Blade of Erogrund

Walking down the short corridor that led out of the chamber into the foyer of the gate, Godric suddenly felt an iron grasp clench him by the arm and slam him against the stone wall. His head cracking against the cold brick. Through the stars that danced across his vision he saw the marred face of Theronin.

The young lord’s injuries looked even uglier up close, forming a terrifying mask that only accentuated his blazing wrath. His eyes burned with fury beyond description until the malice was practically palpable.

“Burn in dragonfire,” the lord hissed poisonously. He didn’t scream or yell, instead remaining barely audible which seemed somehow even more threatening to Godric. His eyes revealed any hatred his tone neglected, which could not have been much. “Watch your back, boy. I will slit your throat and bathe Rae-Oiron in your blood if you give me chance. Nobody strikes me like this without feeling retribution.”

Theronin removed his arm from Godric’s chest, striking him with a closed fist across the face. Black patches flashed across Godric’s vision as he keeled over with the force of the blow. The bitter taste of iron filled his mouth as his lip began to bleed. He hastily spat and tried to regain his bearings but was met only with another crushing blow to the abdomen. All the air was knocked mercilessly from his lungs, leaving him coughing and sputtering on the floor. Theronin planted another relentless kick to the boy’s side causing an explosion of agony to flair through his ribs.

“Let that be a warning to you. Just wait until I gain my father’s title; it’ll be the only useful thing he ever did with it. You’re a deadman.” The empty coldness that he spoke of his father with sent a chill down Godric’s bruised spine. There was no sadness or mourning in those eyes, only insatiable vengeance.

As the spots cleared from his vision Godric could vaguely see Theronin walk out of the corridor.

It took him a while to recover and catch his breath; after all, he had he was in no hurry to get up. His head ached painfully and he could feel a large knot forming where it had hit the wall. With every breath his ribs throbbed and his lip continued to swell, bleeding profusely.

Finally he gathered the strength to stand shakily. Taking a deep, painful breath, he limped down the corridor and into the outer room where Mira was pacing, clearly flustered.

Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. At first her face betrayed her happiness at seeing him, but that quickly changed to horror at his condition. Her dress swept behind her as she ran to his side where he flinched as she gently touched his wounds.

“What happened?” she cried. “Did Ennor do this to you?!”

He flinched again and swallowed. “No - no it’s nothing.”

“Like fire it’s not,” she protested. “How did this happen?”

Shaking his head he gently pushed her away. “Mira, calm down. I’ll be fine; don’t worry about it.” She took a small step back, a look of hurt etched on her freckled face. Godric sighed. “Fine. Theronin.”

Her eyes widened. “When?”

“Just now. He caught me in the hall out of the council room.”

“Curse him,” she muttered, the look of worry returning, “we need to get you to the infirmary.”

For a moment he thought of protesting, but saw the concern in her eyes and knew she would hear nothing of it. “Yes, I s’ppose we do.”

She brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face and nodded. “Alright, lead the way.”

He started to walk toward the city but stopped. “Um, actually, I don’t know where the infirmary is.”

Mira rolled her eyes and sighed. “Have you been anywhere else in this city than the eating houses and the Arena?”

Godric shrugged. “Um, not exactly, unless you count the Men’s quarters. I haven’t felt the need for it or allotted the time to look around. Actually...” he started, thinking of Iris Ithil, but her quizzical look caused him to drop it.

She huffed again. “Well, we have a date tonight then.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow, making her stop and clear her throat as she began to blush. “As in a set time. A meeting. You know what I mean.” He couldn’t help but grin.

She rolled her eyes again and led him down the stairs into the merchant district.

To his chagrin he had never really explored the merchant district especially as it quickly became evidently Mira had. She guided him through the winding corridors of the city. The district was a series of vast interconnected circular rooms with towering ceilings that loomed intimidatingly over the merchants and customers below. Vendors of every type hawked their wares from stone counters that stood in throughout each chamber and from store alcoves carved into the rock walls along the sides of the huge chambers. The sound of their shouts combined with the bustling crowd, creating a hot, loud, and generally unpleasant environment. Bottles containing every assortment of drink sat in numerous shops and counters beside cooks selling roasting meat, dried herbs, spices, and every manner of assorted goods. Crowds of men and women shouted over the humdrum of the crowd for any number of reasons.

