Devryn - "Painted in
Sorcery"
My surroundings grew still, a stark
contrast to the chaos created by the unearthly creature. I could hear
distant shouting from other camps between my heavy breaths. My head swam
from the residual adrenaline. A starved body will suffer after rushed
exertion and I hated myself for being in this weakened state. I was
taught to be better.
Tae-gron laid on his back clutching
his chest, blood soaking through his tattered shirt. Mavrik stood over
him looking back at me, his once congenial face now buried beneath a serious
calm.
Mavrik sheathed his sword and gave
me a nod. "You're decent with a blade, I see. Where did you
learn it? Ardal?"
My bladework was a mix, but I have
always been driven to mimic the Erris style of the elvish people. It was
one of the more respected art forms in the northern territories of the Ardalian
Empire. It had a quick and efficient feel that I appreciated and excelled
at learning. Their militant training left an everlasting mark.
"My father taught me,"
which was true enough. "Being Perussian sometimes means fighting for
survival on a daily basis and he was a practical man." In a small
way, tonight was no different. I traveled with a number of Perussian
caravans across the lands as a child, exposing me to the dangers of a transient
lifestyle. I have also heard enough old legends and fireside stories to
know that creatures like this only come from nightmares, not from the wilds.
Mavrick ran his hand through his
thick curls, looking down at Tae-gron, "Yeah, seems so. The roads
are not too kind to the unpracticed." Pulling off his silk sash, he
offered it to Tae-gron to press on his wound. Tae-gron’s naturally dark
Madraderian skin tone appeared washed out and peaked. “Hold it down
tight, Mad’. I’ll get the healer.” Mavrik hurried away towards the
main circle of tents.
I sat down, exhaustion setting in,
waiting for the night to return to normalcy. . . if it could. The cool
air was finally welcome as it soothed my nerves.
“You lived?” a wisp of words came
from Tae-gron. Not sure if that was to mean he was grateful.
“Uh, so did you.”
“Damn beast. What in Mannab
was it? Not from our gods,” the strength in his voice fading.
“No, think not.”
An older Tressian woman, hair
pulled back into braids and wearing tradition riding leathers, walked into our
camp and squatted next to Tae-gron. She pulled his hand and the drenched
sash away to look at the wound. He moaned as his eyes rolled back into
his head, passing out.
“My boy, you are not well.”
She looked at me from across the fire and gave a pleasant smile.
The healer cleaned off a patch of
earth, pulling away any grass. She grabbed a handful of loose dirt and
scattered it across the nasty gash. She then placed her hands over his
chest and a deep hum grew in her throat. My nose filled with the scent of
fresh-turned earth as her tone intensified. I had seen earthen magic
before but not this close. The elves hunted down human elemental-weavers
they found to be a threat, sending the survivors into hiding after the 'Times
of Shadow’ many years ago. Things were slow to change back to the old
ways with the vigilant elven presence in the region. I should know.
Her hands started to glow in a soft
yellow light, the dirt shifted around and moved in a synchronistic
pattern. As the energy faded, Tae-gron burst into a fit of coughs and
then laid still.
“Do not worry for your friend, he
will be fine after some sleep. I have others to attend to.” She
patted him on the shoulder and then winked at me as she stepped away.
This company was filled with some odd people.
Tae-gron rested through the
night. He was listless, but it appeared to be a fit sleep. I
checked his forehead a couple times and no fever had set in. My night was
spent mistrusting any noise or movement in the gloom between the sporadic
naps. We had no more visitors, company men or otherwise. I could
tell though there were eyes on us from the hidden sentries stationed around our
perimeter.
The next morning, we were given a
warm tuber stew, spiced with pepper seeds. Tae-gron was groggy but had no
problem swallowing down the whole bowl in a few gulps. He brushed off the
caked dirt, exposing a pink scar where the wound had been. His lack of
smiles or words told me he was back to being his normal, cheery self.
