From my story today features a story that I really your track, and from my good friend Abby Sarita. I used his picture to indicate that each chapter and have a good mind when you leave reads.
May you relish my Story.
It was in late autumn. One of those days in which winter’s cold fingers grip your bones, cold wind blows strong, cutting like a knife under all but the heaviest capes, sweeping away the color-changing leaves in whirlwinds of dying yellow.
A pale Sun, shining through the cloudy, darkening sky, shed the last rays of daylight over the little town of Haven, over the marketplace now almost empty, devoid of the usual activity…over the paved roads, now nearly deserted, with dusk approaching…over the bare trees edging Haven’s Glade, which, if memory doesn’t fail me, that evening were a little darker …their shadows growing a little longer, almost threatening the lumberjacks’ houses on the outskirts of town…almost as if Nature were taking back from Man what was hers by birthright.
I was observing all this sitting on a balcony on the upper floor of my last employer’s manor. Being a hired sword means that you’ll never lack a job. Being a capable hired sword, however, allows you to pick the best jobs available. And Haven is a town of merchants, not too big but placed in a strategically excellent position, close to the Silver Stream, in a valley between the Blade Mountains, practically the only reasonable freight depot between Cape Dawn and Port Nole, from where the goods are shipped to Drassis . I mean…rich…isolated..merchants…they need swords like air to breathe, and good ones too.
If there’s trouble, reinforcements from allied cities can take weeks to reach the Glade, so they must insure they can solve problems with their own resources. And Jeren Osten, my employer, was too smart not to know this. He was an eminent mister nobody only a few years before, and became the richest and most influent figure in town, lending variable amounts of money to almost any businessman trading on the Silver Stream.
When I heard he was hiring, among others, a new captain for his bodyguards, I accepted at once. I was tired of battlefields, city works and assassinations…I decided I needed a vacation in a not too big place, good pay, moderate action but not too busy, and still alive with people…I thought it was a safe bet. I thought it would have been easy money. But then, in a cold, late autumn day, it happened.
The stranger arrived that evening. He arrived from the land, he just walked out of the forest, straight to the middle of the town, to the Sleepy Traveler’s Inn. Mind you: he didn’t come from a ship..or a boat…he just WALKED in from the forest, like if the Blade mountains weren’t there…like if the Mordjar were a thicket, and not a huge, unexplored forest which swallowed countless experienced trackers and hunters…He just walked in with his long stride, about 1,90 m tall, maybe more, broad shoulders, shrouded in a long cloak black as a moonless night, his face hidden within a hood. The only visible item was a long darksteel staff clutched in a black-gloved fist ,a walking staff at first glance. He didn’t utter a word, nor look around for directions. He seemed like he knew the city like the back of his hand. He seemed driven by some sort of force. He seemed like one of the shadows grown longer, coming to swallow the town…
I was still lost in thought when I realized he entered the inn, and he was out of my sight for several seconds by now. Without losing any more time, I jumped down the stairs, took my cloak and my long knife and headed for the Inn. All in all, we could say this: my job was to solve, or better prevent, any kind of trouble in town. My guts screamed at me this stranger was huge trouble, and my instinct rarely failed me, keeping me alive through countless battles and situations of all sorts…so, you see, I was already justified in going and take a closer look.
But the truth is, there was more. Much more. What it was, I didn’t know at the moment, but I “felt” it. Arrived in front of the inn, I slowed down my pace, and walked in trying to look natural, casually glancing around. It was hard to miss: The stranger was sitting in the right corner of the room, pretty far from the fire, in a sort of cone of shadow (why wasn’t I surprised?), drinking from a mug, and the three tavern guards, capable ex soldiers I knew very well, were already moving towards him. I took a seat close enough to hear everything, but far enough to stay out of any kind of undesirable “situation” that might have arisen.
“Good evening, stranger. We would like to have a couple of words with you” said Vicks, the one in charge. The stranger didn’t answer, the hood didn’t move. He just went on drinking from his mug. “Start telling us who are you, and how did you get here. You weren’t on any watercraft, you didn’t show any document and you have no cargo with you. We don’t like the way this looks like, you know?” Vicks’ last words were uttered in a grin, and followed by his men’s laughter. “And how does it look like?” the reply came from within the hood, in a deep low voice. Vicks face turned serious: “ Looks like trouble, and you don’t want to be trouble for us, or we’ll have to “solve” you our way…right men?” again, laughter. The stranger slowly put the mug down, the hood turning slightly towards the three men: “Really? Now, by the looks of you I thought u were 3 spineless idiots, but now I see I was wrong with the “spineless” part”.Hmm, it’s not going too well here, I thought. Vicks passed a hand through his hair and said: “Very well then. You don’t want to talk? We’ll extract the information from you. But first, let me see your face…” and reached for the hood. Faster than the eye could see, a black glove caught the wrist of the guard in an iron grip “ Tell me, little human…are you afraid of the dark?” Vicks barked attack orders to his men, still failing to free his hand from the stranger. I kept watching the escalation, decided to evaluate the stranger’s abilities before even considering extracting my weapon. Again, instinct. Again, I was right. One of the guards threw a knife to the stranger’s chest, but the knife bounced off with a metallic sound. The other grabbed a war mace and tried to smash his right arm, the one holding Vicks in place. A black blast of energy drove him back four steps, utterly disintegrating the mace.