One huge bald man that resembled a tremendous potato with massive arms, stubby legs, and rosy cheeks yelled at an enraged woman, spewing a cloud of spittle with every harsh word. Just a few strides away from him was an old woman as spindly as a tree branch with a nest of wispy grey hair hanging from her sweaty brow. Her fingers were as thin and frail looking as twigs, but they moved with a frenzy as they crushed dried leaves between stones, gathered them again, and continued to grind them until they formed a fine powder which she deposited into grimy glass jars. Around her was a veritable botanical garden of dried leaves and herbs packed in bundles or clay jars. Many other owners did varying tasks, forming a tapestry of movement that stitched together a dizzying picture of the merchant district that swam in his vision.

This did not appear to bother Mira in the slightest, however, as she wove through the crowds expertly, even greeting several of the busy store owners. She gracefully led him through several such chambers until they reached a small curtained alcove that led off of one of the bustling halls.

Inside the heavy drape curtains was a much smaller hall, more of a cave it seemed to Godric, lit by rows of flickering candles. Mats covered the floor on which were several men and women in varying states of consciousness. One man had a crude splint on his leg while many others had cloths over the foreheads. A crew of women in dirty white gowns kept themselves busy by changing the bandages on several of these injured cares while others organized herbs, boiled water, cleaned linens, and other mundane tasks in relative silence. The noise of the crowds in the connecting chamber still percolated in, but there was an air of serenity in the softly lit room that was a pleasant change of pace.

Immediately as they entered an elderly woman approached them. She had a kind, worn face with sparkling eyes under drooping eyelids that exuded a calming feeling. As soon as they stepped in the women shuffled to Mira and wrapped her in an embrace.

“My darling, it’s so good to see you again! It has been a few days since you have been in.” Her voice was soft and frail while full of welcoming kindness.

Mira returned the loving gesture. “I know, I have been so busy in the kitchens that there just hasn’t been time to see you. I trust everything is fairing well in my absence? ”

The woman shrugged her narrow shoulders. “It is alright, for the most part. A fever seems to be disrupting a few people,” she said, waving a bony arm at the coughing people lying on the mats with the cloths on their foreheads, “but other than that we are doing quite well. Unlike, this young man, evidently” she said, sizing Godric up quizzically with her zealous eyes.

Mira sighed, perhaps slightly exaggeratedly. “Yes, he has gotten in a scuffle and I fear will needs some help.”

The elderly woman nodded as she circled Godric. “Hmm, yes a good eye, child. I would say we will need at least two bandages with bethra herb paste for the cuts. Judging by your posture I would say three - no four - bruised ribs which will need a heated tamithis herb wrap. That is, of course, in addition to the cool cloths we will need to get on those bruises. Nasty looking things. Will burst shortly if we don’t take care of them, I fear, and I’d rather not deal with stitches, wouldn’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, instead turning to one of the girls who worked with her back to them at one of the stone counter. “Agatha, did you catch that?”

“Yes,Thessi, I’m already at it.”

The old woman laughed, her intense eyes glowing this satisfaction, making Mira smile.

“Very good,” chuckled the girl. “I must be off then, I’m afraid.”

Thessi’s face fell. “Oh no, dear, you’ve only just come! My apothecaries still haven’t been able to replicate that mixture you made. Somehow it cured that man’s abscess and I should like to figure it out one of these days.”

Mira’s eyes lit up. “I have to save some of my secrets. Don’t worry, though, I will be back tonight for this one,” she said, eyeing Godric, which made him cringe awkwardly.

The old woman shook her head. “Children these days, rushing about. Oh, what I would do to be young again and scurrying high and low. Well be off then,” she said, shooing Mira with waves of her hand. “Until tonight.”

