Chapter 4: A Deadly Night Visitor . A City of Fire

____The Deadly Night Visitor____

Vernom, the City of Fire. Shortly after the Third Age, in the wake of slaughter by the hands of gods, demigods, and men; Vernom was constructed out of the rubble of a much older city, an ancient city whose name none but scholars bothered keep in memoriam. A demigod by the name of Ifrim, offspring of Jau’Jun God of Fire and a human woman by the name of Belmisa. Ifrim and any surviving soldiers that swore fealty to his kind emerged alive and therefore, one of the victorious in the Battle of Atrium. Gods, demigods, and men alike had struggled for supremacy and died. Others fled. After the death of his wife and from guilt and embarrassment Jau’Jun, God of Fire, was one who fled. Belmisa’s life, he thought, was the greatest loss of the entire war. Rebelling against fellow gods did not come without a price. The demigod Ifrim quickly replaced Jau’Jun and the humans followed him passionately. Ifrim, like many other demigods that were left behind by the dead, broken or apathetic gods, took on many wives and mistresses. Demigods fathered and mothered children that held the heritage of strong Rhun within their blood. These offspring were called the Kinfolk. Their natural-born supremacy placed them on a pillar high above the common human. But their human nature, imperfections, and ambitions were something that humans proved to create a profound connection between man and god.

In the wake of the Third Age, Ifrim and his people returned to an ancient city once ruled by a race now long forgotten and even more elusive than the elves. They rebuilt, and claimed the land as their own by right. Ifrim named it Vernom after a general, and dear friend of his, who died by unfortunate betrayals of savage warfare. Monolithic pillars stretched out from marbled main streets. Everlasting orbs of fire sat above each pillar, illuminating Vernom to the point of being considered “its own celestial body” as ascribed by local poets. The citizens of the City of Fire never knew of dark nights, cold winters, or autumns for that matter.

Rovin and company arrived at the entrance to the great City of Fire, Vernom, with the rising of the sun, having traveled through the night. Eventually, as they continued south and then west again, they used the light given off by the great city in the distance, like a second sun come to earth. As they made their way not one person spoke. In one respect, a young and spunky member of their group had recently fallen to their death at Tildman’s Folly. In another, still related respect, the only other person willing to hold conversation aside from Dougeranth had recently fallen to his death at Tildman’s Folly…

Vernom was always awake. Stores and open markets lined either side of the marbled streets and any that were opened for business were packed to the walls with people of all sorts. On the rare occasion a Kinfolk of Ifrim could even be seen about the city conducting business. A small orb of fire ranging from the size of a pea to the magnitude of a child’s large toy ball hung suspended above their heads. Handsome and beautiful alike, Kinfolk were known to stick out in a crowd.

But something different had arrived in Vernom. Something most, if not all, eyes had ever dreamed to see. Rovin the elf of Haveran walked the streets. An elf, whom without the near comical large beard, walking bare-a*s naked down the streets followed by a dark and beautiful Kinfolk woman, a walking human mountain of handsome with a shovel, and a deadly and equally dashing (despite his menacing one eye) mercenary.  But, the elf! Even the most veteran and well-traveled of the crowds could not help but cast a glimpse at a race that many had rumored to possibly be extinct. Yet as plain as day, and the everlasting fires of Vernom, a strange elf in the company of even stranger companions continued down the marbled main roads, seeming only concerned with themselves; and maybe even completely unaware of the occasional glances of surprise and wonder, and whispers of gossip present in the bustling crowd of cityfolk. Many, if heard, would have been noted for musing that the elf was in fact just a child dressed in a large beard costume for some play or street performance.   

Eventually, Rovin spotted a less elegant, yet still cozy tavern by the name of Jau’Jun’s Palm.

Auron was glad with Rovin’s selection of lodging. Jau’Jun’s Palm boasted well crafted furnishings that all matched, and crystal lantern light welcomed the new arrivals as they made their way into the teeming dining area and bar of the tavern.

Rovin walked up to an empty table and placed his bag up on a tall wooden chair in front of him. He then hoisted himself up atop the bag so that he sat chest high to the well polished and lacquered table. Then he placed his wooden box down in front of him as Avah and Dougeranth joined.

Auron removed his spear and leaned it up against their table. He placed the bag of treasures down beside Doug and pulled out a handful of coins and precious gems. The use of such currency did not deter him, he had traveled with similar amounts of booty, though not in his actual possession nor at his full disposal, and was not bashful with spending good coin. Any fool stupid enough to try and cross him for more than a copper piece would surely regret it. He walked up to the bar and motioned for a barman to come over his way. He glanced around the room, back at his companions, and then down the bar. A mixture of well-to-do and those who have seen better days mingled in close quarters with one another, clearly a place where people understood pecking order. The more rough looking and unsavory lot seemed to take up their usual places at the tavern bar. A balding man with a mug of ale was carrying on vulgarities with another fellow beside him as Auron laid out a handful of silver coins, accompanied by a couple polished gems, and motioned the barman closer so as to not speak too loud over the surrounding patrons. “Food and lodging for four, sir.” He turned back around and pointed to his group “That’s us over there…”

The barkeep looked down at his offer and accepted it with little to no reservation, even after noticing one of his tenants for the night would be an elf. “Very well sir, I will send a maid over to your table in a moment to accommodate you all.”  

“Also,” Auron continued, “If you could gather me up a small list of local libraries, colleges, or vault of records on this side of town we would be most grateful.” He then pulled out two more coins, gold, and handed them directly to the barman. “And as usual when a customer pays for prompt service and discretion it is clearly expected without fault.”

“Yes, indeed sir. I will have a maid and a list over to you right away…” the barman turned to walk away and Auron moved back around to return to his party in waiting. The bald man at the bar had turned around now and Auron got a good look at the patron's face. Balding, homely, he looked as if he had recently been beat to s**t and back. Missing teeth even. The patron's eyes grew large as Auron’s one eye met his.

Patsy.

“Well,” Auron spoke up in amusement, “if it isn’t an old acquaintance of mine from yesterday. How ya holding up there, Patsy?”

“It… Aw gods damned my luck it's you!”

The man began to shake violently as if reliving a great trauma. And he was. Patsy slowly stood up from the bar laying his shaky, spilling mug onto the bar and began to slowly walk back. Trying to ease some distance between himself and Auron, as if he were a predator with sharp nasty fangs. “Look, man. I got no problems with you right? Ya done killed my friends, ya ruint the good lookin face my momma gave me….”

Auron pulled out his pipe and began to pack it. “Well, Patsy. Don’t start no s**t won’t be no s**t… agreed?” He lit up and blew the dizzying and spicy smoke towards the battered man and he took off out the tavern door like a panicked rabbit into his hidey-hole. Auron let out a content grunt as he released another bout of smoke towards the cloudy, crystal lit tavern ceiling and joined his crew at their table.

Within moments of the barkeep being payed and the party settling in, a barmaid came over to their table. She looked as well kept and attractive as the rest of the tavern workers, shoulder length curly blonde hair framed a soft and pleasant face. “My stars, I never imagined in my entire life to see a real elf in the flesh. Let alone be of service to one! This is quite a treat. Have you all come here for business or pleasure.” She then turned her gaze over to the broad shouldered, muscle bound, Dougeranth and shot flirtatious eyes at him.

“Business.” Auron said without enthusiasm

“Both.” Corrected Avah

“Neither.” Finished Rovin.

“I digs the ‘oles, Doug real good at it!”

