“Alkara?” Eryl’s voice clings to her from the darkness.
Startled from her thoughts, Alkara peers through the dim street to where Eryl stands at The Melted Griffin. A small part of her, somewhere deep inside, loosens. “Eryl!” She picks up her pace to a slow jog, “Where have you been? I— I’ve been worried about you.”
Eyrl rubs the back of his neck, “Worried about me?” He laughs with a nervous edge, “With that bounty on your uncle’s head?” Vibrant reds fill his cheeks.
Alkara opens her mouth but then catches herself and shakes her head. Uncle Iro had been gone for a few days now. He’s probably already in Westbriar. “He’ll… he’ll be fine. He um…” Alkara debates within herself for a few moments, then just says, “He’ll be fine.” She looks at him with a timid smile, “Sorry, can’t say more than that.”
Tension shapes Eryl’s brow, “Do you…” he tilts his head toward the tavern, “want to share a drink?” His eyes widen, “Er, but— I mean we’ll each have our own.” He shifts from one foot to the other.
A grin splits Alkara’s face, “I’d love to.” She prods his arm with her fist as she moves toward the tavern’s door. She stops and turns to Eyrl, “What’s wrong with you? Have a few before I arrived?”
The accountant titters and pushes the door open. A wave of cheers hits the pair. Eryl steps back and clears his throat.
Alkara’s shoulders drop, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding them so high. Her grin from outside stays alive as she waves to the people inside. Her panther companion is at her table before she arrives. Speckles of cream betray the otherwise empty bowl in front of Guen.
Alkara tugs Eryl along behind her and they wend their way to the reserved table. Eyrl keeps looking around the room, “That didn’t take long.”
Alkara shakes her head, “And it won’t last long either, you’ll see. Any glory a mercenary lives long enough to enjoy is short lived anyway.”
Eryl blows out a long breath, “I don’t know…”
“Why if it isn’t the Aberrant-Bane!” Glin calls out in a loud, exaggerated voice. Alkara swears she’s trying to make sure the whole tavern hears her. “So good to see you again. The usual?”
Alkara nods, “Yes, please Glin.” She nods toward Eryl, “For Eryl as well.”
“You got it, hun!” Glin slaps Alkara’s back before weaving back through the crowd.
Alkara purses her lips to stifle a smile, and fails. She shakes her head as she turns to Eryl. “So,” She lifts her eyebrows, “what happened? Where’ve you been?”
Eryl stares at his hands as he fidgets with them. “Well, I uh…” He looks up at Alkara and then looks down again. “Alkara there’s um… something I’ve been meaning to tell you. But…”
Alkara’s smile falters some, that buoyed mood sinking just a little. “But what?”
Eyrl sighs and lifts a hand, shaking his head. “You’re… always so sure of yourself.” He throws his hand out to indicate the tavern-goers, “not— not everyone is…”
Alkara cocks her head. She looks left and right, “What are you talking about?” Her gaze falls to the table, “You know that’s not true.”
Fire fills Eryl’s eyes, “It’s true in all the ways that count!” He slams a fist into the table. A few patrons look over, but with Guen making no move, they too return to their cups. “Who am I?” He sweeps his hand down in front of his body, “just some accountant next to you, the Aberrant-Bane.” He chews the inside of his lip, evidenced by the slight bump in his cheek and its small movements. “I’m just a mid-level man at a bank. Nothing like what you’re becoming.”
“That’s not me,” Alkara forces her eyes not to roll. “That was Glin. She ran with it before I could tell her no.” A brief bloom of cold spreads through her. “I’ll fade away just like every other merc in Three Rivers.” She stares at the grain in the wood floorboards. “Probably faster if I get myself killed like everyone says.”
Eryl shakes his head, “You don’t see it. The way people talk about you.” He looks at Alkara and something in his eyes brings a flush to her cheeks. “The way they look at you.” His eyes go soft, “It’s hope. And a kind of joy.” He smiles through some inner turmoil Alkara could only guess at, “You speak like the city doesn’t believe in you yet but the word has spread from North Gate to the Elf Gate. From the Grecian to the Merchant’s passage.” He reaches across the table but stops and clears his throat. “You think of yourself as a merc but you’re more than that. To these people,” he gestures toward the walls, “to those of the city. You’re a hero.”
Alkara growls, then pushes back from the table and crosses her arms. “If this is all we’re going to talk about tonight I’m leaving.”