The young girl gave a final dimpled smile. “Very good. I’ll retrieve you later, Godric.” She darted out the door, red hair streaming in her wake, into the bustling crowds

The women immediately set about to tending Godric’s wounds. The one Thessi had called Agatha set about to removing his shirt, unbolting his sword, and applying warm white fabric bandages to the worst of his cuts with a liberal dabbing of a disgusting muddy-green colored paste. However disgusting it was, it still spread a cooling feeling on his wounds that immediately relieved some of his aching pain. Another similar, though larger, bandage was wrapped incredibly tightly around his abdomen with a chestnut colored, grainy cream. He was then instructed to lie down on one of the mats that proved to be surprisingly comfortable despite the stone ground, and rags with cold water were applied to his bruises.

The floor mats must have been more comfortable than he had realized, or perhaps he was just more in need of peace than he had known, because before he even realized it he was asleep the aching pains departing as quickly as his consciousness.

When he awoke again he had no idea how long had passed. Minutes, hours, or days could have gone by and he would have had no idea. The candles still burned without wavering, but he could not tell if they had been replaced or if it had merely been so short a time that there was no differentiating from when he had last seen them.

The girl he recognized to be Agatha noticed he had awoken as she changed the bandage on one of the nearby patients.

“Awake at last?” She said kindly.

He nodded as much as he could from his reclined position and propped himself up on his elbow. “Yes, I think so. How long was I out?”

She finished with the bandage and stepped over to where he lay. “Only a couple hours. It’s late afternoon.”

“Oh, good to know.” She laughed a little, brushing her light brown hair out of her stormy grey eyes. He grinned and gently touched his ribs. Surprisingly the aching had largely faded and, though they were still tender, much of the pain had disappeared. “Wow...”

“Yes, some of those disgusting looking remedies actually work quite well.”

Sitting up on his mat he gave her a better look. She was younger than he had originally noticed in the dim candlelight of the room, perhaps only a year older than himself at most. And, on second thought, more than a little attractive.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“It was nothing,” she said shyly. “Besides, it’s my job. I couldn’t exactly let you sit aside in pain, could I?”

“I suppose not,” he said. “Regardless, thanks. How is it that you got into this job, anyway?”

She tilted her head, thinking. “When I was little I got very sick and Thessi nursed me back to health when my parents didn’t know what to do. That’s when I decided that I wanted to be an apothecary and heal people. It’s a dark world out there,” she said sadly, “but here, within those curtains, people can find rest and recover from the wounds the world deals them.”

“That’s very poetic,” he murmured.

Agatha brushed her hair out of her face again shyly. “I guess so.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“A couple years. I was an apprentice to Thessi for several years before that, but now I have learned enough to work on my own. She still likes to oversee everything, though. Running on eighty and remains the best healer in Biren-Larath, bless her heart. Anyway, enough chit-chat. I’ve got work to do.”

“Do you need any help?”

The girl stood, straightening the front of her dress. “I could not in good conscience ask a patient for help. Especially since warriors are notoriously unadapt at healing.”

“Who told you I was a warrior?”

She pointed to where the sword Theronin had issued him sat still in its sheath beside his mat. “I imagine anyone who carries such a weapon would be a fighter of some kind. That being said, since you offered....”

He struggled to sit up as his stiff muscles were slow to respond. She offered him a hand, helping him stand. “It’s the least I can do.”

Agatha showed him to the counter and directed him in the grinding of the herbs, the mixing of the different peculiar liquids and solutions, and how to apply them to bandages. She showed him the small, circular leaves of tamithis that smelled vaguely of smoke and the long, spiking stems of the bethra plant that reeked of must. She even tried to teach him the names of each of the medicines that were stored in clay flasks along the alcoved counter but he quickly forgot most of them. There was one however, that caught his attention.

