They had put a token effort into searching for the book – a wanted notice in all the places that mattered, questions asked uselessly of their few friends in the area. But once the sun started setting, and all the night creatures of Jorn filled the streets, the books were the last thing on Leonas and Anjanette’s minds.
“Guys, maybe I should stay here and guard them,” Milly said.
“Don’t be such a killjoy!” Anjanette said. “You are coming out with me and you are getting laid. Period.” Milly flushed.
The Hekan jazz music filled the streets, dozens of performers claiming their space. Jorn had little use for buildings, instead bartenders set up stands on the sidewalk and sold their spirits to the revelers that danced and grinded in the middle of the road. Drug dealers set up shop next to the bartenders, and other than the product served they appeared identical. Prostitutes of every rank, description, even sex and race clung to street corners in clumps. They smoked and yelled suggestively at passerbyes, chattering amongst themselves like old wives.
“Isn’t this great?” Anjanette asked. “Hey, is that a cephalod whore over there? Don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those.”
Leonas walked up to one of the dealer’s counters. “One vial of spellsauce, please.”
“Four gold, pelase,” said the dealer, a pretty young blonde woman.
“Highway robbery, is what it is,” said Leonas, but paid for it anyway. “Anj, I got some sauce.”
Anjanette grinned and walked over to Leonas, dragging Milly by the arm behind her. “You have to try this stuff Milly. It’ll rock your world.”
“Um, no thanks, I don’t do drugs – I mean, no offense or anything, just not my thing.”
“Aw come on, give it a try.”
“I think my world is fine enough being un-rocked, thanks.”
Anjanette would not quit. “Come on, Milly. You’re all about pursuit of knowledge right? Why not learn about ‘sauce?”
“Well, maybe...” Milly said. Leonas was watching the whole exchange with a big grin.
“Exactly.” Anjanette handed Milly the small vial. “Give it a shot.”
Milly scrunched up her eyes, rallied her courage, and took a gulp from the vial.
Anjanette immediately snatched it out of her hands. “Woah woah woah! You’re only supposed to take, like, a drop!”
Milly shrugged. “I feel fiiiine.” She then immediately collapsed, eyes wide open, shuddering.
Anjanette just sighed. “Leo, can you help me out with this? We need to make sure she doesn’t, like, die or something.”
“Yeah yeah,” said Leonas. He lifted up Milly. All of her body parts were moving at once, independent of each other. Tired of falling in line they were just doing their own thing. Muscles shuddered, fingers and toes clenched, her eyelids beat rapidly and her teeth chattered angrily. Leonas pried open Milly’s mouth, to stop her from biting her own tongue. For a second he looked down into her eyes, glassy plates that seemed to reflect infinity back.
“Hey!” Anjanette yelled to the dealer. “She had too much!”
The dealer shrugged. “Not my fault. Take her to a clinic, I guess.”
“Go fuck yourself” Anjanette said. The dealer just laughed. She picked up Milly’s spasming legs, and together she and Leonas carried her through the streets, looking for aid.
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Saturday, October 11, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Chapter 9-2
Thrnjorn, or “Jorn” to everyone who lacked the ability to pronounce pure consonants, looked like something out of a picture book. Squeezed between lush green forest and the calm waves of the Bluewater Ocean, the city sat half on land and half built over the sea, a triumph of architecture that had never been duplicated. All of the streets and the old building were white marble, newer brick buildings sticking out like a sore thumb. Heka had been the crown jewel of an empire long ago, built at enormous personal expense. After ten years, when the last block of ivory was put into place, the empire had gone bankrupt and disintegrated into wartorn nations. The builders shrugged and decided to live in their imperial city.
And of course, from that city had spawned Heka, a country whose name was only ever spat or loftily whispered. When the trio had made their way into the city there were no guards to question them. They were, however, briefly accosted by a group of prostitutes hawking their services like one of Nariev’s merchants. They did not restrict their offers to Leonas.
“Ah, this is the life,” said Anjanette. Her face was nearly split with a grin. “Milly, we are partying here tonight, and you are coming. Anyone who goes to Jorn and spends the whole time on business is not someone I want in my life.”
“I don’t know... last time...”
“Hey Anj, you ever wonder what Milly would be like hopped up on spellsauce?” said Leonas.
Anjanette laughed. “Leonas, it’s times like these I remember why you’re the brains of the operation.”
Milly shivered. “Um... do I have to?”
Anjanette and Leonas just grinned wickedly.
* * *
Valgard was sitting in his hotel room stoically, staring out the window. The sun was setting on the beaches of Jorn. “So after all that, we still have no leads?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not, my liege,” said Lloyd. “It would appear that the local government we have met with is... less than aware of what goes on in their city. As is the press. And needless to say, we have few contacts in the underworld.”
Valgard tapped his heel against the floor impertinently. “And have you heard anything about those thieves?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Valgard frowned, he still held that one against himself. The conmen’s trail had disappeared, and nobody had seen them... or would admit to seeing them, at least. They had gone to Jorn out of frustration, to at least attempt to find one of the tomes, and hoping that would bait their enemies into showing themselves. Of course, that relied on them finding the damn thing.
“I believe that less savoury means may be necessary,” said Valgard.
“But sir,” said Lloyd. “Not that I question your judgment, but we must not cross the codes of honour and nobility in this quest. The ends do not justify the means.”
“Of course not. But if we immersed ourselves in this underworld a little, we would stand a better chance of gaining the information we need. Of course, we won’t actually do anything illegal.”
Lloyd was shining his sword idly, and his tempo increased. Still, he nodded. “I believe I understand.”
“And then afterward we can seek justice for this city,” Valgard said.
“I fear this city may be beyond saving.”
“I refuse to accept ‘beyond saving’. Now get your casual clothes, we must appear as slovenly as possible.”
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And of course, from that city had spawned Heka, a country whose name was only ever spat or loftily whispered. When the trio had made their way into the city there were no guards to question them. They were, however, briefly accosted by a group of prostitutes hawking their services like one of Nariev’s merchants. They did not restrict their offers to Leonas.
“Ah, this is the life,” said Anjanette. Her face was nearly split with a grin. “Milly, we are partying here tonight, and you are coming. Anyone who goes to Jorn and spends the whole time on business is not someone I want in my life.”
“I don’t know... last time...”
“Hey Anj, you ever wonder what Milly would be like hopped up on spellsauce?” said Leonas.
Anjanette laughed. “Leonas, it’s times like these I remember why you’re the brains of the operation.”
Milly shivered. “Um... do I have to?”
Anjanette and Leonas just grinned wickedly.
* * *
Valgard was sitting in his hotel room stoically, staring out the window. The sun was setting on the beaches of Jorn. “So after all that, we still have no leads?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not, my liege,” said Lloyd. “It would appear that the local government we have met with is... less than aware of what goes on in their city. As is the press. And needless to say, we have few contacts in the underworld.”
Valgard tapped his heel against the floor impertinently. “And have you heard anything about those thieves?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Valgard frowned, he still held that one against himself. The conmen’s trail had disappeared, and nobody had seen them... or would admit to seeing them, at least. They had gone to Jorn out of frustration, to at least attempt to find one of the tomes, and hoping that would bait their enemies into showing themselves. Of course, that relied on them finding the damn thing.
“I believe that less savoury means may be necessary,” said Valgard.
“But sir,” said Lloyd. “Not that I question your judgment, but we must not cross the codes of honour and nobility in this quest. The ends do not justify the means.”
“Of course not. But if we immersed ourselves in this underworld a little, we would stand a better chance of gaining the information we need. Of course, we won’t actually do anything illegal.”
Lloyd was shining his sword idly, and his tempo increased. Still, he nodded. “I believe I understand.”
“And then afterward we can seek justice for this city,” Valgard said.
“I fear this city may be beyond saving.”
“I refuse to accept ‘beyond saving’. Now get your casual clothes, we must appear as slovenly as possible.”
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Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Chapter 9-1
The trio – it felt like it was okay to call themselves a trio now – headed up north, in what Anjanette had dubbed Operation: Get The Hell Out of Dodge. Other than the Kendran checkpoint they had to pass through to get out from under the red sky, they avoided leaving any sort of trail – whether physical or in the minds of others. They used aliases, hid in inn rooms when they weren’t camping in the bushes, and never ran scams. After every camp Leonas spent nearly an hour removing all traces of their existance. There was a reason for the sudden secrecy: they were now the hunted instead of the hunters.
“Valgard and his remaining knight are going to be after us now,” Leonas had said. “We don’t need to run into them again, but they need to find us. So we lay low and hope they miss us.”
“Well, we beat them once,” said Milly.
“My arm would like to remind you that even ‘beating’ them was not a pleasant experience,” said Leonas. “So let’s avoid unnecessary fights. Meanwhile, we’ll head in the general direction of Heka where the next book should be located.”
“We’re going to Heka?” said Anjanette. “Sweet! I’m gonna get high and find an orgy!”
Milly blushed, and Leonas chuckled. “Yeah, it’ll be good to blow off some steam after all of this crap. But until then, stay disciplined.”
“You know I won’t,” Anjanette said with a syruppy-sweet tone in her voice.
“Yeah yeah.”
* * *
Derrick & Delia was a long-running series of comedy ilscs about the titular pair of adventurers. It was mainstream, populist fare with nothing interesting or noteworthy, but it was reasonably well-crafted and hence was one of the msot popular things going. It was also the only one of Anjanette’s ilscs that Milly and Leonas could sit through.
They had set up a claustrophobic camp in a forest grove at night, better to hide from any pursuers. The light from the ilsc caught in the twisting tree branches, creating grotesque shadows. As they headed to the coastal nation of Heka the weather got warmer and the vegetation more plentiful. Milly had stopped wearing her heavy cloak and instead just carried it for storage, and even Leonas had mostly abandoned his dressy shirts for more casual wear. Between that and travelling he now looked more like a farmboy than the gentleman merchant he tried to portray. Of course, Anjanette never wore much in the first place, so she didn’t need to adjust at all.
Anjanette sat chuckling at the ilsc, while Milly idly read The Art & Culture of the Cephalod People. Leonas was reading over the latest letter from Ash for the sixth time/. The edges of the paper were creased from being clutched with frustration so often.
“So what’s up with your boy toy?” said Anjanette.
“Remarkably little, and yet he makes a ten-page letter out of it,” said Leonas.
“Sounds like he could use an editor,” said Milly.
“Aw, he just likes you is all,” said Anjanette, gently elbowing Leonas in the ribs.
Leonas shrugged. “To be honest, if I’d known that one night stand would get me so much junk mail I wouldn’t have done it. Anjanette, how do I break this off painlessly? I mean painlessly for me, of course.”
“Come on, what’s so bad about the guy?”
“Just too simple for me,” said Leonas.
Anjanette rolled her eyes and went back to watching her ilsc.
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“Valgard and his remaining knight are going to be after us now,” Leonas had said. “We don’t need to run into them again, but they need to find us. So we lay low and hope they miss us.”
“Well, we beat them once,” said Milly.
“My arm would like to remind you that even ‘beating’ them was not a pleasant experience,” said Leonas. “So let’s avoid unnecessary fights. Meanwhile, we’ll head in the general direction of Heka where the next book should be located.”
“We’re going to Heka?” said Anjanette. “Sweet! I’m gonna get high and find an orgy!”
Milly blushed, and Leonas chuckled. “Yeah, it’ll be good to blow off some steam after all of this crap. But until then, stay disciplined.”
“You know I won’t,” Anjanette said with a syruppy-sweet tone in her voice.
“Yeah yeah.”
* * *
Derrick & Delia was a long-running series of comedy ilscs about the titular pair of adventurers. It was mainstream, populist fare with nothing interesting or noteworthy, but it was reasonably well-crafted and hence was one of the msot popular things going. It was also the only one of Anjanette’s ilscs that Milly and Leonas could sit through.
They had set up a claustrophobic camp in a forest grove at night, better to hide from any pursuers. The light from the ilsc caught in the twisting tree branches, creating grotesque shadows. As they headed to the coastal nation of Heka the weather got warmer and the vegetation more plentiful. Milly had stopped wearing her heavy cloak and instead just carried it for storage, and even Leonas had mostly abandoned his dressy shirts for more casual wear. Between that and travelling he now looked more like a farmboy than the gentleman merchant he tried to portray. Of course, Anjanette never wore much in the first place, so she didn’t need to adjust at all.
Anjanette sat chuckling at the ilsc, while Milly idly read The Art & Culture of the Cephalod People. Leonas was reading over the latest letter from Ash for the sixth time/. The edges of the paper were creased from being clutched with frustration so often.
“So what’s up with your boy toy?” said Anjanette.
“Remarkably little, and yet he makes a ten-page letter out of it,” said Leonas.
“Sounds like he could use an editor,” said Milly.
“Aw, he just likes you is all,” said Anjanette, gently elbowing Leonas in the ribs.
Leonas shrugged. “To be honest, if I’d known that one night stand would get me so much junk mail I wouldn’t have done it. Anjanette, how do I break this off painlessly? I mean painlessly for me, of course.”
“Come on, what’s so bad about the guy?”
“Just too simple for me,” said Leonas.
Anjanette rolled her eyes and went back to watching her ilsc.
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Friday, September 26, 2008
Chapter 8-5
Valgard had never smelt corpses before. They didn’t smell pleasant at all. He was able to hold his lunch down for now, which was as much of a victory as he was likely to get today.
“Denall... Temac...” Lloyd said, emotion creeping into his normally stoic voice.
Valgard patted his knight on the back. It felt strange. “Do not worry. We shall track them down and get our revenge.”
“Of course, your highness,” Lloyd said.
“But first, I have a favour to ask you.”
Lloyd looked up, surprised. “A favour?”
“When we run into those vagabonds again... I don’t want to be useless like I was here. So I ask you, teach me in the ways of sword and body. Subject me to what ever you would subject a new recruit to.”
Lloyd turned away. “Your highness, that would be highly improper.”
“More improper than disobeying a direct order from your lord?” said Valgard.
“I understand,” said Lloyd. “We shall begin training tonight. But if you regret this... consider yourself forewarned.”
Valgard cracked a smile. “Well, I fully expect to regret it.”
The smile faded quickly. Valgard said the last rights for Denall and Temac, and took their swords so that they could be planted in their homeland.
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“Denall... Temac...” Lloyd said, emotion creeping into his normally stoic voice.
Valgard patted his knight on the back. It felt strange. “Do not worry. We shall track them down and get our revenge.”
“Of course, your highness,” Lloyd said.
“But first, I have a favour to ask you.”
Lloyd looked up, surprised. “A favour?”
“When we run into those vagabonds again... I don’t want to be useless like I was here. So I ask you, teach me in the ways of sword and body. Subject me to what ever you would subject a new recruit to.”
Lloyd turned away. “Your highness, that would be highly improper.”
“More improper than disobeying a direct order from your lord?” said Valgard.
“I understand,” said Lloyd. “We shall begin training tonight. But if you regret this... consider yourself forewarned.”
Valgard cracked a smile. “Well, I fully expect to regret it.”
The smile faded quickly. Valgard said the last rights for Denall and Temac, and took their swords so that they could be planted in their homeland.
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Thursday, September 25, 2008
Chapter 8-4
Valgard’s lungs burned. He knew he hadn’t run far,but sweat drenched his silk shirt and cape. His bloody nose was a nail hammered into the centre of his face, and the blood was flowing around his mouth to give him a crimson beard. He admonished himself for becoming pampered. Pausing for only a second to lean up against a tree, Valgard galnced back to see if any of his knights had followed. There was Lloyd, running over a hill. Not out of breath. Of course.
“Is it over?” Valgard said, between long sucking breaths.
“At least one of the mongrels is in this forest, I know not of the other two,” said Lloyd.
A single drop of blood dripped onto Valgard’s right shoulder.
He looked up to see a sheepish-looking Leonas, shoulder still spitting out blood, perched on a tree branch above him. Leonas shrugged and leapt down from the tree, fired a burst of flame at Lloyd and took off again. Lloyd danced out of the way of the blast, but his sword was caught in it and shattered into a hundred warped pieces.
“My blade!”
“The tomes!” said Valgard. “I had them in my pack and it is gone... did he take them? I did not sense a thing!”
“He is an experienced vagabond,” said Lloyd. “But he cannot run far with that injury. I shall catch him and bring him to justice!”
Lloyd took off at a gallop. Valgard was behind him, trying but failing to keep up.
* * *
Anjanette and Milly came over the same hill a few moments later and found Leonas leaning against a tree trunk, changing out of his bloodstained shirt. His shoulder had been magically healed. The flesh over the wound looked unnatural, a patchwork replacement from stock parts, but it was no longer bleeding and the bones were barely even out of place.
The girls, on the other hand, were much worse for wear. Anjanette had a black eye and clothes drenched with sweat. Milly’s plain robes were caked with spots of dried blood, her right eye was a nasty shade of brown and wouldn’t seem to open, and she moved gingerly, afraid of breaking anything more.
“Okay, we’ve taken care of tubby and... martial arts boy,” Anjanette said.
“Martial arts boy?” said Leonas.
“Hey, I just got my lights rearranged,” said Anjanette. “Don’t question my wordplay now, Leo. Just tell me where the other two are.”
“They took off after me in that direction,” Leonas said, pointing deeper into the woods.
Milly laughed, then clutched her ribs. “The old loop-back-around?”
“She’s learning,” said Anjanette. “That always works on linear minds. But what about the books?”
Leonas lifted Valgard’s pouch, a shiny golden pack with silver-encrusted linings. He pulled it open to reveal four of the Ancient tomes.
Anjanette’s smile couldn’t have been removed from her face with a chisel. “Hell yes! Let’s get going before they realize that we’re in the other direction.”
Milly bent over and went into a long, hacking series of coughs. When she finished she straightened up and said “Um, let’s just hope we don’t run into those two again.”
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“Is it over?” Valgard said, between long sucking breaths.
“At least one of the mongrels is in this forest, I know not of the other two,” said Lloyd.
A single drop of blood dripped onto Valgard’s right shoulder.
He looked up to see a sheepish-looking Leonas, shoulder still spitting out blood, perched on a tree branch above him. Leonas shrugged and leapt down from the tree, fired a burst of flame at Lloyd and took off again. Lloyd danced out of the way of the blast, but his sword was caught in it and shattered into a hundred warped pieces.