Eryl flinches “I—” He looks down, his cheeks coloring. “I was trying…”
Glin interrupts with a craftily balanced assortment of plates and mugs. “Here ya go hun!” She places a plate and mug in front of Alkara before moving to Eryl, “and you too.” A small plate of cheese and meats is added to the middle of the table, and last a replacement bowl of cream for Guen, who stirs from her dozing to lap at the liquid. “I’m sorry ’bout your uncle. We took down those posters though,” she dusts her hands together. “Somthing dirty’s going on, and not just on these floors,” she chuckles. “We’ve been telling folks it’s a setup. Some listen, others are less agreeable to the idea.” She smiles at Alkara, “You two enjoy,” she punctuates the command with a hug, “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Grateful for the distraction, Alkara lets a small smile fit her face, “Thanks—” but the barmaid is already gone. Gravies and meat smells float above the foods. The smile flees just as quickly as Glin, “You were saying?” Alkara pokes at her food with a listless spoon.
Eryl holds his mug with both hands and stares into it, shaking his head a little. “You just… don’t get it…”
“Look, Eryl.” Alkara snaps, “You’ve been gone a whole week, Urdima knows what happened to you, and now you’re back painting me like some glory whore who can’t understand the lives of normal folk like you.”
Eryl startles and looks up at her with wide eyes, “No. That’s not—”
“Then what?!” Alkara’s lip curls, “Spit it out and stop beating around the—”
“I love you!” Eryl blurts out. A few glances follow the proclamation, with Eryl’s cheeks reddening more with each look. “I— I think—”
Alkara’s mouth hangs open, she stares at Eryl, unable to sort the torrent of thoughts spinning in her mind.
Eryl swallows, “No, not think—” His face is practically as red as one of the warrior elves. “I know— but anyway I thought… every night I came and… but…” he coughs into his mug before looking up again, “I was going to invite you to my home tonight.” The words come out in a rush, competing with which might get tangled up fastest in his mouth.
The moments stretch out with the different versions of what joining Eyrl at his home might look like filling Alkara’s head. Some more racy than others. Her cheeks burn.
“So…” Eyrl ventures. “So d’you—” his eyes plead with her to end the question, even if it’s no. “Do you wanna come… uh… to my home now… er tonight?”
The heat in Alkara’s face moves to her chest, quelling the heat in her stomach. Her smile returns in force and she lifts her hand to cover it. The answer forms and it seems obvious once she knows it.
There are worse foundations for relationships.
And if Uncle Iro approved… Alkara reaches out her hand to touch Eryl’s and looks away and back to her food, “Do you want to eat before… I mean first?”
Eryl beams, “I thought… well I’m going to cook… for you”
Alkara narrows her eyes with impish delight, “You can cook?” She chuckles.
He shrugs, “It’s one of the only things that makes sense apart from numbers.” He grins, “I love cooking.”
“When were you going to tell me this?” Alkara teases.
Eryl takes a quick swig of his ale. “Well…”
Alkara shakes her head, “In any case, I’d hate to waste Glin’s cooking. Maybe next time?”
Eryl’s eyes dart up to hers for a few long moments before he just nods. “Okay.”
Alkara struggles to control a smile but wins out with by refocusing on her food. She lifts a spoonful to her mouth but stops as Eyrl sprinkles something onto his food. “What’s that?”
Eryl smiles up at her sheepishly again, “My special blend of spices. Glin’s cooking is… alright. But I tend to find it a little bland.”
Alkara’s eyes widen. “Can I try it?”
Eryl hesitates but then nods. “I uh… sure.” He pushes his plate over to Alkara.
Alkara spears at a small potato and shoves it in her mouth. She claps a hand over her mouth in surprise. It’s delicious! She has no idea how or why. “By Urdima that’s amazing! Do you have anymore of that?”
A stricken expression steals over him, “I only brought this one.” Each word is preceded by a slight pause as if they were hammering home the lid of a coffin, sealing his fate.
Alkara’s shoulders slump but she takes a bite of her own food anyway. “Well, you weren’t kidding. Compared to that stuff, this tastes like nothing. No wonder you brought some.”
Eryl looks like the cat that got the canary and ducks his head. “Well uh… I guess I had planned on cooking for you so… here.” He pulls Alkara’s plate toward him and pushes his the rest of the way across the table. “My treat.” He flashes a smile at her.
Alkara shakes her head, “No way, we can at least split it.”
“Please, have it all. I insist.” He takes a bite of Alkara’s food and grins as though it tasted just as good.
Alkara shakes her head and digs in to Eyrl’s food. Her embarrassed smile drops away for one of enjoyment. Each bite is its own guilty pleasure, only mollified by Eyrl’s seeming enjoyment that she likes the seasoning.
All too soon it’s only a small smattering of sauce adorning the plate. Alkara’s scrapes every ounce she can into her spoon. When its clear no more will cooperate, she sets the spoon down and leans back.