“Firestone scorpion venom,” she said. “It is so powerful that even skin contact will cause the superficial layers of the skin to burn away.” When he had tried asking her what it was used for, she pushed his question aside and answered with only, “For extreme cases.”

Their time together was for the most part pleasant, a word he could not have accurately used since coming to Biren-Larath. The calming scent of wax and soothing candlelight put his mind at ease for the first time in weeks. Remarkable, he thought, considering the most important object in the forsaken city has just been lost, one of its high officials murdered, and his bloodthirsty son is anxious to kill me. Agatha was kind and gentle at both teaching him and caring patiently for those under her charge. She made for enjoyable company and had much to show him that he had never seen before.

Before he knew it the late afternoon had melded into evening and Mira was at the door calling for him.

“Putting him to work at last, I see,” the girl said.

“Indeed,” Agatha answered from the counter where she was measuring out medicines. “Had to get those lazy bones moving.”

Mira nodded approvingly, a twinkle in her eye. “Well said. He’s been playing with sticks in the arena so long I think he’s forgotten what real work is like.”

“Um, he is still here,” cut in Godric for his place on the floor where he was changing the bandages on a man with a particularly nasty cut. “And if this is ‘real work’ as you put it, I would like some more.”

“So ungrateful,” the young apothecary chided. “Despite this attitude,” Agatha continued, jestingly, “it has been my pleasure to babysit him for the day.”

“A thousand thanks,” Mira answered. “I will grudgingly take him off your hands, now, though.”

“Oh, by all means, please do. Until next time,” she said, offering a small curtsey to Godric as he rose.

The two girls giggled much to Godric’s chagrin as he collected his sword and accompanied Mira out into the merchant district where business was noticeably less than it had been only a few hours previous. A multitude of the counters were now vacant, a few still possessing crumbs and remnants of the wares their occupants had been peddling. Several others were clearly still occupied, but the shop owners were largely idle, rearranging their wares or just tinkering with small items. The smell of sweat and alcohol still lingered but had grown stale in the poorly circulated streets.

As they walked, Godric noticed Mira had, quite literally, a slight spring in her step. Her normally short figure bounced with every step, tossing wisps of her hair into the air along with the loose, wrinkled folds of her work clothes. While he watched her he realized that he had no idea where they were going. The gate they had entered the district through came and went, but still the determined girl trotted down the winding streets into areas he, once again, had never explored.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“If it isn’t such an unreasonable request, where is it that you’re taking me?”

Mira glanced back, a sly look on her face. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“But I’m not finding out,” he noted, more for fun than impatience.

Her brow furrowed for a moment. “But you will, won’t you?”

“Presumably, if we get there.”

She stopped, causing him to stop and look around. They had left the merchant chambers far behind and were on a wide hallway that curved gently to the left. The floor was roughly cut cobblestone while the walls continued to be the pale carved stone of the cliffs. Several torches crackled from their sconces, emitting vaguely smokey fumes into the hall. A single doorway was crudely cut into the left side of the hall with an aged wooden door that was pale and scuffed with time. In front of it was a gruff looking guard that appeared about as old and tough as the door he guarded.

A scruffy grey beard stuck out over his grungy, disordered uniform. Identically scruffy brows hooded his cloudy blue eyes that glared menacingly toward the two companions. A gnarled claw-like hand clenched a solid spear while the other held an imposingly sizable dented shield.

“Who goes there?!” he barked, squinting at them.

Mira winked at Godric. “It’s me, Phallus,” she said kindly.

The guard’s eyes widened as did a smile, which revealed more than a few missing teeth. “Lady Mira! You’ve come back!”

“Yes, Phallus. I said I would, didn’t I?”

He cleared his throat in a phlegmy cough. “Er, yes, but it has been some time. I was starting to doubt.”

“Well doubt no more,” she said with a small laugh and a flourish. “Here I am.”

“So you are!” The old guard laughed. “And I take it this is young master Aeis with you as usual?” His murky eyes squinted at Godric, whose face flushed at the comment.