The barmaid’s admerious gaze on Doug transformed to a raised eyebrow of suspicion then to a look of disappointment. She sighed, “Very well then.” She recovered and placed two keys down on the table. “These go to your rooms, the Fox room and the Badger room, respectively… What can I fetch for you all? It looks as if you have traveled for some time. Aside from our usual house special of venison and potatoes, we currently have lamb in stock as well as fresh breads and produce, hot soups, teas, beers and wines…”

“Doug wants the meat and tatoes, pretty lady.” He beamed a stupid grin at her in hopes to get another playful glance at him.

Instead, she looked towards him as if recently hearing news that Doug was sick, and contagious. “Right, one house special,” she looked towards Auron.

“Lamb, a piece of its liver too if you got it, some onion… and a local beer.”

Avah spoke with confidence driven by mild hunger, “Apples?...”

The barmaind nodded at her.

“... Great, I would like some sliced up, a local cheese or butter… Or both if you have both. Then a loaf of bread,” she glanced over at Rovin and raised her voice. “Just for me though, you ruin your own loaf elf.”

“Right, and…” The barmaind started to look toward the elf when Avah spoke up once more, not finished with her order.

“Then, I would also like a piece of lamb, assuming it’s roasted. Some of your local red wine, warmed with mulling spices. Then a slice of whatever pie or cobbler you might have, with cream….”

The waitress waited a moment longer to make sure she was finished then looked over to Rovin. It seems the group, in this short time, had eroded some of her pleasant demeanor.

The elf cleared his throat, “Beet soup please. Oh and if you would care to ask your chef to add celery seed at the very end for me that would be delightful.” For someone who, to this point, has showed little in the way of excitement the whole group was surprised to notice a hint of joyful suspense in his tone.

The barmaid curtsied, “It will be my utmost pleasure to cater to your requests right away. May you find comfort and peace here in Jau’Juns Palm.” She then left them, both in sake of their privacy and the sake of her patience, to prepare their meals, assure their rooms were in complete order, and notify the bath house to prepare for four additional patrons.

They waited for their late lunch to arrive.

Avah looked over at Auron with a raised eyebrow as she watched him puff away on his short pipe. Whatever he smoked was not tobacco or mild herbs, the scent of the smoke was spicy. It tickled the nostrils, even its second-hand smoke seemed dizzying almost to the point of nausea. “Was I imagining things or was that man you had a confrontation with the perv we let live a couple of days ago?”

Auron let out a short grunt followed by another puff of spicy smoke. “Yeah, Patsy. I asked him to come over and join us for a drink but he had more important things to attend to…” he said sarcastically.

“Right,” Avah replied, “it would be in his best interest if he avoided us like a plague. Though, I wager I would do something to him far worse than any sickness ever would.” She then gazed up with hopeful eyes as three kitchen hands came towards their table with trays of food. And a small slip of paper, given to Auron.

The group had quite an attractive spread placed before them. Steam came off each plate; it all looked good and smelled good too. Each went about their usual eating habits. Avah made sure to start on her bread first glancing at Rovin only once to be sure the sneaky elfkind did not think to snatch it away from her.

Dougeranth, always one to surprise, would take a bite of his venison and potatoes and as he chewed each serving he made loud, over exaggerated, sounds of satisfaction. Avah rolled her eyes but said nothing. They let Dougeranth carry on in this manner, undisturbed, out of silent amusement.

Rovin placed his bowl of hot beet soup between him and his wooden box. He lifted a spoonful of its contents up to his lips and he made a sharp slurping sound. All the while he stared at the box of bones. An expression of indifference replaced one of cheerful curiosity. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to eat the soup neither disgusted nor pleased with it.

“By hot fire, this meat an tatoes be better than any I had in ‘averan…” Doug spoke around half chewed bits in his mouth and lifted up a fork full towards Auron. “Wanna ‘ave some?”

Auron took a long draft of his beer and went back to clearing his own plate. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Doug moved his fork over to Rovin to no reply then towards Avah.

The Kinfolk woman took her fork and moved over to Dougeranth’s plate to collect her own serving. Doug stared at her like she had done something rude, “Don’t mind if I do.” As she ate it she made mock sounds like those Doug made when he ate. Auron and Rovin both glanced up at her with slight amused expressions. Doug’s grin widened and he went back to cleaning off his plate.

The table was cleared, an exotic smelling tea was then brought out to them.

Auron unfolded the small piece of paper given to him with the meal and glanced it over for a second, folded it up and slid it over towards Rovin. “A small list of libraries around this area of the city. Whatever it is you are looking for could possibly be in records.”

Rovin glanced it over for a moment and placed it down. “Libraries are fine but what catches my eye most is the clerk of records listed here. What I look for is hardly known by my own kind let alone the humans.” He glanced around the table for a moment and then retrieved his box, once more stowing it into his thick beard as if by magic. “I will go there tomorrow to see what I can dig up, you are all free to do as you wish. Come along with me or snoop around the city, it's up to you. We will meet back at the tavern sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I am sure to know our next steps on the journey ahead of us… or things can be complicated and mere recordings of human history will leave us to find other ways.”

Doug spoke up with great enthusiasm, “You be diggin up ‘oles to be findin’ things Doug thinks he comin with yous tamarra.”

Avah shot a playful punch out at Doug and retracted her hand, shaking off the sting as if she had punched a brick wall, “No, ya dunce. He is not actually ‘digging’ up information. It’s not literal.”

Doug stared back at her with blank eyes.

“Nevermind. I am going to poke around town. This is my first time in a city, Vernom is absolutely beautiful! You old men can go read your dusty books, I am going out.” She turned her attention over to the bag of Rovin’s buried treasure, “I’m thinking… shopping spree…” She rubbed her hands together.

Auron and Doug stared blankly.

Rovin shrugged. “Got more around here somewhere.”

Doug piped up again, “Doug come with you den. Doug hears cities be trouble. Dougy help keep pretty lady from trouble.”

“Once again,” Avah pointed at him, “My NAME is Avah, not pretty lady. Come along if you wish but if you go off digging holes don’t expect me to stick around.”

Auron got up and picked up both room keys, the rest stood up from the table as well. Suddenly, a subtle yet sharp pain grew under the covering of his hidden eye. He focused on the room, background sounds dimmed and everyone in the room moved as if in slight slow motion as he casually looked about surveying the patrons of the tavern. Nothing stood out, no one seemed suspicious. But the subtle pain in his eye… something was near. Something from his past. By chance whatever it was could be mere coincidence…. but- He would sleep lightly tonight.  

The group moved upstairs and stopped in the hallway. The doors leading to the Fox and Badger rooms sat opposite of each other in the hall.

Rovin looked at either door and then spoke up. “I will take the Badger room…” he took the key from Auron and opened the room, heading over towards the window on the far end.

Avah silently weighed her options and and headed for the Badger room as well. She had already roomed with the elf once before, though that time unbeknownst till morning. The elf’s eyes, she knew from firsthand experience, were not as curious or nosey as those of a human man’s.

It was easily settled. Avah closed the door to their room as Auron and Doug entered the fox room.

Doug cleared his throat uneasily. “Doug not diggin a sleepin ‘ole tonight.” He sat down on the bed and took in and let out a deep sigh, “Doug no sleep good on beds…”

Auron walked over to the beds and glanced down, “Well look Doug, no reason to worry, there is enough space between this bed and the floor for you to sleep under the bed if that helps. It’s no ‘sleeping hole’ but if you tried to dig one here we would fall down into the dining area below.” He began to remove his more cumbersome clothing and decided that he would take a trip to the bath house before bed. A chance to indulge in a pleasure he had only taken advantage of a handful of times in his life.

Doug would finally decide that sleeping under the bed proved to be more pleasing to him than any other fashion and decided to join Auron at the bath house.

