Part XI
My week of complete non-motivation at work continues. And although I somehow couldn't bring myself to do anything productive, I did have absolutely no problem at all doing...
“Something has happened to me,” Von finally confessed, dropping his voice to a level barely higher than a whisper. “I can barely remember a thing before a few days ago, when I woke in my mother’s bed. I… remember…” Von shook his head slowly, looking embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable as he worked to collect his thoughts. Almost absentmindedly, he leaned a bit away from the fire as he continued. “I remember the summons, when the Royal Court passed through enlisting men. If I had been six months older, I wouldn’t have had to go.”
Merryl watched him calmly, with a touch of sadness lining her soft face. His mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds, and he began to fidget nervously, like a balladeer who had forgotten a verse. He loosened the clasp of his cloak a bit before he began again. “I’m sick. I.. I know that. Some kind of poison, you said, right? An infection?”
She nodded slowly, recalling the time she discussed with the mayor what she knew of his condition. She had mentioned believing his wound to be caused by a large serrated knife, like the kind used to cut one’s way in a jungle. There must have been some traces of an herb or other vegetation on it that had caused his fever and hallucinations.
She let her mind wander a bit, back to that time, and fast-forwarded through the chain of events, until the day she and Von left town. Reaching a point of absolute honesty within herself, she began to question her motives for coming with him. He was such a passionate man, and surely, for some reason deep down inside of him, this was something he must truly have to do. At the same time, he was as dumb as a Christmas ham. He very likely would be lying near death on the side of the road by now, if it wasn’t for her care. She didn’t have to come. She had plenty of things she could have been doing back home. But when he had stood on the porch with her, with that determined look in his eye…
A little sigh escaped her lips, and she startled herself back to reality. With her face coloring slightly, she peered across the table at her companion. He had scooted his chair further from the fire, and a slight sheen on his forehead proved that the room was growing a little warmer than it should. She would have to mention it the next time the innkeeper came by to tend the flames.
“We can talk about something else, you know,” she offered. For a moment, she thought she saw him visibly relax. Even the sweat seemed to blink from existence for a second.
“It’s really only fair that I tell you what I can,” Von replied. “You did come all this way with me, and you don’t even know why.”
She smiled warmly. “Let’s take it slow then, shall we? What happened when you arrived in Blueshaven?”
“We met with a magistrate there. We had this daytime feast in a large tower with some other new recruits into the militia. He talked all afternoon about the history of Blueshaven, and its politics, and the Royal Family.” He took a long draft from the mug in front of him, emptying it, and set it aside. “Everything was so impressive. Then they mentioned that parts of the tower were under renovation, and because of it, we would be staying in an inn instead.”
Merryl took a sip of her wine, and straightened, almost involuntarily in her chair when she felt a warm glow spread within her. She knew it to be from more than the wine, though. Her insides danced with delight that this man was finally opening up to her. It made her feel so close to him. It made her feel…
“…so close.”
“Hmm? Sorry?” Von asked helplessly.
“Oh! Nothing. I uh. I was just thinking that we’re so close... to you remembering some things.”
“Right,” he said. “Well, perhaps we are. That’s never come to mind before, anyway.”
Merryl’s heart lit up with an emotion perfectly balanced between relief and disappointment. As it began to question her as to why she didn’t tell him what she was thinking, she mentally stomped on it. When it didn’t give up, she stomped on it again. And again and again.
She took another sip of wine and gave him a reassuring smile. “Good!” she coaxed. “Why don’t you keep going, then?”
Von grinned and called for another mug of ale as he continued. “The inn was beautiful. It was one of the few buildings left in the city still made of wood. See, the entire city was built that way, but over time a lot of it burnt down, so they started rebuilding in stone instead. Anyway, for some reason, this inn was never touched by any sort of disaster. It’s one of the city’s little miracles, in a way.
“We got our rooms, and enjoyed some of the festivities of the night. There was good food, and music, and dancing. Some of the higher ranking officers of the guard even stopped in for a while to meet us. We ate and drank all evening, and not a single coin was ever asked for from any of us.”
Von stopped talking for a moment as the barmaid handed him his mug. He slid a coin that he never remembered earning across the table to her in return. She bobbed her head happily and strolled away.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but cut himself off, looking across the table almost apologetically. “I must be boring you immensely,” he observed.