“Uh, no,” Mira stammered. “Phallus, this is Godric, a good friend of mine.”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you Master Godric. Spending an evening in the fine company of this young lady is an achievement I commend for any young man.” Thankfully Godric was spared the discomfort of formulating a response. “Regrettably,” the guard continued, “I can’t let you through. All us watchmen have been given strict orders; no one out without written orders from King Ennor.”

“Please, Phallus,” Mira said. “You know I am trustworthy. It’s not like we’re going to be gone all night.”

The elderly soldier wrinkled his brow. “You put me in a hard place here, miss...”

“Tell you what,” Mira suggested, “how about I get some sherrira leaves and make you some tea for your knuckles sometime?”

Phallus’s cataract eyes widened. “Oh, would you? This arthritis aches something terrible on these blustery nights. The stormy clouds out there don’t help, I’m afraid.”

“Of course! It would be my pleasure,” she said sweetly.

He offered another toothy, or rather, empty, smile. “Then by all means, I can divert these murky eyes of mine and miss two young children slipping through this door for an hour or two.”

Mira blew him a kiss as he stepped aside, pulling the small door open behind him. Godric offered a small bow as he went out, following Mira into the unknown passage.

Beyond the door a sudden chill wrapped itself around him. Darkness filled his vision until all he could see were a few stone steps that descended into the gloom. The sound of rolling waves came from what sounded like a short ways away, combining with the harmony of crickets and distant howling.

“We’re outside.” Godric noticed with a note of surprise.

Mira laughed from a little ways in front of him. “A very astute observation, Farm Boy.”

He grinned at her resurrection of his old nickname. She continued to smile at him as he took a moment to observe the surroundings.

They stood on a small rocky outcrop from the sheer cliff face that jutted out above the sea below, which churned with roaring whitecaps, spewing frosty salt spray onto the ground. Two or three short stone steps were carved into the rock leading up to the doorway from which they had come, curving somewhat precariously down to the ground below where Mira was waiting for him beneath a single aged tree. Its ragged bark was torn and shredded in many places, but it had a multitude of branches that reach into the sky forming a canopy over the lonely looking outcrop. Aged brown leaves filled these suspended limbs into a dense quilt-like covering that served the only refuge from the fierce wind. Many of them had already fallen from their branches and were now littering the ground at Mira’s feet.

There were likely many other features that escaped his quizzical gaze because of the hazy darkness, but a thick blanket of clouds hid the bright, full moon and the stars that fought to illuminate the grim horizon such that he could see nothing more.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mira asked. She stepped under the scrawny tree and sat atop a large boulder.

“I would say the company is more of what makes it, but yes, it isn’t terrible.”

“Good line,” Mira said, gazing out toward the Sea.

He stepped toward her, ducking to avoid a lower tree branch. “It isn’t a line.” Her gaze turned toward him fondly. “In fact, I think it’s the truest thing I’ve said since coming to this forsaken city.”

Her face fell at his words. “Forsaken... That’s such a lonely word. True, I suspect, but mournful. You would not believe how far a kind word gets you here. There is such.... Darkness?” Godric tried to think of something to say, but something about the calm rhythm in the waves told him that he should be silent and let the night talk for him, at least for now.

Mira sighed. “That man, Phallus, had such a bad case of arthritis that he couldn’t even carry his spear when I first met him only a little over a week ago. That day I brought him a poultice for it from the herbs Thessi showed me and we have become good friends. A rare thing here, I think.”

“Why they even have him on duty causes me to question,” Godric murmured.

“They have no choice. Men must be given something to do in this city or else what would occupy their time? That’s how thieves and beggars come to be.” Mira waved her arm at the serene but lonely spectacle. “There is nothing to guard here; still he must do something. Plus it gives him a responsibility, a source of honor.”

The two friends sat in silence for a couple moments, listening to the wind and the waves.

“It’s so still.... so dark...” Godric whispered.

