That Horrible Moment Chapter 4
Prelude to a Nightmare
By Donraj
As Ellis stood across the
street from “The Juravis’s Eggs,” she examined it and her
surroundings carefully. She was no longer in the slums, that much was clear.
The street was clean and well-kept, and there was not a beggar, drunk, or
bum in sight. The restaurant, a spacious, white stone building lit by beautifully
made windows, reflected the upper class feel of the neighborhood as
well.
She caught her reflection
in a nearby window, uncharacteristically self-conscious. She was dressed
in the least worn clothing she owned, and her customary longbow was stowed
unstrung with the rest of her belongings in the inn. She felt almost naked
without it, but she forced the nervousness down. She could hardly walk into
an upscale restaurant with the weapon slung over her shoulders! Drawing in
a deep breath, she crossed the cobble stone street and strode toward the
door.
Two heavy-set men immediately
blocked her way. A smaller, well-dressed man stood of to the side, a sour
expression on his face. He looked her over, sniffing disdainfully at her
somewhat threadbare leggings and jerkin. “Do you have an appointment,”
he paused for a moment and spoke the last word contemptuously,
“Lady?”
Ellis flipped her head back,
trying to appear confident. “I am here to see Sir Tiran. Is he
here?”
The man sneered. “Master
Tiran has better things to do than speak to every peasant,” he spat
the word in the tone most people used for ‘whore, “that wanders
in. Now, would you please remove yourself from the entrance to this
establishment?”
Ellis, suddenly finding herself
wishing devoutly that she had brought her bow, etiquette be damned, started
to step towards the man, a protest forming on her lips. One of the bouncers
instantly blocked her path, while the other grabbed her from behind. Just
as Ellis’s hand began to inch towards the concealed dagger she carried
with her, a cultured, faintly amused voice interrupted
them.
“I believe the lady
said she has business with me,
Odel.”
All four of them turned to
regard the speaker. He was a tall man, in his early thirties, with gray eyes
and jet black hair cut in the latest fashion. As he regarded the scene, he
absently stroked the thick mustache and tightly clipped goatee that adorned
his
face.
Ellis shook off the tough’s
hands and smiled at the man, “Tiran,” she said warmly, hoping this
was indeed the man she had come to meet, “it’s good to see you,
although the hired help could stand some
improvement.”
Gallantly, Tiran took
Ellis’s outstretched hand and raised it to his lips. “Terribly
sorry, my dear,” although in truth he had not the slightest idea who
the woman was. “Perhaps we could discuss the matter
inside?”
Certainly,” Ellis
replied.
“B-But,” Odel tried
to sputter out a protest. Tiran silenced the pompous doorman with an icy
glare. “I’ll deal with you later.” He turned back towards
Ellis and bowed graciously. “Shall we?” With that, he led the young
adventurer
inside.
After they were seated, Tiran
cocked an eyebrow quizzically. “While I am always happy to make the
acquaintance of a beautiful young lady, I am also somewhat curious. Would
you kindly grace me with the knowledge of your name and the matter for which
you
came?”
Ellis nodded. “My name
is Ellis, and I represent my company of mercenaries. A man by the name of
Gafgarion suggested that I speak with you regarding a job, and that I not
try to arrange an appointment at you
office.”
Tiran smiled wryly. “My
secretary would have kept you waiting for a month,” he agreed. “I
must admit, I am surprised that Gaff was able to find someone so soon. No
matter how many times I work with the man, he never ceases to amaze me. He
is a resourceful one, I’ll give him that.” He chuckled slightly,
then added, “Please inform him that his commission will be delivered
the usual way and will be the usual
amount.”
Resourceful indeed, Ellis
thought dryly. When Gafgarion had mentioned Tiran to Ramza, seemingly
off-handedly, all he had said was that Tiran “might be worth speaking
to, if you are needin’ money. Just let him know old Gaff sent you.”
Mentally raising he opinion of Gafgarion several notches, she did her best
to cover her surprise with another
smile.
“Well, you know how
he is. So tell me, what exactly is this job? Gaff didn’t say.”
The old bastard, she added
silently.
Tiran’s face grew more
serious. In a sober tone of voice, he explained the situation. “Over
the last year, several merchant convoys have been ambushed, or to be more
accurate, slaughtered, on the route through Sweegy from Dorter to Igros.
We do not know any details about the bandits responsible, except that they
are apparently well armed, well trained, and extremely skilled. There have
been no survivors.” He paused grimly, then continued. “Furthermore,
due to the nature of the attacks, we suspect that they have at least one
agent in the shipping
guild.”
He took a sip of his drink,
then looked up as his meal arrived. “And another for the lady,”
he told the waiter. He winked mischievously at Ellis. “My treat.”
He straightened slightly, then turned serious again. “We have, of course,
petitioned the Hokuten for aid, but they have been caught up in that business
with the Death Corps. And, now that they have been put down, they appear
to be gearing up for something else, something no one is willing to talk
about.” He sighed. “And that is where you come in.” How many
people did you say your company
contains?”
