers found the lilt of a blade tucked into a sheath on his belt. One more 'but' from his hired hand was going to see the sharp end of it deep in his throat. Then, perhaps, he'd have good reason for the inability to speak.
"She was not alone, my lord. Another killed the mercenaries."
"Another? Was it the mage?"
"N-no.. there has been no sign of the mage, my lord."
"I want them both. Send new mercenaries then, better ones. And make sure these don't mistake a common loose skirt with the inventor. Better yet," Marcus slid back by a measured step and lifted his hand to stroke the growth of a short beard. "I want them alive. It shouldn't be difficult. If all reports are true -- as you claim they are, she's a simple farmer. If anyone gets in their way, strike them down. But I want her and the mage brought back here -- alive."
"W-what if we cannot find the mage, my lord?"
***************************
.... Nine Months Ago
?My lord,? Jacom Serros took to a knee when he was called into the private chamber belonging to Marcus Traevelin. With his head bowed respectfully, he half-anticipated being greeted by the swing of a blade against the back of his neck, and stared at the triangular pattern of tiles on the floor as if he could see snippets of his life passing in front of his eyes. It had been a good life, a comfortable life, and at the end of it he had only one regret. Leaning forward, his fingertips grazed the cool tile, not yet daring an upward glance to the nobleman.
Lounging in the high backed chair with one leg curved over the ornate, wooden arm, Marcus eyed the man with a mix of anger and amusement; conflicting emotions that likely spared the kneeling man his anticipated fate. If there was one thing Marcus knew, it was the sight of someone preparing for death. All the little nuances remained the same no matter who the person was -- high born or peasant, man or woman -- when the last graces of life were in front of them, they all retained the exact glint in their eyes. Fear and regret. ?You are not going to die,? Traevelin declared, taking an inch of satisfaction as he watched Jacom?s shoulders sag in relief. ?Not today.?
The added two words did little to comfort Jacom, but it was a good start to the meeting which, in no way, was going to be to Traevelin?s liking. He rose with a creak in his knee and outwardly winced at the ache traveling along his spine. ?We have informants there now, my Lord. However??
Marcus? dark brow rose when the segue word hinted that he was not going to look favorably on the rest of the conversation. With an elbow propped on the arm of the chair, he tipped his bearded chin against his palm and simply eyed the man to continue.
??. however? they arrived too late to inform the mercenaries that the girl was to be taken alive.?
?She?s dead??
?N-no,? Jacom sputtered, knowing full well that the girl?s death would mean his own. ?No, she is still alive but the mercenary was found on her property and died. We do not know if he said anything to her about ? the situation.?
?I see.? The two brief words hung in the air like a heavy perfume weighted down by a summer?s humidity.
Jacom took to a knee again despite how much it pained him physically to do so. ?My lord, I request that I be sent to oversee the others. They know now she is not to be killed, and they are still searching for the mage.?
?I cannot for the life of me understand how your men are having difficulty finding an elvish mage who wouldn?t leave the girl?s side. He?s there!? Marcus? hand pulled away from his chin and slammed down hard on the curve of the chair?s arm. ?You can go. But while you?re away, your family shall be taken into my custody. You understand what that means, yes?? The glint in Marcus? eyes was met by the now terrified henchman.
?Y-yes??
?Yes, what?? He spat.
?Yes, m-my Lord.? Jacom struggled to regain his footing and bowed in full respect.
?Have no fears,? Marcus declared, sliding off the seat with the languid grace of a lounging panther. ?Your wife and daughters will be watched day and night? night and day.?
?Yes, my Lord Traevelin.?
The tall nobleman stopped alongside his well-paid servant, a faint sneer of a smile made the thin scar traveling from one cheek to the other all the more visible. ?I expect a thank you for providing them with such great ? care.? The emphasis on the last word nearly made Jacom vomit, and the expression on his face indicated such threat. He remained silent when Marcus continued, patting him on the shoulder. ?So I recommend you show your gratitude by not failing in this assignment. Otherwise, the care they receive might turn ? uncomfortable.?
?I-- I will not fail you, my Lord.?
***************************
Lerian Nostarei, you are a fool.
The thought crossed the mage?s mind as he regarded the cottage belonging to the whimsical inventor. One window shuttered closed, light still filtered through the other panes of glass and provided sight of two shadows within the home. The girl had been attacked but the bravery and strength of her friend saved her life. For now. Their attacker made no secret of his being a hired hand and that others would not stop until they succeeded.
Lerian Nostarei, you decrepit old fool!