“My blade!”
“The tomes!” said Valgard. “I had them in my pack and it is gone... did he take them? I did not sense a thing!”
“He is an experienced vagabond,” said Lloyd. “But he cannot run far with that injury. I shall catch him and bring him to justice!”
Lloyd took off at a gallop. Valgard was behind him, trying but failing to keep up.
* * *
Anjanette and Milly came over the same hill a few moments later and found Leonas leaning against a tree trunk, changing out of his bloodstained shirt. His shoulder had been magically healed. The flesh over the wound looked unnatural, a patchwork replacement from stock parts, but it was no longer bleeding and the bones were barely even out of place.
The girls, on the other hand, were much worse for wear. Anjanette had a black eye and clothes drenched with sweat. Milly’s plain robes were caked with spots of dried blood, her right eye was a nasty shade of brown and wouldn’t seem to open, and she moved gingerly, afraid of breaking anything more.
“Okay, we’ve taken care of tubby and... martial arts boy,” Anjanette said.
“Martial arts boy?” said Leonas.
“Hey, I just got my lights rearranged,” said Anjanette. “Don’t question my wordplay now, Leo. Just tell me where the other two are.”
“They took off after me in that direction,” Leonas said, pointing deeper into the woods.
Milly laughed, then clutched her ribs. “The old loop-back-around?”
“She’s learning,” said Anjanette. “That always works on linear minds. But what about the books?”
Leonas lifted Valgard’s pouch, a shiny golden pack with silver-encrusted linings. He pulled it open to reveal four of the Ancient tomes.
Anjanette’s smile couldn’t have been removed from her face with a chisel. “Hell yes! Let’s get going before they realize that we’re in the other direction.”
Milly bent over and went into a long, hacking series of coughs. When she finished she straightened up and said “Um, let’s just hope we don’t run into those two again.”
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Friday, September 19, 2008
Chapter 8-3
Anjanette was shrieking for him, but Denall had her by the arm and wasn’t letting go. He bowed his head, all of a sudden a religious man. And then... nothing. He looked up, realizing he was alive. The pain in his arm rushed back anew, and he realized that he was bleeding, his new shirt painted red. Strangely, he found that more important than the wound.
“Draw your weapon,” said Lloyd. “I will not kill a man when he is helpless.”
“Your loss,” Leonas hacked before surging up and raking the knight’s eyes. As Lloyd fell back he ran into the forest, arm swinging every which was, sending explosions of pain through his mind.
Milly had turned to look at Leonas’s injury, and in the meantime Temac had kicked her in the face. The kick felt like a mountain falling in on her, her senses jumping around as her head spun. He moved in to finish her, but Milly frantically blocked, combat trainng taking over. She saw his face briefly, in the eye of the storm of fists, and he was calm, relaxed even. That comforted her as Temac hit her in the face, the arms, the stomach. Her body jerked and spasmed, not entirely in her control.
Denall had drawn a sword. A big sword. It was as big as the fake sword Anjanette liked to use as a fakeout, but she had a feeling this one wasn’t hollow. He charged with a deafening roar and hurled the blade at her. She ducked under it. It was less easy than before. Anjanette was starting to pant, her limbs were becoming heavy with exertion. She turned and ran.
“Come back!” Denall said. He charged her like a bull. She heard the sound of his heavyfeet crushing stone underneath, getting quicker behind her. How was he of all people catching up to her. Oh well.
Anjanette slowed, tiring. She closed her eyes, focusing on the crunch of cobblestone. Timing would be everything. Denall reached her, kept running, rushing her like he had Leonas... and she jumped, flipping off his back and landing behind him. Denall kept running, out of control, charging into the stone statue of the Tiger. His head impacted against the toe of the hero and he collapsed, falling on his greatsword. The huge blade skewered Denall sideways and propped him up like a grim marionette. Anjanette grimaced and turned her attention to the battle between Milly and Temac.
They were moving almost too fast for the eye to follow, but even so it was obvious who was winning. Milly was backed up against the base of the statue and even then was accumulating bruises and cuts at a rapid rate. One of her knives had been knocked away, the other could only be used to block, and it never pierced flesh. Anjanette could read a desperate, sad look on her face.
Sighing and resigning herself to a sore head in the morning, Anjanette leaped into the fray.
Barely looking away, Temac’s hand withdrew and snapped forward like a viper, smashing into Anjanette’s face and knocking her flat onto her back. But barely looking away was enough. Milly’s knife flashed in the sun and lodged itself into Temac’s throat. He looked up, smiling, before a gurgling wave of blood spilled onto the cobblestone ground.
“Well that was unpleasant,” Anjanette said, rubbing her eye.
Milly was just panting, holding her chest half to keep her up and half to count how many ribs were broken. (The answer was two.) “You don’t have to tell me.”
“So what do you say we go find Redshirt and make sure he’s not dead yet.”
Milly just nodded and started limping towards the forest.
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“Draw your weapon,” said Lloyd. “I will not kill a man when he is helpless.”
“Your loss,” Leonas hacked before surging up and raking the knight’s eyes. As Lloyd fell back he ran into the forest, arm swinging every which was, sending explosions of pain through his mind.
Milly had turned to look at Leonas’s injury, and in the meantime Temac had kicked her in the face. The kick felt like a mountain falling in on her, her senses jumping around as her head spun. He moved in to finish her, but Milly frantically blocked, combat trainng taking over. She saw his face briefly, in the eye of the storm of fists, and he was calm, relaxed even. That comforted her as Temac hit her in the face, the arms, the stomach. Her body jerked and spasmed, not entirely in her control.
Denall had drawn a sword. A big sword. It was as big as the fake sword Anjanette liked to use as a fakeout, but she had a feeling this one wasn’t hollow. He charged with a deafening roar and hurled the blade at her. She ducked under it. It was less easy than before. Anjanette was starting to pant, her limbs were becoming heavy with exertion. She turned and ran.
“Come back!” Denall said. He charged her like a bull. She heard the sound of his heavyfeet crushing stone underneath, getting quicker behind her. How was he of all people catching up to her. Oh well.
Anjanette slowed, tiring. She closed her eyes, focusing on the crunch of cobblestone. Timing would be everything. Denall reached her, kept running, rushing her like he had Leonas... and she jumped, flipping off his back and landing behind him. Denall kept running, out of control, charging into the stone statue of the Tiger. His head impacted against the toe of the hero and he collapsed, falling on his greatsword. The huge blade skewered Denall sideways and propped him up like a grim marionette. Anjanette grimaced and turned her attention to the battle between Milly and Temac.
They were moving almost too fast for the eye to follow, but even so it was obvious who was winning. Milly was backed up against the base of the statue and even then was accumulating bruises and cuts at a rapid rate. One of her knives had been knocked away, the other could only be used to block, and it never pierced flesh. Anjanette could read a desperate, sad look on her face.
Sighing and resigning herself to a sore head in the morning, Anjanette leaped into the fray.
Barely looking away, Temac’s hand withdrew and snapped forward like a viper, smashing into Anjanette’s face and knocking her flat onto her back. But barely looking away was enough. Milly’s knife flashed in the sun and lodged itself into Temac’s throat. He looked up, smiling, before a gurgling wave of blood spilled onto the cobblestone ground.
“Well that was unpleasant,” Anjanette said, rubbing her eye.
Milly was just panting, holding her chest half to keep her up and half to count how many ribs were broken. (The answer was two.) “You don’t have to tell me.”
“So what do you say we go find Redshirt and make sure he’s not dead yet.”
Milly just nodded and started limping towards the forest.
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Saturday, September 13, 2008
Chapter 8-2
For a national hero, Akanan Duvort, better known as “The Tiger”, was strikingly ugly. At least his statue was, and it stood to reason that the real thing was even worse. Incongruous lumps of fat laid in all the wrong places beneath his armour, his face was mercifully covered in an uneven beard, and his face had been punched in one too many times. Nevertheless, the Kendranians had seen fit to build him a statue that stood ten men high, atop an ornate tomb.
“Pretty swanky,” Anjanette said. “What did this choad do to deserve this?”
“Slew a vampire, led the Kendranian revolution, and happened to write a number of literary classics that are impossible to get outside of his home country,” Milly answered. “Um, actually could we—“
“No,” said Leonas.
Their horses trotted up to the tomb, glaring at the four horses that were already there. They were thoroughbreads, beautiful animals that carried themselves with a haughty air. One of their saddles likely cost more than all of the trio’s horses combined. Leonas quickly slit the first one’s throat.
“Uh, what did you do that for?” Milly asked.
“These are Valgard’s horses,” said Leonas. “At least I hope so. If these belong to some tourists we’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He slit the next horse’s throat. It was at this point that the two remaining animals got wise and started bucking and roaring.
A slow clap echoed from the tomb. “They attack the horses. Truly, what noblemen we are dealing with here.”
Valgard stood in front of his guard, their golden armour shining like a second sun behind him. “So you have somehow managed to escape justice. Well, it is apparent we will just have to dis—“
He was cut off by Anjanette forgoing the witty banter and just jumping on him. With one hand she held him down, while her other flashed out in painful blows. She felt the distinct crunch of a nose breaking under her knuckles. Valgard flailed at her uselessly, until the gargantuan Denall hauled her off. He pressed her against his chest in some sort of wrestling hold, his boa constrictor arms pressing the air out of her lungs, until a firm boot to the crotch put an end to that. Denall clutched his wounded equipment, and Anjanette gracefully flew into the air to deliver an air-cutting roundhouse kick to his head.
Milly had also drawn her weapons and charged Valgard, only to be interrupted by Temac. His palm – at least she guessed it was his palm, it was too fast to see – felt like a battering ram to her chest. She stumbled back, and the diminutive warrior stepped in front of her, dusting off his hand.
Milly’s blades flashed, cutting through she air with a slick shriek, but they may as well have stayed holstered for all it mattered. She had missed, her blades inches short of the martial artist. A second strike also missed by a hair, and a third. The fluster of embarassment rose to her face. Temac was dodging her strikes without even moving noticeably.
The remaining knight, Lloyd, stood by his master. He struck a defensive pose, shielding Valgard behind him. “Run, your highness! We’ll deal with these brigands.”
Leonas frowned and raised his tattooed hand. Red flame errupted from it, a blinding burst that left scorched black stones in its wake. Lloyd pushed Valgard out of the way, covering him from even the blistering heat. The streak of fire, almost looking like a giant’s arrow, flew by and took off half the foot of the Tiger’s statue.
Milly continued to dance with her swords, but Temac effortlessly evaded her blows. He spun around and swept out her legs, sending her to the ground, world spinning around her. Temac moved into capitalize, but a fire blast by Leonas cut him off.
Anjanette and Denall were putting on a more sedate mirror of that fight. Denall swung, his fists like great hammers, but they all missed Anjanette by a foot. Unfortunately, while her kicks and rapidfire punches were much more accurate, they only hit Denall’s ornate armour and she was soon nursing red and aching knuckles.
“We don’t have time to fight with these guys!” Anjanette shouted. “Leo, go after the prince!”
Lloyd quickly rushed the mage in response. “You shall not move from this spot until you fall down dead, so I swear!”
“Nah, that doesn’t sound like a good idea,” said Leonas, pitching another burst of fire at him underhand. Lloyd leapt over it, clearing it with professional ease. Leonas whistled in appreciation, staring into the blinding sun, until he realized that behind it lay Lloyd’s vibrant blade. It was too late. The knight’s sword ripped and tore into his shoulder, like being bit by a wolf, no not a wolf, a sadistic and intelligent wolf bent on inflicting the most pain possible. Leonas didn’t want to surpress the pain, he couldn’t think enough to want it.
Leonas fell back onto his ass, and realized he was going to die.
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“Pretty swanky,” Anjanette said. “What did this choad do to deserve this?”
“Slew a vampire, led the Kendranian revolution, and happened to write a number of literary classics that are impossible to get outside of his home country,” Milly answered. “Um, actually could we—“
“No,” said Leonas.
Their horses trotted up to the tomb, glaring at the four horses that were already there. They were thoroughbreads, beautiful animals that carried themselves with a haughty air. One of their saddles likely cost more than all of the trio’s horses combined. Leonas quickly slit the first one’s throat.
“Uh, what did you do that for?” Milly asked.
“These are Valgard’s horses,” said Leonas. “At least I hope so. If these belong to some tourists we’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He slit the next horse’s throat. It was at this point that the two remaining animals got wise and started bucking and roaring.
A slow clap echoed from the tomb. “They attack the horses. Truly, what noblemen we are dealing with here.”
Valgard stood in front of his guard, their golden armour shining like a second sun behind him. “So you have somehow managed to escape justice. Well, it is apparent we will just have to dis—“
He was cut off by Anjanette forgoing the witty banter and just jumping on him. With one hand she held him down, while her other flashed out in painful blows. She felt the distinct crunch of a nose breaking under her knuckles. Valgard flailed at her uselessly, until the gargantuan Denall hauled her off. He pressed her against his chest in some sort of wrestling hold, his boa constrictor arms pressing the air out of her lungs, until a firm boot to the crotch put an end to that. Denall clutched his wounded equipment, and Anjanette gracefully flew into the air to deliver an air-cutting roundhouse kick to his head.
Milly had also drawn her weapons and charged Valgard, only to be interrupted by Temac. His palm – at least she guessed it was his palm, it was too fast to see – felt like a battering ram to her chest. She stumbled back, and the diminutive warrior stepped in front of her, dusting off his hand.
Milly’s blades flashed, cutting through she air with a slick shriek, but they may as well have stayed holstered for all it mattered. She had missed, her blades inches short of the martial artist. A second strike also missed by a hair, and a third. The fluster of embarassment rose to her face. Temac was dodging her strikes without even moving noticeably.
The remaining knight, Lloyd, stood by his master. He struck a defensive pose, shielding Valgard behind him. “Run, your highness! We’ll deal with these brigands.”
Leonas frowned and raised his tattooed hand. Red flame errupted from it, a blinding burst that left scorched black stones in its wake. Lloyd pushed Valgard out of the way, covering him from even the blistering heat. The streak of fire, almost looking like a giant’s arrow, flew by and took off half the foot of the Tiger’s statue.
Milly continued to dance with her swords, but Temac effortlessly evaded her blows. He spun around and swept out her legs, sending her to the ground, world spinning around her. Temac moved into capitalize, but a fire blast by Leonas cut him off.
Anjanette and Denall were putting on a more sedate mirror of that fight. Denall swung, his fists like great hammers, but they all missed Anjanette by a foot. Unfortunately, while her kicks and rapidfire punches were much more accurate, they only hit Denall’s ornate armour and she was soon nursing red and aching knuckles.
“We don’t have time to fight with these guys!” Anjanette shouted. “Leo, go after the prince!”
Lloyd quickly rushed the mage in response. “You shall not move from this spot until you fall down dead, so I swear!”
“Nah, that doesn’t sound like a good idea,” said Leonas, pitching another burst of fire at him underhand. Lloyd leapt over it, clearing it with professional ease. Leonas whistled in appreciation, staring into the blinding sun, until he realized that behind it lay Lloyd’s vibrant blade. It was too late. The knight’s sword ripped and tore into his shoulder, like being bit by a wolf, no not a wolf, a sadistic and intelligent wolf bent on inflicting the most pain possible. Leonas didn’t want to surpress the pain, he couldn’t think enough to want it.
Leonas fell back onto his ass, and realized he was going to die.
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Saturday, September 6, 2008
Chapter 8-1
“Are you certain about this, Prince?” Chairman Reyes said for what had to be the fiftieth time that day. The chairman was fat, perpetually grinning, and surrounded by splendor – his existence was a strong challenge against the alleged equality of Kendrans. “I can have the army excavate every square inch of that tomb until we find this jewel. There’s no need for you to get your hands duty.”
“Ah, but there are some things we must get out hands dirty for,” said Valgard, sipping politely at the bitter Kendran wine. “Besides which, I could not ask such of you after you have been so generous to our nation.
“Well, I guess you’d rather hurt your body before you hurt your pride,” Reyes chortled. “I remember being like that when I was young. No offense meant, of course.”
Valgard smiled cordially, but his icy eyes betrayed him. “None taken. If I may say so, though, I believe that choosing pride over body is the measure of a man.”
“Well, I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Reyes said condescendingly.
“Anyway, I’ll let you go to the tomb undisturbed. No harm in it, as far as I can see. But if you could write a letter, maybe, explaining the situation... I don’t want an international incident if you wind up a monster’s dinner.”
“That won’t happen,” interrupted Temac. It was the first time any of Valgard’s knights had spoken during the meeting, though they had sat by their master’s side for the entirety of it.
“Easy, Temac,” said Valgard, remembering to repremand the small knight later. He was a skilled fighter, but sometimes forgot his place. “I would be happy to write such a thing.”
Reyes clasped his hands together in relief. “Excellent! I have been having such a hard time with the press recently...”
An eternity of small talk later,Valgard left the capitol and was headed to the Tiger’s Tomb on horseback. His horse, Jolten, was a thoroughbred of thoroughbreds, a gorgeous white mare that ran like sound. Accompanying him were his three knghts.
Valgard looked over the trio with a sense of pride. They were hand-selected from thousands of knights, all salivating at the chance to be a part of the prince’s personal guard. Denall was a huge man, with bear-like proportions as well as viciousness. Temac stood in stark contrast to him, tiny but making up for his size with skill in hand-to-hand combat. Valgard didn’t like the martial arts, most having descended from the celaphods, but he had to admit they were effective. Finally there was Lloyd, a throwback to the olden days where knights were honourable and admired. Polite, courageous, and a god with a blade, he was everything Valgard
They had protected Valgard from so much as a scratch on the quest. He knew now that he had chosen wisely.
Shaking his head to refocus, Valgard kept his eyes on the road ahead. Once they got this shard, they would be over halfway there. Not far to go now before Alleria got its pride back.
* * *
“Wait, you think that fucker’s right ahead of us?” Anjanette asked between spoonfuls of stew.
“His name was Valgard,” said Milly. She wasn’t sure why she felt like defending him.
Leonas nodded, still peering at the tracks on the ground. “See? He has the Allerian royal crest on his horse shoes. Not to mention he visited here quite recently.”
“Not exactly the sneakiest guy, is he?” said Anjanette.
“He’s probably never had to be,” Leonas said.
“So what happens if we get there and he’s looted the place out?” said Anjanette.
