Chapter 40 (Early Version)

Chapter 40 - A Measure of Vengeance

Elven mages felt the horror of the void for the first time as it touched their minds. Many of their number went mad and unleashed the sum total of their magical energies. Those who kept their sanity failed to shield the rest of their brothers and sisters, their own defenses overwhelmed with the outpouring of wild entropic magic that ate away everything it touched.

- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC


My heart beat in my chest and my face flushed under my open visor. I took a deep breath as I tried to even my pace. I took a moment to do a quick mental count of our remaining funds after trading and buying our new gear, my mind still occasionally picturing Cillis’ shapely form. Just over five silver and a half in various denominations were all that we had left, which, according to the husband and wife, was more than enough to acquire a serviceable bow and a few arrows. Kidu even told me he could make his own arrows, provided he had the tools and appropriate materials.

It was around lunchtime by the time we made it to one of the markets near the central Ark, which loomed even more as we moved closer. The scale of the beached ship simply blew away the mind, its sleek lines and sheer size defied engineering for a culture at this level of technology. I concluded that such a thing could only have been constructed by magic.

The market square was much as I remembered it, busy with the sound of trade conducted by dozens of merchants from all across the Grieving Lands. All sorts of goods were being sold here, from mundane kitchenware to purported magical artifacts and relics of mysterious power.

Across at the opposite end stood what I thought to be a temple, carved from the local white alabaster stone. A domed golden roof reached up the sky, challenging the Ark for dominance of the skyline. Four minarets stood at each of its four corners, like carved stone sentinels. At its entrance stood two guards clad in shining full suits of heavy plate armor, and carrying tall bladed polearms. Members of the faith entered the inner sanctums between them, bowing as they crossed the threshold in reverence. To what god, or goddess, this temple was dedicated to would have to remain a mystery for now, as I had more pressing needs.

Our stomachs rumbled, Kidu and I had eyes only for one thing. The smells of barbecuing meat and exotic spices wafted across the air, tantalizing us with their delicious smell. Looking around, we finally located one of their sources.

On a sizzling hot griddle, a hunched-over man of indeterminate age was cooking thick pieces of meat on a stick, basting them on occasion with a honey-colored glaze. Kidu and I ordered one each in exchange for a few coppers, and we bit down on our meals in excitement. A hot spicy taste rounded out with a unique grassy finished flavor. Kidu, who was unused to spices, was having a gastronomical delight as his eyes almost glazed over in delight, much to the amusement of the seller. We ordered a few more sticks each. Across from us two merchants or shopkeepers were engaged in a friendly discussion about an upcoming ‘Sword Festival’ in a faraway city whose name I did not catch. I let their banter flow over me as I chewed on my meal.

Once our considerable appetites were sated, we rinsed our hands in lemon-scented bowls of water kindly provided by the cook. I adjusted the shield strapped to my back, as I thought that I was finally being rewarded for all my suffering. This was the fantasy I had always wanted! I drank in the sight and sounds from a place so delightfully exotic and alien to the world I once knew, captivated by the moment and glad that I didn’t have a connected device to distract me from being in the ‘now.’ Had this been back on Earth, I would have been in no doubt trying to record it feverishly on whatever gadget was currently in vogue. Capturing instead of living the memories and experiences. Such thoughts, however, were just an elegiac lament for a way of life now gone.

No, that last was nothing more than a polite lie I told myself. I did not feel too much sadness for the world I had lost. Trite and shallow conveniences had been exchanged for a chance at the pursuit of power. I had been given both a trial and a gift. I had been given a chance to be someone.

My mind returned to the present, remembering our primary purpose for visiting the market. Following Cillis’ instructions, we found the bowyer displaying his wares on a wooden stall. The bows on display were of various lengths of type; from one-piece longbows, to composite recurve short bows of exotic-looking horn material, wood, and metal, all tied down to the stall with a length of small steel chain. On one corner, a fancy-looking heavy crossbow drew my eye, its sleek lines and steel wings emanated raw threat and deadly purpose. I knew from my studies that training an effective archer could take many years, a crossbowman just a few weeks. My mouth was almost salivating. I simply must have its like one day.

Behind the wooden stall, sheaves of arrows and bolts lay in wooden barrels arranged into a neat row, their prices written in the local script. Noticing my interest, the man behind the stall rubbed his hands together and came closer.

