Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Glen
A Sorceress Gift
There was a thick black cloud over Rida during most of the afternoon, the city burning fully, finally engulfed in a bright orange and yellow hue, when the sun set hours later. Glen had turned south at Eastwatch Forrest leaving the crowds of refugees, with the shell-shocked, miserable faces and dead eyes behind him and went into the desert.
He stopped briefly, once the darkness ahead of him made it difficult to discern, where the ground ended and the night sky started and glanced one last time back, at the distant glowing city. Despite the two moons making their appearance an hour after that, Glen had to stop again for a different reason, as he slipped unconsciously and almost fell from the saddle. He managed to climb down his mount with difficulty and approached on foot, a lone family of boulders sprouting out of the dark desert, his legs barely holding him upright.
Glen was injured and dead tired from the horrific events of the previous day and hadn’t slept well for almost a week now. Outlaw snorted and bumped him once on the shoulder, the horse’s head covered in soot and dark foam clogging its nostrils. The Cofol horse behind him looking in a much better condition, but it was the sight of Marcus’ lifeless body that finally caused the young former thief to break down. He dropped on his knees and sobbed, letting all his frustration out and losing track of time, the pain from the still leaking wound in his thigh, almost as cathartic, as the tears.
It was Outlaw’s anxious neigh that snapped him out of his depressed state. Glen tried to get up from his knees, left leg hurting and almost unresponsive. The bandages he’d tied over the wound, completely soaked through with blood and his leather pants torn, where he’d cut them to tend to the injury. A dark figure leading two horses had approached him, following this used path through the desert, but before Glen could reach for his sword, the whiff of aromatic smoke stopped him and he let his hand drop relaxed.
“If you’re in the mind to rest; moving behind those rocks, would be wise,” The old Gish advised, still in that ridiculous cheap female tunic, barely able to disguise the mirth in his voice.
“Are you following me?” Glen croaked, his throat hoarse and wiped his nose and eyes, with the back of his hands.
“Haha. Well, it depends.”
“On what?” Glen snapped.
“You should move the animals, as well,” the Gish decided, ignoring his query and raising his fine pipe sucked long on the aromatic material he burned in there.
Oh, that’s just great, yet another socially challenged Gish, Glen thought and hobbled towards the largest standing boulder, two meters wide and almost three in height, dragging Outlaw’s reins along. The horses followed him and reaching the spot, several smaller rocks scattered about the larger one, dropped the reins and waited for the old Gish to approach.
“You have a name?” He asked and watched as the ‘old woman’ jumped off the saddle with ease, landed with that lit pipe in his mouth and then immediately stooped over, as if he had a severe case of arthritis and approached him at a snail’s pace.
“Apologies, young man,” the Gish said, licking his lips. “Alas, I’ve one foot in the grave. Name’s Flix by the way.”
Right, Glen thought watching him, not convinced Flix was as frail, as he wanted to portray.
“I’m Glen,” he said simply. “I owe you for stopping Larn, back there.”
“Garth Aniculo,” Flix corrected it for him, sucking on his pipe with half-closed eyes. “Also a knight and a Lord. I heard your men talking.”
Hahaha! You wish!
Ask him about his balls!
Glen blinked, the voice throwing him off completely and stared at his boots for a moment, to regain his composure.
“Your leg needs tending,” Flix said and then pointed at a flattened rock close to the big one. “Sit over there and I’ll see, what I can do about it.”
Glen grimaced, but he couldn’t argue with the suggestion and went to seat on the white brittle-looking limestone.
“Wait,” Flix warned him and he rifled through the contents of his saddlebags. Glen noticed, the other horse was laden with supplies that looked a lot like the ones he had the men pack yesterday. “Use this,” He tossed him a polished milky-colored small stone, oval-shaped and half the size of his fist. “To look for snakes.”
What?
Glen flinched away from the rocks, saw nothing despite the moonlight and then glanced at the stone in his hand.
“The fuck is this?”
“A lightstone gem?” Flix guffawed, finding the question hilarious and approached to stand beside him.
Okay.