Mira gently brushed her hair out of her face from where it had fallen when she had cast her eyes downward. “I might be able to help with that.” She bent down and picked up a fallen leaf, gently holding it between her thumb and forefinger. Her other hand wrapped around it, sliding across the wrinkled veins. At first it appeared that she was only breaking it apart, but as her fingers traced the crinkled object soft light began to emanate from her touch. Before his eyes Godric saw the dead brown leaf transform into a shimmering golden medallion of light.

With a soft blow the leaf fluttered from her open hand until it floated in the air in front of her idly, emitting a gentle glow to illuminate the night under the tree.

Godric reached a hand out hesitantly, gaping at the awe-inspiring sight. His callused fingers came against the glowing leaf but passed through it without the least bit of resistance. The light dissipated like mist but reformed into the soft glowing shape of the leaf.

“How.... How did you do that?”

“I’ve learned a few things,” she murmured, watching the leaf float.

He sat up on the boulder beside her, leaning toward her. “Anything you would care to share?” He whispered.

“It turns out there are more than a few interesting passages about... Well, about people like me, in the library. There is also much about the Oroshi that I have managed to learn. I’ve spent every spare second there reading, practicing, learning, and picked up a few tricks.”

“So you’ve decided they’re not so bad anymore?”

She shrugged, causing her hair to cascade down her shoulders. “I’m not sure yet. It turns out they’ve done amazing things, but it’s scary. The more they did it the more they changed.”

“Thankfully you don’t have to make miracles happen to be magical.”

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow playfully. “Do you have a script that you’re reading from or are you really better with words than you’ve led me to believe?” I’m starting to think you and Ennor talked about more than just the ball.”

“As a matter of fact,” he started, “you could say we did.” Her eyes sparkled with the light from the leaf. She waited in the stillness of the night as he searched for the right words to say. “What I’m trying to say is, would you like to go to the ball with me?” The words came out faster than he had intended them to, though he was immediately glad that they had at least gotten out.

She smiled widely, but her eyes betrayed a sad regret. “I would have loved to.”

“Would have?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “you see, Aeis already asked me. And I said yes.”

Something inside of Godric changed even as the words left her lips. The cold iron of bitterness sprouted in his heart as he heard the other boy’s name. All the peace of the afternoon flooded away from him until it was as far away as the bottom of the Sea. He could feel the vicious dragon of jealousy roaring inside of him and it was all he could do to keep from sneering angrily.

Mira looked away back toward the Sea where the waves served as the only break in the awkward silence that filled the space between them. Neither made any attempt to say anything for a long while.

Not that he didn’t want to. Emotions tangled his tongue as he searched for something to say, desperate to find a clever word that would get her to change her mind. Something that would make this beautiful, quiet, marvelous girl want to go with him instead of the... the what? It struck him that Aeis was not a bad person. Maybe she did not regret her choice. Maybe he was just making things needlessly uncomfortable for her.

I should never have asked, he thought.

Rising from the boulder, he murmured “I think I better go. Have a good rest of the night, Mira.”

As he walked away she called softly after him, “Godric, wait.”

He stopped but would not turn around. It was too much. This had been his chance to make up for how little he had seen her, how little they had talked compared to Aeis, but it was gone now. Better to just let it rest than pursue anything more and be left with disappointment.

“When Aeis asked me I thought no one would. I hadn’t seen you in a while and didn’t know what to do. He is a good friend and I care greatly for him. It would not be right under most circumstances to change my answer with the ball only two days away, but do you have any reason that I shouldn’t go with Aeis?”

A spark of hope alighted in his chest. He could tell her. Tell her that she was his only solace in this ruined mess of a life. About how much he thought of her and how beautiful she was. But the coldness of doubt soon choked even this little ember. It was no use. Better to just let it rest.

“No,” he murmured. “I don’t.”

Without looking back he shuffled up the steps with a heart as heavy as the stones he walked on. If perhaps he had turned around he would have seen her staring after him, filled with hurt, or noticed that the leaf’s light dimmed in the icy breeze, plunging the small rocky plateau in darkness.