“Four,” she replied,
trying to sound
casual.
“Four?!” Tiran
said incredulously, sounding surprised for the first time. “That’s
all?!”
“We fight like a
dozen,” Ellis replied coolly, inwardly wondering whether they actually
dared take on this job. It would be extremely risky, but they were desperate
for funds. Besides, it was rapidly becoming clear to Ellis that this job
was Gafgarion’s way of taking their measure. They would have to try,
the old mercenary was likely their best chance at surviving
now.
“You would have to,”
Tiran replied a bit absently as he absorbed the information. Only four. Well,
it was certainly less than he had hoped for, but it would have to do. Besides,
and this thought encouraged him, Gafgarion had sent them. He doubted that
the canny old warrior would have sent so few if he did not trust them to
get the job done. He looked back to
Ellis.
“Can you depart tomorrow
morning?”
***
As Ellis left the restaurant,
she nearly collided with a slender, red-haired man dressed in fine clothing.
He nimbly stepped to the side, then caught her as she started to stumble,
darting forwards with cat-like agility. “Are you well, noble lady?”
he asked solicitously, although he could tell she was as much a peasant as
himself.
Ellis, embarrassed, started
to reply, then froze as she saw his face, an inexplicable terror coursing
through her body. She backed away, stuttering an apology, then all ran out
the door. Lanal regarded her curiously, then shrugged, dismissing the matter.
Spotting his quarry, he gave a wave. “Tiran old friend, how are you
doing?”
***
Ellis fled from the restaurant
in a cold sweat, charging through the streets at a breakneck pace. She earned
more than a few angry looks and curses as she shoved her way past anyone
who stood in her way. Spotting a side road, she turned into an empty alley
between streets. Finally alone, she leaned against the wall, trembling in
fear from the strange, almost primal terror that the man had inspired in
her. Slowly, she slid down the wall and came to a sitting position. Trying
to control her panting breath, she tried to make sense of what was going
on.
Why was she so frightened?
Mentally, she replayed the encounter, trying to determine the cause of her
bizarre reaction. The man had appeared perfectly unthreatening, he had been
completely polite, even gentile in his manner. So why had every instinct
she had screamed at her to
flee?
It was a long time before
Ellis was able to regain her composure enough to rise to her feet, and even
longer before she was able to walk out of the alley. After regaining her
bearings, she made her way back to the inn the party where the party was
staying. She tried to write off the encounter as a fluke, unable to find
an explanation for her response. It was only a fluke, nothing important,
she told herself
repeatedly.
But Lanal’s face haunted
her every step of the way, and was in her nightmares that night.
***
After exchanging pleasantries,
Tiran quickly got down to business. “So, Derson, to what do I owe the
pleasure?”
Lanal sipped his wine before
replying. “I have been sent by my employers in the shipping guild to
inquire as to the extra security
arrangements.”
Tiran nodded. “Of course,
I have a list right here.” As Tiran searched for the papers detailing
the merchant convoy routes and the security for the next quarter’s caravans,
Lanal leaned back slightly. Idly, he wondered if the real Derson’s body
had been found yet. Probably not, it had been weighted down and the harbor
fish had likely turned the corpse into a skeleton by now. Not that it would
matter either way much
longer.
“Here you go,”
Tiran said, handing a sheaf of documents over. Lanal bent down and examined
them intently. Tiran explained. “I’ve managed to hire extra guards
for the caravans that will be making the trip this month. They aren’t
as heavily guarded as I would like, most of our resources are being directed
to catching the bandits behind the
attacks.
“I see,” Lanal
replied, his face the picture of concern, “pray, what is being done
to deal with these vile
brigands?”
“We outfitted a number
of fake convoys as traps. They are listed as carrying valuable goods, but
they are actually packed with
soldiers.”
“Listed?” Lanal
echoed curiously. It was a good thing he had taken the true guild agent’s
place, he had not known about this. “Listed on our
forms?”
Tiran looked slightly
uncomfortable. “Yes. Don’t take this the wrong way, but we suspect
there is a leak somewhere in your guild. I’d appreciate it if you kept
this to yourself for now, there’s no telling how high up it might
go.”
Lanal assured him that discretion
would not be a
problem.
“What worries me,”
Lanal continued, is this caravan,” picking up the schedule for the convoy
in question. “I managed to find some guards for it, but it is still
seriously undermanned, and the leader insists on leaving
tomorrow.”
“How many have you been
able to find?” Lanal inquired, sensing an easy
target.
“I was only able to
find four people, plus the usual
escort.”
Lanal’s brow creased
as he pretended to come to a decision. “Perhaps I can assist you with
that. I have guild business to attend to in Igros, and require transport.
If I travel with the under-defended caravan, I could requisition company
guards to accompany
me.”
Tiran looked at him gratefully.
“You would do that? I could be very dangerous to
you.”
Lanal waved off the warning.
“Always happy to help.” With that, he raised his cup. “A toast,
to good
business!”