“What do I need it for?”
“Ah, but of course,” Flix said, shaking his head. Then gave his pipe a good suck and let the smoke out slowly, more and more until it covered his head. Glen thought for a moment, the Gish would collapse drugged out of its wits, as it was obvious that whatever he had in there, wasn’t plain tobacco.
“There it is,” Flix said, unfazed to his scrutiny and probably forgetting to answer his query and the stone Glen held in his hand started emitting a soft, but clear white light out of nowhere.
Wow.
“Check under both those rocks,” Flix urged him. “I’ll need to seat as well, these saddles are very badly made.”
Glen glared at him and then at the brightly shining stone and went about checking under the crevices of the rocks for any snakes.
“What type of snakes are common here?” He asked, not seeing anything creepy moving about.
“Ah, horned vipers mostly, some small cobras, a black mamba, if you’re unlucky, nothing too dangerous really,” Flix played it down seeing him ogling his eyes freaked out and went to collapse on a flat rock, with a sigh. “Most people in my line of work are either retired in my age, or long dead,” he griped and then with a ridiculous frown, checked on his pipe, turned it around and finally smacked it a couple of times on his hand to empty it, blowing the contents away when he finished. Noticing Glen watching him suspicious, he patted the rock next to him and smiled, with a mostly intact set of teeth. Well, two of them were pure gold, on the left side of his mouth. “Leave the lightstone between us and put that leg here, you’ve lost too much blood, Garth.”
Pretend to agree, then stab him in the neck, the voice suggested.
I wager you, he’ll piss his pants dying.
Huh? Are you insane? Glen replied and went to seat next to the old Gish, who was busy reloading his pipe in the meantime.
Fine, make friends with the isle whore.
It’s your cock.
Shut the fuck up! Glen snapped, as talking to himself, or whomever that was, the last thing he wanted. Flix went to work on his leg, clicking his tongue seeing the damage at the light of the small stone, Glen had placed on the sand between them.
He hasn’t answered any of your queries.
Right. Glen eyed the Gish with suspicion, the quietness of the desert getting to him. Is this Gimoss? He asked, watching Flix opening a small cracked vial and pouring its contents on the still bleeding wound.
Grab onto the rock!
the voice yelled its reply and Glen baulked violently, the pain coming from his wound invading his brain like a hot poker. Immediately after he blacked out completely and tumbled down from his rock.
Three pairs of beastly dragon eyes stared at him in the pitch black. Each had a huge orange, gold, or green iris, covering the whole of the eye, the pupils black and shaped like a narrow keyhole, pointed at its edges. He raised his hand, only it was narrow and feminine now and pointed at the stone trough, filled to the brim with a burgundy liquid, large enough to fit two fat wild bulls in with ease.
This wasn’t his body.
“This is my gift for you. A Queen’s toast,” a quivering woman’s voice said, somewhat familiar to Glen, but he couldn’t remember, where he’d heard it afore. “For ruining his fleet.”
“What need have we of human wine, aelaedil Baltoris?” One of the Wyverns asked to his horror and stooped over her small frame, monstrous head coming out of the darkness, left side of its cavernous mouth raised slightly in a sinister smirk, showing three feet long black teeth.
Glen felt the woman tensing up, as if she couldn’t offer a wrong answer here.
Or spout out another lie, with that voice Glen just couldn’t –for the life of him- place.
Until he did.
“It isn’t human wine, dear Nenderu,” The sorceress replied, her other hand clenched to her dagger tight and Glen felt water entering his nose suddenly, splashing his ears and mouth, as if he was sinking fast to the bottom of an ancient lake. The earth splitting, cracks getting bigger and going deeper, as the water rushed through unstoppable, until it reached the scorching center and turned to deadly explosive vapors. The ground dissolved in a stupendous explosion, the barriers collapsing and molten lava filled the void, traveled upwards, rushing the opposite way, gaining momentum with each meter, liquefying solid rock and metal, until it reached the top and there was nothing left to consume anymore.
