Vengeance Blooms Read online

  Wezlan jingled the coins in his robes. “And that’s why it pays to keep your wits about you.”

  A yell filled the air as the man finally realised, he’d been tricked. Ashalea glanced at Wezlan, struggling not to laugh at the exaggerated shades of scarlet on the gentleman’s face. “Poor fellow.”

  After a while they happened upon a merry little tavern, full to the brim with workers who had sculled one too many ales, and maids with tight corsets, their cleavage catching the attention of several pairs of eyes around the room. The innkeeper was behind the bar serving beer to patrons, his rotund belly heaving as he laughed at some unknown joke.

  Wezlan and Ashalea waited patiently until the man came over, recognition filling his face once he saw the wizard. “Ah, and who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?” he winked at Wezlan knowingly and flashed a cheery smile at Ashalea.

  The men clasped hands. A little too long, and Ashalea had the distinct impression they weren’t strangers.

  “Mr Pilon Hintar, at your service, and Miss Trinda Velendaya,” Wezlan said with a smile. “We would like a room please. Two beds, a roast pork for myself and something green for the lady. And two ales!”

  “Right away Mr Hintar.” The innkeeper called a waitress over and relayed the order. “And look after these two please, give them the best room and no skimping on the food.”

  He glanced back at Wezlan and leaned in close. “It’s good to see you my old friend. Perhaps a word later tonight?”

  Wezlan nodded, then picked his way through the masses to an empty table in the corner of the room. They sipped on ales quietly, watching the different people gathered at the inn. While it wasn’t uncommon to see elves in the city, many eyes lingered on Ashalea, savouring the curve of her mouth and her form-fitting clothes, undoubtedly undressing her in their minds. She was not used to the attention, but she did her best to paint a bored expression on her face and ignore them. Wezlan deliberately laid his staff and sword on the table, and no one approached.

  Mages were rarely seen in establishments such as this. It was common knowledge that they frequented Maynesgate on diplomatic missions, but they were usually provided quarters in the richer areas of town.

  Most mages resided at Renlock Academy, as Wezlan had said, but there were many who lived humble lives without training their gifts. All races could be born with Magicka, but the powers rarely blessed humankind, and as such, many people feared and distrusted it, and equally as much, the users. No one had heard of any wizards in the area since the fall of the Divine Six, and Wezlan wasn’t about to start proclaiming his title to the world.

  The table closest to them was loud, with men sloshing their drinks on one another and singing songs. Conversation turned to gossip, each relaying what they’d discovered in the lower markets and on the wharfs.

  “I heard there’s been some disturbance over by the big beards’ home,” said a skinny blonde one, swaying in his seat. “Them dwarves have got trouble on their hands, they do, with some manner of creatures coming out from the Dreadlands.”

  “Aye, it’s true,” said another, hiccupping in agreement. “I’ve got a friend who lives near the mountains. Last I heard from him was that there were some new in’abitants in the marshes of Deyvall. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from him in,” hiccup, “quite a while.” A dumb expression crossed his face as he lost his train of thought.

  A third man joined them, whispering, and only Ashalea’s elvish ears could hear.

  “Those creatures aren’t the only thing to worry about.” He looked around. “There’s been sightings of some creature, the darkness, so they call him. A few people have shown up dead on some roads. Death by a poisoned blade. He let a few live to pass on the word he’s hunting her. Some she-elf.” The man shivered, and his companions remained quiet.

  “And when he finds her, he will kill her.”

  Fight or Flight

  The next day, while Wezlan went off to attend some business, Ashalea wandered the streets, taking in the sights of the city. While a manned gate and well-guarded walls kept uninvited guests outside of the upper reaches, she saw grand houses with lavish gardens dotting the way towards a castle atop the hill.

  Ashalea pondered what life would be like within four walls in those homes, her nose crinkling in disgust at the thought of such luxury compared to the poverty below. She reasoned it would be far too boring a life anyway, for most elves prefer to be among nature and in the company of their own kin.

