As
I write new short stories, or tales, they will be posted here.
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It was a word.
Only a word. Yet it seemed to have a life of its own, as it carried
with it a sense of dread that chilled Tyrlin's very soul.
"Where?"
Tyrlin flinched. There it was again. He could not see. It was
either dark as pitch, or his battered eyes had long since lost
that ability. He could not feel. His once muscular body had been
systematically starved, and beaten, to the point that it seemed
his brain had simply disconnected itself from his now skeletal
frame. But he could hear. That much had been left to him. And
he damned his ears for it.
"Where?"
"Piss off," he croaked. He was the only person alive that knew
the answer to that question. And he had sworn to Celera, his Goddess,
that the secret would die with him.
Moments later he kept that promise.
The
Principle of the Thing - Part One
"Run!"
The shout could be heard clearly as it echoed down the narrow
alleys of Kastimir.
Jess snapped her head toward the sound. Just as she was wondering
what in the Hells Finn had gotten himself into this time, the
wall at the end of the alley exploded in a shower of rubble.
"Damn it, Jess...I said RUN!"
Finn could barely be heard over the din of falling stones combined
with a strange other sound. What the?... Kind of like a grunt
or growl, she thought to herself. Trying to make out out Finn's
figure through the cloud of dust in the pale moonlight, she was
stunned to see the massive form of a troll slowly rising from
the destruction.
"That was my last blast, and I don't think he's done!"
Now she could see him making his way through the gaping hole in
the wall. "Go now!", he shouted. "Meet us at the
Griffon!" As he yelled this last, the troll swung its battered
right arm at the man. Finn ducked, clutching his chest as he slipped
under the mighty hand. With another duck, he was out of reach.
Looking back once to see that she was leaving, he turned and melted
into the dark maze of streets and alleys.
With the source of its pain suddenly gone, the massive creature
swung its head in her direction. She was already gone, fleeing
down the network of narrow corridors that made up the heart of
the city of Kastimir. An easy city to disappear in, she thought.
Thank the Gods for that, at least. And what was a troll doing
in the middle of the city? Even in a city with the kind of reputation
Kastimir had, a troll was clearly out of place. And what did he
mean by "us"? As she hauled herself onto a rooftop a
few blocks from the sudden disaster, she heard the troll shout
out a mighty roar of frustration and anger. A troll!, she chuckled
to herself. Of all the people, leave it to Finn to find a troll
guarding the object of his attention. She was still wondering
a moment later when the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones
could be made out, followed by shouted orders as the city guard
finally arrived to be greeted by the enraged beast. In a city
like this, the guard was very good at dealing with whatever might
present itself as a likely target, but the troll was outside the
field of experience for most of the guards. Tempted to stay and
watch the show, she moved quietly away from the edge of the roof,
remembering how much ground she had to cover tonight.
Dawn found her seated at a table in a dark, smoke filled room.
Pale shafts of light stabbed through the dust covered windows,
illuminating small areas of the old wooden floor. What patrons
were left in the pub at this hour were all sleeping, unaware of
the barmaid busily cleaning up around them. Invariably curled
up on the floor or face down on a table, none of them noticed
the raven haired beauty quietly occupying a dark corner of the
famous Griffon Inn. Three hundred years ago, it had been built
by one of the elite palace guards known as The Riders, after his
retirement. The glorious days of the Realms were over now, replaced
by corruption and harsh rule. The inn had miraculously stood through
it all, a reminder to those that knew the old stories of a time
when things had been better. The Riders had been disbanded long
ago and most now thought they had never existed at all. Fairy
tales to keep the children from crying at night, was how most
people thought of the legendary group these days.
Arlan, the inn's current owner, glanced at the empty chair next
to her and raised a questioning brow. With his leathered skin
and obvious limp, he seemed to be just another old barkeep, but
Jess knew better. She and Finn had been saved by Arlan's quick
thinking on more than one occasion. He had always been a loyal
friend and she loved the old man like a grandfather. Her shrug
spoke volumes to Arlan. Finn was late. Nodding, he left the room
to fetch his healing supplies.
She was worried about Finn. He was late, and that didn't happen
often. What the Hell had gone wrong in there?, she wondered. They
had been in the market the night before and Finn had overheard
something that had put him on edge. A well dressed slave was bragging
to another about an object his master had just aquired. It was
supposed to be worth a kings ransom to the elves of Shaerwood.
Finn had pulled her aside and insisted the right thing to do was
to return it. "It's really the principle of the thing".
The principle. She had heard that before. That meant two things.
His mind was made up, and he was about to have fun. Sitting in
her dark corner, she puzzled over what it was. She had spent several
years with the elves and couldn't think of what could possibly
be that valuable to them and yet be small enough to steal. She
still hadn't come up with any answers when her old friend finally
stumbled through the doorway of the old pub.
Collapsing into the chair next to her with obvious difficulty,
he grimaced in pain. His face was covered in dirt, and his once
fine cloak was torn and shredded in several places. He was hurt
badly, but he still forced that lopsided grin to his lips.
"We got it." Through the grime on his face he was clearly
beaming.
"Got what, Finn?" Jess asked. "That was a troll
back there and, I don't know about you, but I don't see many of
those in the middle of a city like this. I don't even want to
think about how much gold it took to smuggle that thing into the
city just to post it as a guard for some trinket." She leaned
closer. "So what is it?"
Finn turned his head, scanning the room for anyone who might hear.
There was only Arlan, coming with a vial. "This is no trinket,
Jess." He took the vial Arlan was holding out to him and
gulped it down, thanking the old man through the bitter aftertaste.
He smiled as the various pains in his body went away and then
motioned Jess even closer. "It's a dragon egg", he whispered
in her ear.
A full minute had gone by with Jess completely stunned and unable
to speak when Finn decided to add, "And we have to go. Now."
The last added with a distinct sense of urgency.
Regaining control of herself, Jess looked at Finn, amazed. "We'll
have an entire army chasing us. This is crazy." As she said
it, she was already standing up, checking her knife straps.
Finn smiled as wide as he could. "Yeah... Probably. Sounds
like fun to me." He turned to Arlan who was standing a discreet
distance away. "We'll need the back door, old friend."
Arlan looked at the pair and nodded. There really was no back
door to the Griffon. As he led them through the kitchen, he wondered
how many times the "back door" had been used in the
last hundred years. Never in his lifetime, at least. Even Finn,
who was like a son to him, had never asked to use it before. He
shook his head as he wondered what the young man and his protege
had gotten themselves into this time. Leading them back into his
office, he pulled an ancient sword off the wall and turned, counting
as he paced toward the other side of the room. Jess and Finn held
back, watching the old man in wonder. Finn had heard about the
exit but had never seen it. When Arlan got to the point he was
looking for, he stabbed the sword into one of the many cracks
in the rock flooring, thrusting far deeper than Jess thought the
sword should have been able to go. They all heard a loud click.
Arlan then walked to the desk and, reaching down, twisted one
of the legs of the desk until another loud click was heard. Followed
by a rush of stale air as part of the floor slid away, revealing
a stairway leading down.