*******

Patsy hated that damned mercenary and his group of s**t-heads. It was just a couple days ago that they had walked upon them, on the road, as they conducted business. Not long ago that the one-eyed f**k killed his best buddy, Ross, and the rest of his crew. Patsy had never dealt with defeat, being the predator never left him time to contemplate the nature of being someone’s prey. Anger and fear took him in great waves as he made his way from Jau’Jun’s Palm and through the fire lit streets of Vernom.

He paused for a moment, right before a turn down a less lit alleyway. A slight smile came to his ugly frowning mug. There was a silver lining now, though. The cursed merc and his group were on his turf now. Aaron, the bandit king’s turf. And when their fearless leader heard of their presence in Vernom and that they were ones that dared cross him... ones that seemed to carry quite a bit of coin on them as well… Aaron would be sure to see them pay out the nose for what they had done. Pay for the death of his dear friend, Ross, his fellows and the molestation of his sweet “handsome” face.

He turned down the Alleyway.    

*******

Rovin had moved up to the windowsill and looked out at the city exposed around him. He had taken little notice that Avah had made arrangements in the room and left to bathe off the last couple days. Vernom was very impressive for a modern human city. The race had definitely seemed to steadily come into their own regardless of great changes that had occurred in the last few hundred years. Though he still found humans to be one of the most dangerous creations of the absent gods he still felt a miniscule hint of envy for their imperfections, their flaws. It made them not only the most dangerous kind but also the most entertaining, most animated. He began to reminisce on much older days, ancient days.

Then he noticed something as he looked up and off across the beautiful city of fire. The sun was moving on course towards the direction he faced. The Badger room window faced the wrong way. He let out a quiet grunt, amused that he had been so lost in his own thoughts recently that he had misdirected himself.

The problem was easily fixed, though. Rovin left the room of the Badger, all his possessions still stowed safely in his mystical beard, and used his Rhun to quietly unlock the door to the fox. He walked up towards the window and gazed out upon the city once more, this time facing east. He dug into his beard and removed his late apprentice, placing the box on the windowsill. He let time move by awake as he had in his sleep, with thoughts of the past; some thoughts accompanied with indifference, many coupled with fondness and sadness.

The city outside seemed to remain in daylight even as the celestial ceiling of night moved further into place above.

Rovin heard footfalls and muffled speech outside and they grew closer. Then stopped.

Outside, Auron and Dougeranth had made it halfway down the hall and towards their room. Then Auron had stopped. He held a finger up to his lips and prompted Dougeranth to silence his rambling on about how nice a hole for bathing the bath house had. After a filling meal and relaxing soak, his faculties were optimal. Something seemed… out of place to him. He pondered for a moment on the pain he had felt earlier that afternoon. The small pain behind his cloth veil. Behind where his eye used to be. It could not be, he reassured himself, it has been almost twenty years why would they come now? Waiting till they think I got a little rusty, maybe?

Then he focused on something on the floor. Between the Badger and the Fox rooms. The slightest amount of dirt was present. To an untrained eye it would have looked like nothing greater than ordinary. To Auron they were a trail of dirty markings by the unwashed feet of an elf, heading from Rovin and Avah’s room to his and Dougeranth’s. He relaxed and waved his bewildered company on. The door had been unlocked. He had not only remembered locking it but also taking the very room key with them to bathe. A tricky elf, that one. Full of secrets and full of interesting tricks.

He opened the door to find Rovin, back now to the window, wooden box under one arm to greet them with a stoic stare.

“Well, elf,” Auron started as he walked in with Dougeranth. “Seems we did not like our original sleeping arrangements? Avah kick you out for being a creepy old elf?” It was meant out of jest but Rovin replied with a solemn shrug and spoke.

“The sun sets in my room. I like to watch the sun rise. Ubis and I like to watch the sun rise.”

“Ubis?...” He glanced down at the wooden box and assumed he named it, “Right.” Has this elf fallen off the blade? Can an elf go mad? Now, ya done it old friend, he told himself, gotten mixed up with a mad old elf. And why not, crazy has just always seemed to be my type. “Okay,” he spoke up again.

Rovin said with a fair amount of apology in his voice, “It's peculiar to you, I am sure. I will stay here with Dougeranth. If Avah protests my change in arrangements just let her know I trust you wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t do, so.” He turned around and walked back towards the open window, day-like brightness still pouring into the room.

Auron sighed, still in his bathrobe, as he collected up his traveling bag and weapons. “Do me a favor and have the launder bring my clothes to the Badger room when they arrive.”

“No worries, Auron. I will bring them there myself. Just to make sure my word is being upheld.” It almost seemed as if he were joking had he not taken such a placid tone.

Auron did not even honor the elf’s poor jest with a reply as he crossed the hall into the still unlocked door of the Badger room.

Avah was not in the room.

He assumed then that she was still probably in the women’s bath house. The young Kinfolk woman had rope length hair after all.

Rovin eventually came to the door and knocked, neatly folded, clean and warm clothes in both his arms; his and Avah’s. Auron poked his head out of the door and looked down both sides of the hall then took his clothes without a word and closed the door again. Removing his bathing robe and tossing Avah’s clothing onto the opposite bed he quickly dressed as if in a race. By the time he had gotten to buttoning up his long sleeved travel shirt the door opened. Auron stared at first in surprise for he did not even hear her approaching down the hallway. Then he stared, slightly abashed, by the surprised expression she gave back.

Avah had spent most of her bath time washing, drying, brushing and braiding her hair along with the help of two other tavern hands. She had made her way back to the room anticipating a good night’s sleep. Avah now stood in the doorway into the Badger room. She was both surprised and curious at the presence of Auron in her room. “I don’t recall requesting the company of a male escort this evening,” she then chided, “and if you are the best they could send then I wish to file a complaint.”

Auron continued to button up his shirt, covering up scars and well-toned body alike. He felt her eyes upon him but as he glanced back up she had turned away, moving towards her clothes tossed upon the bed near her.

“Do you mind?”

Auron turned to face the window, it was opened and he moved towards it to pull the glass shutters back in. He heard ruffling of clothing and as he pulled the shutters fast and locked them he caught a glimpse of her in the reflection. Her reflected image was not well defined but Auron could make out Avah’s pleasing silhouette. An athletic body designed by a woman who hunted like a deadly animal. He would have lied if to say he did not have trouble quickly turning his attention to the curtains and drawing them closed, blocking out the warmth of her image and the eternal daylight of the city outside.

Auron cleared his throat and began to reach down into his travel pack to bring out his pipe and herbs. “Rovin wanted a change of scenery. Said that the other room was more to his liking because him and his box friend can watch the sun rise.”

Avah finished up dressing and began to unfold her bed covers to get under them. “Go figure, I always imagined elves were a strange folk but Rovin really puts things into perspective. You think all elves are that strange? You can look now, by the way.”

Auron lit up his pipe and remained facing the other way. “Hard to say. He is the only elf I have ever known, for this long at least. I guess that’s why I want to come along, well that and the payment for my services he has offered thus far could already land me good retirement…”

“There is something about him. Somewhat comforting and somewhat dangerous.”

“Yeah, guess that’s why I gotta stick around. I’m not ready to settle down yet.”

Avah began to cough. “At least crack the window again if you're going to be doing that in here! You trying to kill me?”

“Never,” Auron replied in a jarringly serious tone. He got up, moved the curtains aside and cracked the window open. His spicy and dizzying smoke moved out into the gentle breeze in the alleyway outside. The rooftop across from him was just a leap out the window, below him. Though stars and a moon filled a dark night sky, day reigned in Vernom. Indeed.