“Garth?” A voice queried, as Glen gasped and woke up flailing arms and legs panicked, trying to breathe. He started coughing, a terrible taste in his mouth and dry-retched a couple of times, until he managed to calm down.
“The fuck…” He looked around him. Glen was sitting on the soft sand of the desert, about a meter away from the rock Flix had returned to. A soaked flask of water in his hand. “What happened?” He croaked, his throat hurting.
“Ahm, frankly?” Flix asked, pressing a weird red-orange and very thin stone into the opening of his pipe, while inhaling to light it up again. What in Luthos arse is this shit? Glen wondered.
“If ye know what’s good for you,” He warned the old Gish and Flix found it hilarious of all plaguing things.
Glen waited patiently for Flix to calm down from his unrestrained chuckling, using the time to smack the sand off his armor and clothes. Unfortunately his boots were brimming with the annoying material as well.
“Well?” He snapped angry and got up, seeing him not forthcoming. His leg felt much better at least.
“This potion is known to have unforeseen reactions at times, especially when it is thusly timeworn.”
Had this fool of a Gish, just fed him a spoiled potion?
Glen smacked his lips and glared at the annoying creature.
“How unforeseen?”
The old Gish waved his pipe dispassionately.
“Bah, severe syncope is frequent, while outright death is fortunately not common with the Folk,” Flix reassured him and inhaled more smoke with a sigh of pleasure.
“I’m human. Gish,” Glen hissed, narrowing his eyes.
“That is true,” Flix agreed furrowing his brow, as if he hadn’t considered that and stared at their horses for an awkward moment, now grouped up near the large boulder. “You know what else is true, Garth?” The Gish finally asked.
“The name’s Glen!”
Flix nodded, then pointed a wrinkled finger. “You need to bury him soon.”
Marcus was his meaning.
“Was he family?” Flix asked two hours later, the night nearing its end. Glen had opened a shallow grave in the soft sandy ground and placed Marcus’ lifeless body in it. He used the Decanus shield to cover his head and placed his sword near his right arm.
Glen stared at the covered grave silently. He’d placed as many small rocks, as he could gather over it, in order to protect it from the wildlife. The young thief had only kept a silver bracelet, he’d found on the old soldier’s right wrist. A solid, but plain ornament, the number twenty engraved on it and a simple phrase.
Held the Line.
“A friend,” Glen replied deeply moved, his eyes blurring.
“Those we love, never truly leave us,” Flix said simply and offered him a crude wooden pipe, much less fancy than his own.
“What’s this?” Glen asked hoarsely, wiping his dirty face.
“Redleaf,” Flix replied. “Numbs the heart.”
Glen looked at the small pipe. “Is it any good?”
I would ask him where he keeps it, in your stead.
“I owe you some answers, Garth,” Flix said, taking his stunned expression the wrong way. “So here’s your chance.”
“Why did you attack Larn?” Glen asked right away, recovering from the shock. He needed to have a talk with the voice at some point.
As soon as possible was his meaning.
Flix brought his fancy pipe to his lips and sucked on it for a while, letting the smoke fill the air between them.
“She named him Ralnor,” He finally replied. “When he decided to serve, the name changed. It appears, he chose another… years after that.”
“What do they call him?”
Flix looked at him. “To know a servant’s name, is to ask Oras for a contract. Who do you want to kill, Garth?”
Glen licked his dry lips and walking to where their horses were, got a flask of water out. He drank from it deeply, put it back and then returned to the waiting Gish.
“I just wanted to know,” He replied and grimaced.
“Then perhaps you will,” Flix said cryptically, then added. “It wasn’t me that attacked him, although I played my part. Ralnor owes Oras a life, right or wrong, he must deliver on the contract. Else his own life is forfeited. He knows it. Perhaps he’ll reconsider.”
Fantastic, I’m surrounded by killers, Glen thought, eyeing the small bodied and masqueraded Gish.
“Didn’t know you guys went after each other. Isn’t there a rule, or something, preventing this within… your, eh, guild?”
Flix started chuckling, shaking his balding head. He’d red spots and blemishes, amidst all the thinning pinkish hair.