“Not at all, dear.” Merryl mustered. “I hang on your every word.” She couldn’t help but feel herself flush a bit when saying such a thing to him, even with the lighthearted tone she gave the words. Her brain reached a scrawny little leg down and gave her heart another boot for good measure.
If Von noticed any of her tone, he certainly didn’t show it. As lost in thought as he was now, she may as well have simply shaken her head. He raised his hand to the strap of his cloak and tugged on it absently until it hung loosely about his shoulders. A tiny bead of sweat broke free, and ran down the side of his face.
When he spoke again, it was almost monotone. “When we went to the room, I remember thinking how much it reminded me of home. The walls and floors were a beautiful redwood, like the ones that grow on the Dewpointe Ridge. I was undressing for bed, and that’s when she… when she walked in.”
“She?” Merryl couldn’t disguise the bewilderment in her voice. “Who? What was she doing in your room?”
Another bead of sweat dripped down Von’s face, and yet another after that. Merryl nodded succinctly in approval. He had better be nervous about this, she thought. He had better be nervous, and have a very good explanation.
Von shrugged. “I had met her downstairs. She introduced herself, but now I don’t remember her name. I remember black hair and green eyes. We shared a dance, and that was all.”
“But she was in your room?” Her gaze narrowed.
“Well, yes.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t remember. She… stood there, looking at me for a good long time. Then she was going to say something, but… I don’t…”
Merryl was no longer listening. It was awfully convenient of the man to not remember this part, of course. She began to wrap her mind up in the task of deciding if she had made a mistake coming on this trip with him all along. One thing was for certain, he was about two seconds away from getting a piece of her mind. She raised her head to cast him an opening glare, and gasped. Anger gave way to worry.
Von sat leaning over the table so far, his nose was only a few scant inches from touching the coarse wood. His lips still moved flawlessly, as if he was reciting a well-known story he has had memorized since childhood, yet no sound at all was produced by them. He appeared to be shivering, yet at the same time, the small beads of sweat continued to form on his forehead.
Merryl leaped from her chair, and circled the table to press her hands to Von’s face. He felt as though he were on fire. As if released from some kind of stasis by her touch, Von lost consciousness, his body slumping limply, in an almost serpentine motion out of its chair to crumple onto the floor.
***
The village of Dewpointe was in tatters. These mysterious invaders wasted no time at all making rounds from house to house, kicking down their doors with heavy boots, and herding their occupants toward the center of town. Two of the men did the herding, and two more followed behind ransacking each building. Holes were put in walls and windows, drawers were emptied, and beds were overturned as the soldiers continued their search.
The two wizards stood in the center of the village, watching over the inhabitants the soldiers deposited there. They were gathered in a semicircular formation around Grahm like children huddling about a visiting bard, demanding to know exactly what it was that they thought their guests were doing. Many were not even wearing shoes, having been hastily arisen from their beds, and they shifted their weight uneasily in the cold mud.
Before long, Mayor Gillingham himself was tossed in a heap at the wizard’s feet, and Grahm promptly took this as an adequate omen that his address could commence.
“Townsfolk of Dewpointe,” he began. “Allow me to make this as painless as I possibly can. You’ve recently come into possession of an item of ours, an item that we would very much like to see returned.” At this point, Jeddin Ashe was almost literally hurled into the crowd. Several feet away, the massive Brock walked toward the gathering of his own free will, followed by two of the soldiers, whom were currently looking very pale. From time to time, one motioned with a gloved hand to the blacksmith to hurry up, and each time the big man swatted the hand away, and continued at his own pace.
The wizard’s statement was answered with rough shouts and jeers. Maintaining an icy calm, Grahm made a motion with his left hand, holding it in front of him palm up, and forming a small steeple with his fingers and thumb. With his right hand, he pointed to one of the village’s cows, penned up several yards away. Several heads turned toward it.
A tiny ball of light appeared above the cow, and over the course of several seconds it grew brighter and brighter. Its luminescence trickled lazily over the animal as it stood, bathing it and the ground around it in a circle of pale light. Suddenly, the affected area erupted into a cylinder of white flame, reaching a dozen feet into the sky. There was a pained bovine yelp, and then no sound at all as the flames subsided, leaving nothing behind but a pile of black ash. The once robust crowd suddenly became a picturesque epitome of stunned silence and awe.