Auron finished up his pipe, people-watching from afar down the north end of the alley. He noticed then that Avah’s breathing had become long and deep. She slept now. He emptied his ashes down into the alleyway and without disturbing the bed’s covers he reclined up and dozed off into a half-sleep. All the while recalling the two moments today where something from his past had come back. Like some kind of painful sickness you never wished to revisit, the pain in his missing eye reminded him that one’s deepest, darkest, memories can’t simply be walked away from; forgotten with passing of time. The sickness could come back, this time stronger and looking to finally do him in. That’s not gonna happen.

*******

Though the city of Vernom never slept, it’s people did. Curtains of well threaded and dark colored cottons were a staple to anyone fond of proper sleep.

The room of the Fox was relatively dark, quiet; except for the snore of a monster from underneath a bed while Rovin gazed off past the bright cityscape and beyond towards the invisible horizon.

The room of the Badger, gravely silent aside from Avah’s steady breathing, also lay in a deep and obscure twilight.

Auron aroused himself smoothly out of his half-sleep. A soft, dull, pain began in the right side of his skull once more. He kept his head tilted forward, dark plainsman hat shading over his one good eye. The pain began to grow. It had been so long since he had felt something so excruciatingly painful. Early and long years of conditioning held him in check, though, regardless of the pain. It now felt as if salt was being applied to a fresh wound in his skull, and grinding into it. Then he heard the faintest sound. As if a bird had taken flight off a roof tile and flew to perch upon their windowsill.

But it was not a bird. It was a man. A shadowy profile slowly crept out of the dark cloth curtains and a small slit of light ran like a thin string towards the door. A head turned to gaze upon the bed Avah slept in. Auron caught a glimpse of a glowing, red, right eye.

Without a moment’s hesitation Auron had not only launched to his feet but was upon the night visitor. Only the most gentle patter of feet heard. He quickly brought his arm in to hook his assailant's as he silently got him into a grapple. Though the energy of the room had become charged with men in mortal combat little sound gave way to the notion that any struggle was going on. Breathing became a little heavy as elbows, hands, and fists were thrown and countered. The gentle patter of four feet softly drumming on wooden floors.

Auron finally got the man into a proper standing grapple. He was at a slight loss. This man had come in here with the intent to murder. This he knew without a doubt. In his current position he was not capable of dispatching him without further struggle. But if he did not end it now… the killer tried to struggle free of his grapple once more. He had to think fast. He looked toward the bed where Avah slept. She was no longer there. Even with a trained eye it appeared that she had vanished completely from the room.

Then, her face. As if appearing from the shadows in front of Auron and the attacker, Avah’s soft and sturdy face materialized. The bone white ivory handle of her hand scythe slammed into the assassin’s jugular. She had only meant to apply enough power to her blow to cripple the man but in her excitement she followed through all the way. The man fell dead to the floor.

Silence followed, Auron looked at Avah. She looked back at him. Then she spoke. “What the… who the f**k was that?”

Auron kneeled down in front of the dead assassin and turned him over. His eyes were still wide open in death. His right one, red like an ember, began to lose its glow. Auron stared into it as its light faded out.

“An assassin of the Hejic order.” He stood up and moved over to his bed, removing the top blanket. “They come to kill, and nothing more. Wonder who he was after?” He lied. Deep down he knew that the man came for him, his past had finally caught up with him and now the Hejic order would be sure to visit him again. Then again, maybe they came for Rovin. Whatever the case the assassin’s eye had seen his face, the order was sure to notice him now.

“The Hejic order? I was under the impression you had to make some real enemies to have someone like that collect on your head. I am almost certain I have yet to make anyone that mad…”

Auron took this chance to sweep the issue under the rug for the moment. “Rovin was supposed to be in this room. He has also been around long enough to make enemies of this caliber.” He moved over to the dead body and began to roll it up in the blanket. “You ever have to hide a body, Avah?”

She knelt down with Auron and helped tuck the top and bottom ends in tightly. “Can’t say I have had much practice with that. What are you thinking?”

The seasoned mercenary stood again. “At this time of night there are less tavern hands about. We will have to be cautious and keep our wits about us but in the tavern basement there is sure to be a great furnace used not only to heat the rooms but also the baths. We will take him there and simply toss him in.”

Avah stood to meet him, “Oh yeah, great.” She sounded less than enthused, “sounds like a piece of cake.”

“That’s the plan. Alright, I will take the head you take the feet. We will wait till the coast is clear and then we will take the employee stairwell down to the furnaces. This city runs on Rhunic fire and requires little to no attendance, a lucky break for us.”

Avah let out a low grunt as she helped heft the dead body. “Yeah, lucky us… Talk about dead weight.”

Auron chuckled pleased to see Avah as gleefully sardonic as ever, given the circumstances.

To both their good fortune and mild surprise the task was almost as easy as taking out garbage. They returned to their room where Avah set off back to sleep and Auron packed his pipe and assessed their current predicament.

___The City of Fire___

As well lit as the city remained in the night hours, Avah and Dougeranth would have surely slept in were it not for the fact that both had sleepless roommates.  They gathered up all their belongings and met for breakfast before they parted ways into the streets of Vernom, planning to meet back at Jau’Juns Palm that afternoon. During breakfast, the group overheard two of the tavern workers talking with one another.

“Did you happen to smell something peculiar coming from the bath house furnaces last night?” a slender, brown haired woman asked a short paunch barman.

“Oddly enough I did, Enid.” the barman paused, “like burning hair and roasting meats... sickening. Randy was sent down to investigate but when he returned he found nothing suspicious. Mayhaps a rat or other beast got too close and fell in?”

“Mahaps.”

Auron and Avah exchanged uncomfortable glances at each other but said nothing.

After breakfast was finished, the rooms were paid up for another night, including an additional charge to the Badger room for a missing blanket. Auron claimed it was sent to the launder because it was dirty from an accident that happened in the night. The launders claimed they never received the blanket, Auron insisted that he compensate for the misunderstanding.

The group moved on outside and into the busy morning streets of Vernom. Auron and Rovin took off east, down the marbled streets, towards the local house of records.

Avah and Dougeranth went south towards the merchant district. She had made sure to fill her purse with a substantial amount of currency, planning to spend most, if not all of it, before the day was done.

The Kinfolk huntress and mountain-like ditch digger looked like quite the odd couple. They both stood at least a head or two taller than anyone else on the streets. Scarce in number, the fire Kinfolk with orbs of fire suspended over their heads, dressed in the finest of cottons and silks, walked the streets with the commoners. They were adorned with multiple necklaces, bracelets, and piercings of the most opulent fashion.  

It would be wrong to say that Avah felt some sort of shame for not dressing as lavishly; Avah had never known shame. It would be more right to say that she felt as if her entire life she had missed out on something though. A rich lifestyle, that in all normal circumstances would have been hers, was but something she could now only see with her eyes. She did not grow up in a palace, surrounded by servants waiting on her hand and foot. Instead, she lived in a cottage with the midwife of her birth, a woman she dearly called mother. She lived in the woods and she learned to provide for herself. She never dressed in fancy, costly, or exquisite threads nor did she ever walk with her nose held high in the air as if trying to avoid the stench of the common folk below her. Instead, she dressed for the hunt and she walked with patience and purpose. On occasion Avah would exchange passing glances with a Kinfolk and the reaction was always the same. They almost seemed to blink at her for a moment in surprise, seeing that she was of stronger breeding yet so underdressed. At least that is how the glances made her feel.

