Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

“Blood, milord!” A servant who had been watching the combat shouted. “The giant bleeds!”

Bryan stepped back and looked down at his tunic. A small tear had appeared near his shoulder on the left side of his chest. The fabric near the tear showed a tiny trickle of blood. Bryan laughed.

“Well fought, son of Aaron.” Dane spoke between heavy breaths.

“Fun,” Bryan smiled, breathing just as heavily as they both collapsed to their knees in exhaustion. “My name is Bryan.”

“Well met, Bryan Aaronson,” Dane managed, “if you need better work than clowning around, I could use a good sword at my side.”

“Sure,” Bryan accepted the offer.

“Wait until you hear me out, my large friend,” Dane said. “I am going to Novarra and I need several skilled swords at my side. For reasons that I’d rather not discuss here, I need to travel by land. What I need are men stout enough to ensure that I survive the land journey.”

“No one has survived a land journey west for centuries,” Bryan countered. Pantros knew that at least a few people did, including his sister’s bard friend, but he also knew the roads were indeed dangerous.

“Does that mean that you are not accepting my offer?” Dane asked.

Pantros stumbled into the Inn of the Haughty Hedgehog, dressed as he had left four hours earlier. The jester’s costume lay in the street somewhere between Dane’s house and the dock district.

“What's wrong boy?” James inquired. “It’s not even midnight and you are home. How much did you take in that you are calling it in so early?

Pantros didn’t answer; instead he went straight up to his room. He locked the door and lay on his bed staring into the blackness above him. Bryan had taken the offer and would be leaving the next morning. His partner was gone, most likely soon to be dead. Pantros enjoyed adventure, but not the kind Bryan chose to face. From that moment forward, Pantros would be finding and facing his own trouble-alone.

In the immense city of Fork, there may be thousands of dark, seedy taverns. Julivel had arranged to meet his potential client in the darkest and seediest of those.

The velvet covered walls and plush cushioned chairs of Jesh’s Grotto gave a misleading air of sophistication to the place. Julivel rarely met anyone here. He always found himself tempted to kill the proprietor, Jesh, for the way he treated his women. The women were, at least in Jesh’s eyes, his.

Slavery was not legal in the city of Fork or anywhere else in the country of Relarch. Jesh just had the money to keep anyone from caring what went on in his establishment. One of the things that went on was customers getting charged far too much for mediocre wine. Julivel resisted the urge to slap the crystal goblet off the carved table onto the plush carpet. Such actions wouldn’t help him maintain his reputation as a professional. With his potential clients sitting across the table, and their having paid for the wine, Julivel just smiled and nodded.

Another activity that occurred, albeit rarely, in Jesh’s Grotto was the hiring of assassins. That activity is what brought Julivel there that night. He was the man being hired.

The two men hiring him were trying to make small talk. Julivel ignored the words and nodded when they paused. He took the time to size up his potential clients. Both looked older than he did, but he doubted they were older. They seemed in their mid forties. Both were human, no, Julivel corrected himself, both looked human. The one with dark hair and eyes moved with a degree of precision and grace that humans didn’t live long enough to attain. His skin tone was copper-like, but too even to be sun-colored. He wasn’t of a race of Human or Abvi that Julivel could distinguish.

The other had long blonde hair, starting to grey, and wore layers of robes under a black cloak. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t wearing jewelry either, though he had holes for piercings in his ears and nose. He was hiding something under the thick layers of low-grade cotton and wool. His porcelain pale skin told of a man who rarely stepped into the sun at all. His expression was neither hardened nor broken, so Julivel ruled out the likelihood the man had spent any recent time in someone’s dungeons.

The man with the black hair was still going on about the physical attributes of one of Jesh’s women. Julivel knew the type. He was a noble, but not at the top of his local food chain. He was likely married in a political and loveless marriage. Whores would be his only outlet, due to their discretion.

Julivel slapped his hand on the table. “Shall we talk business, or are you working for Jesh, trying to sell his wares?”

The dark haired man nodded to his friend, who then produced a small crystal figurine and set it on the table.

“Do you know what this is?” The blonde man asked then said, “Look closely.”

Julivel leaned in and saw it was a statue of a nymph holding a crystal ball over her head. A bright blue light pulsed from the ball. Julivel couldn’t move.

“Now, that we have your attention,” The dark man said. “Here’s what you will be doing for us. You will travel to the island of Ollys and acquire the Nightstone that adorns the circular altar at the center of the city. You will then bring that gem to me in the port city of Ignea. I will be waiting for you at the Inn of the Haughty Hedgehog. Do you know it?”

Julivel wanted to deny it, but he nodded. He managed to swear, angry at himself for allowing the men to enchant him.

“Do not fret, you will be paid handsomely.” The dark man handed Julivel an iron key. “This is to the chest that sits under my chair. That chest is filled with gold coins. “The spell my servant cast on you will just ensure that you complete the mission to the best of your ability and if the tales are true, your abilities are the best.”

Stealing things was not what Julivel was best at. He didn’t feel the need to share the details with his clients.

“The spell allows for three rules,” The blonde man said. “These are the rules to which you are bound. First, you will fetch and deliver the stone within ninety days and at any cost, to Darien at the Haughty Hedgehog in Ignea.” He tilted his head towards his friend, indicating the dark haired man was Darien.

“Second, you will not harm either of us.” Julivel wondered if maybe they did know what it was he was best at.

“Third, you will not do anything which will impede your carrying out the first instruction.”

“We’re done then,” Darien asked the blonde man.

The blonde man gathered his cloak and robes about him and stood. “We’re done.” He walked out of the taproom.

Darien looked at Julivel then kicked something under his chair. Julivel heard the jingle of gold. “You’d better be worth it.” Darien then left the room as well.

Julivel hefted the chest onto the table and, using the key he’d been given, opened the lid. It was indeed filled with gold coins. Gold never impressed Julivel, but he knew its value. When folks were so rich that they no longer did, Julivel didn’t mind taking their money. A single gold coin could buy a good horse or rent a room at Jesh’s for a week, entertainment included. The chest probably had a thousand coins in it. He wasn’t surprised when Jesh slid up alongside his table. “The usual tonight, sir?” Jesh wasn’t looking at Julivel but at the chest.

Julivel glanced over by the hearth and saw the half dozen girls lounging, trying to look appealing but mostly looking tired, bored or both. Melissa and Gretchen sat together stroking each other while looking at him.

“Just Melissa tonight,” He told Jesh, pointing to the raven haired whore. “And have one of your men take this chest to my rooms as the Seven Gables.”