Leonas paused to think. He looked back to their horses, cheap animals they had picked up in Barret. They probably couldn’t match the speed of Valgard’s steeds.
“These tracks are recent, so with luck we’ll catch them on their way out. It all depends on how big the tomb is, and how tough it is to find the book. Girls, do you think we can take prince-boy in a fight?”
“It’s not Valgard that’s the problem,” said Milly. “It’s those bodyguards he has with him... knights, I guess. I don’t know if you guys remember this, but they kind of mopped the floor with us last time.”
Leonas nodded somberly. “We’ll need some firepower then. Let me cast a spell.”
Milly perked up. “A combat spell?”
“Yeah, I actually can be useful in a fight. Try to hide your surprise.”
Leonas pulled out a small knife and wittled away at the skin of his left hand with it. Anjanette watched with growing uneasy, getting the feeling that she should be stopping him. Face crunching up with pain, Leonas carved a quick diamond formation into the back of his hand. The knife didn’t cut deep, but drew slight crimson lines.
“Great demon lords,” Leonas recited, voice high with pain. “I appeal to you, grant your powers to a mere mortal. I call upon the house of Agaren, warmaster of Hell, who is the hidden hand behind every blade. I offer you this hand so that it may become a weapon. I shall do your bidding in using it for destruction.”
There was a moment’s pause, and a flash of light and a great wind burst forth from the circle on Leonas’s hand. The three shielded their eyes as the cuts healed up, leaving a fiery brand on his hand. He screamed in pain as he felt the diamond mark being burnt into his hand. When the spell subsided, he saw the symbol there, marked in black.
“So... what did that do?” Milly asked.
“Gave me a nifty new tatoo,” Leonas said, still staring at the mark. “And I dearly hope that’s all I get out of it.”
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“Ah, but there are some things we must get out hands dirty for,” said Valgard, sipping politely at the bitter Kendran wine. “Besides which, I could not ask such of you after you have been so generous to our nation.
“Well, I guess you’d rather hurt your body before you hurt your pride,” Reyes chortled. “I remember being like that when I was young. No offense meant, of course.”
Valgard smiled cordially, but his icy eyes betrayed him. “None taken. If I may say so, though, I believe that choosing pride over body is the measure of a man.”
“Well, I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Reyes said condescendingly.
“Anyway, I’ll let you go to the tomb undisturbed. No harm in it, as far as I can see. But if you could write a letter, maybe, explaining the situation... I don’t want an international incident if you wind up a monster’s dinner.”
“That won’t happen,” interrupted Temac. It was the first time any of Valgard’s knights had spoken during the meeting, though they had sat by their master’s side for the entirety of it.
“Easy, Temac,” said Valgard, remembering to repremand the small knight later. He was a skilled fighter, but sometimes forgot his place. “I would be happy to write such a thing.”
Reyes clasped his hands together in relief. “Excellent! I have been having such a hard time with the press recently...”
An eternity of small talk later,Valgard left the capitol and was headed to the Tiger’s Tomb on horseback. His horse, Jolten, was a thoroughbred of thoroughbreds, a gorgeous white mare that ran like sound. Accompanying him were his three knghts.
Valgard looked over the trio with a sense of pride. They were hand-selected from thousands of knights, all salivating at the chance to be a part of the prince’s personal guard. Denall was a huge man, with bear-like proportions as well as viciousness. Temac stood in stark contrast to him, tiny but making up for his size with skill in hand-to-hand combat. Valgard didn’t like the martial arts, most having descended from the celaphods, but he had to admit they were effective. Finally there was Lloyd, a throwback to the olden days where knights were honourable and admired. Polite, courageous, and a god with a blade, he was everything Valgard
They had protected Valgard from so much as a scratch on the quest. He knew now that he had chosen wisely.
Shaking his head to refocus, Valgard kept his eyes on the road ahead. Once they got this shard, they would be over halfway there. Not far to go now before Alleria got its pride back.
* * *
“Wait, you think that fucker’s right ahead of us?” Anjanette asked between spoonfuls of stew.
“His name was Valgard,” said Milly. She wasn’t sure why she felt like defending him.
Leonas nodded, still peering at the tracks on the ground. “See? He has the Allerian royal crest on his horse shoes. Not to mention he visited here quite recently.”
“Not exactly the sneakiest guy, is he?” said Anjanette.
“He’s probably never had to be,” Leonas said.
“So what happens if we get there and he’s looted the place out?” said Anjanette.
Leonas paused to think. He looked back to their horses, cheap animals they had picked up in Barret. They probably couldn’t match the speed of Valgard’s steeds.
“These tracks are recent, so with luck we’ll catch them on their way out. It all depends on how big the tomb is, and how tough it is to find the book. Girls, do you think we can take prince-boy in a fight?”
“It’s not Valgard that’s the problem,” said Milly. “It’s those bodyguards he has with him... knights, I guess. I don’t know if you guys remember this, but they kind of mopped the floor with us last time.”
Leonas nodded somberly. “We’ll need some firepower then. Let me cast a spell.”
Milly perked up. “A combat spell?”
“Yeah, I actually can be useful in a fight. Try to hide your surprise.”
Leonas pulled out a small knife and wittled away at the skin of his left hand with it. Anjanette watched with growing uneasy, getting the feeling that she should be stopping him. Face crunching up with pain, Leonas carved a quick diamond formation into the back of his hand. The knife didn’t cut deep, but drew slight crimson lines.
“Great demon lords,” Leonas recited, voice high with pain. “I appeal to you, grant your powers to a mere mortal. I call upon the house of Agaren, warmaster of Hell, who is the hidden hand behind every blade. I offer you this hand so that it may become a weapon. I shall do your bidding in using it for destruction.”
There was a moment’s pause, and a flash of light and a great wind burst forth from the circle on Leonas’s hand. The three shielded their eyes as the cuts healed up, leaving a fiery brand on his hand. He screamed in pain as he felt the diamond mark being burnt into his hand. When the spell subsided, he saw the symbol there, marked in black.
“So... what did that do?” Milly asked.
“Gave me a nifty new tatoo,” Leonas said, still staring at the mark. “And I dearly hope that’s all I get out of it.”
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Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Chapter 7-6
It was the first time in her life that Milly had been hung over. She dearly hoped that there wouldn’t be a second time.
“It’s okay, sister,” Anjanette said as she held Milly’s hair back. She was surprisingly chipper.
Milly coughed and unleashed another torrent of puke into the toilet. She noted that she was spending entirely too much of this quest vomiting, and resolved to change that just as soon as last night’s dinner had made its way entirely out and her head finally kicked the 3rd Imperial Percussion Band out.
When she was done, Anjanette hauled her up and gave her a cup of water, which Milly gurgled and spat back out into the toilet. “Why the hell aren’t you sick?” Milly demanded.
“Experience, my girl,” Anjanette said. “Experience.”
Still feeling queasy and with the mother of all headaches, Milly wandered over to her bed to lay down. Leonas was still gone. She stared up at the ceiling, idly wondering when it had started moving on its own.
“Anjanette,” Milly said. “Thank you for... rescuing me, I guess, last night. I didn’t really mean what I said about you, I was just...”
“Frustrated? Drunk? Honest?” Anjanette supplied. “It’s okay, Milly. Hell, I liked it.”
“Really? Well, in that case... uh, you’re a whore.”
“Come on!” Anjanette laughed. “Put a little passion behind it!”
Leonas walked through the door, looking a bit unkempt but still businesslike. “All right girls, time to get going.”
“Where were you?” Anjanette asked, thirsty for gossip.
“Having sex, where were you?”
“Not having sex,” Anjanette pouted. “But hey, it’s all good. Was he good looking?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” said Leonas, in the process of packing what little had been unpacked.
“Well too bad, I do,” Anjanette insisted. “What was his name? Was he good in bed? How—“
Milly, who both had momentarily forgotten, spoke up. “Anjanette, if he doesn’t want to say anything, let it be.”
Anjanette mock-pouted. “Alright, if you insist. Did he put up much of a fuss when you were going? The last thing we need is another one of Leonas’s angry ex-lovers after us.”
No response.
“You did say goodbye in the morning, didn’t you?”
No response.
“No way,” Anjanette chuckled. She attached herself to Leonas’s back in a half-hug, half-submission hold. “My little Leo has grown up into a big ol’ womanizer! Er, manizer. Isn’t that so cute, Milly?”
“Uh...”
“I decided it would be better to spare the messy goodbye,” Leonas said with all the dignity he could muster.
“So you couldn’t say it to his face,” Anjanette said. “Chicken! Bawk bawk bawk!”
It was at that moment that a songbird, a sleek black falcon, flew through the open window and dropped a message into the hands of Leonas. He opened it up and read it out loud, increasingly incredulous.
“Dear Leonas: You gave me your songbird number last night when you were drunk. You’re not getting away that easily. Write to you later – love, Ash.”
“I like him,” Anjanette said.
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“It’s okay, sister,” Anjanette said as she held Milly’s hair back. She was surprisingly chipper.
Milly coughed and unleashed another torrent of puke into the toilet. She noted that she was spending entirely too much of this quest vomiting, and resolved to change that just as soon as last night’s dinner had made its way entirely out and her head finally kicked the 3rd Imperial Percussion Band out.
When she was done, Anjanette hauled her up and gave her a cup of water, which Milly gurgled and spat back out into the toilet. “Why the hell aren’t you sick?” Milly demanded.
“Experience, my girl,” Anjanette said. “Experience.”
Still feeling queasy and with the mother of all headaches, Milly wandered over to her bed to lay down. Leonas was still gone. She stared up at the ceiling, idly wondering when it had started moving on its own.
“Anjanette,” Milly said. “Thank you for... rescuing me, I guess, last night. I didn’t really mean what I said about you, I was just...”
“Frustrated? Drunk? Honest?” Anjanette supplied. “It’s okay, Milly. Hell, I liked it.”
“Really? Well, in that case... uh, you’re a whore.”
“Come on!” Anjanette laughed. “Put a little passion behind it!”
Leonas walked through the door, looking a bit unkempt but still businesslike. “All right girls, time to get going.”
“Where were you?” Anjanette asked, thirsty for gossip.
“Having sex, where were you?”
“Not having sex,” Anjanette pouted. “But hey, it’s all good. Was he good looking?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” said Leonas, in the process of packing what little had been unpacked.
“Well too bad, I do,” Anjanette insisted. “What was his name? Was he good in bed? How—“
Milly, who both had momentarily forgotten, spoke up. “Anjanette, if he doesn’t want to say anything, let it be.”
Anjanette mock-pouted. “Alright, if you insist. Did he put up much of a fuss when you were going? The last thing we need is another one of Leonas’s angry ex-lovers after us.”
No response.
“You did say goodbye in the morning, didn’t you?”
No response.
“No way,” Anjanette chuckled. She attached herself to Leonas’s back in a half-hug, half-submission hold. “My little Leo has grown up into a big ol’ womanizer! Er, manizer. Isn’t that so cute, Milly?”
“Uh...”
“I decided it would be better to spare the messy goodbye,” Leonas said with all the dignity he could muster.
“So you couldn’t say it to his face,” Anjanette said. “Chicken! Bawk bawk bawk!”
It was at that moment that a songbird, a sleek black falcon, flew through the open window and dropped a message into the hands of Leonas. He opened it up and read it out loud, increasingly incredulous.
“Dear Leonas: You gave me your songbird number last night when you were drunk. You’re not getting away that easily. Write to you later – love, Ash.”
“I like him,” Anjanette said.
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Saturday, August 30, 2008
Chapter 7-5
Brigadier General Ivan Ko’Alon was a minor figure in the Kendran Revolutionary War. He probably didn’t deserve a statue, but he was the most important war figure from Barret, so there was now a large stone statue of him in the centre of town. Its inscrutable expression watched over the city. It was also notable for being a great statue to climb on, and at any given time of the day there were five or six precocious children or troublemaking teens using the folds in Ko’Alon’s uniforms to scale the stone behemoth.
Leonas and Ash sat on the statue’s shoulders, looking out over the dark Kendran city. Ash was panting slightly. “Well that took me back. Most exercise I’ve gotten in a while, to be honest.”
Leonas looked equal parts bemused and unimpressed. “So far the highlights of the tour have been the bookstore you bought porn at, the restaurant that allegedly serves the best crapes in Kendran, and a statue to climb on. Real metropolis you have here.”
“Come on, this is great and you know it,” said Ash. “I’ll trade all six wonders of the world for a statue kids have fun climbing every day.”
“Is that an offer? Because I’d be more than able to get you a statue,” Leonas said with a laugh. “But seriously, you seem like a pretty smart guy. Someone with a face and a tongue like yours could do so much better. Why are you still in this crappy border town hanging out with a bunch of queens?”
“What was that about my tongue? I didn’t think we’d gotten that far yet,” joked Ash.
Leonas was surprised to find himself blushing. “I meant as in speech. You’re charming. Ah... you know what I mean.”
“Of course. But seriously, this is where I grew up. It sucks, but I love it.” Ash shrugged heavily. “And those ‘queens’ you talk about are my friends. They may act a little silly on the outside, but they’re good guys. And I’d rather be a queen than the guy brooding alone at the end of the bar.”
Leonas realized that his blushing wasn’t stopping anytime soon. He began to scale down the statue. “I just can’t help but feel that you could be doing better. At least seeing the world.”
“Doing better by whose definition?” asked Ash, deftly following across the brow of Ko’Alon’s nose.
Leonas reached the ground with a graceful landing. He didn’t really have anything to say, as for once his mind couldn’t seem to concentrate on the conversation. He felt hot, delirious almost. It was probably the booze. He had been warned about Kendran ale.
There was a silence, with both men trying to think of something to say. It was a mind-melting silence, that made Leonas question himself a thousand times before Ash finally spoke.
“It was nice meeting you,” Ash said, turning to go.
Leonas felt very distant, almost alien, as his hand seemed to reach out of its own volition and grabbed the wrist of the retreating Ash. Ash turned to stare at him slightly bemused.
“Don’t go,” was all Leonas managed to get out.
Ash smiled and kissed him forcefully. And he didn’t go.
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Leonas and Ash sat on the statue’s shoulders, looking out over the dark Kendran city. Ash was panting slightly. “Well that took me back. Most exercise I’ve gotten in a while, to be honest.”
Leonas looked equal parts bemused and unimpressed. “So far the highlights of the tour have been the bookstore you bought porn at, the restaurant that allegedly serves the best crapes in Kendran, and a statue to climb on. Real metropolis you have here.”
“Come on, this is great and you know it,” said Ash. “I’ll trade all six wonders of the world for a statue kids have fun climbing every day.”
“Is that an offer? Because I’d be more than able to get you a statue,” Leonas said with a laugh. “But seriously, you seem like a pretty smart guy. Someone with a face and a tongue like yours could do so much better. Why are you still in this crappy border town hanging out with a bunch of queens?”
“What was that about my tongue? I didn’t think we’d gotten that far yet,” joked Ash.
Leonas was surprised to find himself blushing. “I meant as in speech. You’re charming. Ah... you know what I mean.”
“Of course. But seriously, this is where I grew up. It sucks, but I love it.” Ash shrugged heavily. “And those ‘queens’ you talk about are my friends. They may act a little silly on the outside, but they’re good guys. And I’d rather be a queen than the guy brooding alone at the end of the bar.”
Leonas realized that his blushing wasn’t stopping anytime soon. He began to scale down the statue. “I just can’t help but feel that you could be doing better. At least seeing the world.”
“Doing better by whose definition?” asked Ash, deftly following across the brow of Ko’Alon’s nose.
Leonas reached the ground with a graceful landing. He didn’t really have anything to say, as for once his mind couldn’t seem to concentrate on the conversation. He felt hot, delirious almost. It was probably the booze. He had been warned about Kendran ale.
There was a silence, with both men trying to think of something to say. It was a mind-melting silence, that made Leonas question himself a thousand times before Ash finally spoke.
“It was nice meeting you,” Ash said, turning to go.
Leonas felt very distant, almost alien, as his hand seemed to reach out of its own volition and grabbed the wrist of the retreating Ash. Ash turned to stare at him slightly bemused.
“Don’t go,” was all Leonas managed to get out.
Ash smiled and kissed him forcefully. And he didn’t go.
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Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Chapter 7-4
Leonas had a knack for finding gay bars, even those who wouldn’t admit they were gay bars. The Noun’s Noun looked like little more than your average tavern, and the fresh-faced young barkeep behind the counter had probably thought it was until he looked around one day and realized that he was surrounded by men, and affectionate men at that. It was a steady clientele at least.
It was nothing Leonas hadn’t seen before. The guys were young, stupid, and self-consciously feminine. They twittered with delight at their difference, and took great pains to sound like bad stereotypes. Maybe there were some who wouldn’t irritate Leonas enough over the night, but he had no desire to dig through a pile of queens and the language barrier to get them. He knew he shouldn’t have come out here, but Anjanette was so insistent. Occasionally she came along with him, when she just wanted to get drunk and not be hit on, but that was pretty rare.
“Don’t see you around here much,” a deep voice said behind him in Imperial. A tall man with long dark hair sat down behind him. He was strikingly handsome, his features sharp as if molded from clay.
“I’m only stopping in town for the night,” said Leonas, taking a swig from his gin.
“A pity,” the other man said. “Call me Ash. Because it’s my name.”
“Leonas,” he said.
“Is Leo okay?”
“Only one person has permission to call me Leo, and she had to beat it out of me.”
Ash chuckled. “Leonas it is. So what brings you to our fair town?”
Leonas shrugged. “Damned if I know. I think I’m on a quest or something.”
“So how’s questing?” asked Ash. His smile absolutely refused to die or abate.
“To be honest, it involves a lot more walking and a lot less action than I’d expected,” said Leonas.
“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Ash said. Leonas couldn’t fight back the laugh. “Want me to show you around town?”
“I’m only staying here for one night,” said Leonas.
There was an irresistible twinkle in Ash’s eye. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
* * *
The men hovered around Anjanette like a swarm of bees over sweets left unguarded.
They flattered her, bought her drinks and food, asked standard questions, tripped over their heavy accents. Anjanette giggled and flirted her way through it, keeping them all on strings.
Milly had paid for every one of her drinks, which were starting to add up. Nobody approached her. Occasionally she would try to enter into conversation, but she was usually ignored. She was, she realized in an instant of clarity, the ugly wingman.