The day was spent on the move,
crossing the rugged steppe. The beating sun gave some warmth where the
cold wind bit through my grubby shirt, fighting to take it away. The
company had only a brief respite mid-day, but our pace was more than
manageable, unlike the previous day's forced march.
That early evening, the dusky sky
was striped with a horde of smoky campfires, gray fingers climbing into the
horizon, with the line between the land and sky glowing a pale orange across
our path.
Drab colored scouts greeted the
company column first, directing us to the entry point that led into a large
encampment. Once beyond the barricaded limit, a sun-faded sea of brightly
colored tents and standards filled the open terrain before us. The
company went one direction as Tae-gron and I were instructed to check in at the
messenger tents.
*
* * *
“Report.” We stood before a
grizzled Tressian, a shock of white hair crowned his head and he wore the
colors of Prince Mesra. He sat at a small, wooden table on a makeshift
stool, an iron-ringed ledger opened before him.
I looked at Tae-gron, making sure
he had no inclination to say anything, then back to our lovely greeter.
“Sir, we are messengers for San Urba, tasked with delivering a private message
to a manorlord in Trevista on order of Sendon Ki-fult of San Urba. I am
Sembani and this is Tae-gron.”
“To whom, boy?” He leered at
Tae-gron and spat a wad of chew on the ground, tongue probing for stray leaves.
I could feel a ball of awkward
tension building next to me, “To Sendon Emmatri.” The Emmatri were a
major house in Trevista, and an easy out when being questioned about manor
dealings as they are a large organization. Too many people to keep track
of.
The cranky bastard scribbled into
his ledger. “You will lodge there for the night,” pointing to a nearby
tent. “In the morning, you will join our morning assignment call.
If we have nothing for you, you may return to your lord’s duties.” He
waved his hand in dismissal.
That night was beyond one of the
most blissful moments in my life. The dinner meal was a quick affair, a
thickened mutton stew. Simple, but effective. After not eating for
days, a few bites made my belly swollen and my eyelids heavy. But before
passing out, there was one more thing I needed to do. I took a stroll
through the large encampment. Being dressed as a messenger, I passed by
groups of soldiers preparing for duty or cleaning the day's work off their
bodies and armor without a glance or challenge, easily dismissed.
At one edge, I found a small
escarpment that dropped into a twisted stretch of land. The dim moonlight
made the scene appear as if a ghostly skeleton of stone and brush strewn across
the land. Jutting sections of piled blocks and decaying walls broke up
the rolling flow with clawed branches reaching into the night sky. Making
my way around the camp's edge, I familiarized myself with the full layout.
At one point, finding my
opportunity, I was able to nab a clean change of underclothes and sneak time in
a cold, abandoned bath.
The oddest moment was spotting Seth
hidden among soldiers of another Tres company, wearing their livery
colors. He gave me a side-glance and continued his conversation with a
couple of hearty looking fellows.
*
* * *
“Line up!” the messenger sergeant
screamed. He looked and sounded no different than last night,
uninterestingly annoyed. He proceeded to run through assignments off a
sheet of paper, until a young boy scrambled up, out of breath. The boy
furiously whispered to the sergeant, explaining something in detail.
The Sergeant’s brow dropped in
consternation. His knotted finger ran down the page, then he looked up to
the small crowd of messengers, scanning the waiting faces. His lips
quivered with unspoken words, going face-to-face, working to find the right
one.
“Sembani. Sembani! Step
forward.”
Should have known the good times
were to be short-lived.
I glanced around. Damn, the
only one. Should have picked a common name.
I strode to the front, to stand
before him and the boy. My mind raced. Doesn’t matter the task, I
will be free soon enough.
“Follow the lad. Special
assignment.”
The eager boy led me through the
tent maze, to the leadership tents. We stopped before two sentries
standing in front of a red and black tent. The posted standard was a
rearing mountain goat, a thick-maned, black arroz, on a crimson field. I
knew this to be the Vegu Henat Arroz Company, loyal to Prince Mesra. One
soldier pulled open the flap to allow entry.