“Now,” Grahm commented nonchalantly. “We don’t have all night. Who’s next?”
“Something has happened to me,” Von finally confessed, dropping his voice to a level barely higher than a whisper. “I can barely remember a thing before a few days ago, when I woke in my mother’s bed. I… remember…” Von shook his head slowly, looking embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable as he worked to collect his thoughts. Almost absentmindedly, he leaned a bit away from the fire as he continued. “I remember the summons, when the Royal Court passed through enlisting men. If I had been six months older, I wouldn’t have had to go.”
Merryl watched him calmly, with a touch of sadness lining her soft face. His mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds, and he began to fidget nervously, like a balladeer who had forgotten a verse. He loosened the clasp of his cloak a bit before he began again. “I’m sick. I.. I know that. Some kind of poison, you said, right? An infection?”
She nodded slowly, recalling the time she discussed with the mayor what she knew of his condition. She had mentioned believing his wound to be caused by a large serrated knife, like the kind used to cut one’s way in a jungle. There must have been some traces of an herb or other vegetation on it that had caused his fever and hallucinations.
She let her mind wander a bit, back to that time, and fast-forwarded through the chain of events, until the day she and Von left town. Reaching a point of absolute honesty within herself, she began to question her motives for coming with him. He was such a passionate man, and surely, for some reason deep down inside of him, this was something he must truly have to do. At the same time, he was as dumb as a Christmas ham. He very likely would be lying near death on the side of the road by now, if it wasn’t for her care. She didn’t have to come. She had plenty of things she could have been doing back home. But when he had stood on the porch with her, with that determined look in his eye…
A little sigh escaped her lips, and she startled herself back to reality. With her face coloring slightly, she peered across the table at her companion. He had scooted his chair further from the fire, and a slight sheen on his forehead proved that the room was growing a little warmer than it should. She would have to mention it the next time the innkeeper came by to tend the flames.
“We can talk about something else, you know,” she offered. For a moment, she thought she saw him visibly relax. Even the sweat seemed to blink from existence for a second.
“It’s really only fair that I tell you what I can,” Von replied. “You did come all this way with me, and you don’t even know why.”
She smiled warmly. “Let’s take it slow then, shall we? What happened when you arrived in Blueshaven?”
“We met with a magistrate there. We had this daytime feast in a large tower with some other new recruits into the militia. He talked all afternoon about the history of Blueshaven, and its politics, and the Royal Family.” He took a long draft from the mug in front of him, emptying it, and set it aside. “Everything was so impressive. Then they mentioned that parts of the tower were under renovation, and because of it, we would be staying in an inn instead.”
Merryl took a sip of her wine, and straightened, almost involuntarily in her chair when she felt a warm glow spread within her. She knew it to be from more than the wine, though. Her insides danced with delight that this man was finally opening up to her. It made her feel so close to him. It made her feel…
“…so close.”
“Hmm? Sorry?” Von asked helplessly.
“Oh! Nothing. I uh. I was just thinking that we’re so close... to you remembering some things.”
“Right,” he said. “Well, perhaps we are. That’s never come to mind before, anyway.”
Merryl’s heart lit up with an emotion perfectly balanced between relief and disappointment. As it began to question her as to why she didn’t tell him what she was thinking, she mentally stomped on it. When it didn’t give up, she stomped on it again. And again and again.
She took another sip of wine and gave him a reassuring smile. “Good!” she coaxed. “Why don’t you keep going, then?”
Von grinned and called for another mug of ale as he continued. “The inn was beautiful. It was one of the few buildings left in the city still made of wood. See, the entire city was built that way, but over time a lot of it burnt down, so they started rebuilding in stone instead. Anyway, for some reason, this inn was never touched by any sort of disaster. It’s one of the city’s little miracles, in a way.
“We got our rooms, and enjoyed some of the festivities of the night. There was good food, and music, and dancing. Some of the higher ranking officers of the guard even stopped in for a while to meet us. We ate and drank all evening, and not a single coin was ever asked for from any of us.”
Von stopped talking for a moment as the barmaid handed him his mug. He slid a coin that he never remembered earning across the table to her in return. She bobbed her head happily and strolled away.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but cut himself off, looking across the table almost apologetically. “I must be boring you immensely,” he observed.