“Fuck...” she mumbled clutching the bar counter. Hands feeling like they were on someone else’s body, she took another long swig of ale. She had stopped noticing the bitterness a few drinks back.
“You okay, Milly?” Anjanette asked.
“I’m fine,” Milly bit back. “Not like anyone gives a shit.”
“Milly...” Anjanette trailed off, sounding concerned.
Milly stood up, slamming her hands against the bar. “Great, Anj. Just fucking brilliant. Fucking look at you.”
“You know, this might be the first time I’ve heard you swear,” Anjanette said off hand.
“Shut UP!” Milly screeched. “Was this the whole point? Look at how pretty I am, look at how ugly you are, guys love me because I have big boobs and don’t wear a lot of clothes... is that it, Anj? Is this all you want, to fuck morons who drool over you? Well have a blast! Fuck!”
Milly stormed out of the bar, ignoring Anjanette shouting after her. She fought off tears valiantly. She shouldn’t cry, there was no reason to cry. She was angry.
Anger and passion burned through Milly’s veins, something primal that she wasn’t entirely sure about. She felt disoriented, with everything a bit blurry and uneven before her, but she was sure she could take it. Milly began the walk back to the inn.
She had only gotten about halfway when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder. Milly was surprised that someone had caught up to her without her noticing – her senses were normally better than that. She was even more surprised when it was just a fat drunk. He laughed, blowing bitter breath into her face. “Hey pretty girl. What’s your name?”
“Let me go,” Milly demanded. It came out as a slurred murmur.
The drunk laughed at Milly and pulled her in closer. Milly flailed at him with her fist, but the blow was sloppy and soft. She didn’t have her weapons and, terrifyingly, she found the zone she normally entered when fighting completely gone.
So she did the only thing she could: she screamed.
“Quiet down, l’il lady,” the drunk slurred, moments before being a kick came down on his skull with the force of a rockslide. He toppled over, laying in the street.
Anjanette lowered her leg, looking concerned. “Some guys just can’t say no, right?” she joked feebly.
Milly opened her mouth to launch into another tirade, but promptly collapsed into Anjanette’s arms.
“Sheesh,” Anjanette grinned. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
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It was nothing Leonas hadn’t seen before. The guys were young, stupid, and self-consciously feminine. They twittered with delight at their difference, and took great pains to sound like bad stereotypes. Maybe there were some who wouldn’t irritate Leonas enough over the night, but he had no desire to dig through a pile of queens and the language barrier to get them. He knew he shouldn’t have come out here, but Anjanette was so insistent. Occasionally she came along with him, when she just wanted to get drunk and not be hit on, but that was pretty rare.
“Don’t see you around here much,” a deep voice said behind him in Imperial. A tall man with long dark hair sat down behind him. He was strikingly handsome, his features sharp as if molded from clay.
“I’m only stopping in town for the night,” said Leonas, taking a swig from his gin.
“A pity,” the other man said. “Call me Ash. Because it’s my name.”
“Leonas,” he said.
“Is Leo okay?”
“Only one person has permission to call me Leo, and she had to beat it out of me.”
Ash chuckled. “Leonas it is. So what brings you to our fair town?”
Leonas shrugged. “Damned if I know. I think I’m on a quest or something.”
“So how’s questing?” asked Ash. His smile absolutely refused to die or abate.
“To be honest, it involves a lot more walking and a lot less action than I’d expected,” said Leonas.
“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Ash said. Leonas couldn’t fight back the laugh. “Want me to show you around town?”
“I’m only staying here for one night,” said Leonas.
There was an irresistible twinkle in Ash’s eye. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
* * *
The men hovered around Anjanette like a swarm of bees over sweets left unguarded.
They flattered her, bought her drinks and food, asked standard questions, tripped over their heavy accents. Anjanette giggled and flirted her way through it, keeping them all on strings.
Milly had paid for every one of her drinks, which were starting to add up. Nobody approached her. Occasionally she would try to enter into conversation, but she was usually ignored. She was, she realized in an instant of clarity, the ugly wingman.
“Fuck...” she mumbled clutching the bar counter. Hands feeling like they were on someone else’s body, she took another long swig of ale. She had stopped noticing the bitterness a few drinks back.
“You okay, Milly?” Anjanette asked.
“I’m fine,” Milly bit back. “Not like anyone gives a shit.”
“Milly...” Anjanette trailed off, sounding concerned.
Milly stood up, slamming her hands against the bar. “Great, Anj. Just fucking brilliant. Fucking look at you.”
“You know, this might be the first time I’ve heard you swear,” Anjanette said off hand.
“Shut UP!” Milly screeched. “Was this the whole point? Look at how pretty I am, look at how ugly you are, guys love me because I have big boobs and don’t wear a lot of clothes... is that it, Anj? Is this all you want, to fuck morons who drool over you? Well have a blast! Fuck!”
Milly stormed out of the bar, ignoring Anjanette shouting after her. She fought off tears valiantly. She shouldn’t cry, there was no reason to cry. She was angry.
Anger and passion burned through Milly’s veins, something primal that she wasn’t entirely sure about. She felt disoriented, with everything a bit blurry and uneven before her, but she was sure she could take it. Milly began the walk back to the inn.
She had only gotten about halfway when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder. Milly was surprised that someone had caught up to her without her noticing – her senses were normally better than that. She was even more surprised when it was just a fat drunk. He laughed, blowing bitter breath into her face. “Hey pretty girl. What’s your name?”
“Let me go,” Milly demanded. It came out as a slurred murmur.
The drunk laughed at Milly and pulled her in closer. Milly flailed at him with her fist, but the blow was sloppy and soft. She didn’t have her weapons and, terrifyingly, she found the zone she normally entered when fighting completely gone.
So she did the only thing she could: she screamed.
“Quiet down, l’il lady,” the drunk slurred, moments before being a kick came down on his skull with the force of a rockslide. He toppled over, laying in the street.
Anjanette lowered her leg, looking concerned. “Some guys just can’t say no, right?” she joked feebly.
Milly opened her mouth to launch into another tirade, but promptly collapsed into Anjanette’s arms.
“Sheesh,” Anjanette grinned. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
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Friday, August 22, 2008
Chapter 7-3
The club was dark and somehow misty. The only illumination was magical lights pulsing in a variety of colours. The mist wrapped around Milly and Anjanette’s feet as they made their way to the bar. Anjanette was dressed in her best bar-hopping outfit, a black leather dream that clung tightly to her body. Milly didn’t have a best clubbing outfit, but she had at least been persuaded to leave her cloak at the inn.
They took a seat at the bar. Milly slouched in her seat, her face hiding in her ratty black hair. “Get me some dwarven lager,” ordered Anjanette. The bartender, a burly bored-looking man, plopped down a frothing mug of spirits. Anjanette took a ravenous gulp out of it.
“Aren’t you gonna order a drink, Milly?” she asked.
“Um, I don’t really drink,” Milly said.
“Bullcrap. Get my girl here some ale too.” The bartender shrugged and gave Mily a mug. She demurely took a sip, forcing down the bitter brew. She didn’t want to seem like a kid, after all. This was perfectly normal.
Anjanette pointed to a set of guys sitting at the other end of the bar. The usual young-warrior types, with short haircuts and cocky swaggers. Trying to differentiate between them was like a spot-the-difference game one might give to a child, if one were being particularly cruel.
“What do you think of those guys?” Anjanette asked.
“Um? Well, I haven’t met them...” Milly said.
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Oh jeez, I don’t know... I don’t really have the right, I think. Everyone has their own tastes and there’s more than meets the eye, of course...”
“One. To. Ten.”
“Um... a seven?” Milly said.
“I’d say a six,” said Anjanette, taking a swig of her ale. “I’m just trying to figure out your taste in guys, Milly.”
Milly blushed. “Um... I guess I’d like a hero. You know, like in the stories.”
Anjanette snorted. “If you’re waiting for a hero, girl, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
They weren’t there long before a man sat down beside Anjanette. He was big and burly, and took great measures to flaunt it. He spoke in native Kendran, an ugly language that flowed in stops and starts.
“Nn hanaketat Kendrant,” said Anjantte, the only Kendran phrase she knew.
The man paused, obviously recalling dusty memories of elementary-school Imperial lessons. “Buy drink to you?”
“Knock yourself out,” Anjanette said offhand. And so it began.
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They took a seat at the bar. Milly slouched in her seat, her face hiding in her ratty black hair. “Get me some dwarven lager,” ordered Anjanette. The bartender, a burly bored-looking man, plopped down a frothing mug of spirits. Anjanette took a ravenous gulp out of it.
“Aren’t you gonna order a drink, Milly?” she asked.
“Um, I don’t really drink,” Milly said.
“Bullcrap. Get my girl here some ale too.” The bartender shrugged and gave Mily a mug. She demurely took a sip, forcing down the bitter brew. She didn’t want to seem like a kid, after all. This was perfectly normal.
Anjanette pointed to a set of guys sitting at the other end of the bar. The usual young-warrior types, with short haircuts and cocky swaggers. Trying to differentiate between them was like a spot-the-difference game one might give to a child, if one were being particularly cruel.
“What do you think of those guys?” Anjanette asked.
“Um? Well, I haven’t met them...” Milly said.
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Oh jeez, I don’t know... I don’t really have the right, I think. Everyone has their own tastes and there’s more than meets the eye, of course...”
“One. To. Ten.”
“Um... a seven?” Milly said.
“I’d say a six,” said Anjanette, taking a swig of her ale. “I’m just trying to figure out your taste in guys, Milly.”
Milly blushed. “Um... I guess I’d like a hero. You know, like in the stories.”
Anjanette snorted. “If you’re waiting for a hero, girl, you’ll be waiting a long time.”
They weren’t there long before a man sat down beside Anjanette. He was big and burly, and took great measures to flaunt it. He spoke in native Kendran, an ugly language that flowed in stops and starts.
“Nn hanaketat Kendrant,” said Anjantte, the only Kendran phrase she knew.
The man paused, obviously recalling dusty memories of elementary-school Imperial lessons. “Buy drink to you?”
“Knock yourself out,” Anjanette said offhand. And so it began.
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Chapter 7-2
“Okay, we can go through,” Anjanette said, nearly skipping.
“Never met a problem you couldn’t sleep with, huh?” said Leonas.
Anjanette’s face curled up like she had just eaten sour fruit. “Him? No way. I just showed him an episode of Noble and Beautiful. He got hooked. Everyone does.”
“I didn’t,” said Milly and Leonas in unison.
“That’s because you guys are no fun,” she teased. “Anyway, it turns out they don’t have such ‘blatant aristocratic propaganda’ in Kendran because of some sort of trade embargo. So I sold him the entire backlog I have in exchange for these.” Anjanette dug three visitor’s IDs out of her purse, each one reading “HONOURED GUEST”. “These babies mean we can enjoy all the fruits of the great People’s Republic of Kendran. Everything to us according to our needs, nothing from us but some soap ilscs.”
“Wow, good job,” marvelled Milly.
“I almost don’t hate that show anymore,” Leonas admitted. “So, shall we get going?”
“Well, if we don’t then the merchants behind us may start throwing things,” said Anjanette. They headed off towards Barret, strolling under a peaceful red sky.
* * *
“I’m bored,” Anjanete said, staring up at the brick ceiling of the inn. “Bored bored bored bored bored.”
“Observe, the perpetual three-year-old,” said Leonas.
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” teased Anjanette. “There’s nothing to do in this town, and we’ve been travelling for way too long. Not to mention I just sold all my soaps. This sucks.”
Milly poked her head out from a treatise on illusory magic. “If you’re that bored I have plenty of interesting books—“
“No,” Anjanette said automatically. She continued to lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling while occasionally fixing her hair, until the proverbial torch lit over her head. “I’ve got it! Let’s go guy-hunting!”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” said Leonas. “Count me in.”
“Um, you guys have fun,” said Milly. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to read, and I’ve got this essay on Mial I promised to [i]Aokian Literature Monthly.[/i]”
Anjanette was suddenly a whirling dervish, an unstoppable object of enthusiasm. “Bullcrap. Come on out with us Milly, it’ll be fun.”
“No, it’s really not my thing,” Milly refused.
Anjanette snatched Milly’s book away from her and tossed it aside. She hauled the protesting girl up to her feet. “You made me lose my page!”
“You’re coming out with us,” Anjanette insisted. “Just give it a chance.”
“I guess you won’t take no for an answer,” said Milly with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll go.”
Anjanette smiled a predator’s smile. “See? I always get my way.”
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“Never met a problem you couldn’t sleep with, huh?” said Leonas.
Anjanette’s face curled up like she had just eaten sour fruit. “Him? No way. I just showed him an episode of Noble and Beautiful. He got hooked. Everyone does.”
“I didn’t,” said Milly and Leonas in unison.
“That’s because you guys are no fun,” she teased. “Anyway, it turns out they don’t have such ‘blatant aristocratic propaganda’ in Kendran because of some sort of trade embargo. So I sold him the entire backlog I have in exchange for these.” Anjanette dug three visitor’s IDs out of her purse, each one reading “HONOURED GUEST”. “These babies mean we can enjoy all the fruits of the great People’s Republic of Kendran. Everything to us according to our needs, nothing from us but some soap ilscs.”
“Wow, good job,” marvelled Milly.
“I almost don’t hate that show anymore,” Leonas admitted. “So, shall we get going?”
“Well, if we don’t then the merchants behind us may start throwing things,” said Anjanette. They headed off towards Barret, strolling under a peaceful red sky.
* * *
“I’m bored,” Anjanete said, staring up at the brick ceiling of the inn. “Bored bored bored bored bored.”
“Observe, the perpetual three-year-old,” said Leonas.
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” teased Anjanette. “There’s nothing to do in this town, and we’ve been travelling for way too long. Not to mention I just sold all my soaps. This sucks.”
Milly poked her head out from a treatise on illusory magic. “If you’re that bored I have plenty of interesting books—“
“No,” Anjanette said automatically. She continued to lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling while occasionally fixing her hair, until the proverbial torch lit over her head. “I’ve got it! Let’s go guy-hunting!”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” said Leonas. “Count me in.”
“Um, you guys have fun,” said Milly. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to read, and I’ve got this essay on Mial I promised to [i]Aokian Literature Monthly.[/i]”
Anjanette was suddenly a whirling dervish, an unstoppable object of enthusiasm. “Bullcrap. Come on out with us Milly, it’ll be fun.”
“No, it’s really not my thing,” Milly refused.
Anjanette snatched Milly’s book away from her and tossed it aside. She hauled the protesting girl up to her feet. “You made me lose my page!”
“You’re coming out with us,” Anjanette insisted. “Just give it a chance.”
“I guess you won’t take no for an answer,” said Milly with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll go.”
Anjanette smiled a predator’s smile. “See? I always get my way.”
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Saturday, August 16, 2008
Chapter 7-1
Impromptu hiatus over, now let's get back on with the story.
With the excitement of Nariev behind them, the trio began the long journey of walking their way across the Dutchies. They managed to get some normal clothes and started scamming again, this time with Milly occasionally taking part. Occasionally she still wondered about the morals of what she was doing, but it was better than starving. With their extensive collection of fake goods gone, they had to resort to old-fashioned confidence tricks.
Milly shrieked as the heavyset man bumped into her, subtlly shoved by Leonas behind him. She dropped the box she was holding to the ground with a shatter of broken glass. “Sorry,” the man muttered.
“My vase!” Milly shrieked. She opened the box. Inside was a chaotic assortment of glass shards, a complex jigsaw puzzle. “I just got this new vase and now it’s ruined! It cost four gold!”
The man shrugged. “Too bad, lady.” He turned and walked away.
“Um... pay it back?” she called after him, but he didn’t stop.
Leonas slapped his forehead. “Milly, for the last time... you have to be more insistent. Don’t let him walk away. Yell and scream, demand money. That’s the way it works.”
“I’m not good at demanding things,” said Milly sheepishly.
“Well, you seem to be good at crying, do that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing,” said Leonas. “Now here comes the next guy. Try again.”
Milly picked up the box of broken glass and waited for the man now turning the corner to be bumped into her.
* * *
The Great Dome of Kendran was always something that Leonas had wanted to see for himself. One of the most elaborate spells ever cast, it formed a large red dome that covered the entirety of the large nation. Nothing got in and out without the Kendrans knowing. It made them nearly impervious to attack, but it also limited any sort of expansion and most trade.
Still, it was physically impressive if nothing else. A foot-thick wall of red lightning, crackling and shining. Beyond it the gates of the border city Barret were red, the air was red – everything coloured as though through a trick lens.
Leonas whistled. “Impressive.”
“Watch out, he’s going into ‘magic nerd’ mode,” Anjanette warned.
Leonas stepped closer to marvel at the barrier, abandoning the traffic on the trade road. He got as close as he could without being fried by the magical energy. Besides him, merchant carts moved through a room-sized gap in the barrier, at a speed easily beat by the last bit of syrup in the jar.
Finally, their group of three horses reached the gate. They were immediately greeted by two uniformed guards and what looked to be an official of some kind. His mustache and big nose made him look like an editorial caricature of a Kendran communist.
“And what is your business in Kendran?” asked the official.
“Questing,” said Anjanette.
“That is strictly forbidden,” the official said, his voice ringing with haughty indignance. “You shall not rob the graves of our great culture, simply for your own greed.”
“Aw, come on,” said Leonas. “What’s the harm in letting a few people in? We just want to sample this great nation. We may come back to live here, who knows?”
The official looked like he would be more enthused with the plague coming to his country. “You can absolutely not go in. Resources are stretched enough without foreign freeloaders. Go back to whatever slum you came from.”
Anjanette tensed her fist, and swung back. Leonas waited for an international incident, but Anjanette stopped just in time and put on a brave smile. “Can I talk to you in private?”
The official looked Anjanette up and down. She may have lost her clothes in prison, but it hadn’t taken her long to assemble a suitable skimpy outfit. “I can’t see the harm. You two wait outside.”
Anjanette and the mousy official headed to a small building off the side of the road. Behind them a long line of merchant carts groaned at being delayed even more.
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With the excitement of Nariev behind them, the trio began the long journey of walking their way across the Dutchies. They managed to get some normal clothes and started scamming again, this time with Milly occasionally taking part. Occasionally she still wondered about the morals of what she was doing, but it was better than starving. With their extensive collection of fake goods gone, they had to resort to old-fashioned confidence tricks.