Tiran quickly joined in.
Well, he thought, that was one problem solved.
***
Alberto, having finally managed
to ditch his annoying companions, looked around the shop. It was a bizarre
place, dedicated to rare, magical, or just plain weird artifacts. Strange,
mismatched talismans decorated the shelves and walls. A full quarter of the
space was devoted to jars filled with arcane components. Towards the back,
where the counter behind which the old woman who ran the place sat, there
was a rack displaying dozens of rods and staves. Higher up, the walls were
adorned with the stuffed or shrunken heads of creatures even he did not
recognize.
Alberto felt perfectly at
home here.
He walked up to the old crone,
not sparing the collected staves a second glance. She leered crookedly at
him, revealing yellowed stumps of teeth, and launched on her
spiel.
“Welcome young sir,
what do you seek? I have rods that hold shards of the very hellfire within
them, bracers that can lend your arms the strength and skill of a goblin,
and potions that...”
“Nothing out here is
worth my time,” Alberto interrupted bluntly. “What else do you
have
here?”
The crone’s leer faded
into a startled, then pleased smile. “Sorry about that. Most of the
people who come here are either no talent hacks or merchants looking for
an edge.” She ambled over to the bookshelf behind her, pulled out a
thick volume, and reached into the gap. Pulling an unseen lever, she triggered
the passage. A patch of the wall to the side of the bookcase slid aside.
“The good stuff is back here.” With that, she motioned for him
to follow and walked through the passage.
Alberto followed, and looked
around the hidden room with
interest.
It was cluttered, with stands,
pedestals, and bookshelves scattered haphazardly about the stone, checkerboard
floor. Various tapestries and scrolls covered the blue painted walls, seeming
utterly out of place in a shop located in an out of the way side street like
one. But most of all, this place, unlike the public part of the shop,
reverberated with magical auras to Alberto’s refined
senses.
He returned his gaze to the
old woman. Something about her seemed odd to him, a barely visible distortion
that seemed to surround her like a translucent crystalline
veil.
She noted his scrutiny and
smiled. “Nothing slips past you, does it?” With that, she half
closed her eyes and splayed her hands out before her, the thumbs and pointer
fingers meeting to form a triangle. She murmured something, and the space
around her seemed to ripple, obscuring her from sight. It cleared after a
few moments, revealing a completely different
sight.
She was young, seeming barely
into her twenties. Her face, no longer wrinkled, was stunningly beautiful,
covered with an exotic tan. She smiled dazzlingly; revealing white teeth
in place of the crone’s yellowed stumps. Her emerald eyes shown with
a fey glow, and her red hair, which reached the small of her back, was gathered
in three intricately woven
braids.
“My name is Meroe. Sorry
about the disguise, but it cuts down on suitors in this neighborhood. Now,
are you looking for anything in
particular?”
Alberto, of course, did not
find any of this to be
odd.
He pulled a satchel from
beneath his robes. Setting it down on the floor, he opened it, revealing
four solid black eggs. He looked up. “Ahriman eggs, they should be hatching
within a week. I have heard you collect
them.”
Meroe knelt down beside him
and withdrew one of the perfectly spherical ebony orbs. Not even bothering
to try to hide her excitement, she ran her fingers along its uncannily smooth
surface, squealing slightly as she detected a slight movement within. She
looked to Alberto, a joyful smile on her face. “I assume you will be
wanting to
trade?”
“What do you
have?”
Meroe gestured around the
room distractedly. “Feel free to look around,” she said absently,
her attention still rapt on the
eggs.
Alberto, taking her up on
her offer, began to wander the room. Many magical weapons were on display
in glass cases. Before him a red bladed sword rested on one cushion, while
on a nearby pedestal stood a bow Ellis would have killed for. Instead of
wood, it seemed to be made of some sort of flexible blue crystal. Picking
it up, he pulled it. The crystalline substance, which radiated a supernatural
chill, bent stiffly. When he released it, it sprang back into position with
amazing speed. An arrow shot from this would likely put a crossbow to shame.
Beside the bow was a quiver full of arrows. Pulling one out, he saw that
they were made of the same
material.
Replacing the weapon, Alberto
turned his attention to the bookshelves. A dark, metal bound volume there
immediately drew his attention like filings to a lodestone. As he examined
it, he read the title engraved on it, “Tome of the Summoned.”
Fascinated, Alberto picked it up and began to open it. As he did, Meroe noticed
what he was doing.
“No! She shouted, panicked.
That book is magically sealed! The curses on it could destroy
you!”
Too
late.
As he opened the book, a
wave of chaotic energy flooded his mind. It struck with mind-shattering force,
blasting away at his psyche like water from a fire hose. It screamed insanely
at him, making reality itself seem like a disjointed
puzzle.
Alberto frowned for a moment,
then shook his head for a moment. Other than that, he really did not even
seem to
notice.
He looked back at Meroe.
“Is this for
sale?”
Stunned, she nodded slowly.