The stranger raised in full height, took his staff and murmured in a low voice some words in an unknown tongue. Dark energy flickered on a side of the staff, shaping in a black, crackling sort of scythe blade. “I will ask you again: are you afraid of the dark?”. Vicks’ legs gave way, and he muttered “Wa-wait, please…I didn’t mean to…I…n-no, please, I didn’t KNOW!”. At that point, I thought I waited enough: “Hey mate. My name is Dominic Gaan, I work for Jeren Osten. I’d be obliged if you could avoid killing people in my town” I said, while extracting my long knife from the scabbard.
The stranger stopped for a long moment, then replied: “I am Cyrus, Black Cape of the Order, and I have no conflict with the citizens of this town. However, I will happily send to the Underworld whoever is stupid enough to breathe my air”. Damn it! I knew I didn’t like it…the Order…What the hell was a witch hunter doing here? I’ve always thought the Order merely exploited the fear of the people of dark magic to gain political power and control of territories. If only I knew… “Fair enough then. As long as you give me your word not to take hostile actions towards the town and our people, you are free to roam our streets and sit in our Inn. However, if you could use any kind of…”cooperation”… for whatever it is you’re doing here, feel free to search for me at Osten Manor.” While I was speaking, the guards were recovering from the shock and backing away from the witch hunter, who dismissed the energy blade of his staff. Good, I thought. While I was walking out of the Inn and back towards the manor, I already knew I would see him again very soon.
“So…to sum up: you’re asking my help to find this…person the Order sent you to find…but you’re not going to tell me any detail I might use”. “This is incorrect” he replied from under the hood with his low voice :“I do not “ask” anything. I demand your assistance, or I will be forced to take control of the town by edict of the Order, and you know that it wouldn’t be pleasant. Concerning the information, I could share something with you, but I do not believe it would make your task any easier”. “Well…why don’t you try me?” I was starting to get tired of this. My employer, Mr Osten, plainly ordered me to cooperate in any possible way with a member of the Order, stressing the importance to send him on his way as soon as possible, possibly before he incinerates the city or takes control of it (which is practically the same when you deal with a Black Cape), but I had no intention to blindly obey without knowing anything. I had been in play long enough to know very well the value of information, and I was desperately trying to collect some.
“Fair enough then”, he replied after a short pause: “but remember that you asked for it”. He took another sip of the exquisite wine Mr Osten’s waiter served him, then went on: “I followed a female Elf here, yesterday. She’s hiding around, somewhere..I can feel it. However, this agent is not my concern. I’m after the one who orders her around. And he is here too, I can feel his presence”. I thought I could feel his smile in the depth of the hood. “Feel his presence…who is he then? We have absolutely precise registers stating everything and everyone entering the town, and since it’s almost impossible to reach Haven without navigating the Stream or flying…” he interrupted me: “He is a Dark One, his mortal name is Vactorios”. I froze. A Dark One..sure! “What are you going to tell me next? That if I’m not a good boy, Mr Sandman’s going to kidnap me tonight in my sleep?”. “As I figured…though you asked for it, I expected your reaction”.
I stared at him for long time, drinking and thinking. I couldn’t make out if it was a nightmare or a nice joke. What was next? The Armageddon? “Ok …let’s suppose for a moment I believe you…and I NEVER SAID I do…what’s your plan? And how can I help against nothing less than an Emissary of the Underworld, a Herald of Destruction in person?” I kept a calm tone of voice, and an easy smile on my face, but I had a weird and unpleasant feeling in my stomach. My sixth sense was sounding my inner alarm…and pretty loudly, if you know what I mean. “Well, Mr Gaan, that is extremely simple. I know your employer Jeren Osten is in contact with Vactorios, and I know that he welcomed him here in this manor, shielding his presence from Order investigation till now. I need you to escort me in the basement, without saying a word to Mr Osten or any other palace guard or waiter. I need you to help me find him, and I need you to do it now. I shielded this room from undesirable ears and eyes, so no one has any idea I know of your master’s little “secret”, or that we’re going to act. But we need to make haste”.
How? How was it possible? A merchant in league with a children’s stories character? How did he know about the basement? How could I not know of all this, happening here, under my roof? “Very well then. I will show you the secret entrance and make sure no one sees us getting down there. But that’s just a staging area, and you will find no monster, devil, or whatever you’re searching for down there”.
“Excellent”, he said standing up slowly with a metallic sound and grabbing his staff: “Let the hunt begin.”
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