Milly shrieked as the heavyset man bumped into her, subtlly shoved by Leonas behind him. She dropped the box she was holding to the ground with a shatter of broken glass. “Sorry,” the man muttered.
“My vase!” Milly shrieked. She opened the box. Inside was a chaotic assortment of glass shards, a complex jigsaw puzzle. “I just got this new vase and now it’s ruined! It cost four gold!”
The man shrugged. “Too bad, lady.” He turned and walked away.
“Um... pay it back?” she called after him, but he didn’t stop.
Leonas slapped his forehead. “Milly, for the last time... you have to be more insistent. Don’t let him walk away. Yell and scream, demand money. That’s the way it works.”
“I’m not good at demanding things,” said Milly sheepishly.
“Well, you seem to be good at crying, do that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing,” said Leonas. “Now here comes the next guy. Try again.”
Milly picked up the box of broken glass and waited for the man now turning the corner to be bumped into her.
* * *
The Great Dome of Kendran was always something that Leonas had wanted to see for himself. One of the most elaborate spells ever cast, it formed a large red dome that covered the entirety of the large nation. Nothing got in and out without the Kendrans knowing. It made them nearly impervious to attack, but it also limited any sort of expansion and most trade.
Still, it was physically impressive if nothing else. A foot-thick wall of red lightning, crackling and shining. Beyond it the gates of the border city Barret were red, the air was red – everything coloured as though through a trick lens.
Leonas whistled. “Impressive.”
“Watch out, he’s going into ‘magic nerd’ mode,” Anjanette warned.
Leonas stepped closer to marvel at the barrier, abandoning the traffic on the trade road. He got as close as he could without being fried by the magical energy. Besides him, merchant carts moved through a room-sized gap in the barrier, at a speed easily beat by the last bit of syrup in the jar.
Finally, their group of three horses reached the gate. They were immediately greeted by two uniformed guards and what looked to be an official of some kind. His mustache and big nose made him look like an editorial caricature of a Kendran communist.
“And what is your business in Kendran?” asked the official.
“Questing,” said Anjanette.
“That is strictly forbidden,” the official said, his voice ringing with haughty indignance. “You shall not rob the graves of our great culture, simply for your own greed.”
“Aw, come on,” said Leonas. “What’s the harm in letting a few people in? We just want to sample this great nation. We may come back to live here, who knows?”
The official looked like he would be more enthused with the plague coming to his country. “You can absolutely not go in. Resources are stretched enough without foreign freeloaders. Go back to whatever slum you came from.”
Anjanette tensed her fist, and swung back. Leonas waited for an international incident, but Anjanette stopped just in time and put on a brave smile. “Can I talk to you in private?”
The official looked Anjanette up and down. She may have lost her clothes in prison, but it hadn’t taken her long to assemble a suitable skimpy outfit. “I can’t see the harm. You two wait outside.”
Anjanette and the mousy official headed to a small building off the side of the road. Behind them a long line of merchant carts groaned at being delayed even more.
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Saturday, July 12, 2008
Chapter 6-4
Anjanette had just been woken from her sleep, and was very cranky. When the door opened and Leonas was standing their, smiling cockily, her anger melted. “Leo? What the hell?”
“I prefer to be adressed as ‘your savior’,” said Leonas.
Anjanette gave him a deep hug, while Milly just stared at him, blinking sleep out of her eyes.
“Hey, the women’s prison is nice,” said Leonas, taking a look at their cell with an appraising eye.
“Can we just get out of here?” Anjanette said.
“No patience,” Leonas said, shaking his head.
Anjanette and Milly left their cell quietly. It was just then that Milly noticed the two guards, a man and a woman, standing nervously at the end of a hallway.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Well, the man is my good buddy Mister Peral—“
“He’s blackmailing me into letting you out,” Peral said with a sigh.
The woman stared daggers at Peral. “And I happen to owe him five gold from way back when, so this is my way of paying it off.”
“What’s that noise,” Anjanette asked, straining her ears.
“Er, we sort of started a riot at the men’s prison,” said Leonas. “One of them started yelling to be let out too and...”
“I am so getting fired,” Peral said.
The trio left through the back door, being very quiet so as not to spark a second riot. They moved on foot, not having time to go back for their horses, if they were even still there, or alive. With all the guards trying to subdue the riot, nobody noticed a man and two women in prison garb slipping through the alleys and out into the wilderness.
“I’m an escaped convict,” Milly whispered to herself. “I’m a wanted criminal. I’m a fugitive.” No matter which words she used, it still seemed unreal and horrifying at the same time.
“Well, at least that mess is over with,” said Anjanette. “Where to next, o savior?”
“We’re going to the Dutchy of Adamle,” Leonas explained. “They have no extradition treaty with the AOK ever since the Aokian President snubbed the Duke. Apparently the Duke used to write him letters daily, under the illusion that they were great pals, and the President just stopped responding. Ah, nobility.”
Anjanette chuckled. “I’m just pissed off that I lost all the clothes I worked so hard to steal.”
Milly paused again, frozen with horror. “My... books...”
“Pardon?” said Leonas.
“They took my cloak, and all the books were in that!” Milly shrieked. “We have to go back!”
“No way, freak,” said Anjanette. “We can’t walk back into the city.”
“You don’t understand, I’ve spent so much time gathering that collection, and there are so many great books and one I might not be able to find again and if I don’t have them I have to start at square one and oh god.” Milly dissolved into a sobbing mess.
Leonas looked nonchalant. “What, you mean this thing?” He tossed the folded-up cloak at her, pulling it out from under his shirt. Milly gasped and shrieked in happiness, hugging the cloak to her chest. She tackled Leonas with a forceful bearhug.
“Whoa,” he said, jokingly trying to shove her away. “I had to go back for this. It has the map in it, after all.”
“Thank you...”
Anjanette rolled her eyes. “You didn’t save any of my clothes, did you?”
“Nope. But the jumpsuit looks good on you,” said Leonas.
“Did you at least take the book as well?”
Leonas shook his head. “It wasn’t there. Either it’s sitting in some lockbox, or Valgard took it.”
“I’m going to assume Valgard,” said Milly.
“Alright,” said Anjanette. “It’s his fault that I don’t have my clothes or my sword. Now, let’s find this prick, take back those books, and shove them up his lily-white aristocratic ass.”
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“I prefer to be adressed as ‘your savior’,” said Leonas.
Anjanette gave him a deep hug, while Milly just stared at him, blinking sleep out of her eyes.
“Hey, the women’s prison is nice,” said Leonas, taking a look at their cell with an appraising eye.
“Can we just get out of here?” Anjanette said.
“No patience,” Leonas said, shaking his head.
Anjanette and Milly left their cell quietly. It was just then that Milly noticed the two guards, a man and a woman, standing nervously at the end of a hallway.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Well, the man is my good buddy Mister Peral—“
“He’s blackmailing me into letting you out,” Peral said with a sigh.
The woman stared daggers at Peral. “And I happen to owe him five gold from way back when, so this is my way of paying it off.”
“What’s that noise,” Anjanette asked, straining her ears.
“Er, we sort of started a riot at the men’s prison,” said Leonas. “One of them started yelling to be let out too and...”
“I am so getting fired,” Peral said.
The trio left through the back door, being very quiet so as not to spark a second riot. They moved on foot, not having time to go back for their horses, if they were even still there, or alive. With all the guards trying to subdue the riot, nobody noticed a man and two women in prison garb slipping through the alleys and out into the wilderness.
“I’m an escaped convict,” Milly whispered to herself. “I’m a wanted criminal. I’m a fugitive.” No matter which words she used, it still seemed unreal and horrifying at the same time.
“Well, at least that mess is over with,” said Anjanette. “Where to next, o savior?”
“We’re going to the Dutchy of Adamle,” Leonas explained. “They have no extradition treaty with the AOK ever since the Aokian President snubbed the Duke. Apparently the Duke used to write him letters daily, under the illusion that they were great pals, and the President just stopped responding. Ah, nobility.”
Anjanette chuckled. “I’m just pissed off that I lost all the clothes I worked so hard to steal.”
Milly paused again, frozen with horror. “My... books...”
“Pardon?” said Leonas.
“They took my cloak, and all the books were in that!” Milly shrieked. “We have to go back!”
“No way, freak,” said Anjanette. “We can’t walk back into the city.”
“You don’t understand, I’ve spent so much time gathering that collection, and there are so many great books and one I might not be able to find again and if I don’t have them I have to start at square one and oh god.” Milly dissolved into a sobbing mess.
Leonas looked nonchalant. “What, you mean this thing?” He tossed the folded-up cloak at her, pulling it out from under his shirt. Milly gasped and shrieked in happiness, hugging the cloak to her chest. She tackled Leonas with a forceful bearhug.
“Whoa,” he said, jokingly trying to shove her away. “I had to go back for this. It has the map in it, after all.”
“Thank you...”
Anjanette rolled her eyes. “You didn’t save any of my clothes, did you?”
“Nope. But the jumpsuit looks good on you,” said Leonas.
“Did you at least take the book as well?”
Leonas shook his head. “It wasn’t there. Either it’s sitting in some lockbox, or Valgard took it.”
“I’m going to assume Valgard,” said Milly.
“Alright,” said Anjanette. “It’s his fault that I don’t have my clothes or my sword. Now, let’s find this prick, take back those books, and shove them up his lily-white aristocratic ass.”
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Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Chapter 6-3
Fresh sunlight shone in through the barred windows. Anjanette lay in bed, Milly silently in position, both awaiting the door to open and them to be whisked away to the prison eatery.
“I really don’t like this plan,” Milly said, her voice muffled by the sheets.
“Don’t worry about it, you barely need to do anything,” Anjanette hissed. “Now keep quiet. I think I hear him coming.”
Anjanette paused and confirmed that yes, there were footsteps nearby, echoing louder and closer down the corridoor. She promptly rolled her head back and began moaning loudly, drawing from her experience with teenage boyfriends. “Oh... ohhh...”
The door swung open with a click and the guard walked in. Anjanette was lying on her bed, volumous breasts exposed, head rolled back in apparent pleasure. Beneath the sheets was a huddled form, head between her legs. Anjanette turned and gave the guard a come-hither look. “Oh, hey there. Want to—“
She trailed off as she saw the very confused, very female guard.
“Um... you wouldn’t happen to be a dyke, by any chance?”
The guard shook her head.
“Shit. That sort of ruins my plan,” said Anjanette.
“Let me guess,” said the guard. “You were planning on a male guard, who would let his guard down when offered a hot prison threesome, and then take him out so you could escape?”
“Pretty much.”
“People try that all the time. Honestly, why would a guy be a guard at a women’s prison?” The guard just looked bored.
Anjanette looked a little embarassed. The guard shrugged. “Well, I won’t interrupt you guys.” She turned and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Wait!” Anjanette called after her. “Don’t we get food?”
Milly rolled out from under the sheets, huddled in a ball. “Never... again...”
* * *
Leonas made his move on the way back from mess hall, the day before their trial.
“So Peral,” he said to the guard escorting him. “You mind springing me and some friends tonight?”
“What?” the guard asked.
“Jacob Peral, right? I’ve read all the love letters you get from that girl. You really shouldn’t leave them around.”
Peral blushed. “So what?”
“Well, that girl is not your wife, is she?” Leonas said in a sing-song voice.
“Um...”
Leonas smirked. “Exactly. And I do get a regular amount of songbirds in prison, so let’s just say I would be remiss in my moral duties were I not to inform the dear Missus Peral... unless, say, you helped me out tonight.”
“Yeah, well maybe you’ll meet an unfortunate accident tonight,” said Peral.
“To be quite honest, you’re not smart enough to cover up a murder,” said Leonas.
A long pause. “You want to bet?”
“I have friends in high places, and I’ve already sent a message to one of them, implicating you in anything that goes wrong,” Leonas said. It was perhaps an exagerration to say that Pericen lived in ‘high places’, but he would be good enough. “Seriously, don’t get caught and nothing else goes wrong.”
Another pause, and a heavy breath. “Alright, you win, faggot.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
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“I really don’t like this plan,” Milly said, her voice muffled by the sheets.
“Don’t worry about it, you barely need to do anything,” Anjanette hissed. “Now keep quiet. I think I hear him coming.”
Anjanette paused and confirmed that yes, there were footsteps nearby, echoing louder and closer down the corridoor. She promptly rolled her head back and began moaning loudly, drawing from her experience with teenage boyfriends. “Oh... ohhh...”
The door swung open with a click and the guard walked in. Anjanette was lying on her bed, volumous breasts exposed, head rolled back in apparent pleasure. Beneath the sheets was a huddled form, head between her legs. Anjanette turned and gave the guard a come-hither look. “Oh, hey there. Want to—“
She trailed off as she saw the very confused, very female guard.
“Um... you wouldn’t happen to be a dyke, by any chance?”
The guard shook her head.
“Shit. That sort of ruins my plan,” said Anjanette.
“Let me guess,” said the guard. “You were planning on a male guard, who would let his guard down when offered a hot prison threesome, and then take him out so you could escape?”
“Pretty much.”
“People try that all the time. Honestly, why would a guy be a guard at a women’s prison?” The guard just looked bored.
Anjanette looked a little embarassed. The guard shrugged. “Well, I won’t interrupt you guys.” She turned and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Wait!” Anjanette called after her. “Don’t we get food?”
Milly rolled out from under the sheets, huddled in a ball. “Never... again...”
* * *
Leonas made his move on the way back from mess hall, the day before their trial.
“So Peral,” he said to the guard escorting him. “You mind springing me and some friends tonight?”
“What?” the guard asked.
“Jacob Peral, right? I’ve read all the love letters you get from that girl. You really shouldn’t leave them around.”
Peral blushed. “So what?”
“Well, that girl is not your wife, is she?” Leonas said in a sing-song voice.
“Um...”
Leonas smirked. “Exactly. And I do get a regular amount of songbirds in prison, so let’s just say I would be remiss in my moral duties were I not to inform the dear Missus Peral... unless, say, you helped me out tonight.”
“Yeah, well maybe you’ll meet an unfortunate accident tonight,” said Peral.
“To be quite honest, you’re not smart enough to cover up a murder,” said Leonas.
A long pause. “You want to bet?”
“I have friends in high places, and I’ve already sent a message to one of them, implicating you in anything that goes wrong,” Leonas said. It was perhaps an exagerration to say that Pericen lived in ‘high places’, but he would be good enough. “Seriously, don’t get caught and nothing else goes wrong.”
Another pause, and a heavy breath. “Alright, you win, faggot.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
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Saturday, July 5, 2008
Chapter 6-2
Leonas was, quite simply, bored out of his mind. They had put Milly and Anjanette in the other wing of the jail, and he was stuck with a dozing drunk in the temporary holding cells. He stared at the plain white walls, and sometimes through the grate in the door through to the plain white walls in the hallway. If nothing else he had variety.
He paced the room. For the thousandth time he tried to conjure up some magic – telekinesis to grab the guard’s keys, some sort of teleportation – but he always hit a wall. Leonas had heard that most of the big cities had anti-magic areas for prisons and government buildings. He guessed this was one of them. It felt eerie, vaguely inhuman, like a room with just too little air.
Leonas was worried about Anjanette. And Milly too, he realized. They wouldn’t survive in jail. He knew how to keep a low profile, and perhaps more importanly, how to suck a dick. But Milly seemed frightened of talking to her own shadow, and Anjanette eternally refused to shut up.
They needed to get out.
His mind raced in circles.
* * *
Valgard had won the auction, of course. He had the entirety of Alleria’s coffers behind him. His father, King Damien, had explicitly told him to use any and all of the nation’s resources on this quest. But it didn’t take all of Alleria’s coffers, once he had Milly and her group arrested. Nobody else was bidding against him.
Linnar bowed to him, his golden armour flashing light in his eyes. “Sir, we have consulted the prophecies, and we believe the next location to be the tomb of Inias Grunwald, the famous Tiger of the Kendrans. When shall we set off?”
“Tomorrow,” decided Valgard. “I want to take in the city tonight. Let’s see how the AOK treats royalty.”
They had come as soon as word spread of his dramatic intervention at the auction. Minor politicians, clerks and aristocrats, all welcoming him to their great city. Valgard despised them so. A common man selected his ruler not by merit or distinction, but by who had prostrated themselves before his class or group the most. Thus you had a nation ruled by spineless demogouges. Democracy, in Valgard’s experience, was sung in soprano.
He had been given an invitation to dinner with the Head Councillor, but it had been delivered by one of his lackeys. Fitting for an artist or merchant, but to a member of the purest bloodline in the world, it was an insult. He might go someplace else instead.
Valgard took a look out the window of his penthouse suite. Down on the street the Aokians hustled and bustled, going on with their daily lives. The women showed far too much flesh, and the men were far too vulgar. They cared for nothing but themselves, cared nothing for their country or honour or God. It was not like this in Alleria.
It reminded Valgard of why he needed to succeed. When Alleria was ascendant again, when the Golden Kingdom once again stretched from coast to coast, the streets would not be full of whores and brutes. Honour and dignity would be restored.
He would restore the world.
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He paced the room. For the thousandth time he tried to conjure up some magic – telekinesis to grab the guard’s keys, some sort of teleportation – but he always hit a wall. Leonas had heard that most of the big cities had anti-magic areas for prisons and government buildings. He guessed this was one of them. It felt eerie, vaguely inhuman, like a room with just too little air.
Leonas was worried about Anjanette. And Milly too, he realized. They wouldn’t survive in jail. He knew how to keep a low profile, and perhaps more importanly, how to suck a dick. But Milly seemed frightened of talking to her own shadow, and Anjanette eternally refused to shut up.
They needed to get out.
His mind raced in circles.
* * *
Valgard had won the auction, of course. He had the entirety of Alleria’s coffers behind him. His father, King Damien, had explicitly told him to use any and all of the nation’s resources on this quest. But it didn’t take all of Alleria’s coffers, once he had Milly and her group arrested. Nobody else was bidding against him.
Linnar bowed to him, his golden armour flashing light in his eyes. “Sir, we have consulted the prophecies, and we believe the next location to be the tomb of Inias Grunwald, the famous Tiger of the Kendrans. When shall we set off?”