“The guild is what Ralnor made,” Flix explained. “I doubt he runs it though. It is just another layer, another shadow he’s hiding behind. Ralnor, was my master’s best pupil. There will never be another like him,” The Gish paused, let a billow of white smoke escape his lips and continued. “But he’s also of a tainted line, greedy and unsatisfied. A follower of the Old Ways, but not a servant, at least, I never believed he was. Never attack him in the clear again. Assume he has already seen you.”
Right.
“You didn’t answer the why,” Glen asked next.
“I had a different mission, when I reached Rida,” Flix replied unemotionally. “As I said, now I will follow you Garth.”
“Listen buddy,” Glen said with a stern stare. “The name’s Glen.”
“What you got on your waist, Glen?” Flix asked him with a smile.
“You mean the dagger?”
“At first I thought it a coincidence,” Flix replied, going another way. “My old eyes not being what they used to. Then Ralnor opened the box and there it was,” The old Gish stopped and emptied his fancy pipe, taking the time to put it in a fold inside his female clothing. Because he wore many layers of it, under that old grey tunic.
“I’ve seen you during the chase,” Glen said, remembering the old woman lurking at the blocked part of the road.
“We intended to stop Ralnor there, but he never made the turn,” Flix chuckled, a naughty twinkle in his eye. “Too narrow an alley perhaps shall get you killed one day,” he sighed and looked at the reddish sky above them. The night was almost gone. “The dagger you carry, was on display inside a temple… in a city called Elauthin. Almost nothing of the city remains today, but some trinkets and remnants of a world you’ll never see my friend, nor can you ever imagine. This is coming from me, who was but a slave there for most of my life, for it is the truth.”
“What happened to it?” Glen probed, never patient with ancient history, unless it was about directions out of an old grave, or an old map leading to legendary loot, a big fat X marking the plaguin’ spot.
“It was gone,” Flix replied shrugging his shoulders. “Destroyed with the rest of the city. Like many other things. It was no more,” he finished looking at him knowingly.
Huh?
“I found it in Oakenfalls,” Glen blurted, before he could stop himself.
“It can’t be the same dagger,” Flix replied. “Unless the witch lied.”
Glen grimaced and took a step back, his left leg bothering him still, but feeling much better.
“What does this mean?” He asked Flix and the old Gish walked slowly to his horse and nimbly jumped on it. It was an impossible acrobatic feat, starting from a full standing position, onto a saddle he barely reached with the top of his head.
“You tell me, Garth,” Flix said and reached for the reins. “I just found out about it, yesterday.”
“Wait,” Glen said and hobbled towards, a looking a bit rested Outlaw. “Do you know, who Gimoss is? The witch asked me about him?”
Flix frowned. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“I did. She’s… well, I barely said a couple of words to her really.”
“Where is she now?”
“Ahm. You know she’s married to a Prince of the Khanate right?” Glen informed him.
Flix chuckled, shaking his head right and left bitterly.
“What?” Glen asked, a little perturbed at his reaction.
“Strangely the moment I decide to follow you,” he smacked his lips and glanced at the sky. “The Gods try to lure me the other way.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do?” Flix countered.
“I need to reach Eikenport,” Glen replied. “Or catch up with the others.”
“You’ll never find them in the desert. Not one route, is the same. Eikenport is months away. You’ll never make it.”
“Do you know a safe route?” Glen probed eyeing him.
“I do.”
“Well?”
“I shall follow Garth it seems,” the old Gish droned, decision made.
“Glen.”
“Ahm… well,” Flix argued, not willing to give in.
“I’m serious!” Glen blasted him.
“Sure Garth.”
“Are ye freakin’ kidding me?”
“No. I’m very serious. You’re a very edgy person.”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Try some redleaf. It’ll smooth everything down.”
And on and on it went, with no one willing to give in, as if paying homage to a fallen warrior, but even the latter was a stretch. The voice in his head, either this Gimoss, or some other crazy creature, having the last word of sorts.
A bloody blast of it.
Hah!
Ahahaha!
Hehee!
It was all downhill after that.
Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Glen
A Sorceress Gift
There was a thick black cloud over Rida during most of the afternoon, the city burning fully, finally engulfed in a bright orange and yellow hue, when the sun set hours later. Glen had turned south at Eastwatch Forrest leaving the crowds of refugees, with the shell-shocked, miserable faces and dead eyes behind him and went into the desert.
He stopped briefly, once the darkness ahead of him made it difficult to discern, where the ground ended and the night sky started and glanced one last time back, at the distant glowing city. Despite the two moons making their appearance an hour after that, Glen had to stop again for a different reason, as he slipped unconsciously and almost fell from the saddle. He managed to climb down his mount with difficulty and approached on foot, a lone family of boulders sprouting out of the dark desert, his legs barely holding him upright.
Glen was injured and dead tired from the horrific events of the previous day and hadn’t slept well for almost a week now. Outlaw snorted and bumped him once on the shoulder, the horse’s head covered in soot and dark foam clogging its nostrils. The Cofol horse behind him looking in a much better condition, but it was the sight of Marcus’ lifeless body that finally caused the young former thief to break down. He dropped on his knees and sobbed, letting all his frustration out and losing track of time, the pain from the still leaking wound in his thigh, almost as cathartic, as the tears.
It was Outlaw’s anxious neigh that snapped him out of his depressed state. Glen tried to get up from his knees, left leg hurting and almost unresponsive. The bandages he’d tied over the wound, completely soaked through with blood and his leather pants torn, where he’d cut them to tend to the injury. A dark figure leading two horses had approached him, following this used path through the desert, but before Glen could reach for his sword, the whiff of aromatic smoke stopped him and he let his hand drop relaxed.
“If you’re in the mind to rest; moving behind those rocks, would be wise,” The old Gish advised, still in that ridiculous cheap female tunic, barely able to disguise the mirth in his voice.
“Are you following me?” Glen croaked, his throat hoarse and wiped his nose and eyes, with the back of his hands.
“Haha. Well, it depends.”
“On what?” Glen snapped.
“You should move the animals, as well,” the Gish decided, ignoring his query and raising his fine pipe sucked long on the aromatic material he burned in there.
Oh, that’s just great, yet another socially challenged Gish, Glen thought and hobbled towards the largest standing boulder, two meters wide and almost three in height, dragging Outlaw’s reins along. The horses followed him and reaching the spot, several smaller rocks scattered about the larger one, dropped the reins and waited for the old Gish to approach.
“You have a name?” He asked and watched as the ‘old woman’ jumped off the saddle with ease, landed with that lit pipe in his mouth and then immediately stooped over, as if he had a severe case of arthritis and approached him at a snail’s pace.
“Apologies, young man,” the Gish said, licking his lips. “Alas, I’ve one foot in the grave. Name’s Flix by the way.”
Right, Glen thought watching him, not convinced Flix was as frail, as he wanted to portray.
“I’m Glen,” he said simply. “I owe you for stopping Larn, back there.”
“Garth Aniculo,” Flix corrected it for him, sucking on his pipe with half-closed eyes. “Also a knight and a Lord. I heard your men talking.”
Hahaha! You wish!
Ask him about his balls!
Glen blinked, the voice throwing him off completely and stared at his boots for a moment, to regain his composure.
“Your leg needs tending,” Flix said and then pointed at a flattened rock close to the big one. “Sit over there and I’ll see, what I can do about it.”
Glen grimaced, but he couldn’t argue with the suggestion and went to seat on the white brittle-looking limestone.
“Wait,” Flix warned him and he rifled through the contents of his saddlebags. Glen noticed, the other horse was laden with supplies that looked a lot like the ones he had the men pack yesterday. “Use this,” He tossed him a polished milky-colored small stone, oval-shaped and half the size of his fist. “To look for snakes.”
What?
Glen flinched away from the rocks, saw nothing despite the moonlight and then glanced at the stone in his hand.
“The fuck is this?”
“A lightstone gem?” Flix guffawed, finding the question hilarious and approached to stand beside him.
Okay.