The ceiling seems to expand in her vision, mirroring her own feelings. Everything feels good. Even the constant noise of the tavern hasn’t dulled her mood. Must be the ale. And maybe Eyrl’s confession helps too. Alkara takes a swig from her mug while wondering how many Glin’s replaced through the meal.
They share a tense look and nod, agreeing that the meal is finished. The cool air outside settles on the pair but Alkara hardly notices, some inner warmth keeps her cozy. Perhaps too much. Alkara shifts uncomfortably as she considers removing an outer layer.
Before she decides Eryl takes her by the hand and walks down the street away from the tavern. Each turn is marked with a small squeeze of her hand, and they share giggles as they pass down street after street. Streets that… all start to look the same. Alkara must have drank more than her fair share. At least Guen is here. Guen will make sure to get Alkara home from… whichever part of Three Rivers this is.
Eyrl stops in front of a small building, illuminated only by a hints of a nearby street torch. “Here we are.” He smiles but looks down at Alkara’s feet. “Home sweet home.”
Alkara nods and trying to quell the sudden nervous anticipation fluttering in her chest. She takes a step toward the door but Eyrl doesn’t move. She looks at him with a question on her lips.
“Er…” He looks at the great cat. “She is… I mean normally she would be… welcome… but… um… is it okay if this time… she doesn’t?”
“Didn’t you hear we’re inseparable?” Alkara giggles as Eryl’s ears turn scarlet. She shakes her head and kneels in front of the panther. “You stay here girl, okay?” Alkara scratches Guen between the ears. “I’ll be back soon.”
Guen looks up at Eryl, then looks back at Alkara, looking distinctly like she disapproves, but snuffs her acknowledgement anyway.
Alkara giggles again, “Thanks Guen. You’re the best.” She stands and turns to Eryl, losing her balance a little as she does so.
Eryl reaches out to steady her, “You’re not usually such a lightweight.”
Alkara shakes her head and rubs her eyes, “I know. I don’t know what’s…” She smiles up at Eryl playfully, “You didn’t put anything in that spice blend did you?” She teases.
Eryl’s mouth opens in mock offense, “Nothing I don’t normally put in it!”
Alkara giggles again and lets him pull her inside. As he closes the door she winces and shields her eyes from the unusually harsh light. What’s even… she looks around but can’t even really see the candles that might be giving off light like this.
“Eryl, what–?”
Strong hands grip her wrists and yank her forward. She gasps as the lightheadedness is replaced with chilled thought. Her heart pounds in her ears as she looks at the assailant. It’s not Eryl.
“Now, now, no bruising. And don’t mind the smell.” A voice says behind her that’s both Eryl’s and… not. “The better physical condition she’s in, the more information I gain.”
The normal sharp attunement to danger doesn’t come. Instead her vision stays fuzzy and thoughts remain muddled. She tries to turn to Eyrl, twisting in the man’s grasp, “Eryl?”
“Mm. Afraid not.” The not-quite-Eryl’s voice oozes out like syrup. He chuckles, “It was an exquisite performance, no? You should be able to appreciate that at least.”
Alkara struggles to rein in her thoughts. They squirm in her mind, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. Not-quite-Eryl looks much the same, if not identical. Alkara pulls against the man’s grip again but her muscles won’t cooperate fully. “Who are you?”
Eyrl looks past Alkara to the man holding her. “Take her to the table and prepare her. If you hurt her…” The threat hangs in the air with Alkara’s unanswered question. Eyrl looks Alkara up and down without expression. “She’s not fully sedated, but you shouldn’t have any trouble. I’ll return presently.”
“Wait.” Alkara attempts to shout but the command comes out in a weak voice. She pulls against the man more, twisting however she can. But his grip is like iron.
The man drags her into the shadows, where another waits. Alkara’s eyelids flutter, but the mostly shapeless mass remains fuzzy. A tear rolls down her cheek. Light glints from a knife the second man holds.
He lifts the knife to Alkara’s shoulder and cuts the strap of her pack. Next is her quiver. And then the dagger. Each are tossed aside without care. The man pulls Alkara’s tunic away from her before slicing it down the middle. He cuts the sleeves away and tosses the fabric with the rest.
“No,” breathes come with hard gasps. Each shorter and shallower than the last. “Please,” she tries to force the words into something substantial but it comes in breathless whispers, “let me go.”
The men strip her down in silence, no more acknowledging her words than each other’s movements. Alkara’s vision dims and darkens. Then everything goes black.
Cold hands poke and prod. The warmth Alkara felt is long gone, replaced with cool metal chilling her back, side, and chest however she’s positioned. She squints her eyes against the painfully bright light. Her awareness comes and goes with shivers.