“Tomorrow,” decided Valgard. “I want to take in the city tonight. Let’s see how the AOK treats royalty.”
They had come as soon as word spread of his dramatic intervention at the auction. Minor politicians, clerks and aristocrats, all welcoming him to their great city. Valgard despised them so. A common man selected his ruler not by merit or distinction, but by who had prostrated themselves before his class or group the most. Thus you had a nation ruled by spineless demogouges. Democracy, in Valgard’s experience, was sung in soprano.
He had been given an invitation to dinner with the Head Councillor, but it had been delivered by one of his lackeys. Fitting for an artist or merchant, but to a member of the purest bloodline in the world, it was an insult. He might go someplace else instead.
Valgard took a look out the window of his penthouse suite. Down on the street the Aokians hustled and bustled, going on with their daily lives. The women showed far too much flesh, and the men were far too vulgar. They cared for nothing but themselves, cared nothing for their country or honour or God. It was not like this in Alleria.
It reminded Valgard of why he needed to succeed. When Alleria was ascendant again, when the Golden Kingdom once again stretched from coast to coast, the streets would not be full of whores and brutes. Honour and dignity would be restored.
He would restore the world.
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Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Chapter 6-1
Milly had sort of hoped they’d end up in a stony cell, one wall only steel bars, with guards pacing outside. The rest of the cell would consist of a single well-worn cot, and a barred window up high. It was always night. That was how it always was in the stories.
The jail they wound up in dashed her hopes quite well. It really just looked like a cheap inn room – drab white walls, a locked door, and a cheap bathroom. The window was barred, sure, but that was common to any inn whose windows had been broken more than once. And the beds, well, they weren’t uncomfortable at all.
“Well this is just great,” Anjanette said, laying on the bed. “Arrested, and we didn’t even scam anyone here. How did that happen?”
“Well, you did steal from all those stores...” Milly said.
“It was just a dress or two! Who’s gonna care, I thought.”
Milly didn’t feel like talking to Anjanette right now. She rolled over, facing the institutionally blank wall. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Now she was in jail. And if they found her guilty, they could sentance her for five, ten, fifteen years... who knew? She would be staying here, trapped inside while the world went on, no books, no quests...
She was crying. And not soft, dignified crying, but loud, infantile, body-wracking sobs. There was no getting out of this one. She felt like a little kid again, except without mommy nearby to grab onto.
Someone was shaking her. Anjanette. “Cut that out, I’m trying to get some sleep.” Her voice was wavering. Milly clutched at Anjanette, burying her head in her chest.
Anjanette was for once unsure of what to say. “Um... there, there?” She petted Milly’s black hair, still greasy with battle sweat, like she would a cat’s fur.
“And Valgard... I can’t believe he would do that... he seemed so nice...” she blubbered.
“Wait, what now?” asked Anjanette.
“Valgard... the man who was bidding against us...” And then the story came out in a jerky torrent, of her meeting with him and his eventual betrayal.
Anjantte took a minute to take it all in, then punched Milly square in the jaw.
“What was that for?” said Milly. She had fallen to the ground and was rubbing her jaw. At least she wasn’t crying any more.
“You told some guy about what we do? What were you thinking?!”
“I... I didn’t think it was a big secret,” said Milly.
“Well we are doing illegal crap... and this guy knew our names and everything. Who was he anyways?”
“I dunno...” Milly said, chewing at her fingernails. She felt like shit. They were doomed and it was her fault. Why had she trusted him anyway? She knew why: Valgard was a man who treated her like a lady, instead of a freak. Milly didn’t talk to a lot of guys, and all the ones she did were only interested in sex and money. But Valgard was a man – a handsome man – who was interested in books and the world and other such interesting things. She had only talked to him for maybe an hour, but she had entertained fancies of falling in love with him.
It was all intentional on his part. If this had been a novel, Milly would have been yelling at the heroine through the whole thing. But she missed it. Valgard had used her... but why?
Surprisingly, the pieces fell into place for Anjanette first. “Prince Valgard de Competain.”
“What?”
“The prince of Alleria. Doesn’t he look like that? And have that name?”
“Um... I don’t know, I haven’t read too much on him...”
“My mom always used to buy tabloids about the royals,” said Anjanette. “I would read through them when there was absolutely nothing better to do, which was frequently and I remember the second son of the king was named Valgard and looked like your Mr. Right.”
Milly nodded. “That would explain those guards... The Golden Shield! Of course!”
“Huh?”
“The twelve highest knights in Alleria,” said Milly. “Sworn to protect the royal family, known for their golden armour and inhuman skill in combat. They always show up in the old stories. They’ve declined a bit in recent years, but they’re still a big deal to Allerians. They must have been the guys that jumped us.”
“So... this guy is an Allerian prince, right?”
Milly nodded, her expression suddenly a grin. “Right! I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner. And he was bidding for that book, so I assume he’s after the tomes as well... but why? He certainly doesn’t need the money.”
Anjanette chortled. “For someone who reads so much you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Milly.”
“Huh?” Milly’s face flushed with offense. “What do you mean?”
“If this prince guy is going around with these super-knights to chase the books... odds are he’s not doing it for kicks. Alleria wants the tomes. They need the power to be strong again. They want to start a war.”
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The jail they wound up in dashed her hopes quite well. It really just looked like a cheap inn room – drab white walls, a locked door, and a cheap bathroom. The window was barred, sure, but that was common to any inn whose windows had been broken more than once. And the beds, well, they weren’t uncomfortable at all.
“Well this is just great,” Anjanette said, laying on the bed. “Arrested, and we didn’t even scam anyone here. How did that happen?”
“Well, you did steal from all those stores...” Milly said.
“It was just a dress or two! Who’s gonna care, I thought.”
Milly didn’t feel like talking to Anjanette right now. She rolled over, facing the institutionally blank wall. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Now she was in jail. And if they found her guilty, they could sentance her for five, ten, fifteen years... who knew? She would be staying here, trapped inside while the world went on, no books, no quests...
She was crying. And not soft, dignified crying, but loud, infantile, body-wracking sobs. There was no getting out of this one. She felt like a little kid again, except without mommy nearby to grab onto.
Someone was shaking her. Anjanette. “Cut that out, I’m trying to get some sleep.” Her voice was wavering. Milly clutched at Anjanette, burying her head in her chest.
Anjanette was for once unsure of what to say. “Um... there, there?” She petted Milly’s black hair, still greasy with battle sweat, like she would a cat’s fur.
“And Valgard... I can’t believe he would do that... he seemed so nice...” she blubbered.
“Wait, what now?” asked Anjanette.
“Valgard... the man who was bidding against us...” And then the story came out in a jerky torrent, of her meeting with him and his eventual betrayal.
Anjantte took a minute to take it all in, then punched Milly square in the jaw.
“What was that for?” said Milly. She had fallen to the ground and was rubbing her jaw. At least she wasn’t crying any more.
“You told some guy about what we do? What were you thinking?!”
“I... I didn’t think it was a big secret,” said Milly.
“Well we are doing illegal crap... and this guy knew our names and everything. Who was he anyways?”
“I dunno...” Milly said, chewing at her fingernails. She felt like shit. They were doomed and it was her fault. Why had she trusted him anyway? She knew why: Valgard was a man who treated her like a lady, instead of a freak. Milly didn’t talk to a lot of guys, and all the ones she did were only interested in sex and money. But Valgard was a man – a handsome man – who was interested in books and the world and other such interesting things. She had only talked to him for maybe an hour, but she had entertained fancies of falling in love with him.
It was all intentional on his part. If this had been a novel, Milly would have been yelling at the heroine through the whole thing. But she missed it. Valgard had used her... but why?
Surprisingly, the pieces fell into place for Anjanette first. “Prince Valgard de Competain.”
“What?”
“The prince of Alleria. Doesn’t he look like that? And have that name?”
“Um... I don’t know, I haven’t read too much on him...”
“My mom always used to buy tabloids about the royals,” said Anjanette. “I would read through them when there was absolutely nothing better to do, which was frequently and I remember the second son of the king was named Valgard and looked like your Mr. Right.”
Milly nodded. “That would explain those guards... The Golden Shield! Of course!”
“Huh?”
“The twelve highest knights in Alleria,” said Milly. “Sworn to protect the royal family, known for their golden armour and inhuman skill in combat. They always show up in the old stories. They’ve declined a bit in recent years, but they’re still a big deal to Allerians. They must have been the guys that jumped us.”
“So... this guy is an Allerian prince, right?”
Milly nodded, her expression suddenly a grin. “Right! I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner. And he was bidding for that book, so I assume he’s after the tomes as well... but why? He certainly doesn’t need the money.”
Anjanette chortled. “For someone who reads so much you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Milly.”
“Huh?” Milly’s face flushed with offense. “What do you mean?”
“If this prince guy is going around with these super-knights to chase the books... odds are he’s not doing it for kicks. Alleria wants the tomes. They need the power to be strong again. They want to start a war.”
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Saturday, June 28, 2008
Chapter 5-5
To Anjanette, being in the auction house was like being a dinosaur in a city. She was surrounded by people who were all staring at her as though her existance was some sort of faux pas. She was dressed up in furs that covered almost her entire body, still one of Golden Street’s most wanted. The shock of red hair poking out from under her cap and the large sword strapped to her back were a bit of an attention-getter.
Leonas and Milly fit in little better. Although it was theoretically an open auction, it was populated almost exclusively by nobles and rich business people.
“The chair I’m sitting on probably costs more than my parents’ house does,” muttered Leonas as they waited for the auction to start.
The auction began, a ritualized and dull affair. They moved up from cheap but curious trinkets into jewellery and works of art. Obscene amounts of money were being thrown about, with one statue going for 225 gold crowns.
“Um, Leonas?” asked Milly in a whisper. “How are we going to afford this?”
“We can’t,” he said casually. “I’ll make the winning bid, go up on stage, and cast a smoke spell. Then we run like the devil himself was at our backs.
“Are you sure that’ll work? I mean, they have pretty good security.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try.”
Milly sat there, nervously playing with the hem of her robe. Finally, the proprieter got to the shard. “An Ancient text of unknown origin, in fine condition, being sold from the de Catalan’s estate,” announced a bored-looking auctioneer. “Bidding shall begin at one gold crown.”
“Four crowns,” bid a fat man dressed in the indulgences of nobility.
“Ten crowns,” bid Leonas, drawing a murmur fron the crowd. He sat back down, face unreadable.
A tall, aristocratic man stood up from the crowd. “Fifteen gold crowns.” Milly gasped. It was Valgard. She shrunk into a ball.
“Twenty,” Leonas bid, gritting his teeth.
“Thirty,” said Valgard with a nonchalant shrug.
“Forty,” said Leonas. They had probably now passed the street value of it as an antique.
“Fifty gold crowns,” bid Valgard. The auctioneer grinned, these sorts of squabbles were what made auctions so profitable. That sculpture from earlier might have fetched twenty crowns in a pawn shop, but the sculptor happened to be the favourite of two of the bidders.
It was at that point that the guards bust in.
They surrounded Leonas, Milly and Anjanette in a moment, spears pointing at them like a mouth of sharp metallic fangs. “You three are under arrest for multiple counts of fraud. For your protection you should remain silent and compliant, as any actions or words you take now will be—“ Anjanette had already broken her chair over the head of the speaker. He fell with a dull thump.
There was a brief half-second before the fight broke out, which seemed to stretch into eternity. The guards gaped. The nobles and merchants gasped in shock and muttered in scandalous tones, those near the fracas fleeing as well as they could in high heels and suits. Anjanette drew the oversized sword from her back, metal angrily shrieking as it scraped metal. Milly silently and efficient struck a fighting pose, producing from her sleeves a hooked knife for each hand. Leonas bolted up and looked for any sort of exit. Valgard just sat back and waited for the curtains to rise.
Anjanette moved first. She tossed her broadsword carelessly at the nearest guard (it was only good as a bluff, the huge thing was hollow) and then laid into another with a roundhouse kick. The stiff kick hit his jaw with a resounding oomph, and he sunk to the floor like a deflated baloon. Then the storm broke.
Milly’s blades flashed as she attacked the nearest guard, avoiding his clumsy thrusts. Her blades neatly sliced the guard’s armour at the seams, until the breastplate fell apart like a beetle’s shell. Another quick stab to the gut downed him with a wet gurgle. She moved on to the next guard. Her awkward movements were gone, her body moving with an inhuman grace.
Anjanette swung her fists and feet around seemingly wildly, but seemed to hit more often then not. The guards surrounded her, drawing swords to fight in close. One blade struck her in the shoulder, tearing flesh with a sickening scrape. Anjanette’s shoudler was on fire, blowing crimson smoke, but she ignored the pain and hit the offending guard with a haymaker and he crumpeld immediately.
Leonas was not a fighter by professsion, but the guards were still having a hard time with him. They swung with their swords, but somehow none of them so much as scratched the scammer. For his part, Leonas once tried an incantation, but while pausing to make the hand motions the broad side of a spear caught him in the chest. He fell onto his back, air rushing out of his lungs like a panicked mob, head spinning. Another spear very nearly pinned him to the ground, but Leonas managed to roll out of the way. Still, he made a note not to try that again.
The crowd of nobles watched with an increased fervour. They roared when one of the guards landed a hit, and jeered when one went down. They seemed to be doing a lot more jeering. The remaining guards regrouped, looking at their downed fellows. The trio, keeping an eye to them, starting to hustle towards the exit.
A huge gold blur barelled out of nowhere, impacting into Leonas and driving him back. He felt his bones jostling with vibrations, and then he was tackled into a bank of chairs, which collapsed in around him. He hit his head somewhere on the way down and everything went black.
The girls spun over to see what happened. Standing triumphantly over Leonas was a man three times his girth and probably twice his weight. The mammoth warrior was wearing gold and silver armour with an ornate crest lovingly carved into the back
Another gold-plated warrior, this one much more lightly armoured and no more than five feet tall, sprung at Anjanette. Anjanette threw a flawless right hand, but somehow the small warrior caught her hand and used it as a base to spring around, kicking Anjanette in the back of the head. She slumped over, and was soon caught up in a hurricane of blows by the strange man.
Milly turned to the two, but found that she had her own opponent. A tall swordsman, clad entirely in golden mail, stared down at her, longsword in hand. She nodded and store him down – at least as well as she could. Both watched each other for any sign of movement, waiting for someone to make the first mistake.
And then something caught Milly on the back of her head, and down she went.
Valgard stood above the fallen body of Milly, blunt end of his sword extended. Everyone stared. “The House of Alleria is always willing to aid in enforcing justice,” he said, the golden warriors bowing behind him. “Now take them away.
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Leonas and Milly fit in little better. Although it was theoretically an open auction, it was populated almost exclusively by nobles and rich business people.
“The chair I’m sitting on probably costs more than my parents’ house does,” muttered Leonas as they waited for the auction to start.
The auction began, a ritualized and dull affair. They moved up from cheap but curious trinkets into jewellery and works of art. Obscene amounts of money were being thrown about, with one statue going for 225 gold crowns.
“Um, Leonas?” asked Milly in a whisper. “How are we going to afford this?”
“We can’t,” he said casually. “I’ll make the winning bid, go up on stage, and cast a smoke spell. Then we run like the devil himself was at our backs.
“Are you sure that’ll work? I mean, they have pretty good security.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try.”
Milly sat there, nervously playing with the hem of her robe. Finally, the proprieter got to the shard. “An Ancient text of unknown origin, in fine condition, being sold from the de Catalan’s estate,” announced a bored-looking auctioneer. “Bidding shall begin at one gold crown.”
“Four crowns,” bid a fat man dressed in the indulgences of nobility.
“Ten crowns,” bid Leonas, drawing a murmur fron the crowd. He sat back down, face unreadable.
A tall, aristocratic man stood up from the crowd. “Fifteen gold crowns.” Milly gasped. It was Valgard. She shrunk into a ball.
“Twenty,” Leonas bid, gritting his teeth.
“Thirty,” said Valgard with a nonchalant shrug.
“Forty,” said Leonas. They had probably now passed the street value of it as an antique.
“Fifty gold crowns,” bid Valgard. The auctioneer grinned, these sorts of squabbles were what made auctions so profitable. That sculpture from earlier might have fetched twenty crowns in a pawn shop, but the sculptor happened to be the favourite of two of the bidders.
It was at that point that the guards bust in.
They surrounded Leonas, Milly and Anjanette in a moment, spears pointing at them like a mouth of sharp metallic fangs. “You three are under arrest for multiple counts of fraud. For your protection you should remain silent and compliant, as any actions or words you take now will be—“ Anjanette had already broken her chair over the head of the speaker. He fell with a dull thump.
There was a brief half-second before the fight broke out, which seemed to stretch into eternity. The guards gaped. The nobles and merchants gasped in shock and muttered in scandalous tones, those near the fracas fleeing as well as they could in high heels and suits. Anjanette drew the oversized sword from her back, metal angrily shrieking as it scraped metal. Milly silently and efficient struck a fighting pose, producing from her sleeves a hooked knife for each hand. Leonas bolted up and looked for any sort of exit. Valgard just sat back and waited for the curtains to rise.
Anjanette moved first. She tossed her broadsword carelessly at the nearest guard (it was only good as a bluff, the huge thing was hollow) and then laid into another with a roundhouse kick. The stiff kick hit his jaw with a resounding oomph, and he sunk to the floor like a deflated baloon. Then the storm broke.
Milly’s blades flashed as she attacked the nearest guard, avoiding his clumsy thrusts. Her blades neatly sliced the guard’s armour at the seams, until the breastplate fell apart like a beetle’s shell. Another quick stab to the gut downed him with a wet gurgle. She moved on to the next guard. Her awkward movements were gone, her body moving with an inhuman grace.
Anjanette swung her fists and feet around seemingly wildly, but seemed to hit more often then not. The guards surrounded her, drawing swords to fight in close. One blade struck her in the shoulder, tearing flesh with a sickening scrape. Anjanette’s shoudler was on fire, blowing crimson smoke, but she ignored the pain and hit the offending guard with a haymaker and he crumpeld immediately.
Leonas was not a fighter by professsion, but the guards were still having a hard time with him. They swung with their swords, but somehow none of them so much as scratched the scammer. For his part, Leonas once tried an incantation, but while pausing to make the hand motions the broad side of a spear caught him in the chest. He fell onto his back, air rushing out of his lungs like a panicked mob, head spinning. Another spear very nearly pinned him to the ground, but Leonas managed to roll out of the way. Still, he made a note not to try that again.