“What do I need it for?”
“Ah, but of course,” Flix said, shaking his head. Then gave his pipe a good suck and let the smoke out slowly, more and more until it covered his head. Glen thought for a moment, the Gish would collapse drugged out of its wits, as it was obvious that whatever he had in there, wasn’t plain tobacco.
“There it is,” Flix said, unfazed to his scrutiny and probably forgetting to answer his query and the stone Glen held in his hand started emitting a soft, but clear white light out of nowhere.
Wow.
“Check under both those rocks,” Flix urged him. “I’ll need to seat as well, these saddles are very badly made.”
Glen glared at him and then at the brightly shining stone and went about checking under the crevices of the rocks for any snakes.
“What type of snakes are common here?” He asked, not seeing anything creepy moving about.
“Ah, horned vipers mostly, some small cobras, a black mamba, if you’re unlucky, nothing too dangerous really,” Flix played it down seeing him ogling his eyes freaked out and went to collapse on a flat rock, with a sigh. “Most people in my line of work are either retired in my age, or long dead,” he griped and then with a ridiculous frown, checked on his pipe, turned it around and finally smacked it a couple of times on his hand to empty it, blowing the contents away when he finished. Noticing Glen watching him suspicious, he patted the rock next to him and smiled, with a mostly intact set of teeth. Well, two of them were pure gold, on the left side of his mouth. “Leave the lightstone between us and put that leg here, you’ve lost too much blood, Garth.”
Pretend to agree, then stab him in the neck, the voice suggested.
I wager you, he’ll piss his pants dying.
Huh? Are you insane? Glen replied and went to seat next to the old Gish, who was busy reloading his pipe in the meantime.
Fine, make friends with the isle whore.
It’s your cock.
Shut the fuck up! Glen snapped, as talking to himself, or whomever that was, the last thing he wanted. Flix went to work on his leg, clicking his tongue seeing the damage at the light of the small stone, Glen had placed on the sand between them.
He hasn’t answered any of your queries.
Right. Glen eyed the Gish with suspicion, the quietness of the desert getting to him. Is this Gimoss? He asked, watching Flix opening a small cracked vial and pouring its contents on the still bleeding wound.
Grab onto the rock!
the voice yelled its reply and Glen baulked violently, the pain coming from his wound invading his brain like a hot poker. Immediately after he blacked out completely and tumbled down from his rock.
Three pairs of beastly dragon eyes stared at him in the pitch black. Each had a huge orange, gold, or green iris, covering the whole of the eye, the pupils black and shaped like a narrow keyhole, pointed at its edges. He raised his hand, only it was narrow and feminine now and pointed at the stone trough, filled to the brim with a burgundy liquid, large enough to fit two fat wild bulls in with ease.
This wasn’t his body.
“This is my gift for you. A Queen’s toast,” a quivering woman’s voice said, somewhat familiar to Glen, but he couldn’t remember, where he’d heard it afore. “For ruining his fleet.”
“What need have we of human wine, aelaedil Baltoris?” One of the Wyverns asked to his horror and stooped over her small frame, monstrous head coming out of the darkness, left side of its cavernous mouth raised slightly in a sinister smirk, showing three feet long black teeth.
Glen felt the woman tensing up, as if she couldn’t offer a wrong answer here.
Or spout out another lie, with that voice Glen just couldn’t –for the life of him- place.
Until he did.
“It isn’t human wine, dear Nenderu,” The sorceress replied, her other hand clenched to her dagger tight and Glen felt water entering his nose suddenly, splashing his ears and mouth, as if he was sinking fast to the bottom of an ancient lake. The earth splitting, cracks getting bigger and going deeper, as the water rushed through unstoppable, until it reached the scorching center and turned to deadly explosive vapors. The ground dissolved in a stupendous explosion, the barriers collapsing and molten lava filled the void, traveled upwards, rushing the opposite way, gaining momentum with each meter, liquefying solid rock and metal, until it reached the top and there was nothing left to consume anymore.