That would change today. Avah had decided that maybe it was time that she got her feet wet in the pool of proprietary living. That morning she made sure to collect up a small fortune with every intent on spending it. No objections were made, there was more than enough. Avah dwelled only a short time on the nature of Rovin amassing such a fortune. With a creature as old as he, she was sure that if he started his story from the beginning and ended at present day she would be dead of old age a few times over. Who cares where it came from anyway? She mused, especially if I’m allowed to spend it!

The markets lay on both sides of the great polished marble street. Buildings on both ends boasted items, goods, and services of the highest qualities and exotic origins. Carts, tents and beasts of burden filled every part not occupied by bustling bodies.

Further off, Avah and Dougeranth could make out the trade harbor to the great river Trine. From this city one could take a ship further inland north or head south on a long trek back to the Madreatic Ocean. There was no doubt that many of the stores and open merchants here sold not just some of the finest products but surely foreign as well.

The sounds and smells were all overwhelming to both of them. Random mixtures of spices, perfumes, cooking meats and teas mixed with the musk of body odors and animal droppings creating wafts both pleasant and sickening all at once.

Avah finally caught sight of a storehouse that had great potential for offering just what she was looking for. Out of excitement she grabbed Dougeranth’s large, callused, hand and tugged him along towards the establishment’s doors.

They entered while the doors were held opened for a dapper, dark haired, Kinfolk man. Two servants followed behind him with tied parcels and bags. Avah realised that she still held Dougeranth’s hand and looked up at him, he looked back and grinned. She let go and shot him a look like don’t read too much into it.

A voice spoke up from behind a long counter draped over with cloths of silk and cotton.

“Excuse me but if you are here to pick up for your lord or lady I ask that you make your way around back and speak with Adrian.”

The person speaking was an older man, dressed in nearly flamboyant tailor’s uniform. His hair salt and peppered, he boasted little wrinkles on a face that had seen at least 60 autumns.

Avah walked over towards him with all her usual confidence and leaned in towards the tailor. “I am not here to pick up for a lord or lady…” She then placed her heavy purse on the counter between them, “I would like to pay for your services…” She then looked back at Doug, the man stood there gazing around at the array of artistically patterned and expensive clothings and accessories. He was a shirtless mass of dumb muscle in the midsts of adept delicacy. “... and something for him as well.”

The man looked down at the bulging purse presented to him then back at her. His eyes full of wisdom and attention to detail. Then he spoke again, this time with newfound enthusiasm and sincere apology, “Oh my. I swore I would die a thousands times over before I saw a derelict Kinswoman! My dearest madam why would you degrade yourself so?” He paused for a moment and then began to laugh. Avah and Doug stared at him, “If you have come to play some sort of jest it has definitely worked! By gods, the things some of you courtly women do for amusement.”

A beautiful, sapphire-blond haired, Kinswoman on the far end of the boutique and haberdashery was startled by the tailor’s sudden laughter and turned to stare over at them for a moment. She then turned her attention back to the seamstresses doing last minute touches to her new dress, but only partly so. A well dressed, almost sickly pallid servant stood near her, looking bored out of his mind.

Avah slipped a drawstring from her purse loose to expose its contents. “Amusing, isn’t it?” she commented, almost annoyed “let's get started shall we?”

The tailor spoke up again as he fingered through the collection of golds, silvers, and gems presented to him. “Yes, we are all the sporting type around here anyway. Madam…” He looked over at Dougeranth a bit dismayed, “sir… my name is Yoman Torres, Master Tailor, this is my shop. Welcome, welcome. Please have a look around and when you finally have something in mind, or you would like assistance with anything, I will be more than delighted to oblige.”

Avah took her purse back and fastened it again. Yoman moved his hands around motioning towards all his work and trappings of his trade. Avah began to walk through the vast collections of clothings, garments, and elegant fabrics. She was almost at a complete loss. Then something caught her eye and she gravitated towards it. The fabric was of deep green, almost black, and dark brown velvet. Black silk lace broke up the velvets and cottons. The pattern made her think of home, even made her think of her father. Her hand fell down to the ornate hand sickle at her side.

The haughty voice of a woman came from behind Avah, “That is hardly a good color or pattern for this time of year, are you planning ahead?”

Avah turned around and met eyes with the sapphire-blonde haired Kinswoman from earlier. Her manservant stood behind her with a large box under one arm, seeming almost anxious to leave.

Doug, standing beside Avah, turned as well and blinked at the strangers.

The Kinswoman spoke up again looking Avah over once more. Her tone was that of amusement. “I dare say no matter how reckless and barbaric of a jest you make in your current… garb, your sense of humor is just delightful! Tell me, what is your name? What Kinline are you from? What business do you have here besides poking fun at the locals?” The woman chuckled then, in a manner that had seemed rehearsed.

Avah wasn’t the least bit amused with this woman. It was almost natural for her to dislike someone of such a pleasant disposition. She turned her back to the woman and continued to look over her choice garment. “My name is Avah Avelyn, from the eastern woods of Ninoa. My business…” She chuckled a little, amused at the situation she found herself in, “is my own,” she finished.

The Kinswoman sighed, almost bored with something she thought would be a new, exciting, sport. “I am Exetria Ironbath, fourth in line to the Seat of Flame. Avelyn is NOT the name of any Kinkind. I would know, it is MY business to know. You jest too much and I dare say it wears a little on my patience.” The small orb of fire above her head pulsed ever so slightly.

Avah paused, alarmed by only one thing. This woman's manner and approach was unstable; she found it unpalatable. She behaved like someone spoiled and she wished her to just be gone. She turned her attention to another roll of cloth to the right of her. “Look, Doug, silver and blue would look nice on you don’t you think?”

Dougeranth, overcome by the whole environment around him, shrugged. “Wots this gots ta do wit diggin ‘oles?”

The Kinswoman turned away in a silent fit and started off for a second before turning back around to speak towards them again. “You play your games like a child, Kingirl, I will be keen to find out who you really are and what business you have here. I bid my honor on it.” Then she stormed out, manservant trailing behind her as the doors were opened for her upon exit.

Avah shrugged her off like a passing chill breeze, grabbed hold of the two fabrics she had picked out and waved a seamstress over. “Go fetch the tailor master. He has work to do.”

***

Auron and Rovin followed the east road until they reached the house of records. A grand structure of impeccable masonry, crafted and directed by masterful hands and minds. And though it’s beauty would assume to boast a multitude of visitors, the place looked almost as busy as a mortuary. The two of them made their way up the flight of smooth marbled stairs towards the pillared archway. Towards the tall and wide opened gate entrance.

As the two entered the great hall of records the very environment seemed to take on a noticeable change. The air was almost too still, yet fresh. Warm, not too dry but also not damp. Pleasant, almost perfect. Great pillars of wood, each made from the single trunk of Magnanimous Cypress, humongous trees only found in the kingdoms of Ulfar thousands of miles from where they now stood. They were called so because some, even greater still than the tall ones here, held entire cities within its living wood.

Books and scrolls not only ran a length of shelves to the point of invisibility, but also went all the way up to the high ceiling with the cypress pillars. Ladders posted on wheels leaned up at different lengths along each aisle as far as one could see. Before this monolithic amount of meticulously organized documentation became a labyrinth of books and scrolls, there was an open polished marble space where a hunched over elderly man took up post behind a matching counter top. Behind him was a great abacus of sorts. Each bead that ran the multitude of horizontal rods was numbered and each bead that ran vertical rods was marked with letters and symbols. The old man’s back was towards him as he worked away on quill and paper, glancing up occasionally to move a numbered bead somewhere, along with a lettered one. As they came closer they could both hear him mumbling under his breath, so low it seemed like the prayers of a long winded priest during meditations.