The corpse of the mercenary remained in the barn, left in his own blood, strewn with hay and mud and pieces of feed that fell from birds in the rafters. The mage knew who had hired him to kill the girl -- and himself had he known where to look. So much for his best laid plans to hide them in obscurity. I should have given more thought to that spell, the mage continued to blast his mind with a myriad of thoughts, regrets, and plans. But I had to act fast, he reasoned. Traevelin had given the order that they were to be sold as slaves, but I knew the truth. Together, the inventor and I could have conjured it -- the item Traevelin wants so badly. So badly that he wasted no time, effort, and money into finding us. Poor Thenia, she has no idea about any of it.
Movement within the cottage caught the mage?s attention and he watched the couple inside embrace. They were nothing but shadows and silhouettes, but his old eyes could define their positioning without so much as a squint. He was, after all, an elf. At least someone can keep her safe, the mage sighed within the privacy of his thoughts. My only hope is that Traevelin realizes sooner rather than later, that his plans rely on us being alive for the invention to work. Dark eyes turned on the dead body again. So very tempted to kick at it, the mage held tight to some semblance of decency and decorum.
Lerian Nostarei, you are such an old fool!
Horace, the white-feathered goose, scrambled by the dead body, squawking in distaste that something still occupied his barn. A slight limp marred the goose?s gait. The injury was a small price to pay for achieving peace inside his home, however, and the ache wasn?t enough to keep him from chasing a few other chickens and birds away from the feed bag. Its black eyes settled on the mage for a brief moment until the rumblings of his stomach took preference.
The mage walked out of the barn?s doorway, allowing the couple inside some privacy, not wishing to disturb them from their attempts at finding a measure of peace after such chaos. With an old brown blanket over his back, the mage disappeared into the light fog to be alone with his thoughts.
Lerian Nostarei, you stubborn old jackass!
*********************
"What do you mean she escaped?"
The question filled the alcove veined off a larger chamber, the lack of furnishings and tapestries allowing for sound to bounce off the stone walls. Only a meager assortment of crates occupied the space, their small stature lending little substance to absorb the sudden burst of a gravelly voice. Two men stood in the alcove, one with his back to the parted velvet drapes and another with his back to the rounded masonry carved at the corners to give the appearance of scallops. The shorter man glanced over his shoulder rather than answer, convinced that a sharp dagger was about to make its presence known into the middle of his spine. Lord Marcus Traevelin was not a man accustomed to having his demands unfulfilled, and right now it was Jacom Serros' task to inform the Lord of such.
"I was told you found her in that ... that place," Marcus took a step forward, lowering his voice but maintaining a chilling menace of frustration. The sneer on his mouth angled the thin line of his lips down at the edges, enhancing a long stretch of a scar that slashed from one cheek to the other, finishing under a growth of dark whiskers along his jaw. "Tell me you at least hunted down the mage." Jacom's silence caused Marcus' teeth to grind, and it was made complete with a flex of his jaw muscle when the other man's gaze averted to the ground. It was, without a doubt, the expression of personified failure. "So both of them still roam free?"
"N-no, my lord," Jacom stammered, instinctively lurching back by a half-step when the other man moved forward. "I--- I mean, she is there. The men... they confused another for her. They happened upon her at the docks but.. but.. but..."
Marcus' blackish eyes narrowed. A slow curl of his fingers found the lilt of a blade tucked into a sheath on his belt. One more 'but' from his hired hand was going to see the sharp end of it deep in his throat. Then, perhaps, he'd have good reason for the inability to speak.
"She was not alone, my lord. Another killed the mercenaries."
"Another? Was it the mage?"
"N-no.. there has been no sign of the mage, my lord."
"I want them both. Send new mercenaries then, better ones. And make sure these don't mistake a common loose skirt with the inventor. Better yet," Marcus slid back by a measured step and lifted his hand to stroke the growth of a short beard. "I want them alive. It shouldn't be difficult. If all reports are true -- as you claim they are, she's a simple farmer. If anyone gets in their way, strike them down. But I want her and the mage brought back here -- alive."
"W-what if we cannot find the mage, my lord?"
***************************
.... Nine Months Ago
?My lord,? Jacom Serros took to a knee when he was called into the private chamber belonging to Marcus Traevelin. With his head bowed respectfully, he half-anticipated being greeted by the swing of a blade against the back of his neck, and stared at the triangular pattern of tiles on the floor as if he could see snippets of his life passing in front of his eyes. It had been a good life, a comfortable life, and at the end of it he had only one regret. Leaning forward, his fingertips grazed the cool tile, not yet daring an upward glance to the nobleman.
Lounging in the high backed chair with one leg curved over the ornate, wooden arm, Marcus eyed the man with a mix of anger and amusement; conflicting emotions that likely spared the kneeling man his anticipated fate. If there was one thing Marcus knew, it was the sight of someone preparing for death. All the little nuances remained the same no matter who the person was -- high born or peasant, man or woman -- when the last graces of life were in front of them, they all retained the exact glint in their eyes. Fear and regret. ?You are not going to die,? Traevelin declared, taking an inch of satisfaction as he watched Jacom?s shoulders sag in relief. ?Not today.?