I greeted the bowyer, a man who didn’t look a day past thirty, except for the lines around the eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks. He was a dark-haired man of above-average height, but he looked positively small standing next to the blue-eyed giant that was Kidu. Hooded, calculating brown eyes looked up at me as he returned my greeting.

“Hello there, the name’s Ashan. A humble bowyer of Ansan city, selling the finest bows in all of Grieving Lands,” he said, the lines coming off as rote despite his friendly tone.

“Looking for a bow,” Kidu rumbled in his deep voice, looking down at the man.

“Yes,” I continued for him, “Cillis the smith of the Soot Stained Pig recommended you to us, Ashan. What can we get for three silver for my friend here? And, out of curiosity, how much is that crossbow going for?” I inquired, looking at Kidu out of the corner of my eye.

“Ahh, you have a fine eye, good sirs! And a friend of Cillis is a friend of mine. That is a crossbow from the faraway island of Quas, all the rage these days with the nobility, they say. A fine specimen like this one? For you, a special price, just a single gold piece!” exclaimed the merchant, smiling as he continued to rub his hands, “As for a more modest choice for this great man, I would recommend this excellent weapon here,” he answered, gesturing with exaggerated motions to a single-piece unstrung longbow of almost two meters in length.

“This is what I require,” said the giant simply to the merchant, looking him steadily in the eye.

“We’ll take it if you can throw in the string for the bow and a discount on some arrows,” I said quickly, not really wanting to bargain, and eager to conclude our business.

“Very good, sir,” Ashan said obsequiously, pathologically rubbing his hands in glee, “That will be three silver for the bow, and half a silver for some hunting arrows and forest spider silk string from the Sainba. Consider the quiver a gift for a first-time customer.”

I paid the merchant his money, impatient to be on my way. Kidu held his new bow unstrung like a stave as we walked. We were low on funds, and I thought, as we wandered the edges of the market, that it would be irresponsible to depend completely on Elwin to make good his promises of finding a fence.

I stopped in my tracks for a moment, the scene before me suddenly familiar. I had seen this street before, but from a different angle behind bars. A wave of anger threatened to overwhelm me. We were near the jail I was incarcerated in when I first came to the city of Ansan.

The guards at the entrance were lazily rested on their spears, mostly oblivious to the traffic that passed them by. Their faces were vaguely familiar, but then again I found some difficulty distinguishing the locals apart. We walked past them, and I sunk deeper into my hood, hoping that the guards would not recognize us in our current gear. Still, another small part of me warred against this; praying that they would recognize us, a call to quick violence. As a consolation for their failure to recognize me, I made sure to ingrain their faces into my memory, and swore that one day I would come back, the temptation to roast them in their metal armor almost overpowering. My anger had grown cold now, calculating.

The gods or fate however would soon deliver unto me a welcome present. An armored man was retching into the mud in an alley between two wooden buildings, just opposite the jail. I smiled at Kidu a knowing smile tinged with a knowing madness, the wild man looking quizically at me but nonetheless following in my predatory footsteps. Softly whistling a forgotten tune I cast an Identify at the poor man struggling with the contents of his stomach, my confidence growing with each stride.

Bataar Jargal - City Guard Recruit (Human lvl.7)
Health: 62/71
Stamina: 18/25
Mana: 7/7

Weak and vulnerable I thought to myself as I placed a hand on his shoulder as if I was a friend assisting him. Murmuring his name even as I drew my new dagger and with a slick motion cut across his pliant throat. Crimson began to well down his front as he gurgled out his lifeblood. His mouth opened in a silent scream as blood and vomit mixed as I helped him to sit by the side of a building, my deception complete. To all eyes, I was just a concerned friend.

A few moments later I was given a notification of his death and was awarded a measly twenty points of experience. I tsked to myself as I took the man’s purse which only contained a few coppers. Truly pathetic in all senses of the word. For an odd moment, I idly wondered if experience rewarded was related to the difficulty of a kill.

Heart hammering in my chest for what seemed an eternity and a few streets later Kidu’s eyes hardened, his mouth forming a grim line before he spoke rare words to me, “That was well struck in the name of vengeance,” a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll let you have the next one I promise,” I chortled and the large man laughed with me in his deep rumbling bass, a little of the shadow from his eyes lifting. Relief filled me that I was not going to get a lecture on the sanctity of human life.