The crowd of nobles watched with an increased fervour. They roared when one of the guards landed a hit, and jeered when one went down. They seemed to be doing a lot more jeering. The remaining guards regrouped, looking at their downed fellows. The trio, keeping an eye to them, starting to hustle towards the exit.
A huge gold blur barelled out of nowhere, impacting into Leonas and driving him back. He felt his bones jostling with vibrations, and then he was tackled into a bank of chairs, which collapsed in around him. He hit his head somewhere on the way down and everything went black.
The girls spun over to see what happened. Standing triumphantly over Leonas was a man three times his girth and probably twice his weight. The mammoth warrior was wearing gold and silver armour with an ornate crest lovingly carved into the back
Another gold-plated warrior, this one much more lightly armoured and no more than five feet tall, sprung at Anjanette. Anjanette threw a flawless right hand, but somehow the small warrior caught her hand and used it as a base to spring around, kicking Anjanette in the back of the head. She slumped over, and was soon caught up in a hurricane of blows by the strange man.
Milly turned to the two, but found that she had her own opponent. A tall swordsman, clad entirely in golden mail, stared down at her, longsword in hand. She nodded and store him down – at least as well as she could. Both watched each other for any sign of movement, waiting for someone to make the first mistake.
And then something caught Milly on the back of her head, and down she went.
Valgard stood above the fallen body of Milly, blunt end of his sword extended. Everyone stared. “The House of Alleria is always willing to aid in enforcing justice,” he said, the golden warriors bowing behind him. “Now take them away.
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Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Chapter 5-4
The outdoor cafe was trendy and energetic, young people chittering in pseudo-intellectual banter, mostly those who had just come from the University. Exotic multi-coloured flowers bloomed around the tables. A thousand fragrant scents wafted through the street. Milly felt strangely both out of place and in her element at the same time: the people here were the intellectuals, those she could discuss things with, but she still didn’t have the courage to greet any of them.
Across the table from her, Valgard leisurely read through the volume of [i]Shamich[/i], sipping his tea. Milly’s tea sat nearly untouhced. The one gulp she had taken had burned her tongue.
“Fascinating,” said Valgard, before closing the book with the care of a collector. “I must thank you for allowing me to read this small part.”
Milly blushed. “You don’t have to thank me... I mean, you paid for it. You can keep reading if you want.”
“Ah, I fear I have infringed upon too much of your time already,” he said, beginning to get up.
“Wait!” Milly said. “Um... stay and talk for a while. You’re not bothering me at all.”
Valgard checked his watch, a fancy mechanism dangling from an exquisite gold chain. “Well, I suppose I may be able to spare some time.” He sat back down, and Milly breathed a sigh of relief. “So what brings you to Nariev, besides books?”
She found herself telling the whole tale of finding Anjanette and Leonas, their journey so far, and all of her opinions on it. He coaxed the words out of her, never speaking of himself. Eventually she finished the story, trailing off into a mumbled question about what had brought him here.
“Well, it’s quite the story, but I really must be going,” he said, checking his golden watch again. “It was nice meeting you, Millicent.”
“Milly,” she said. “Only my grandma calls me Millicent.”
“Well then Milly, I really must be going, but I hope that our paths interesect again one day,” said Valgard, bowing to her before sweeping out of the room.
“What... just happened?” she wondered.
* * *
They met back at their inn room. Anjanette had carried a tower of clothes in her arms, mentioning that have the shops in the city were looking for her now. Milly and Leonas looked none the worse for wear physically, but emotionally was a different story.
“I didn’t find out much about the sword, but I did meet this amazing guy...” Milly trailed off.
“Funny enough, so did I,” muttered Leonas, before snapping back to his usual volume and posture.
Anjanette sat on her bed, laying on crossed arms while staring at them eagerly. “Oooh, details!”
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” both of them said, nearly in unison.
Anjanette pouted. “Fine. What about the books? I was too busy running from shopkeepers to dig up any decent info.”
Leonas produced a ruffled flier from his pockets, laying it out before the girls. It was an advertisement for an auction, to be held in two days time, with the prize piece being a classic origin-century painting.
“What are we looking at this for?” asked Anjanette.
“Three down,” said Leonas. There, advertised as simply a “mysterious ancient text” was a tome that matched exactly the one they had on them.
“You think this is it?” asked Anjanette.
“I think it’s a pretty good bet, “ said Leonas.
“Well then, it’s time for some more shopping,” said Anjanette.
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Across the table from her, Valgard leisurely read through the volume of [i]Shamich[/i], sipping his tea. Milly’s tea sat nearly untouhced. The one gulp she had taken had burned her tongue.
“Fascinating,” said Valgard, before closing the book with the care of a collector. “I must thank you for allowing me to read this small part.”
Milly blushed. “You don’t have to thank me... I mean, you paid for it. You can keep reading if you want.”
“Ah, I fear I have infringed upon too much of your time already,” he said, beginning to get up.
“Wait!” Milly said. “Um... stay and talk for a while. You’re not bothering me at all.”
Valgard checked his watch, a fancy mechanism dangling from an exquisite gold chain. “Well, I suppose I may be able to spare some time.” He sat back down, and Milly breathed a sigh of relief. “So what brings you to Nariev, besides books?”
She found herself telling the whole tale of finding Anjanette and Leonas, their journey so far, and all of her opinions on it. He coaxed the words out of her, never speaking of himself. Eventually she finished the story, trailing off into a mumbled question about what had brought him here.
“Well, it’s quite the story, but I really must be going,” he said, checking his golden watch again. “It was nice meeting you, Millicent.”
“Milly,” she said. “Only my grandma calls me Millicent.”
“Well then Milly, I really must be going, but I hope that our paths interesect again one day,” said Valgard, bowing to her before sweeping out of the room.
“What... just happened?” she wondered.
* * *
They met back at their inn room. Anjanette had carried a tower of clothes in her arms, mentioning that have the shops in the city were looking for her now. Milly and Leonas looked none the worse for wear physically, but emotionally was a different story.
“I didn’t find out much about the sword, but I did meet this amazing guy...” Milly trailed off.
“Funny enough, so did I,” muttered Leonas, before snapping back to his usual volume and posture.
Anjanette sat on her bed, laying on crossed arms while staring at them eagerly. “Oooh, details!”
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” both of them said, nearly in unison.
Anjanette pouted. “Fine. What about the books? I was too busy running from shopkeepers to dig up any decent info.”
Leonas produced a ruffled flier from his pockets, laying it out before the girls. It was an advertisement for an auction, to be held in two days time, with the prize piece being a classic origin-century painting.
“What are we looking at this for?” asked Anjanette.
“Three down,” said Leonas. There, advertised as simply a “mysterious ancient text” was a tome that matched exactly the one they had on them.
“You think this is it?” asked Anjanette.
“I think it’s a pretty good bet, “ said Leonas.
“Well then, it’s time for some more shopping,” said Anjanette.
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Saturday, June 21, 2008
Chapter 5-3
The apartment buildings of north side Nariev stretched up on rickety foundations, floors haphazardly and unevenly built atop each other. From a distance, they looked like broken fingers poking into the sky. Up close, they looked like they might collapse at any moment.
“And he lives here,” muttered Leonas. He checked the songbird message again, and confirmed the address. He shrugged and began climbing the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor. Leonas wasn’t out of shape, but he was panting by the time he reached the end and knocked on door 709.
The man who answered it was thin and willowy, with long brown hair and soft features that had made the other kids tease him about looking like a girl. His clothes probably cost more than his apartment. The man blinked and then smiled. “Leonas! Good to see you.”
Leonas smiled. “Good to see you too, Pericen. How goes it?”
“It doesn’t completely suck,” he said with a grin, motioning to let Leonas in. His apartment was sparsely decorated, but there were two chairs that they sat down on. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in the way of refreshments.”
“Ah, so you’re the classical starving artist, are you?”
“I’ll have you know I am neither starving nor an artist,” said Pericen with a sense of pride. “If you saw any of my plays, you’d understand.”
Leonas chuckled. “Still turning out... oh what was the word... ‘commercial crap to make a buck?’”
“People tell me it’s not so, but no truly great artist would be able to afford an apartment in Nariev,” said Pericen.
A tall man emerged from what must have been a bedroom. His black hair was unkempt, stubble cropped up sporatically on his face, and his clothes, while indiviudally fashionable, were worn in a random patchwork. The man yawned before casually walking up to Pericen and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Who’s this, Per?”
“Old friend, from back in Haversham,” chirped Pericen. “In town on some sort of quest. Blake, this is Leonas, who once had to act out my crappy adolescent plays. Leonas, this is Blake, my better half.”
Leonas felt a pang of jealousy that caught him off guard. “Nice to meet you.” He offered a hand, which Blake shook entirely too vigorously.
“So, last I heard you were going to study magic,” said Pericen. “What happened with that?”
“I graduated. You’re talking to a fully-certified first-circle mage,” said Leonas without any particular pride. “I didn’t like any of my options from there though, so I went back to lying for a living.”
“Acting? If you’re looking for work, I know many people who are looking for—“
“No, the much more profitable profession of a conman,” said Leonas.
Pericen laughed, before he realized that Leonas was serious. “Well, that’s one way to make a buck. So what brings you to this hole in the wall?”
“Anjanette somehow convinced me to go on this quest for a bunch of old books or something,” said Leonas. “Not really my thing, but there’s a lot of money in it, so I went along with it.”
Leonas fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. This had been a bad idea. He and Pericen were lovers, back in those awkward adolescent days. He couldn’t see why he had been so attracted to him now, other than the self-righteous passion of first love and the thrill of what had been taboo. He was gratingly modest, ineffectual and far too wrapped up in his art. And yet the presence of Blake had sent him into a spiral of longing that he had been sure he had matured out of.
“You’re working with Anjanette? How is she?”
“About the same as she ever is,” said Leonas.
Pericen grinned, nostalgia in his eyes. “Still the baby of the group? Still doesn’t know it?”
“More or less, but we seem to have picked up a new baby, so that may change,” replied Leonas. He felt hemmed in, Blake’s silent observation making him feel on display. “Anyway, I would love to stay, but I have to look for this book. It was nice seeing you again.”
“The same here,” said Pericen. “If you’re in town on this Nonidi, you should come see my play, ‘Two Knights Short of a Roundtable’. I’ve been told it’s not terrible, and it would line an old friend’s pockets.”
“I will consider it,” said Leonas, before hurrying out of the apartment.
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“And he lives here,” muttered Leonas. He checked the songbird message again, and confirmed the address. He shrugged and began climbing the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor. Leonas wasn’t out of shape, but he was panting by the time he reached the end and knocked on door 709.
The man who answered it was thin and willowy, with long brown hair and soft features that had made the other kids tease him about looking like a girl. His clothes probably cost more than his apartment. The man blinked and then smiled. “Leonas! Good to see you.”
Leonas smiled. “Good to see you too, Pericen. How goes it?”
“It doesn’t completely suck,” he said with a grin, motioning to let Leonas in. His apartment was sparsely decorated, but there were two chairs that they sat down on. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in the way of refreshments.”
“Ah, so you’re the classical starving artist, are you?”
“I’ll have you know I am neither starving nor an artist,” said Pericen with a sense of pride. “If you saw any of my plays, you’d understand.”
Leonas chuckled. “Still turning out... oh what was the word... ‘commercial crap to make a buck?’”
“People tell me it’s not so, but no truly great artist would be able to afford an apartment in Nariev,” said Pericen.
A tall man emerged from what must have been a bedroom. His black hair was unkempt, stubble cropped up sporatically on his face, and his clothes, while indiviudally fashionable, were worn in a random patchwork. The man yawned before casually walking up to Pericen and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Who’s this, Per?”
“Old friend, from back in Haversham,” chirped Pericen. “In town on some sort of quest. Blake, this is Leonas, who once had to act out my crappy adolescent plays. Leonas, this is Blake, my better half.”
Leonas felt a pang of jealousy that caught him off guard. “Nice to meet you.” He offered a hand, which Blake shook entirely too vigorously.
“So, last I heard you were going to study magic,” said Pericen. “What happened with that?”
“I graduated. You’re talking to a fully-certified first-circle mage,” said Leonas without any particular pride. “I didn’t like any of my options from there though, so I went back to lying for a living.”
“Acting? If you’re looking for work, I know many people who are looking for—“
“No, the much more profitable profession of a conman,” said Leonas.
Pericen laughed, before he realized that Leonas was serious. “Well, that’s one way to make a buck. So what brings you to this hole in the wall?”
“Anjanette somehow convinced me to go on this quest for a bunch of old books or something,” said Leonas. “Not really my thing, but there’s a lot of money in it, so I went along with it.”
Leonas fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. This had been a bad idea. He and Pericen were lovers, back in those awkward adolescent days. He couldn’t see why he had been so attracted to him now, other than the self-righteous passion of first love and the thrill of what had been taboo. He was gratingly modest, ineffectual and far too wrapped up in his art. And yet the presence of Blake had sent him into a spiral of longing that he had been sure he had matured out of.
“You’re working with Anjanette? How is she?”
“About the same as she ever is,” said Leonas.
Pericen grinned, nostalgia in his eyes. “Still the baby of the group? Still doesn’t know it?”
“More or less, but we seem to have picked up a new baby, so that may change,” replied Leonas. He felt hemmed in, Blake’s silent observation making him feel on display. “Anyway, I would love to stay, but I have to look for this book. It was nice seeing you again.”
“The same here,” said Pericen. “If you’re in town on this Nonidi, you should come see my play, ‘Two Knights Short of a Roundtable’. I’ve been told it’s not terrible, and it would line an old friend’s pockets.”
“I will consider it,” said Leonas, before hurrying out of the apartment.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Chapter 5-2
Milly was in her own personal heaven. [i]Ex Libris[/i] was a gigantic bookstore in the market district which seemed to stretch on for miles. Lining each shelf, in between the usual mass-duplicated novels, were rare and obscure tomes. They were all expensive, but all so lucrative and seductive. She halfway considered sliding a few books up her sleeves.
Out of her corner of her eye she caught a long shelf full of purple bookedges. “Is that...” she wondered aloud, before walking over to confirm that it was. The entire 28-volume epic [i]Tale of Shamich[/i]. The traditional ballad, told in a thousand different versions by various ministrels over the years, but this was the original, penned by a bored monk centuries ago. Many households had one or two volumes, but an entire collection was considered an impossibility. She had collected as many as she could, but still only had ten or eleven.
She saw the earliest volume she didn’t have, number three. Milly reached for it, but found her hand blocked by another – this one soft and manicured, but with a strong masculinity to it.
“Sorry, milady,” said the man, stepping back. “You saw the book first, I believe.”
“Um, no problem,” said Milly. The man was handsome in an old, aristocratic way, with gentle feminine features and long blonde hair. His body was burly and muscular beneath an immaculately smooth dress shirt. It looked awkward on him. Her face flush, Milly felt the urge to say something else. “I w-was just surprised to see that they had the whole series here. I mean, I’ve always loved these, but it was so hard to find most of them, and now there’s a complete set just sitting here...” She trailed off, realizing that she was babbling about books again.
The man smiled. “It is good to see a young person who appreciates the classics. So many are turned off by the ornate language, but I think it is rather beautiful myself.”
“Of course!” Milly agreed. “Um, you hear the modern adaptations by ministrels and it just, like, sounds wrong. Uh, not that I don’t like some modern books as well...”
“I find little of it is worth my time,” the man said with a shrug. He picked up the third volume again. “What is your name, young lady?”
Milly blushed. Nobody under the age of sixty called anyone “young lady” nowadays, but she found it strangely flattering. “M-milly,” she said out.
“Well Milly, I am Valgard, and I shall make you a deal,” he said with a bow. The name tickled at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t put a finger on where she had heard it before. “I shall buy this for you, on the condition that you allow me to read the first chapter. The second one ended with a dreadful cliffhanger, and I simply must know how it was resovled.”
“Um, uh, sure!” Milly said, then winced.
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Out of her corner of her eye she caught a long shelf full of purple bookedges. “Is that...” she wondered aloud, before walking over to confirm that it was. The entire 28-volume epic [i]Tale of Shamich[/i]. The traditional ballad, told in a thousand different versions by various ministrels over the years, but this was the original, penned by a bored monk centuries ago. Many households had one or two volumes, but an entire collection was considered an impossibility. She had collected as many as she could, but still only had ten or eleven.
She saw the earliest volume she didn’t have, number three. Milly reached for it, but found her hand blocked by another – this one soft and manicured, but with a strong masculinity to it.
“Sorry, milady,” said the man, stepping back. “You saw the book first, I believe.”
“Um, no problem,” said Milly. The man was handsome in an old, aristocratic way, with gentle feminine features and long blonde hair. His body was burly and muscular beneath an immaculately smooth dress shirt. It looked awkward on him. Her face flush, Milly felt the urge to say something else. “I w-was just surprised to see that they had the whole series here. I mean, I’ve always loved these, but it was so hard to find most of them, and now there’s a complete set just sitting here...” She trailed off, realizing that she was babbling about books again.
The man smiled. “It is good to see a young person who appreciates the classics. So many are turned off by the ornate language, but I think it is rather beautiful myself.”
“Of course!” Milly agreed. “Um, you hear the modern adaptations by ministrels and it just, like, sounds wrong. Uh, not that I don’t like some modern books as well...”
“I find little of it is worth my time,” the man said with a shrug. He picked up the third volume again. “What is your name, young lady?”
Milly blushed. Nobody under the age of sixty called anyone “young lady” nowadays, but she found it strangely flattering. “M-milly,” she said out.
“Well Milly, I am Valgard, and I shall make you a deal,” he said with a bow. The name tickled at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t put a finger on where she had heard it before. “I shall buy this for you, on the condition that you allow me to read the first chapter. The second one ended with a dreadful cliffhanger, and I simply must know how it was resovled.”
“Um, uh, sure!” Milly said, then winced.
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Sunday, June 15, 2008
Monday Bonus: The First Deal
[i]Hello, my readers, if indeed such creatures exist. This is the first Monday Bonus, which is a short sidestory or something that I felt like posting. They're on occasional Mondays because everyone needs a little extra to get them through Mondays. These aren't really a regular thing, and I was planning to do a lot more than I've done so far, but enjoy anyways.
