SHANEGORMLEY

Millenia had held a hand over her mouth during the entire encounter with the Horser, presumably to mask herself from the smell. Once way from the back street into the main run of stalls and performers Millenia finally moved her hand and erupted into peals of laughter. She playfully pulled on Damius’ arm in an attempt to cheer him while he snarled at the thought of the Horser. As she bent over double in the middle of the bustling street, Damius thought on the ludicrous exchange, and he too started to laugh at the ridiculous old man. For a moment his mind was eased, as he saw a new side to the usually restrained and serious Millenia. Before long though, he thought of Kallis venturing off with the thieves and Jack’s mysterious meeting and they were again proceeding in near silence.

 

They walked a little while longer before encountering Kallis again, standing outside an armourer’s shop having seemingly bought yet another fatigued set of armour. A thick rigid looking leather breastplate looked too big, and well worn. As did the chainmail shirt he wore underneath it that was freckled with rust spots. “Well, that armour should protect you from piercing and slashing attacks.” Damius said as he peered over Kallis’ shoulders, to see Ryoko struggling to squeeze her ample proportions into a suit of leather originally destined for a more lithe body. Returning his gaze to Kallis he again put a hand on his shoulder and walked him away a few steps. After a short pause he looked down at Kallis and spoke, his tone serious. “Listen. This girl will try to lead you astray, but I trust your conviction to this quest. Honour and integrity are everything for a true warrior. That is what sets us apart from the rest of the mercenaries that roam this realm.” As Kallis continued to stare with the familiar mix of wonder and confusion, Damius continued, his voice taking a softer tone.

 

“We’ve only known each other a short while, but I do consider you the closest that I’ve had to an apprentice and in time you may have the ability to succeed me in the techniques I have taught you. And you should know that you would be the only living human to know the many sacred Dorjan skills and abilities.” Damius paused, trying to convey the importance of the boy’s role.

 

“But I know I’ve let you down already. I’m not a natural swordsman am I?” Kallis muttered, his eyes downcast. Damius chuckled.

 

“Do you think I was? It took years to master the way of the sword, and I am still learning new methods with every battle. As such it will come to you. I think I’ve taught you enough to keep alive, and that’s what matters for now. The guards of this city are unlikely to pose a threat to you at your current skill level. One thing you will learn is that you can’t win every fight, and sometimes surviving is victory enough. No one is ever as good or bad as they think they are, and you have the will and energy to escape from almost any situation.

 

”Kallis was surprisingly quick to speak, barely pausing to think.“I don’t want to let you down, and like you I’m no thief either. She’s like… no one I’ve ever met before, though, so I don’t want her to do anything she’ll regret either... Do you know what I mean?” He grinned foolishly.

 

“Your path is not set, we all make our own way, but to make the right choice will not always be easy or obvious. Take care of yourself, as I very much assume she can look after herself. If you can get another Shadowblade, all the better, but don’t lose sight of what you’re doing there.” Damius’ concern could not be disguised; his voice had a nervousness about it that Kallis had not heard before, even before battle. Kallis nodded, with an enthusiasm that would keep him alive or be the death of him. Damius patted Kallis on the back, as if to send him on his way.

 

Bounding into the store, Kallis faltered as he caught sight of Ryoko’s new outfit. As the store owner was accustomed to creating and selling armour for hunters, mercenaries and over optimistic adventurers, he was somewhat unprepared for the requirements of a buxom barmaid, and was doing the best he could to re-lace a smaller one piece leather suit to fit her slightly heavier frame. The result was more revealing than had originally been intended. A familiar snort of disapproval sounded from behind Damius, who had unintentionally become transfixed upon the armour smith’s plight. Damius quickly came to his senses and picked up one of the largest of the leather breastplates for himself, before hastily leaving payment upon the counter and wishing luck to Kallis as the smith continued to struggle with the various leather ties.

 

Damius and Millenia were now at last, alone in a city full of people, and strolled along with the carefree air of a couple whose children had gone to play for a while, leaving them with a few hours of peace. Millenia looped her arm into the crook of Damius’ elbow. A nervous nausea crept upon him as they wandered down the crowded market street; with the beautiful woman on one arm, and the breastplate under the other, he was very much aware of the many eyes upon them. He had never enjoyed the attention of others and found himself straining to hear hushed gossiping about the young woman on his arm.