  She peered through the gate at the castle, where she suspected Wezlan would be. Consulting with the King no doubt on matters concerning the east and of hard days to come. From what Wezlan had told her of the young King, she suspected he had a long day ahead of him. Ashalea did not envy the role of messenger. The politicians and council members would all argue their own ideas, plotting and scheming to whatever end suited them. She imagined them all barking like wild animals. Who can howl the loudest? She shrugged her shoulders dismissively, turned around and began the descent towards the markets.

  She considered the drunkard’s words from last night. Was he referring to me? Is the darkness that intent on finishing what he started?

  Ashalea sighed. She would be a fool to think otherwise. Just as she had embarked on her quest for revenge, the darkness had continued to search for her. She felt like a helpless young woman with dashed hopes and dreams, trying to make her way through life and now trying to find some of the most important people in the land. She snorted. What a turn of events.

  Although elves went about their business here and there, she kept her hood on to hide her distinct silver hair and pointy ears. Such rumours called for further care.

  “You should always be cautious, Ashalea Kindaris,” Wezlan had said earlier that day, “for you never know who you can trust.”

  Or who might try to kill me.

  The city folk paid no attention to Ashalea until she stopped to look at an item of jewellery here, some spices or herbal tinctures there. Then they were beckoning from all directions, demanding her attention and offering reductions she knew would not cover the mark-up they had already placed on such items.

  The dwarves roared the loudest and even the elves lacked grace as they called in husky voices. All the noise and pushiness were just about enough to make Ashalea march right back to the tavern.

  Yet there was one trinket which seemed to call to her, blocking all sound from elvish ears. Ignoring the surrounding chaos, something drew her towards a small jewellery stall, and she reached for a silver necklace with an onyx gem in the centre. The Magicka hummed within the stone, emanating from its core.

  “Such a simple piece for one as pretty as you,” said an old lady beside her, grinning with gap teeth. “It chooses only the worthy, you know.”

  Intrigued, Ashalea turned it over in her hand, gazing into its depths. “If this is true, what do you think it sees in me?” she turned to ask the stranger, but there was no one there.

  Ashalea cast her eyes in every direction but the old lady had vanished. Puzzled by the strange encounter, she bought the necklace. She would inform Wezlan about what happened later.

  The shopkeeper was disappointed Ashalea opted for a less decadent item, but her greedy eyes regarded the elf’s clothes and Ashalea was sure she was being charged extra based on her appearance. She didn’t care. She was so wrapped up in the peculiarity of it all she handed the coins over, ignoring the gleeful bob of the shopkeeper’s greasy head. Wezlan will understand what the Magicka means, she decided.

  Lost in thought, she was still clutching the item on the way to the docks when her elvish senses warned her she was being followed. She slowed her gait and pretended to shop, picking up various items without intent to purchase. There was no doubt about it. She could feel eyes burning in the back of her head and the presence was edging closer.

  Ashalea continued walking at the same pace until she reached a narrow dark alley, and, with a sharp right, she bolted down it. The tracker took the bait, and t
he chase was on. She was sidestepping boxes and crates, ducking under makeshift clotheslines and even vaulting over an unsuspecting homeless man sleeping on the stained, stinking ground.

  Still her stalker remained in pursuit. They twisted down alley after alley until Ashalea found a main street leading down to the docks once more. It was full of people carting fish and cargo back and forth, presenting the perfect moment to become lost in the crowd.

  Darting around disgruntled citizens, Ashalea knocked several people into stalls, causing a disturbance and blocking the path. The people argued with one another, unsure who to blame for the street streaked with fish. She slipped through the crowd and out of sight, and as a last attempt at escape, shoved one cart behind her to block the entrance to another alleyway. Crouched behind it, she scanned the now raucous crowd for her follower and her eyes landed on someone dressed from head to toe in black.