A low whistle, “Ven, look at this.” Some unfamiliar masculine voice. Chemical smells fill the air. Alkara grasps at thoughts of Dre but they’re dissolved by another probing finger on her rib-cage.
A dismissive grunt. “The scar from the brain thief. Evidence of venom in the wound, but no mutations that I can see. Stay focused.” Not-quite-Eryl’s voice betrays irritation.
And then…
“Impossible.” he growls. “There must be something.” Another cold prod on her chest, this one harder than before. Painful. “Turn her over.”
Without ceremony the other flips Alkara onto her chest. Her forehead bangs the table and starburst fill her vision. More cold hands grip her body, pulling her limbs in odd directions followed by prodding.
Another low growl, “Useless.” Not-quite-Eryl drops her leg, “Something changed in the Wastes. But no patron’s claim. She’s plain. Ordinary like every other in this city. Yet something calls to me.”
The other pulls her head up by the hair and her gaze is met by a brick wall.
Snip. Snip.
Alkara’s head lolls with each snip until the strand of hair is cut free. Her face smashes against the table again.
Darkness rushes in again.
Someone picks her up. He slings her across his shoulder. His brown, threadbare tunic fills her vision.
“What about the bow?”
A pause. “It’s tempting, but it’s far too conspicuous, even now. Dump it and the rest of her gear with her out back. Quickly.”
A dismissive snort. “What’s the rush? Not like the dark elf is a problem anymore.”
Not-quite-Eryl sneers. “That panther is still outside. Linger if you want but it only had some cream at dinner. I’m sure you’d make a fine dessert.”
Alkara jostles against the man’s back as he takes her somewhere else. Then the ground rushes up to meet her. She slams into it with a grunt. Voiceless sobs wrack her. She reaches for her clothes but they don’t seem to be anywhere. She shivers against the cold and curls into a ball.
She jerks as she hears a snarl and something big lands next to her.
A warm, sandpapery tongue licks her. Even with how rough it is, Alkara turns toward the source of comfort. The cat purrs.
“Guen… I’m sorry.” She whimpers. She reaches toward the panther but spasms spill through the motion. Her hand moves an inch. The cold beats down on her anew with even that small movement.
Guenwyvar curls herself around Alkara. It helps a little.
Then she starts growling, low in her throat. Alkara whimpers. What now?
“Peace, good companion.” A woman says in elvish. “Is she hurt?”
There’s nothing for a few long moments before Guen shakes her head.
“That is welcome news. She’ll take sick if she’s left uncovered. Neither you, me, nor my employer wants that.”
Guenwyvar snuffs and tries to curl herself around Alkara even more.
A smile evident in the woman’s voice, “An admirable effort, but if you will allow me to assist you, I can help you take her home.”
Guenwyvar lifts her head one more time, then slowly stands.
The shivers descend on Alkara in an instant. She whimpers against the cold, trying to clasp Guen’s fur with uncooperative fingers.
A brief rustling before a coarse fabric comes to rest on Alkara’s shivering form.
The woman leans next to Alkara’s ear, “You must rise. I cannot carry you.”
Alkara nods and, with a significant amount of the woman’s help, manages to get to her feet.
The pace is slow. Agonizingly slow. It feels like another nightmare. But she’s not in enough pain. Alkara braces herself for something more terrible to happen. But nothing does.
A knock on a door, and after a few moments of hearing nothing, the woman knocks again.
“Coming!” Chiron calls from inside.
Alkara half sobs with relief.
The door opens. Chiron inhales sharply. “Shit! Alkara, what happened?” His strong arms come around her and lift her up.
Alkara tries to mumble a response as the woman hands her over.
“Chiron? What’s wrong?” Dre’s voice comes from somewhere nearby. Then it sharpens. “Who are you?”
“Who I am is of no consequence. Who I represent is another matter. Please advise your sister to take better care in the future as to whom she decides to… entangle herself with.” The woman finishes with not a little disdain in her voice.
Dre’s voice is stiff with anger. “My sister will do as she likes.” A pause. “You probably know that by now.”
“Dre!” Alkara flinches. Chiron ‘s voice sound so loud next to her. “Some sort of poison. She’s burning up. And the black part of her eyes… whatever they’re called… They’re too big!”
Had Chiron opened her eyes? Her heart spikes with more panic. She hadn’t seen anything.
Another pause. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“It was my honor.”
That sounds… familiar… but where…?
The door closes. More hands. Not so cold. Alkara whimpers. What is wrong with me? She just wants to sleep.
No. She can’t. Sleep isn’t safe. Nowhere is safe. Not even…
She whimpers again.
Not even…