 

It was at the very centre of the city, near to the ancient tower, where Damius once again began to feel comfortable. The shouting and cheering was centred round a makeshift ring, created from a length of thick rope. The wet thuds of flesh making contact with flesh were accented with gasps and cheers until one man fell, and was carried out. The victor appeared to have won several fights already, his fat, yet muscular body gleaming with sweat and blood. A loud voice sounded above the cheers;“Who will fight the Man Mountain?” A showman in a tatty looking suit, with a tall black hat and a red coat, addressed the baying crowd, pointing at various eager looking men; “You sir? No, you Sir!” he pointed at Damius. “You Sir, with the pale complexion, you look like you know how to fight,” he bellowed with enthusiasm before wriggling his way though the crowd and leading Damius, with Millenia in tow toward the ring. With his short stature and outlandish attire Damius mused that he looked rather like a gnome, as he led them through the crowd.

 

Millenia gave Damius a disapproving look, as he readily agreed to brawl with the big-bellied brute. The showman recited the rules, in the same enthused bellow as before.“No armour, no shirts, no belts, no cloaks, no boots. No one leaves the arena unless they’re carried out. Fifty platinum pieces to whoever can beat our Man Mountain!” He reached his final crescendo as Damius put the breastplate down and was once again he was the centre of attention as he took off the various layers, his cloak, the many belts with their various pouches and his well made boots. As he finally peeled his shirt off there were gasps from the crowd. Millenia was among them, staring at his naked torso, almost silvery in the daylight, though the many scars dispelled any ideas of him being anything other than very pale. His back was criss-crossed by a multitude of scars, probably from a lash of some kind, she thought, though the scars on his shoulders, arms and stomach were much more severe. Millenia shuddered to think of the ferocity of a battle that could cause such wounds. Damius shrugged off the attention and walked into the ring, sizing up his opponent. The large bloodied, fat man had the look of an ogre, or troll. Being a half blood would help explain his undefeated mantle, as well as his build. He was muscular, with broad shoulders, despite his flabby girth, and stood as tall as Damius, though much wider.

 

Damius had always philosophised that pain was an indication that you were still alive, and was always enjoyed the thought of a challenge. Suddenly a bell sounded and the brute before him charged with flailing arms. He was surprisingly fast and strong, but untrained in any form of martial combat. He windmilled towards Damius who dodged a string of uncoordinated attacks, but as he ducked under one bulbous fist his long hair was clutched in another. Now he was held with his back to the swollen belly of his opponent, unable to pull free. As the bloated fighter took a moment to gloat, Damius twisted himself around to his side, before exploding upwards with an uppercut to the troll’s jaw, sending him reeling to the ground unconscious. The fight was over almost before it had begun, leaving an astonished silence among the crowd, and indeed, the exuberant showman. Damius had witnessed such tournaments before. The undefeatable man, entered by a sponsor, usually finished victorious, remaining undefeated. Perhaps among just humans, Damius thought, this one would have been too.

 

The showman reluctantly paid the fifty platinum pieces before enthusiastically attempting to coerce Damius into staying on as champion.“Imagine if you will, great wealth, fortune and fame. All will know the name…”

 

An intense look of dissatisfaction was plastered across Millenia’s face. The showman knew his offer was tempting but ultimately futile, and so doffed his hat, whispering into Damius’ ear as he donned his equipment. “I too would decline any offer to be chaperoning such a flame haired creature of beauty.” Whether she’d heard the short man say it or not, Millenia dodged Damius out of the crowd and back into the main street. After wandering a short way they came upon the banquet hall that bustled with activity. Such feasts were reserved for the privileged in Drak, whereas in the human realm, prestige could be easily bought. As they stood in line to buy entry to the dining hall, Damius considered the masters of commerce who became regionlords in his homeland. They were businessmen, offered power and land in return for their knowledge and leadership. In the economy of a warrior race, these few were not held in particularly high regard, and were a rare commodity to generals and arch lords alike. It was a strange paradox that they had been mere sheep farmers for decades who gained incomprehensible wealth when the armies started wearing woollen uniforms instead of simple tabards over armour. To be trading livestock one day, then surrounded by luxury the next; with offers of marriage form the sons and daughters of lords of war hoping to establish powerbase surely defied belief.

 

He snapped from his thoughts, as Millenia held his arm even tighter. She seemed extremely excited to be among the rich and regal of Wherehurst. The entry cost was ten platinum pieces, a significant amount even in Drak where it was the main currency.