  Their face was covered with a black mask, dark eyes glittering from behind it. Whether they belonged to a man or woman, Ashalea could not tell. Could it be the darkness? There was no time to find out. She was unsheathing her scimitar and preparing for the worst when someone grabbed her from behind and put a finger to her lips. It was the old lady again. Ashalea was so preoccupied on staying safe from one danger, she had not considered, nor was she aware of any others. She chided herself for such a foolish mistake.

  The old lady shuffled up the street, gesturing for Ashalea to follow. She cocked her head, curious at the strange woman. Surely this is no coincidence? Cautiously, she pursued the crone, half crouching with her scimitar still firmly in hand. Not far up the alley, the woman stopped under a strange mark drawn upon the wall. She whispered under her breath and the glyph glowed red before a doorway revealed itself, swinging open. Once they were inside, it melted back into the wall and Ashalea breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You can put your sword away now girl, I mean you no harm. Please sit,” the lady said as she pottered around the tiny room.

  There were two crude wooden chairs available, which upon sitting, creaked in protest. The woman poured some water for Ashalea, which she drank gratefully. Peering at her host, she noticed how ancient the crone was. Long wispy hair covered her head, curled into a braided bun, and grey eyes the colour of the sea on tempest days peered from behind hooded eyes. She stooped from a small hunch in her back, and her filthy, fishy clothes suggested a hard life. Ashalea realised the lady spied her watching and glanced away, embarrassed.

  “Your eyes don’t deceive you, young elf, I am a very tired, very old woman, but I’m the one you’re looking for. My name is Harrietti Hardov, but you will know me as Haralion,” she smiled with missing teeth.

  Ashalea’s eyes widened. “We’ve been looking for you! The Lady Nirandia of Woodrandia sent us. My name is —”

  “I know who you are Ashalea Kindaris, even if you don’t,” the seer interjected. “You have sought me out with the last of the wizards divine. You seek my guidance, so you can begin your search for the Guardians, no?”

  “How did you—”

  She chuckled. “I am a seer. It is my duty to be on top of such things. Even more so when the fate of our world hangs in the balance.”

  Ashalea considered, “So you know then who it is we must find? You know who the next Guardians will be?”

  “My visions reveal pieces of the puzzle. It does not show the whole picture, but fragments of things yet to occur.”

  Harrietti glanced at Ashalea and shook her head. “I know what you will ask, and the answer is no. I have not foreseen the fate of this world. Whether good or evil triumphs has not been revealed. My Magicka doesn’t work that way, if only it were so easy.”

  Ashalea slumped in disappointment. “I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a quest if the answers were handed to us on a platter,” she agreed. “Before we discuss anything further, I should really go get Wezlan. We were supposed to meet back at the tavern at noon. I expect he’ll be worried.”

  She stood up readying to leave and remembered the stalker that hunted her. “I assume your visions helped you to find me at the marketplace?”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?” the seer chuckled. “My visions did not reveal whom I would be meeting, but I knew who you were when I saw you. The Magicka, the makeup of your being… your hood could not hide that from me.”

  “And the necklace? What did you mean it only chooses the worthy?”

  “The power that resides in the gem is an ancient Magicka fashioned by members of a special order in the northern forest of Shadowvale. Necklaces such as these belong to the Onyxonites — assassins and thieves that serve their own purposes. Highly trained and stealthy, they wear only black, usually undertaking their business at night in the shadows.”

  Harrietti paused for a moment. “It’s said they are a rebellion of sorts that fight against injustices and offer their own.”

  Ashalea’s interest piqued. “They sound like people we would want on our side.”

  The seer nodded. “They are a people to be reckoned with, but be cautious, they will do your dirty work if it suits them but if crossed, they won’t think twice about slitting your throat.”

  Ashalea sighed. “This makes little sense. Why would the necklace choose me? I am no assassin or thief.”

  “The necklaces have been passed down from generation to generation, dating back to an antiquity that none but the Onyxonites would know. Several have been lost over the years because of battles or death of the bearer. The one around your neck was likely poached and sold by brigands during a raid.”