I'm working on exposing Crooked Swords to a larger audience, mainly through advertising. That should be coming along sometime this week or next -- I just need to get money transferred over to my PayPal account. Also, if anyone could leave a review at CS's page on Pages Unbound, that would be a huge help. But enough with that, on with the story.[/i]
If you asked him, Tokan wouldn’t say he was miserable. People generally weren’t miserable back in those days, unless a lover or child had just died, which was all too often. But even then, they had less grief than we do now, where we have hidden ourselves away from death.
Tokan had only eaten one meal that day, a scavenging of fruits and small animal meat. It would barely be enough to fill a bird, but Tokan had never been full, so he would have never thought of himself as hungry. Hungry wasn’t even a word in the dinosaur days. He also wandered around naked, feet worn into fine calluses by the underbrush, had no home or shelter, and stank to high heaven. But such was the way of things.
On this day Tokan was particularly happy. He had just had great sex with his wife, and was currently leading a hymn. He had no business being the shaman, but the shaman and his apprentice had been killed by a tyrannosaurus two nights ago, so it was his turn to step up. He was managing to fake it, imitating the old shaman and the ones before him. It was then when he appeared.
The demon appeared as a man, but not a convincing one. His appearance was uncanny, a statuelike replica of a human that lacked flaws, lacked character. He appeared as the prototype, not the final product.
Tokan grabbed his axe, interrupting the hymn. “Who are you?”
“A friend, I hope,” the demon said. “I wish to speak to your leader. I would like to make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” Tokan said, confused.
“You know, a trade,” said the demon. “So, who’s in charge here?”
Tokan looked to his fellow nomads, still puzzled. “You are the shaman now,” one of them said with a shrug. A wave of dread and anxiety washed over Tokan, but he shook it off.
“I am the leader. Explain this trade to me.”
The demon slung an arm around Tokan’s shoulders. “Let me take me to my home, where we can deal in comfort.”
And they stepped through worlds. The demon took Tokan to a mansion like we might say today. Tokan marvelled at the smoothness of the ground, the closeness of the sky, and the unknown inventions of walls and doors, tables and chairs. He looked out a window, and gaped open-mouthed at how it could be night and yet be so bright and so warm inside, even when there was no fire that he could see.
The demon motioned him into his bathroom. Tokan settled into a warm bath, as the demon washed all the grime and dirt off of him. Then he fed Tokan a huge feast, with delicious meat, cheese, vegetables and wine. Tokan devoured it all, having never tasted much of the food before. Then the demon dressed him in a smooth silk robe and they sat down on comfortable couches.
“Tokan, I know that your people can't afford this luxury,” said the demon. “It's because of the dinosaurs that constantly destroy your lands, kill your people, and force them to flee.”
Tokan nodded. “But that is life. What is your point?”
The demon offered up a scroll and spread it across his table. “What if I told you that if you had this scroll you could keep the dinosaurs away from your camp forever?”
“I would call you a liar, and a bad one at that.”
“I would never lie,” said the demon. “Just say the words on this scroll and invoke my name and I shall protect whichever area you wish. If it doesn’t work, I will trade back with you.”
Tokan was excited at the prospect, but he had more sense than to agree right away.
“You keep talking about a trade, but you have not said what you want in exchange.”
“A mere trifle,” the demon said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “But when you use this magic, the souls of everyone it protects will become property of us demons.”
At the time the people worshipped animal spirits, and believed that everything had a soul, so losing his soul was quite a concern. “What will that do to us?”
“In this life? Nothing. But when you die... and I can promise you that you will die fat, old, and in bed instead of tomorrow at the teeth of a dinosaur... you will spend the afterlife in our realm, Hell.”
Tokan considered it for a moment. He considered the danger of the deal, but he also considered the fear and death that he lived in. After the demon’s treats, he was for the first time in his life clean, full and comfortable, and couldn’t imagine going back to it.
“I agree,” said Tokan.
The demon grinned and shook Tokan’s hand, then gave him the scroll. “A pleasure doing business with you, my friend. I’ve attached to the scroll a simple incantation to summon me if you ever want to make... further deals.”
“I will definitely consider that,” said Tokan.
Tokan went back to his tribe and showed them the scroll. They protected their tribe, and grew into a village. They built farms and houses and shops. They sold copies of Tokan’s scroll to other tribes, at exorbitant prices – prices that were always paid. True to the demon’s word, no dinosaur set foot near a protected town. And true to the demon’s word, every soul that stepped foot in a protected town ended up in Hell after they died.
That village eventually became the city of Homestead. Tokan indeed made further deals, and became known as Tokan the Ancient, the originator of wizardry. And that world became our own.
I'm working on exposing Crooked Swords to a larger audience, mainly through advertising. That should be coming along sometime this week or next -- I just need to get money transferred over to my PayPal account. Also, if anyone could leave a review at CS's page on Pages Unbound, that would be a huge help. But enough with that, on with the story.[/i]
If you asked him, Tokan wouldn’t say he was miserable. People generally weren’t miserable back in those days, unless a lover or child had just died, which was all too often. But even then, they had less grief than we do now, where we have hidden ourselves away from death.
Tokan had only eaten one meal that day, a scavenging of fruits and small animal meat. It would barely be enough to fill a bird, but Tokan had never been full, so he would have never thought of himself as hungry. Hungry wasn’t even a word in the dinosaur days. He also wandered around naked, feet worn into fine calluses by the underbrush, had no home or shelter, and stank to high heaven. But such was the way of things.
On this day Tokan was particularly happy. He had just had great sex with his wife, and was currently leading a hymn. He had no business being the shaman, but the shaman and his apprentice had been killed by a tyrannosaurus two nights ago, so it was his turn to step up. He was managing to fake it, imitating the old shaman and the ones before him. It was then when he appeared.
The demon appeared as a man, but not a convincing one. His appearance was uncanny, a statuelike replica of a human that lacked flaws, lacked character. He appeared as the prototype, not the final product.
Tokan grabbed his axe, interrupting the hymn. “Who are you?”
“A friend, I hope,” the demon said. “I wish to speak to your leader. I would like to make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” Tokan said, confused.
“You know, a trade,” said the demon. “So, who’s in charge here?”
Tokan looked to his fellow nomads, still puzzled. “You are the shaman now,” one of them said with a shrug. A wave of dread and anxiety washed over Tokan, but he shook it off.
“I am the leader. Explain this trade to me.”
The demon slung an arm around Tokan’s shoulders. “Let me take me to my home, where we can deal in comfort.”
And they stepped through worlds. The demon took Tokan to a mansion like we might say today. Tokan marvelled at the smoothness of the ground, the closeness of the sky, and the unknown inventions of walls and doors, tables and chairs. He looked out a window, and gaped open-mouthed at how it could be night and yet be so bright and so warm inside, even when there was no fire that he could see.
The demon motioned him into his bathroom. Tokan settled into a warm bath, as the demon washed all the grime and dirt off of him. Then he fed Tokan a huge feast, with delicious meat, cheese, vegetables and wine. Tokan devoured it all, having never tasted much of the food before. Then the demon dressed him in a smooth silk robe and they sat down on comfortable couches.
“Tokan, I know that your people can't afford this luxury,” said the demon. “It's because of the dinosaurs that constantly destroy your lands, kill your people, and force them to flee.”
Tokan nodded. “But that is life. What is your point?”
The demon offered up a scroll and spread it across his table. “What if I told you that if you had this scroll you could keep the dinosaurs away from your camp forever?”
“I would call you a liar, and a bad one at that.”
“I would never lie,” said the demon. “Just say the words on this scroll and invoke my name and I shall protect whichever area you wish. If it doesn’t work, I will trade back with you.”
Tokan was excited at the prospect, but he had more sense than to agree right away.
“You keep talking about a trade, but you have not said what you want in exchange.”
“A mere trifle,” the demon said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “But when you use this magic, the souls of everyone it protects will become property of us demons.”
At the time the people worshipped animal spirits, and believed that everything had a soul, so losing his soul was quite a concern. “What will that do to us?”
“In this life? Nothing. But when you die... and I can promise you that you will die fat, old, and in bed instead of tomorrow at the teeth of a dinosaur... you will spend the afterlife in our realm, Hell.”
Tokan considered it for a moment. He considered the danger of the deal, but he also considered the fear and death that he lived in. After the demon’s treats, he was for the first time in his life clean, full and comfortable, and couldn’t imagine going back to it.
“I agree,” said Tokan.
The demon grinned and shook Tokan’s hand, then gave him the scroll. “A pleasure doing business with you, my friend. I’ve attached to the scroll a simple incantation to summon me if you ever want to make... further deals.”
“I will definitely consider that,” said Tokan.
Tokan went back to his tribe and showed them the scroll. They protected their tribe, and grew into a village. They built farms and houses and shops. They sold copies of Tokan’s scroll to other tribes, at exorbitant prices – prices that were always paid. True to the demon’s word, no dinosaur set foot near a protected town. And true to the demon’s word, every soul that stepped foot in a protected town ended up in Hell after they died.
That village eventually became the city of Homestead. Tokan indeed made further deals, and became known as Tokan the Ancient, the originator of wizardry. And that world became our own.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Chapter 5-1
Nareiv was not the capital of the A. O. K. – that honour belonged to a sedate town by the name of Ironbridge, where the serious business of governing was done. But Nareiv was the heart of the Alliance, and on a grand scale the heart of society. Bustling with daytime business and nightlife, the metropolis beat with the heart of the masses that crowded into its every metre.
“Sweet mother...” Milly muttered as she stared down at the city from atop the hilltop road. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see, an endless expanse of brick and iron. The streets were packed like a slaugherhouse. The sounds of a thousand conversations and hawking shopkeepers was already audible, their dull roar that of a hornet’s nest.
“It is pretty damn big,” said Anjanette.
“Meh,” said Leonas. “Too crowded for my tastes.”
“You been here before?” asked Anjanette.
“No,” said Leonas.
She laughed. “Then enjoy it. If you can’t be a slack-jawed yokel on your first trip to Nariev, where can you?”
Leonas shrugged. “You’re probably right. But remember, we’re here on business. We need to find that shard. So don’t spend money frivulously, no matter how much you want to try the latest fashions.”
“You never let me have any fun,” said Anjanette in jest.
“Just don’t get mugged and I’ll be pleasantly surprised with both of you,” he sighed. “Now, let’s find a place to stay and then hit the shopping districts. We’re just looking for the shard, remember.”
Their horses continued trotting along the crowded road. The line for entry looked to be at least a mile long. “Um, Leonas, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Milly. “I thought you were against the whole quest thing, but now you’re really serious about it.”
“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it right,” said Leonas.
“I hate to say it, but Milly’s right,” said Anjanette. “Stop being such an asshole and let us have some fun. We might never be back here again.
Leonas sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Alright girls, go wild.”
“Yay!” Anjanette said, already scheming up a shopping list.
* * *
A chaotic mob filled Golden Street, everyone going in different directions and in a hurry to get there. Street musicians were barely audible over the chatter of the wealthy and the vendors hawking out their prices. The street was like a living fashion show, every outfit stunning. Some were enchanted, patterns subtly shifting as Anjanette stared at them, enchanting like a snake charmer. The people were pretty too, looking like they had just stepped out of one of her soaps.
Anjanette caught more than one person trying to cop a feel or grab her purse in the crowd, but they all earned a stiff roundhouse kick to the head and she moved on.
She stepped into the first store, a brick shop full of exotic dresses and accessories, enraptured by the spell of Golden Street. And then she saw the price tags. A single piece of clothing could go for three or four gold crowns. She had about seven.
Anjanette hoped that her thieving skills weren’t rusty.
Previous
Next
“Sweet mother...” Milly muttered as she stared down at the city from atop the hilltop road. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see, an endless expanse of brick and iron. The streets were packed like a slaugherhouse. The sounds of a thousand conversations and hawking shopkeepers was already audible, their dull roar that of a hornet’s nest.
“It is pretty damn big,” said Anjanette.
“Meh,” said Leonas. “Too crowded for my tastes.”
“You been here before?” asked Anjanette.
“No,” said Leonas.
She laughed. “Then enjoy it. If you can’t be a slack-jawed yokel on your first trip to Nariev, where can you?”
Leonas shrugged. “You’re probably right. But remember, we’re here on business. We need to find that shard. So don’t spend money frivulously, no matter how much you want to try the latest fashions.”
“You never let me have any fun,” said Anjanette in jest.
“Just don’t get mugged and I’ll be pleasantly surprised with both of you,” he sighed. “Now, let’s find a place to stay and then hit the shopping districts. We’re just looking for the shard, remember.”
Their horses continued trotting along the crowded road. The line for entry looked to be at least a mile long. “Um, Leonas, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Milly. “I thought you were against the whole quest thing, but now you’re really serious about it.”
“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it right,” said Leonas.
“I hate to say it, but Milly’s right,” said Anjanette. “Stop being such an asshole and let us have some fun. We might never be back here again.
Leonas sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Alright girls, go wild.”
“Yay!” Anjanette said, already scheming up a shopping list.
* * *
A chaotic mob filled Golden Street, everyone going in different directions and in a hurry to get there. Street musicians were barely audible over the chatter of the wealthy and the vendors hawking out their prices. The street was like a living fashion show, every outfit stunning. Some were enchanted, patterns subtly shifting as Anjanette stared at them, enchanting like a snake charmer. The people were pretty too, looking like they had just stepped out of one of her soaps.
Anjanette caught more than one person trying to cop a feel or grab her purse in the crowd, but they all earned a stiff roundhouse kick to the head and she moved on.
She stepped into the first store, a brick shop full of exotic dresses and accessories, enraptured by the spell of Golden Street. And then she saw the price tags. A single piece of clothing could go for three or four gold crowns. She had about seven.
Anjanette hoped that her thieving skills weren’t rusty.
Previous
Next
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Chapter 4-5
“If I may have your attention please,” announced Leonas, his voice booming like a divine commandment. “I have in my posession, fresh off the Durobian presses, five genuine copies of the latest chapter of Mahore Ii Dena! Untranslated and with all original meaning in tact, I am selling these mint condition scrolls for only one gold each!”
Almost immediately a crowd formed around him, a gaggle of trend-following obsessives. The first got their scroll for one gold crown, then someone at the back of the line shuoted that they would pay one and a half, and after that it was an all-out bidding war. Leonas sat back with a predatory grin.
“Are you sure they’ll fall for it?” whispered Milly. She and Anjanette watched from the inn lobby. Anjanette sipped cheap ale, while Milly restricted herself to water.
“How many of these people do you think actually know more than a lick of Durobian?” Anjanette scoffed. “Besides which, Leonas could sell milk to a cow. I’ve known him pretty much forever, and he’s always been a great bullshitter. Or ‘the gift of gab’ as he calls it.”
Milly fidgeted. “You two come from the same dutchy?”
“Yep. Haversham, the middle of fucking nowhere. In a town that small you know most of the other kids, but we really got close when we were teenagers in the theatre guild. He was talented, I was hot, so we starred in pretty much everything. The poor old director nearly cried when we told him that we didn’t intend to stick around and grow up into good little pig-fucking farmers.” A nostalgic smile crossed Anjanette’s face.
On the street, the second scroll was sold to an enthusiastic teenage girl as the offers went higher.
“Do you think this is, y’know, right?” Milly asked.
Anjanette shrugged. “Leo says that parting a fool from their money is our solemn duty. I just think it’s fun.”
“Well yeah, but we’re lying to them,” Milly said, aghast. “That’s not right.”
“Whatever. It makes us money, we never get caught, what’s the problem?” Anjanette asked, with a distinct lack of conviction.
Leonas held up the last scroll. “Well, this has been a great success, but I’ll be off.”
“Wait!” cried out a volumous woman. “How much for that one?”
“Oh, this one? This is my own copy. I’ve gotta find out what happens next, you know.”
She slammed down a fistful of gold crowns on the table. “I’ll give you ten gold for it!”
Leonas made a show of reluctance. “Well, I don’t know...”
“Twelve!” She tossed another two crowns at the table.
“I guess,” he said with a sigh. He handed over the scroll to the now giddy woman.
Leonas arrived inside a few minutes later. “Girls, we’re eating steak tonight!”
Almost immediately a crowd formed around him, a gaggle of trend-following obsessives. The first got their scroll for one gold crown, then someone at the back of the line shuoted that they would pay one and a half, and after that it was an all-out bidding war. Leonas sat back with a predatory grin.
“Are you sure they’ll fall for it?” whispered Milly. She and Anjanette watched from the inn lobby. Anjanette sipped cheap ale, while Milly restricted herself to water.
“How many of these people do you think actually know more than a lick of Durobian?” Anjanette scoffed. “Besides which, Leonas could sell milk to a cow. I’ve known him pretty much forever, and he’s always been a great bullshitter. Or ‘the gift of gab’ as he calls it.”
Milly fidgeted. “You two come from the same dutchy?”
“Yep. Haversham, the middle of fucking nowhere. In a town that small you know most of the other kids, but we really got close when we were teenagers in the theatre guild. He was talented, I was hot, so we starred in pretty much everything. The poor old director nearly cried when we told him that we didn’t intend to stick around and grow up into good little pig-fucking farmers.” A nostalgic smile crossed Anjanette’s face.
On the street, the second scroll was sold to an enthusiastic teenage girl as the offers went higher.
“Do you think this is, y’know, right?” Milly asked.
Anjanette shrugged. “Leo says that parting a fool from their money is our solemn duty. I just think it’s fun.”
“Well yeah, but we’re lying to them,” Milly said, aghast. “That’s not right.”
“Whatever. It makes us money, we never get caught, what’s the problem?” Anjanette asked, with a distinct lack of conviction.
Leonas held up the last scroll. “Well, this has been a great success, but I’ll be off.”
“Wait!” cried out a volumous woman. “How much for that one?”
“Oh, this one? This is my own copy. I’ve gotta find out what happens next, you know.”
She slammed down a fistful of gold crowns on the table. “I’ll give you ten gold for it!”
Leonas made a show of reluctance. “Well, I don’t know...”
“Twelve!” She tossed another two crowns at the table.
“I guess,” he said with a sigh. He handed over the scroll to the now giddy woman.
Leonas arrived inside a few minutes later. “Girls, we’re eating steak tonight!”
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