“Not at all, dear.” Merryl mustered. “I hang on your every word.” She couldn’t help but feel herself flush a bit when saying such a thing to him, even with the lighthearted tone she gave the words. Her brain reached a scrawny little leg down and gave her heart another boot for good measure.
If Von noticed any of her tone, he certainly didn’t show it. As lost in thought as he was now, she may as well have simply shaken her head. He raised his hand to the strap of his cloak and tugged on it absently until it hung loosely about his shoulders. A tiny bead of sweat broke free, and ran down the side of his face.
When he spoke again, it was almost monotone. “When we went to the room, I remember thinking how much it reminded me of home. The walls and floors were a beautiful redwood, like the ones that grow on the Dewpointe Ridge. I was undressing for bed, and that’s when she… when she walked in.”
“She?” Merryl couldn’t disguise the bewilderment in her voice. “Who? What was she doing in your room?”
Another bead of sweat dripped down Von’s face, and yet another after that. Merryl nodded succinctly in approval. He had better be nervous about this, she thought. He had better be nervous, and have a very good explanation.
Von shrugged. “I had met her downstairs. She introduced herself, but now I don’t remember her name. I remember black hair and green eyes. We shared a dance, and that was all.”
“But she was in your room?” Her gaze narrowed.
“Well, yes.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t remember. She… stood there, looking at me for a good long time. Then she was going to say something, but… I don’t…”
Merryl was no longer listening. It was awfully convenient of the man to not remember this part, of course. She began to wrap her mind up in the task of deciding if she had made a mistake coming on this trip with him all along. One thing was for certain, he was about two seconds away from getting a piece of her mind. She raised her head to cast him an opening glare, and gasped. Anger gave way to worry.
Von sat leaning over the table so far, his nose was only a few scant inches from touching the coarse wood. His lips still moved flawlessly, as if he was reciting a well-known story he has had memorized since childhood, yet no sound at all was produced by them. He appeared to be shivering, yet at the same time, the small beads of sweat continued to form on his forehead.
Merryl leaped from her chair, and circled the table to press her hands to Von’s face. He felt as though he were on fire. As if released from some kind of stasis by her touch, Von lost consciousness, his body slumping limply, in an almost serpentine motion out of its chair to crumple onto the floor.
***
The village of Dewpointe was in tatters. These mysterious invaders wasted no time at all making rounds from house to house, kicking down their doors with heavy boots, and herding their occupants toward the center of town. Two of the men did the herding, and two more followed behind ransacking each building. Holes were put in walls and windows, drawers were emptied, and beds were overturned as the soldiers continued their search.
The two wizards stood in the center of the village, watching over the inhabitants the soldiers deposited there. They were gathered in a semicircular formation around Grahm like children huddling about a visiting bard, demanding to know exactly what it was that they thought their guests were doing. Many were not even wearing shoes, having been hastily arisen from their beds, and they shifted their weight uneasily in the cold mud.
Before long, Mayor Gillingham himself was tossed in a heap at the wizard’s feet, and Grahm promptly took this as an adequate omen that his address could commence.
“Townsfolk of Dewpointe,” he began. “Allow me to make this as painless as I possibly can. You’ve recently come into possession of an item of ours, an item that we would very much like to see returned.” At this point, Jeddin Ashe was almost literally hurled into the crowd. Several feet away, the massive Brock walked toward the gathering of his own free will, followed by two of the soldiers, whom were currently looking very pale. From time to time, one motioned with a gloved hand to the blacksmith to hurry up, and each time the big man swatted the hand away, and continued at his own pace.
The wizard’s statement was answered with rough shouts and jeers. Maintaining an icy calm, Grahm made a motion with his left hand, holding it in front of him palm up, and forming a small steeple with his fingers and thumb. With his right hand, he pointed to one of the village’s cows, penned up several yards away. Several heads turned toward it.
A tiny ball of light appeared above the cow, and over the course of several seconds it grew brighter and brighter. Its luminescence trickled lazily over the animal as it stood, bathing it and the ground around it in a circle of pale light. Suddenly, the affected area erupted into a cylinder of white flame, reaching a dozen feet into the sky. There was a pained bovine yelp, and then no sound at all as the flames subsided, leaving nothing behind but a pile of black ash. The once robust crowd suddenly became a picturesque epitome of stunned silence and awe.
“Now,” Grahm commented nonchalantly. “We don’t have all night. Who’s next?”