The air did not only feel still but it was also very silent, that was until Rovin and Auron had entered and made their way towards the elder behind the marble counter. Aurons clomping travel boots and Rovin’s pattering bare feet echoed out with each step. When they finally arrived at the counter the old sage had stopped what he was doing and slowly turned around. He wore a pair of spectacles that seemed to make his eyes look several times larger than normal. The magnified eyes blinked at them for a moment, as if sore just from the sight of the two of them, then the old one removed the glasses from the bridge of his thin nose and seemed more pleased with his vision. He first looked to Auron and then his gaze moved down past the edge of the counter to get a better look at Rovin. The old man’s solemn look turned to one of surprise and curiosity.

The elderly man placed his glasses upon the marble countertop and spoke in a well trained, wise and hushed, tone. “Ah, I see we have an elf come to visit. Pray tell me what reason would bring about such honor as your kind visiting?”

Rovin was pleased to see this man welcome him kindness and bravado. Then he spoke in almost equally hushed a tone. “I am in search of something, old. Existing even further back than elfkind. I am aware that such things are beyond rare in recordings of your kind, or even mine, but I muse that I could find a place to start and move backwards from there.”

The old man let out a soft and short chuckle of amusement, “Moving backwards in hopes to move forwards. Any idea what you are looking for, exactly?”

“Close enough,” Rovin replied, “Ikalpani, Dream Serpent.”

The old scribe turned back to his abacus like contraption and held his spectacles up to his eyes. Once he had found what he was searching for he placed his glasses back on the counter and stooped down behind it as he let out a deep sigh of exertion. He paused for a moment under the counter and then with a great heaving sigh he pulled up a large, leather bound book and opened towards its end. He reached for his glasses once more, transforming his small, wrinkle draped eyes, into comically large ones. He paused for a moment and then spoke up. “It appears you are interested in the obscure. I will do this for you at best: I will call a scribe to direct you into our lower levels of this record house.”

The sage closed the book and looked at the both of them, “I have an academic there who has wasted most of his best years on such indeterminate interest. His name is Horvul of Ipten. There is a chance what little we have about any such… Dream Serpent, would be something he has encountered in his pointless wallowing.”

Within a few seconds a young man dressed in plain grey initiate robes met Rovin and Auron at the main desk and motioned them to follow him. They traveled far behind the desk of the head scribe for a few minutes, passing row after colossal row of shelves crammed with books and scrolls alike. The young scribe made a turn to the left when they reached the far wall. Auron and the elf followed a few paces behind him, both still in awe at the collection of literature that this house of records held. It took both visitors a moment to realize that the temperature of the library became cooler as they made their way around the outside of the House of Records and down a set of stairs. As the group descended the light and warmth of the great room above left them with an air most cool and dampening.

The way below the House of Records was longer than expected for the both of them. After reaching the second flight the scribe leading them took up a torch from the wall beside them and lit it. He then motioned them to continue following him, their journey not yet complete.

As they continued to traverse the dim stairway in silence Rovin mused that whatever information they kept down here was deemed by most, if not all of the scribes, as practically useless. It was of no surprise to him that such an intellectual group would have a hard time parting with any written works or documents, no matter how obscure or irrelevant to their purpose;  found no surprise that beneath the warm, dry, and well kept upper floor lie the information that they were looking for.

The flight of stairs eventually ended and leveled out into a long hallway and a grand wooden portcullis at the end, the atmosphere similar to that of the entrance to a crypt. The scribe placed the lit torch into a fitting on the wall on the right of the portcullis and pulled down on a lever there. A soft-toned bell rang out in the distance and then the sound of casual footsteps echoed from the other side towards them. The sound of footfalls grew ever louder and then stopped, there was a short pause and then the wooden portcullis began to raise ever so slowly revealing a middle aged man, the hair on his balding head shaped like a brown horse-shoe, dressed in fine blue scribe robes. His eyes were grey and blue and seemed to stare off at everything as if in a dream.

The man pressed down on his robes as if trying to straighten out wrinkles that were not there and then he spoke. “Ah, Hedrek a bit early for lunch now is it not?” He looked over towards Auron and Rovin his gaze now almost sobering.

The young scribe that escorted the two men spoke up, awkwardly, “Sage Horvul… These gentlemen here are looking for something… Master Scribe referred them to you.”

The balding scribe let out an amused chuckle that echoed down both ends of the desolate hallway, still pressing down on his robes to smoothen out wrinkles that were not there. “Master Scribe… Referred these men… To me?”

The dim flicker of light given off by the mounted torches crackled, filling the short period of silence. Then the sage spoke again. “An elf and a human companion come all the way down here to speak with me?” He scoffed and began rubbing his palms down his robe again as if dusting himself off. “The master scribe… Referred... You to me?” the echo of his voice into the hall was followed by soft snickering and he moved aside to allow passage of Rovin and Auron past the portcullis and into a grand basement area, filled with parchments of all sorts; almost like a miniature version of the upper floor but with an occasional pillar of stacked books and scrolls. Pillars of works stacked as if holding the grand library above up with their contents.

Auron followed Rovin into the “hall of obscure records”, no doubt aptly called.

“You have both come here to get into ‘Nonsense’ with a mad scribe like me?..” Horvul of Ipten turned his attention back towards their guide “...Hedrek, now that I am thinking of lunch go on and fetch all three of us something.”

Rovin interrupted, “Oh, there is no need.”

Auron shook his head silently as the elf continued, “we are looking for anything about Ikalpani, A dream serpent… of sorts… Then we will be on our way.”

The balding sage smoothed invisible wrinkles in his robe and spoke towards the apprentice again, “Three lunches, Hedrek. Thanks, much appreciated.” He then released on a pulley, the grand wooden door came back down and he motioned the two visitors to follow him down a dim alley of tomes. Horvul turned his head back towards them to speak as he guided them, “Come with me human and elfkind, what you look for is coincidently the most obscure of all my researches. Rarely mentioned in the thousands of earthkind works I can roughly translate.”

Auron spoke up “Earthkind?”

Rovin interjected, “Children of the dead God Hegarom. A race the humans often called, out of ignorance, Dwarvenkind.”

Horvul continued to direct them through the maze of bookshelves, “Well, not all humans do, as I detest disrespect towards a race on the nature of their height.” Then he stopped walking, Rovin and Auron stumbled to a stop with him. They were now somewhere in the center of it all, just enough room in between the slew of bound and stacked literature sat a humble desk with a hanging lantern. “It is rarely mentioned by the Dwarves and when it is mentioned it is notes on a race about as obscure to them as they are now to us! I ceased any further research on the subject after a recent… incident that occurred.”

Auron spoke again, “Incident?”

“Indeed,” Horvul brushed down on his robes and directed his attention towards Rovin, the scribe’s eyes twice as wide from dim lighting and curious excitement, “Elfkind, I always desired to speak with living history. Tell me, I had heard recent rumor that none other than Rovin the patron elf of Haveran had risen from his cursed state… Tell me, rumor or coincidence?”

Rovin spoke up in a steady voice “Not rumour, I am the one the humans called Rovin of Haveran.”

The scribe gasped in half fear and half delight “Rovin of Haveran. Once Irvon, outcast of the goddess Ninuea. Creator and also healer of many great wounds in the third age.” Hands moved once more to smoothen fabric, “the first necromancer.”

“Necromancer?” Auron had never even heard of such a thing.

Rovin spoke up again, “A word of human construct, your kind always loved weaving stories. Horvul of Ipten, be mindful that the elf you have read about and the one before you are entirely different in nature.”