  Harrietti raised an eyebrow. “As far as I’m aware, only humans have been allowed to enter the order. This is…” she stumbled for words, “a unique circumstance.”

  “The one that chased me through the city was dressed all in black. I saw no weapons on them but all the same, they could have hurt me if they wanted to. An Onyxonite, perhaps?”

  Harrietti nodded. “I think you’ll find they want answers just as much as you. Keep your guard up. Not all is as it seems.”

  Ashalea’s face strained and her boots felt planted in the ground. She so wanted to stay and question the old woman, but time was ticking by and her old mentor was waiting for her at the tavern.

  “Yes dear, you must go. I shall see you in the blink of an eye,” she winked.

  Her words were not lost on Ashalea, though how Haralion knew of the talisman Wezlan wore, she did not know.

  On Deaf Ears

  Wezlan weighed his odds. He was fighting a losing battle, and with the number of royal advisors whispering in King Grayden’s ears, there would be no convincing him to help. He surveyed the chamber while he waited, finding his cheeks growing redder by the minute as impatience coursed through him.

  Wooden walls lined the alabaster floor, and a red carpet divided the chamber into two sides; both lined with rows of pews for councilmen and politicians to discuss their latest agendas. Wezlan stood at a gate which barred visitors from coming too close to the King and seethed quietly in annoyance.

  King Grayden sat upon a golden throne cushioned with elaborate silks and pillows. His brown eyes were alert as he nodded, speaking in hushed tones to the men surrounding him. He was clean-shaven and meticulously groomed. His smooth face showed no scars or sun damage. It was the face of someone who had rarely left the castle, had never been in battle, and had minimal experience up his sleeve.

  Wezlan cleared his throat, and with a wave of the King’s hand, the advisers quietened and shuffled to the sides of the throne.

  “My King. The dwarves sent a raven explaining circumstances in the east. Strange creatures now wonder these lands and the villages of Galanor, Nenth and Telridge are at risk. The Lady Nirandia has sent a party to investigate but we humans cannot ignore that evil is on our doorstep. The darkness has risen again and there will be consequences.”

  A thin, pasty man approached Wezlan, fingers clasped together, lips pursed smugly. “And what evidence do you have that he has returned? Did you not seal
him away from Everosia yourself? Were you not the one to cast him from this land into another dimension, all those years ago?”

  “The last time I encountered him was three years ago. He succeeded in killing two elves, and almost killed a third. He was weak then, but to have escaped the dimension he was locked in at all would suggest—”

  “Would suggest that we need all of our forces here, to protect the stronghold of all humans, and to protect our King.”

  Wezlan grated his teeth. “The villages to the south-east fall under your protection, King Grayden. It is your duty to—”

  “How DARE you presume to know what the King should or shouldn’t do,” the adviser replied. “That is for this council and the King himself to decide.”

  “Silence.” The King rose from his seat and the men bowed quickly before scattering away. “There have been no reports from our own villages that anything is amiss. Until a true danger rears, there is no need to send my warriors to the east. The last thing this city needs is an uprising of fear and panic. Especially when there is no evidence.”

  Wezlan was flabbergasted. “My King, are the words of our brethren races not enough? The dwarves have set patrols for their borders. The Woodrandian elves seek to investigate the creatures’ appearance. The Lady herself has commanded they attend to the wellbeing of your towns. What more would you have?”

  The thin man turned his back on Wezlan and resumed whispering to the King, who nodded in response.

  “I would have peace in this city and raising unwarranted suspicions of the darkness’ return will do no such thing. Maynesgate is where our future lies. The villages you speak of are small. There are no more than fifty residents in each of them. Let them speak if they have any concerns.”

  “The villagers don’t have any reason to stray near the marshlands or to the east. They trade only between the surrounding towns and Maynesgate. If the creatures attack, they will have no means of defending themselves,” Wezlan pleaded.