“Garth?” A voice queried, as Glen gasped and woke up flailing arms and legs panicked, trying to breathe. He started coughing, a terrible taste in his mouth and dry-retched a couple of times, until he managed to calm down.
“The fuck…” He looked around him. Glen was sitting on the soft sand of the desert, about a meter away from the rock Flix had returned to. A soaked flask of water in his hand. “What happened?” He croaked, his throat hurting.
“Ahm, frankly?” Flix asked, pressing a weird red-orange and very thin stone into the opening of his pipe, while inhaling to light it up again. What in Luthos arse is this shit? Glen wondered.
“If ye know what’s good for you,” He warned the old Gish and Flix found it hilarious of all plaguing things.
Glen waited patiently for Flix to calm down from his unrestrained chuckling, using the time to smack the sand off his armor and clothes. Unfortunately his boots were brimming with the annoying material as well.
“Well?” He snapped angry and got up, seeing him not forthcoming. His leg felt much better at least.
“This potion is known to have unforeseen reactions at times, especially when it is thusly timeworn.”
Had this fool of a Gish, just fed him a spoiled potion?
Glen smacked his lips and glared at the annoying creature.
“How unforeseen?”
The old Gish waved his pipe dispassionately.
“Bah, severe syncope is frequent, while outright death is fortunately not common with the Folk,” Flix reassured him and inhaled more smoke with a sigh of pleasure.
“I’m human. Gish,” Glen hissed, narrowing his eyes.
“That is true,” Flix agreed furrowing his brow, as if he hadn’t considered that and stared at their horses for an awkward moment, now grouped up near the large boulder. “You know what else is true, Garth?” The Gish finally asked.
“The name’s Glen!”
Flix nodded, then pointed a wrinkled finger. “You need to bury him soon.”
Marcus was his meaning.
“Was he family?” Flix asked two hours later, the night nearing its end. Glen had opened a shallow grave in the soft sandy ground and placed Marcus’ lifeless body in it. He used the Decanus shield to cover his head and placed his sword near his right arm.
Glen stared at the covered grave silently. He’d placed as many small rocks, as he could gather over it, in order to protect it from the wildlife. The young thief had only kept a silver bracelet, he’d found on the old soldier’s right wrist. A solid, but plain ornament, the number twenty engraved on it and a simple phrase.
Held the Line.
“A friend,” Glen replied deeply moved, his eyes blurring.
“Those we love, never truly leave us,” Flix said simply and offered him a crude wooden pipe, much less fancy than his own.
“What’s this?” Glen asked hoarsely, wiping his dirty face.
“Redleaf,” Flix replied. “Numbs the heart.”
Glen looked at the small pipe. “Is it any good?”
I would ask him where he keeps it, in your stead.
“I owe you some answers, Garth,” Flix said, taking his stunned expression the wrong way. “So here’s your chance.”
“Why did you attack Larn?” Glen asked right away, recovering from the shock. He needed to have a talk with the voice at some point.
As soon as possible was his meaning.
Flix brought his fancy pipe to his lips and sucked on it for a while, letting the smoke fill the air between them.
“She named him Ralnor,” He finally replied. “When he decided to serve, the name changed. It appears, he chose another… years after that.”
“What do they call him?”
Flix looked at him. “To know a servant’s name, is to ask Oras for a contract. Who do you want to kill, Garth?”
Glen licked his dry lips and walking to where their horses were, got a flask of water out. He drank from it deeply, put it back and then returned to the waiting Gish.
“I just wanted to know,” He replied and grimaced.
“Then perhaps you will,” Flix said cryptically, then added. “It wasn’t me that attacked him, although I played my part. Ralnor owes Oras a life, right or wrong, he must deliver on the contract. Else his own life is forfeited. He knows it. Perhaps he’ll reconsider.”
Fantastic, I’m surrounded by killers, Glen thought, eyeing the small bodied and masqueraded Gish.
“Didn’t know you guys went after each other. Isn’t there a rule, or something, preventing this within… your, eh, guild?”
Flix started chuckling, shaking his balding head. He’d red spots and blemishes, amidst all the thinning pinkish hair.
