Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A Chapter by Isemay

Syvilas had not wished to ask the dwarves the way to Brosa. Syreilla said that they traded with those in Lew often, it wouldn’t be wise to ask there either. It would be best to go to Pale and ask there. Preferably with a new face.


Evening was coming quickly as he rode out through Lew. The men following him must have mistaken him for an easy mark. He smiled to himself. Finding a place to stop for the night would be ideal. Turning in his saddle he called back to them, “Perhaps you would like to join me?”


There was no answer.


“My sister said there was a secluded place to camp here somewhere, perhaps you could show it to me?” She hadn’t but the pretense would be useful.


A large man stepped from the gloaming, looking at him dubiously. “Syreilla is your sister?”


“She is. Unfortunately, they would not allow me into the mine even with her assurances of my good character.” He was careful to give them a small smile remembering what Syreilla had said about his smile being too wide. “Elvish charm doesn’t seem to work on dwarves.”


“Ha! I bet it doesn’t.” The man glanced at one of his companions who thought himself hidden in the trees. “I know where she was sending you. I’ll help you get set up for the night.”


He inclined his head and dismounted walking with the man into the trees. There was, in fact, a small campsite hidden away well back from the road. Syvilas tied his horse, removing the saddle, and smiled appreciatively as the man filled a battered bucket from the nearby stream for the animal. A small fire was laid and all he had to do was wait for the others to come out of hiding. He settled in, lounging on the saddle.


“How do you know my sweet Syreilla?” Syvilas asked curiously.


The man looked at him oddly and then made a gesture. “You’re not her brother. I was worried about robbing you for a few there.” He grinned wolfishly at Syvilas.


“I am.” Syv returned the grin. “Why do you and the dwarves think otherwise?”


“No one calls Syreilla sweet.” A voice came from behind him as a loop dropped around his neck.


Laughing as the man tried to strangle him, Syvilas reached up and dug his fingers into the man’s hands, consuming him as the other two watched horrified. As he lunged for the larger man the other broke and ran.


Vezar changed his face and form, growing larger and more imposing, darkening his hair and taking the man’s beard as well. Syvilas had served his purpose, he would miss the elvish senses. Listening for the crash of branches as the man frantically made his way back toward the road, Vezar followed eagerly. After catching and consuming him within sight of the empty road Vezar dragged his limp form back to the fire and tossed it with the other two, going through their pockets for coins and anything of interest.


He settled in well fed and comfortable under the trees to sleep by the fire.


The black mist was driving him forward. He knew what was happening this time and he raged forward ahead of it through the maze. It looked different and still the same.


Vezar burst into the center of it ready to attack. This time he was not tired, this time he was ready. This time the coffin rushed to embrace him and he screamed out his fury beating on the glass, the sound like a drum, maddening loud in his own ears.


“You will not keep me here!” He pounded harder trying to break the glass. Syreilla would come. He could feel himself withering. She stepped into the room. Perfect Syreilla. She stared in horror.


He watched as she pushed the gathered traitors aside and looked at the locks before trying to wrest tools from one of the elves. They grabbed her forcing her on top of his coffin as Vezar screamed out for her to run, beating frantically trying to get to her.


The stone rose around them and he pressed his hands against the glass. Wailing in agony as she was kept so close but so far from him. He would have to watch her die. Alone.


The strangled wail burst from him as he woke. “Syreilla!”


It took a moment for him to realize where he was and to remember where he needed to go. Pale and then Brosa. Syreilla would join him. He needed her to. Closing his eyes he pulled on the threads urgently.


Wherever he stopped next he would reach for her. Vezar needed to see her. He breathed and calmed himself. “Sweet Syreilla. You will come back to me.”


He saddled his horse and made his way to the road, riding urgently. It didn't take as long, without the cart and slow plodding horse, to reach the fork. The small walled city of Pale was only an hour’s ride past the fork at his pace. It seemed to be a hub of activity.


Finding a bustling stables, he gave over his horse and paid some of the coin he had taken from the thieves before inquiring, “Where would I find inexpensive lodging?”


The stableman looked at him carefully, “The Good Queen has decent food and clean beds. It’s not the prettiest but it’ll do if you need cheap.”


“Which way?” Vezar smiled wryly as he moved in the direction the man pointed in. This face looked rough and his clothes were poor. Syreilla would help him find better. He touched the threads with a thought. She was agitated. They were keeping her from leaving. Allowing himself a sharper smile, he remembered her boasting, they could not keep her for long.


The sign for The Good Queen bore a busty woman in a crown. It was not a place where men with other options would linger long, he surmised as he looked around inside. The woman who came to meet him with a frown and a judgemental look was dressed like a harlot.


“What do you need?” Her tone was sharp.


“A room only.” He watched as her eyes narrowed. “I will be here only as long as it takes my horse to rest and to find someone who wishes to travel in my direction.”


“What direction would that be?” She looked thoughtful.


“Toward Brosa.”


She nodded. “You’ve come at the right time. There’s a caravan looking for men to guard it leaving in a few days. I can send you that way, for a consideration.”


He watched her flinch as he gave a broad grin. “Of course, Madam. What consideration would you ask?”


Shuddering, she muttered, “You stay in your room unless you’re leaving. I don’t want you down here with the girls. Three coppers tonight and my boy will take you to the caravaners tomorrow.”


Vezar drew the money from the slim purse and held it out in his hand. The woman hesitated before she took it and showed him up to a small windowless room. At least the bed was clean as promised. He took off his clothes and lay naked on it. Fresh clothes and a bath would be ideal.


A knock at the door came as if his thoughts had been read. A girl bustled in with a basin of water. Her amusement at his undress was short lived as the older woman barked at her to come back down immediately.


“Would it be possible for my clothes to be washed?” He inquired as she stepped out.


“I can do that.” She gave him a sly smile. “Two coppers.”


Making certain his coin was all accounted for and laid next to the basin he gave her his clothes. “When they are returned clean. I will be delighted to pay.”


She grinned and bustled off with the clothes.


The water was cool, but he made do. He felt somewhat cleaner afterward and having clean clothes would be a pleasure no matter how poor they were. Vezar lay back down on the bed to try to draw his Syreilla into dream. He would be able to see her and speak with her for a few moments at least.


He murmured her name and brought a memory to mind, his favorite mistress’ chamber. It was Syreilla he wanted on that large bed. He made the memory solid and waited.




© 2017 Isemay


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Added on December 27, 2017
Last Updated on December 27, 2017
Tags: thief, dwarf, elf, dragon, gods


Author

Isemay
Isemay

Germany



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Bitten by a writing bug! Review my writing and I will gladly return the favor! I love reading other people's stories, and I try to review honestly and give constructive criticism. I love receivi.. more..

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A Chapter by Isemay


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