The scribe was gobsmacked, “Sure, sure… All the better reason to maybe ask you a few questions? For cross-referencing purposes, of course.”

Rovin breathed in as if about to start and Auron stepped in, “Look ya old book moth, I did not expect you to assume that we were here to chit-chat so I will give you the hint: we are not here for an interview, we are here for information. Can you help us or not?”

Auron reached into his jacket, Horvul paused mid-stroke on his robes to flinch, and pulled out his pipe.

“Yes, gentlemen, I can be of some assistance. PLEASE, don’t smoke in here… Fire hazard,” Horvul motioned around him “, dry old books, bad ventilation, heavy portcullis door?”

Auron put it away. “Then tell us about this… dream serpent. I’m dying for a smoke break.”

Horvul motioned with both his palms up for them to stay and he moved off into the maze of books. His voice came out as he rummaged throughout “You were quite an interesting figure in the early wars of the third age… Fact or not, I always wondered what you could have done to be stricken, nearly petrified, by a great curse.”

Rovin did not reply to this.

Horvul’s rummaging trek through his records continued as did his mouth, “I, nor any other early third age scholar, have negative opinion of you; far from it.” His voice was moving back towards the center again, “The majority of us have marked that even with you playing all sides you held fast on neutrality.”

Rovin then spoke up, his calm demeanor still held fast as he spoke, “I played no sides, humankind, war is not a game. I imagined to bring your wars to resolution, instead my influence caused more problems than solutions. I will always regret my ignorance towards the true nature of your kind.”

With that, everyone present knew the proverbial book Horvul opened was calmly closed for good.

The balding scribe came back with two small rolls of parchment atop a large box. By the way Horvul carried himself whatever was in the box was cumbersome. Even when placing his finds on the desk, table creaking under the weight of the box, he seemed relieved of a hefty burden. He took in a short breath and tugged at his robes, “Here they are gentlemen, the most valuable of our finds from the ruins of Deg Hegoranth, City of the Earthfolk. Its ruins lie below the very guts of our great city of Vernom.” He stomped his foot down on the cold stone floor a couple times seemingly out of disdain.

Auron and Rovin moved in closer towards the table. Horvul stepped over to the other side of them and unlatched the box, then raised the lid.

Horvul’s voice raised excitedly, “A large slab made of polished obsidian, letters somehow inlaid into the blackness with petrified Bright Yew. Letters of a language considered to be lost… if not long dead.” The scribe then unraveled the two scrolls so that Rovin and Auron could see, “These, here. When what was left of the excavation party came back with this tablet... Well. I dare say it's a find of astounding importance. At least to me it is… Luckily, I studied the Earthfolk language as sort of a... hobby of mine.” He tapped on the two scrolls, “These are translations of the tablet in the two most widely used languages of our kind to date, Everen and Grolsh.”

Auron looked at the scroll filled with Everen text then at the Grolsh. He was able to read both with ease, Everen and Grolsh being only two of seven human languages that he could speak and write. No doubt that Rovin was able to speak damn near any language under the sun, Auron would bet his life on it.

Rovin also moved, gazed down at them both and unrolled them to expose their full works. “Let's take a look-see, shall we?”

As Rovin and Auron read on the translations, a short timbre of the portcullis bell rang. Horvul left, then returned with Hedrek, the apprentice, carrying a wooden tray of fresh bread rolls, honey, soft herbal cheese and wheat beer.

The two of them continued to read but they both seemed to be aware of food’s arrival. They read at a brisk pace now. Heads each nodding at different times as they digested the words on the canvases. Rovin was done first and moved over to a stool that held their tray of lunch.

Auron, nearly finished, shrugged. This Dreaming snake that Rovin is interested in was not much of his concern. His stomach grumbled at him, encouraging him to join the other two for lunch.

They stood around the short stool, distributed the growler of beer into mugs and began to eat.

Eventually Rovin broke the silence, “Do you happen to have the second half of this tablet? I read the tablet first and then your translations. I am impressed at your abilities, though there are some minor discrepancies between them. Nothing major mind you. But what you have here  mentions in greater length an encounter between the Earthenfolk and the Scaleless ones or as they called themselves the Rashik. The Rashik people, a race I am not familiar with, whom the Earthfolk claim lived even deeper within the earth. Though it is mentioned that they claimed to be around much longer than the Earthkind, they also worshiped a great Serpent God. They seemed to be suffering from great misfortunes.  The final statement on the tablet is incomplete though. There must be a second half to this work, one that warrants preservation of this story in such materials as obsidian and Bright yew.”

There was a moment of silence and Horvul pressed down on his robes as he spoke. “Well, I was wondering why I felt no resolution in this piece. Now I know for sure that their must be more where this came from. But there is one problem with all of this…”

Auron took a long draft of beer and joined the conversation, “The Incident?”

Horvul nodded.

Auron moved back towards the table where the large tablet and scrolls still lay out for viewing. “Why not just come out with it old man? Whatever you have to say about it will not phase us. Neither of us are weak of heart.”
“It's more bizarre and embarrassing than anything.” Horvul started, “About twenty years ago, when I still had the gumption and fire in my belly, I ventured down into the upper ruins of Deg Hegoranth with a small crew of mine. We would recover some ancient craftsmanship and the occasional book or parchment of the Earthkind. We were the first scribes to ever delve past human history and begin looking into the world of the fading races. Before it was too late. I took great joy in my work. The years went by, and I realized that all my discoveries, all my records, were seen as nothing more than rubbish to my peers. They said I was lifting a five pound weight to guess its heft instead of reading it on the side. The fading races were never even yesterday’s news.”

Rovin peeled off the skin of another roll and ate at the crust. “So you gave up?”

“No, but I was getting older. Me and my original crew we no longer physically able to make the journey below. So I took what money I had saved up for retirement and hired an expedition group to continue even further into the ruins. They recovered some great works, many I still have the pleasure of having in storage here in this room.” He looked over at the tablet. “This… This was the last of what was found.”
Auron scoffed, “Are you saying there is nothing left down there?”

“No,” the old man protested, “Far from it. Out of the six men that normally went on those recovery missions and returned… Only one came back this time. With this tablet under a mangled arm. I dare say he left more than a physical part of him down there to come back with this final piece.”

Rovin and Auron both raised their eyebrows. Then Rovin spoke up, “Did he tell you what happened? Was it an ancient trap? An accident? Monsters?”

Horvul shrugged and began to roll up the scrolls once more. “I will never know. Tedrick, the man that led those missions, was no longer a sane man when he returned. He had been recovered in the lower sewers of this city, bleeding out from the stub of what was once his right arm, tablet in his dying grip. We were able to save the poor man from death, even though I think now that it would have brought him the peace he needs. When we asked him what happened, where the others were… He only spoke of a consuming darkness. A darkness of a thousand teeth. Hungry. Ravenous. The others were consumed, he said. Consumed by a sea of hungry obscurity. Eyes, large black eyes that were in such great number that it was the darkness. He had clearly gone mad, whatever he must have seen down there. I have since paid compensation to the lost member’s families and have continued to send half of what meager wage I do make to Tedrick and his family. I can’t stand to see any suffering from my own curiosities…” the room was silent for a second and he spoke up one last time, “so much for retirement, this library will be my tomb one day.”

Auron and Rovin looked at one another. Rovin shrugged, “Looks like we will have to go down there ourselves. Having any second thoughts, human?” He looked over towards the sturdy merc.

“I never had a thought to begin with, elf.” Auron replied, “I will meet you outside. Goin’ up for a smoke. I can find my way out.”