The interior was fit for a Prince,
which was not expected in this setting. Thick carpets covered the sandy
ground, veils with tiny bells strung to the hems partitioned the space into
little rooms, and two coal burners warmed the air. A Tressian soldier
dressed in finely-tooled regalia stood by a large table, map pinned down with
rocks covering its surface. His fingers remained splayed on the map
as his eyes met mine. I could hear the boy sprint off behind me after his
job was completed.
“Messenger, you are needed by
Prince Mesra. You will be running an urgent message to Inna
Bojarta.”
Behind a thin, cream-colored veil,
two tall and slender female Eidoniae watched the exchange. Their details
remained blurred by the threaded vines and leaves in the sheer fabric, but
their unmistakable elven haughtiness could not be subdued by the thin wall.
Not knowing what else to say,
“Understood.”
“Well, I think not.” He gave
a wave of a gauntleted hand. “This will be handled in a… an
unconventional manner.” A soft mumble fell upon my ears, coming from one
of the hidden figures.
Time seemed to stop and my skin
crawled. My muscles tensed up, leaving me hard as a wooden post. I
tried moving my hand or relaxing. . . nothing.
“Guards!” the high-ranking soldier
bellowed as he cleared off the table. The two sentries from outside came
in and grabbed either side of me. They hauled me over to the table and
laid my rigid form across the top.
The chime of petite bells sounded
and a pair of identical faces looked down on me from the head of the
table. The two female Eidoniae stood well over six feet, their graceful
movement and delicate features filled my vision. The slight, angular jaws
and cheekbones aligned under their hazel eyes were a sight to behold.
Every time I’ve seen one, I know why odes were written to define their unearthly
elven comeliness. But truth be told, this was nothing more than a façade,
a thin veneer swiftly lost once understanding their calculating and selfish
nature.
“You… are so pretty…,” one said as
she ran the back of her hand across my forehead. The words softened by
her elven tongue. I tried to move with all my might, but nothing
budged. As I struggled, I realized my only choice was to calm down.
My breath was getting out of control and my lungs felt like they would explode
from the building panic.
The soldier walked to the entrance,
“Tambrii, make it quick. Evedrii, you’re with me,” and left with one of
the elves and the two guards in tow.
“We play, you and me.”
Tambrii shrugged off her heavy shawl, letting it fall to the floor.
Underneath was a silken gown of shimmering gold with thin straps hanging off
her delicate shoulders. Her arms and chest were covered in various
arcanic tattoos. My father would say she was 'painted in sorcery'.
I have seen the like on other arcanic-wielders in the elven empire but not so
many on one person. She was dangerous as only the Ardalian Emperor was
known to house such powerful magic users.
Tambrii mumbled indistinguishable
words, a flowing song carried in a simple verse. She spun her index
finger over my chest and moving down, making circles and other odd motions, as
if to stir the air. Her left hand joined in as she closed her eyes.
A deep breath and I could feel the air hum around me, tiny sparks crackled
between her hand and my belly.
A globe of light materialized over
my stomach, swirling with a golden energy. Tambrii placed her right hand
over it and began to press down, pushing the energy into my abdomen. Then
all went still, time slowed.
Her eyes sprung open and her mouth
parted to scream, but only a croak escaped. The golden energy at my belly
spilled out across her skin, lighting up the tattoos. The light grew and
then there was a searing pain all over my body. White light projected in
the pattern of the strange tattoo on my body, blinding me. A metallic
taste filled my mouth. I prayed for death for the first time in my life
as the pain was beyond comprehension.
All stopped.
I sat up. Tambrii’s body lay
on the floor, now a dried, gray husk. Her gold dress the only token of
her splendor.
Without understanding how, I could
hear a cry of outrage come from afar. It was her twin sister and she knew
something dreadful happened.
I ran.