The added two words did little to comfort Jacom, but it was a good start to the meeting which, in no way, was going to be to Traevelin?s liking. He rose with a creak in his knee and outwardly winced at the ache traveling along his spine. ?We have informants there now, my Lord. However??
Marcus? dark brow rose when the segue word hinted that he was not going to look favorably on the rest of the conversation. With an elbow propped on the arm of the chair, he tipped his bearded chin against his palm and simply eyed the man to continue.
??. however? they arrived too late to inform the mercenaries that the girl was to be taken alive.?
?She?s dead??
?N-no,? Jacom sputtered, knowing full well that the girl?s death would mean his own. ?No, she is still alive but the mercenary was found on her property and died. We do not know if he said anything to her about ? the situation.?
?I see.? The two brief words hung in the air like a heavy perfume weighted down by a summer?s humidity.
Jacom took to a knee again despite how much it pained him physically to do so. ?My lord, I request that I be sent to oversee the others. They know now she is not to be killed, and they are still searching for the mage.?
?I cannot for the life of me understand how your men are having difficulty finding an elvish mage who wouldn?t leave the girl?s side. He?s there!? Marcus? hand pulled away from his chin and slammed down hard on the curve of the chair?s arm. ?You can go. But while you?re away, your family shall be taken into my custody. You understand what that means, yes?? The glint in Marcus? eyes was met by the now terrified henchman.
?Y-yes??
?Yes, what?? He spat.
?Yes, m-my Lord.? Jacom struggled to regain his footing and bowed in full respect.
?Have no fears,? Marcus declared, sliding off the seat with the languid grace of a lounging panther. ?Your wife and daughters will be watched day and night? night and day.?
?Yes, my Lord Traevelin.?
The tall nobleman stopped alongside his well-paid servant, a faint sneer of a smile made the thin scar traveling from one cheek to the other all the more visible. ?I expect a thank you for providing them with such great ? care.? The emphasis on the last word nearly made Jacom vomit, and the expression on his face indicated such threat. He remained silent when Marcus continued, patting him on the shoulder. ?So I recommend you show your gratitude by not failing in this assignment. Otherwise, the care they receive might turn ? uncomfortable.?
?I-- I will not fail you, my Lord.?
***************************
Lerian Nostarei, you are a fool.
The thought crossed the mage?s mind as he regarded the cottage belonging to the whimsical inventor. One window shuttered closed, light still filtered through the other panes of glass and provided sight of two shadows within the home. The girl had been attacked but the bravery and strength of her friend saved her life. For now. Their attacker made no secret of his being a hired hand and that others would not stop until they succeeded.
Lerian Nostarei, you decrepit old fool!
The corpse of the mercenary remained in the barn, left in his own blood, strewn with hay and mud and pieces of feed that fell from birds in the rafters. The mage knew who had hired him to kill the girl -- and himself had he known where to look. So much for his best laid plans to hide them in obscurity. I should have given more thought to that spell, the mage continued to blast his mind with a myriad of thoughts, regrets, and plans. But I had to act fast, he reasoned. Traevelin had given the order that they were to be sold as slaves, but I knew the truth. Together, the inventor and I could have conjured it -- the item Traevelin wants so badly. So badly that he wasted no time, effort, and money into finding us. Poor Thenia, she has no idea about any of it.
Movement within the cottage caught the mage?s attention and he watched the couple inside embrace. They were nothing but shadows and silhouettes, but his old eyes could define their positioning without so much as a squint. He was, after all, an elf. At least someone can keep her safe, the mage sighed within the privacy of his thoughts. My only hope is that Traevelin realizes sooner rather than later, that his plans rely on us being alive for the invention to work. Dark eyes turned on the dead body again. So very tempted to kick at it, the mage held tight to some semblance of decency and decorum.
Lerian Nostarei, you are such an old fool!
Horace, the white-feathered goose, scrambled by the dead body, squawking in distaste that something still occupied his barn. A slight limp marred the goose?s gait. The injury was a small price to pay for achieving peace inside his home, however, and the ache wasn?t enough to keep him from chasing a few other chickens and birds away from the feed bag. Its black eyes settled on the mage for a brief moment until the rumblings of his stomach took preference.
The mage walked out of the barn?s doorway, allowing the couple inside some privacy, not wishing to disturb them from their attempts at finding a measure of peace after such chaos. With an old brown blanket over his back, the mage disappeared into the light fog to be alone with his thoughts.
Lerian Nostarei, you stubborn old jackass!
*********************