Footfalls faded and the portcullis sounded its ascent, then its descent.

“I will give you a map of every inch of discovered tunnel and ruin, as far as Tedrick and his late team uncovered… Where you go…” He trailed off.

“You have read of me, have you not?” Rovin asked.

“Yes, I am well studied in the early third age. According to what you have said I know the legend of you. Irvon the Necromancer. Yet I still bid you take caution. What ancient evils might lie in wait deep beneath the ashes of an extinguished war…?” He handed Rovin a scroll from his robe pocket.

Rovin took this and placed it smartly into his beard. He began to leave. Then, he stopped for a moment and spoke back towards the lone scribe, surrounded by a maze of information all deemed ‘obsolete, obscure’.

“Even the greatest of trees started as a seed. The same is for the stories of your kind.”

Rovin left the scribe in his tomb of obscurity and wished him peace in his final mortal years. He found Auron outside, at the bottom of the great marble stairs. Smoking on his pipe. It was nearing afternoon hours as they headed back towards Jau-Jun’s Palm, temporary home base for Rovin and company.

  *******

Rovin and Auron were the first to arrive. They took their usual table. The barkeep had made sure to reserve it for their return, and more gold in his pockets. They dismissed the barmaid, both of them still content with their last meal. Occasionally, they glanced towards the Tavern’s entrance to see if it was Avah and Dougeranth.  It was soon apparent that the couple was not far behind them. They almost did not recognize them on arrival.

Both wide entry doors swung open. Avah entered the room with mountainous companion behind her, shiny shovel leaning upon his shoulder. They both looked like royalty had geared up for travel.

Avah no longer looked like a common woodswoman. Though her outfit was still tailored for travel and sport it was a mastery of elegant craftsmanship. It followed her shape naturally and made her look far from mannish, contrary to the fact that the style was popular amongst gentleman. Stunning, practical. Deep greens and dark brown velvets. Black silk lace overlay broke up the velvets and cottons, along with a short waist cape of black otter’s fur.

Dougeranth, equally handsome as daft, wore a deep blue silk lined suit vest hemmed in silver, with matching buttons of pearl, along with a kilt of identical design.  Draped over his left shoulder from front to back was a silver and white fur of the Tempal mountain lion held fast at his waist by a great belt and silver buckle.

Men turned heads, women swooned as the two came to be seated with the stoic Rovin and chimney Auron.

The Mercenary took them both in with an astonished, wide, eye. “Looks like there are two in the group that have no problem draining our purses.”

Avah replied with a smug expression, “Awww, jealous are we? You two have fun…  reading books?”

Auron grunted, tapping his pipe ash  into a bowl.

Dougeranth held his shovel up for the group to see. It was the same one he had this whole time, a hefty shovel; even for a man of great size like Dougeranth. Except the wood had been polished and lacquered. The shovel head was retempered, polished, and sharpened. “Doug get his shovel lookin proper ready for a ‘ole.”

A woman from a table behind him, who’s lustful gaze on Doug could never be broken, snapped out of the spell the instant she heard him speak.

Auron cleared his throat. “You tell ‘em… Irvon.”

“Rovin…” Avah corrected

“Either is fine, thank you.” Rovin interrupted as he dug into his beard and lay out a roll of papers on the table before them. “Horvul was kind enough to give me a few maps to where we are going…” he separated one, “Our destination is into the farthest charted point of Deg Hegoranth ruins…”

A bar hand had come up to the table, a man this time. He held up a hand in apology, smirk of embarrassment on his face. “Sorry to interrupt I was coming over to make sure you were being seen to, yes?”

Their usual barmaid had been seeing to them, but she had other tables to tend to after all.

Before any of them could answer he hastily spoke, “Excellent, if you need anything… please don’t hesitate to ask… I must move on now.” He turned his back to them and introduced himself to the table beside them.

Auron kept an eye on the bar hand and Rovin continued. “So our first step is going to be directly beneath us. In the sewers below.”
Avah almost spoke up in sarcastic protest when she realized she was now, more so than ever, expected to put some work in. She did cough though. “The sewers.”

“Right,” Rovin continued. “Deg Hegoranth lies even further below the sewer complex… much further. We will travel down into the underworks of Vernom from an entryway not far from the house of records we visited.” He pointed on the map.

The barman shot up a sharp laugh at an unheard remark from another patron and turned to leave, glancing down at their table for a second as he left off towards tables on the other side.

Avah spoke up. “Okay, when do we leave?”

Rovin collected up the maps and placed them back into his beard, “In a few hours. It is time we started getting somewhere.”

Avah looked at Dougeranth, who just shrugged.

“Something fishy about that bar hand.” Auron spoke up.

“What bar hand? There are literally several of them.” Avah replied.

“The one that stood by our table. I believe he was eavesdropping on our conversation.” Auron claimed.

Avah gasped, “Oh, do you think it has anything to do about the bloke we killed last night?” Avah did not realize what she had said before it was too late. But no one at the table showed an ounce of surprise.

Dougeranth shrugged, lost.

Auron looked over at Rovin and shrugged. As if sure that the elf somehow already knew about what happened in Avah and Auron’s room last night. He behaved as if he did. The elf never slept, after all, and was ever observant.

“He came for you, Auron.” The elf said solemnly

Auron shrugged, almost abashed “Well, I fancied to think that it was a mix up and someone was wanting to collect on you for leaving your rock… But that didn’t add up.” He chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, looks like they finally caught wind of me after all these years.”
Avah crossed her arms, “I wondered, you are just enough of a dark and mysterious fellah to have trouble barking at your heels!”

Auron put his hands up “Look, Rovin… Everyone. The Order. These people, they only want me. This burden is also my own, one I promise to alleviate. I have taken on this job you have given me, elf. I will aid you until its completion. You have my word that whatever comes my way will not hinder our journey.”

Rovin was silent for a moment, “Each of us here is a danger to one another, the demons of our past move ever closer. Your word is more than enough, Auron. You are not the only one at this table with a volatile history…” He looked steadily at Avah, looked down at himself and put his palms up.

Their usual blonde barmaid arrived to take their orders. They ate with little conversation outside of how dapper Dougeranth looked now and they went to their rooms to pack up and rest a few hours before their journey into the underbelly of Vernom, the city of fire. Towards Deg Hegoranth.

        *******

The bar hand looked around, the elf and his party had left and went up stairs. He made his way through the back of the bar and out into the kitchen. Passing the Tavern’s chef and kitchen hands busy at work, he continued through a door and out to the back of an alleyway. A familiar sight stood there, Patsy, still bruised and puffy-faced from his beating.

The bar hand spoke in a subtle tone, “Well you can go and tell the boss that he is one lucky son of a b***h he is, Pats.”

“Go on, spit it out ya pisser.” The short tempered man spat.

“They are going down into the tunnels below the city, through a stretch of sewers you and I know well as Hoff’s passage.”

Patsy shot up in excited laughter. “You tellin me that the elf and his crew plan to walk straight through the Bandit King’s own territory? How f****n lucky is that I ask ya!”

The bar man stood there with his hand out. Patsy slapped down a couple silver pieces, “Go narc somewhere else ya rat!”

The bar man turned towards the door to go back inside, “F**k off.”

Patsy just stood there, still too battered to fight, pointing his finger at the exiting man like it was a weapon. “No one likes a tattle tale…” He chuckled and headed back to meet with the Bandit King, Hoff. That sorry lot was soon to know the wrath of his leader. They would be dead and revenge would be his, as well as some of their fortune. Or maybe he would make the Kinfolk woman his slave… A disgusting grin grew across his mangled face.