Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

“Wynn, come look at this,” she said, motioning to the young Apprentice. He came to her side and looked down. Wynn made a peculiar gulping noise and backed hastily away from the wall. Tia turned to see him standing as far away from the wall as the upper landing would allow, his face white. She rolled her eyes.

“Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re afraid of heights?” Tia sighed, her exasperation with the young mage reaching new levels. She backed up against the wall, planted her hands atop it, and hoisted herself up, turning so that her legs hung in the open air over the lower city.

Wynn gave a strangled cry and Tiadaria looked over her shoulder to see Faxon shaking his head, one palm to his forehead.

“Will you please stop trying to give my apprentice a heart attack and come on?”

Tiadaria stuck out her lower lip, but turned neatly on her bottom and dropped off the wall. There was another short staircase that lead them into the heart of the upper city. After a few minutes walking from the lower city overlook, Faxon lead them to the entryway of the most ornate inn she had ever seen. He held up a hand.

“Remember, you are a slave,” he pointed a finger at Tiadaria. “Act like it. And you are my servant boy. Remember your parts. I don’t want any undue attention while we’re here.”

Suitably assured that his companions would remember and play their assigned roles, Faxon strolled through the doors. If the outside of the inn was opulent, the inside was unlike anything Tiadaria had ever seen, anywhere. It made the king’s palace in Dragonfell seem shabby in comparison.

The thick crimson carpet under her boots was soft enough that they were actually leaving footprints. The walls were a rich, dark mahogany with a trim of gold that, Tiadaria was certain, was actual gold. The artwork that hung on the walls was captivating. Tiadaria had never seen paintings with such rich colors, or tapestries woven with such fine detail. She was beginning to feel like the smallest fish in a big fishbowl when Wynn whistled through his teeth. That he was just as impressed with the furnishings made her feel better.

A short corridor lead them into a lobby dominated by four huge marble columns that extended the height of the building. A spiral staircase climbed up from one corner of the room with extravagant landings on the second and third floors. The banister was supported by a small army of animals hand carved into the ironwood with meticulous detail. In the center of the lobby a semi-circular counter was overseen by a man in a crisp black uniform of tailored pants and a well-fitting doublet.

While Faxon spoke to the attendant, Tiadaria explored the lobby. Large glass display cases were scattered around the room, each one holding a different type of treasure. There was one display full of sparkling gemstones nearly as large as her fist. Another held an array of gold figurines in the shapes of creatures both mystical and mundane. Tia circled that case, delighted with the whimsy and artistic execution of the little statues. She glanced up to call Wynn’s attention to the figures and looked up into the snarling maw of a Xarundi.

Her startled cry called Wynn and Faxon to her side immediately. She shrank back against them and was thankful when the apprentice steadied her. The Xarundi was clearly in an attack posture, why hadn’t it moved?

“Is everything alright here?” The attendant had hurried over to them. Tiadaria thought this was as much a testament to his concern for the treasures in the room as for her wellbeing.

“Everything is fine,” Faxon replied smoothly, taking the attendant’s arm and guiding him back toward the counter. “My slave was startled by your…unique display piece.”

“Oh yes,” the man gushed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Tiadaria couldn’t hear Faxon’s reply, but she looked back at the Xarundi and was chagrined to see that the eyes were black and dead. There wasn’t even a spark of the luminescent blue fire that normally burned in their eyes. She felt the blood creep into her face.

“Are you alright?” Wynn asked quietly.

“I’m fine. But that,” she jerked her head at the stuffed Xarundi perched on its smooth wooden base. “That’s just wrong. I hate the Xarundi…hate them…and I wouldn’t do that. That’s just not right.”

“There is a certain barbarism to it,” Wynn agreed. Then Faxon was ordering them to attend him.

The three of them climbed to the top of the spiral and Faxon opened the door to the corner room. Tia and Wynn carried their packs, and Faxon’s, across the threshold into the room. It was a suite with a common living area and two bedrooms. The suite was larger than the entire cottage she had inherited from the Captain. Faxon closed the door behind him.

Tia dropped their packs on the floor and turned on Faxon. “That Xarundi in the lobby-”

Faxon held up a hand to forestall her anger. “I told you, this isn’t the Imperium, or even Ethergate. The rules are different here.” He motioned around the room. “There are more than a few people in Overwatch who have more money than sense. The man who owns this inn is one of them. However, he owes me a life-debt and doesn’t ask questions. That makes it the perfect place for us to stay while we’re here. Which we won’t be, for long.”

“So what’s the plan?” Wynn had flopped into an armchair so ridiculously oversized that he looked like a child playing on his parent’s furniture.

“The plan for the rest of the night is to sleep. In the morning, I have a meeting with someone. Then we need to get to the outfitter and get out.” Faxon stretched, his back popping audibly as he did so. “Tia, you take first watch. I’ll relieve you in a couple hours.”

Without waiting for acknowledgment, he disappeared into one of the bedrooms and shut the door. Wynn looked after him thoughtfully.

“Is it just me,” he said slowly. “Or is he acting really weird?”

“I think he’s far more worried than he’s letting on and I think he’s not handling it very well. The sooner we find the relic and get back to Blackbeach, the sooner everyone can relax and get back to normal.”

“I guess.”

For once, Tiadaria couldn’t argue with the lack of enthusiasm in Wynn’s tone. They were both exhausted. At least he’d get to sleep for a few hours. That was something.

Wynn bade her goodnight and left her to her duties. Tiadaria took her scimitars from her pack and settled herself in the chair that Wynn had vacated. She felt better with the steel laying across her thighs, even if the sensation of the steel so close to her skin wasn’t necessarily pleasant. Still, it would help keep her awake until Faxon relieved her. When he did, she was more than ready to climb under the blankets and sleep.

* * *

The bed was luxuriously soft and sleeping in it should have been the easiest thing in the world, but Wynn lie awake, staring up at the flickering lights from the city playing off the ceiling. Tiadaria was in the next room, standing guard, and it was to her his thoughts returned constantly. Incessantly. Refusing to let him sleep.

Wynn almost wished Faxon hadn’t called her to task. He wanted to offer Tiadaria his hand, to feel that shocking spark between them. That tingling pain that told him that she was far more than she let on. Tiadaria was a rogue mage. He had known it almost from the time they had met, certainly from the moment they had touched, and for once in his life he didn’t care about rules or regulations, or what was right and proper. He wanted to feel her hand on his, the link-shock dancing between them.

She vexed him something awful, but it was different from the teasing he had endured at the hands of his peers, or others. When she poked fun at him, or flayed him with her wit, he could look in her eyes and see her humor dancing there. It was just her way and he’d rather have her quick jokes and jabs than any other’s tender whispers and soft caresses.