 

When they eventually got to the doorway of the hall, Damius took a portion of his winnings and handed it to a tall thin man, dressed in a monochrome uniform. The strange attendants ridiculous facial hair twitched as he eyed Damius, clad in his armour and travelling cloak. But coin was king, and he was begrudgingly granted entry to the banquet. Another fellow who appeared almost identical, lead them to a table. Upon arrival, Damius was almost overwhelmed by the amount of implements these people used to eat. Millenia began to explain, but Damius was stumped at the concept of a ‘marrow spoon’. Candles burned on the table, in an already well lit room. Another identical, but different man to the one that had allowed them entry listed a series of available delicacies, to which Millenia ordered on Damius’ behalf. It struck him that he may not have any of his winnings left by the end of the night. He looked about him at the vast meals people received; they threw the excess food to groomed dogs that lay by their feet.

 

“No wonder these leaders of men and their empires cease to be in such a short time, living to such excess, beyond the means of themselves, yet alone the natural world.” He spat in near disgust.

 

“Well there is a balance; the rich who lead and control wealth get richer. While the poor starve or struggle on with almost nothing,” Millenia replied with sorrow in her voice.

 

“I’m sorry. Of course, you must have come from an affluent family; you wear the finest clothes and are very well spoken, but act with such humility.”

 

“It’s funny really. I was adopted, well bought by them on account of my appearance. I hadn’t known until just before I left Arifiss, but they had sought out a child that would be pleasing to the eyes as to be married into the Elven royal family. Though I must say; they treated me as one of their own, as they were cold and jaded toward their own children as well.”

 

“I see. Is that when you felt something change?”

 

“No, not really… At any rate their plan had already succeeded, and I was betrothed to an Elven prince at the age of twelve to be married at seventeen. We never spent a day together until the days before our wedding. He turned out to be a loathsome young man, immature like Kallis, but unbalanced. A sexual predator, he was intent on claiming his marital privileges before the wedding, and no wasn’t an option. I remember now, he’d covered my mouth as I called for help and then I passed out. After that… After that, everything was ablaze. At the heart of the castle where layers of wall and floors had been, I could see the sky. She paused to make sure that she was not over heard, but the rich and powerful were far too busy trying to impress one another with their recent business dealings to listen to anyone else.

 

“Everyone was panicking,” she continued, “Screaming, running, as the building creaked as if the whole thing could collapse at any moment. I just gathered together what I could and joined the crowd. Then I headed to the port, and that was when I found out that the Queen, the Prince, and my family had all been killed.” Millenia’s voice became faint as she blinked back tears. Damius opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by one of the monochrome waiters, balancing a tray, laden with food, high on his fingertips. He set their food on the table and, with a bow, walked away.

 

“Welcome!” A strangely familiar voice sounded from one end of the hall. “Welcome, all to the celebratory banquet of my illustrious ancestor, Ashiroth the mighty, saviour of Wherehurst, slayer of the demon Durial, and Champion of good!” The tuneful, over exuberant tones, suddenly made Damius sit bolt upright in his chair, as he strained to see over the mass of seated diners. As the host came into view Damius blinked in disbelief, as Ashiroth himself, who had seemingly dissolved before them days before, stood in the centre of the hall. With an agile skip he stood upon one of the tables, with enough grace as to not disturb any of the many items of cutlery and decorations.“As his descendant, I lord Ashiroth the fourteenth, invite you to enjoy the festivities. Eat, drink, and be merry!”

 

Damius watched as Ashiroth continued to posture, and a quick glance showed him that Millenia too had realised who their host was, though her smile suggested she was not displeased. True, Damius reasoned, Ashiroth was unnaturally charismatic, though his attire was unusual, especially for a formal function. He wore armour plates over his shoulders, held in place by various straps of fine leather, over a tailed vest, and a fine shirt with extravagant frills which was unbuttoned to the navel, revealing his bare chest. If he had noticed Damius, then he didn’t show it, moving around the hall meeting and greeting the various nobles. He suddenly turned his head towards their table and bounded across the room in his usual flamboyant style. Ignoring Damius he took the hand of an astonished Millenia; “What captivating beauty.” He said, before kissing her naked wrist. She watched captivated as his long fair hair fell across his shoulder onto his chest. “I never dreamed I would find such beauty here,” he said, motioning over his shoulder at the rest of the hall. “You, my friend, are a very lucky…” Ashiroth looked up at Damius as he spoke, his amber eyes met Damius’ own, almost white eyes, “…Dorjan.” he finished. Damius cautiously moved his hand to his side, resting it upon the pommel of his sword. Ashiroth put his own sword hand upon Damius shoulder. “Now, now, my honourable fellow, there’s no hard feelings.” He said, quietly, but jovially. “On the contrary, I congratulate you, t’was a fine coup de gras.” He clapped him on the shoulder, before bounding away to greet more of his paying guests. He seemed to bear no malicious intent, but something told Damius that they would meet each other again. Millenia seemed to feel the same but, again; was not displeased.