“The guild is what Ralnor made,” Flix explained. “I doubt he runs it though. It is just another layer, another shadow he’s hiding behind. Ralnor, was my master’s best pupil. There will never be another like him,” The Gish paused, let a billow of white smoke escape his lips and continued. “But he’s also of a tainted line, greedy and unsatisfied. A follower of the Old Ways, but not a servant, at least, I never believed he was. Never attack him in the clear again. Assume he has already seen you.”
Right.
“You didn’t answer the why,” Glen asked next.
“I had a different mission, when I reached Rida,” Flix replied unemotionally. “As I said, now I will follow you Garth.”
“Listen buddy,” Glen said with a stern stare. “The name’s Glen.”
“What you got on your waist, Glen?” Flix asked him with a smile.
“You mean the dagger?”
“At first I thought it a coincidence,” Flix replied, going another way. “My old eyes not being what they used to. Then Ralnor opened the box and there it was,” The old Gish stopped and emptied his fancy pipe, taking the time to put it in a fold inside his female clothing. Because he wore many layers of it, under that old grey tunic.
“I’ve seen you during the chase,” Glen said, remembering the old woman lurking at the blocked part of the road.
“We intended to stop Ralnor there, but he never made the turn,” Flix chuckled, a naughty twinkle in his eye. “Too narrow an alley perhaps shall get you killed one day,” he sighed and looked at the reddish sky above them. The night was almost gone. “The dagger you carry, was on display inside a temple… in a city called Elauthin. Almost nothing of the city remains today, but some trinkets and remnants of a world you’ll never see my friend, nor can you ever imagine. This is coming from me, who was but a slave there for most of my life, for it is the truth.”
“What happened to it?” Glen probed, never patient with ancient history, unless it was about directions out of an old grave, or an old map leading to legendary loot, a big fat X marking the plaguin’ spot.
“It was gone,” Flix replied shrugging his shoulders. “Destroyed with the rest of the city. Like many other things. It was no more,” he finished looking at him knowingly.
Huh?
“I found it in Oakenfalls,” Glen blurted, before he could stop himself.
“It can’t be the same dagger,” Flix replied. “Unless the witch lied.”
Glen grimaced and took a step back, his left leg bothering him still, but feeling much better.
“What does this mean?” He asked Flix and the old Gish walked slowly to his horse and nimbly jumped on it. It was an impossible acrobatic feat, starting from a full standing position, onto a saddle he barely reached with the top of his head.
“You tell me, Garth,” Flix said and reached for the reins. “I just found out about it, yesterday.”
“Wait,” Glen said and hobbled towards, a looking a bit rested Outlaw. “Do you know, who Gimoss is? The witch asked me about him?”
Flix frowned. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“I did. She’s… well, I barely said a couple of words to her really.”
“Where is she now?”
“Ahm. You know she’s married to a Prince of the Khanate right?” Glen informed him.
Flix chuckled, shaking his head right and left bitterly.
“What?” Glen asked, a little perturbed at his reaction.
“Strangely the moment I decide to follow you,” he smacked his lips and glanced at the sky. “The Gods try to lure me the other way.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do?” Flix countered.
“I need to reach Eikenport,” Glen replied. “Or catch up with the others.”
“You’ll never find them in the desert. Not one route, is the same. Eikenport is months away. You’ll never make it.”
“Do you know a safe route?” Glen probed eyeing him.
“I do.”
“Well?”
“I shall follow Garth it seems,” the old Gish droned, decision made.
“Glen.”
“Ahm… well,” Flix argued, not willing to give in.
“I’m serious!” Glen blasted him.
“Sure Garth.”
“Are ye freakin’ kidding me?”
“No. I’m very serious. You’re a very edgy person.”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Try some redleaf. It’ll smooth everything down.”
And on and on it went, with no one willing to give in, as if paying homage to a fallen warrior, but even the latter was a stretch. The voice in his head, either this Gimoss, or some other crazy creature, having the last word of sorts.
A bloody blast of it.
Hah!
Ahahaha!
Hehee!
It was all downhill after that.
