Whims of Kiraan

“I think you missed a spot,” Ian joked as Ithan scrubbed the floor of the tavern. Somehow, he had been tasked with cleaning up after his friends while they rested from their battle. Ithan looked to where Ian was pointing to see a speckle of blood underneath the barstool where he sat.

“Why don’t you clean that?” Ithan growled, glaring up at the half-drunken halfing.

“I don’t work here,” Ian scoffed. He took another drink from his mug and slammed it down, causing some of its contents to splash onto the bar. “Oops,” he chuckled. Ithan stood up in rage.

“Clean it up,” Ithan ordered. Ian stuck out his tongue.

“Make me,” he taunted. Ithan attempted to grab Ian, intending to use his head as a floor mop, but the halfling hopped over the bar and hid amongst the liquor. “Ooh, Aeviri!”

“Don’t touch that!” Ithan snarled. He ran around the bar and grabbed Ian’s cloak, dragging him out from underneath. He snatched the bottle away from Ian and put it back where it belonged before continuing to pull a thrashing Ian back to the other side of the bar. Fenvyre appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Ithan was about to put Ian to work.

“Drop it,” she scolded. Ithan glared angrily at her.

“I’m not a dog,” he asserted as he let go of Ian. Ian scrambled behind Fenvyre and eyed Ithan warily.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors acting like that,” she replied, holding her hands to her hips. She turned around to face Ian. “And you need to stop antagonizing him.”

“Okay, mom,” Ian teased. He stuck his tongue out again at Ithan and backed into the kitchen and out of sight. Fenvyre shook her head and walked around the bar, grabbing one of the rags that Ithan had been using to clean the floors. She knelt down and started quietly cleaning the patch of blood under the barstool. Her usual cheerful demeanor was not present, and it made Ithan uneasy.

“So… how have you been?” Ithan asked timidly as he returned to his work. “We haven’t really… talked much lately.”

“You’ve been really grumpy,” Fenvyre replied. She reached over to a nearby bucket and dipped the rag in the water, then continued scrubbing the floor. “Ever since you came back from your last trip.”

“I’m sorry,” Ithan said softly. “I’m just… going through some stuff right now‍—”

“And you don’t want to talk about it. I get it.” Fenvyre straightened up and looked at Ithan. “But… friends are supposed to talk about it.”

“Best friends, maybe,” Ithan muttered, earning him a wide-eyed look from the dragonkin.

“We are best friends,” Fenvyre said as she stood up and dropped her rag into the bucket. “You just don’t know it yet. But when you figure it out, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Ithan replied, grabbing the bucket and standing up next to Fenvyre. He scanned the tavern for any other areas that needed cleaning, but all seemed to be within Briryn’s standards. “Well, that wasn’t too bad. I was afraid it would stain, but it looks okay.”

“It’s not the first time this place has been a bloody mess,” Fenvyre commented. “This city’s seen a lot of it.” She looked at Ithan and made a strange face. “You… should probably wash up before the lunch rush.” He was covered in a good amount of blood himself now.

“Good idea,” he said. Flashing a grin at Fenvyre, he retreated through the kitchen, catching Ian hiding in the corner as he passed, and through the back door. As he sat down to start washing the blood and dirt from the rags, Shalin rounded the corner with his cart.

“What in blazes happened to you?” Shalin shouted.

“Just the usual,” Ithan responded, awkwardly waving at the merchant. He waited for the dragonkin to get closer before talking more. “How’s Kelrinn doing?”

“Oh, she’s finally out of bed,” Shalin said. “The medicine has done everything we hoped it would. That’s actually part of the reason I’m out here today.” He took a small box off of his cart and presented it to Ithan. “This is our thanks for all you’ve done for us.” Ithan looked skeptically at Shalin, then slowly tore open the package. Inside was a silver chain necklace, accompanied by an intricately designed charm shaped as a dragon eating its tail. In the charm’s center was a stylized carving of the sun. Ithan’s heart skipped a beat as he looked over the charm, but he tried not to show his distress at the emblem of Sol’vara.

“It’s… lovely,” Ithan said, feigning a smile.

“Isn’t it? Brought here from the east, it was. Elven.” Shalin looked off in the distance as he spoke. “The man who gave it to us was a curious fellow. Said it was a good luck charm.” He smiled warmly. “Kelrinn has done well thanks to him.”

“Why give this to me, then?” Ithan questioned. “If what you say is true, giving this away could be bad for Kelrinn.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” Shalin said, his smile widening. “As I said, that medicine did wonders.”

“What sort of medicine is this, exactly?” Ithan asked.

“Elyan developed it while he was here,” Shalin replied. “He and Aitos saved the city from a terrible disease with it. A miracle from the gods, we thought it was. But since he’s been gone, Aitos can’t gather the proper materials as quickly. So, naturally, the little medicine he can produce comes at an astronomically high price.”

“I assume Aitos runs the apothecary?”

“Yes, near the arena,” Shalin said. “Another elf, but one we have been very grateful to have in our city.” He sighed. “I’ll never understand why the emperor dislikes them,” he muttered.

“Many elves are callous and think themselves superior,” Ithan said.

“Interesting,” Shalin said, turning back to Ithan. “And yet, I’ve only ever met kind elves.”

“Perhaps they are kind,” Ithan pondered. “But perhaps that is just a mask they wear to achieve their own ends.”

“Of course, of course,” Shalin said, his eyes glistening. Ithan knew that look‍—it was the same look that Taer’inar so often wore when observing him. “Well, I’ve kept you long enough. Take care, Mor’lavan.” With a smile and a wave, the dragonkin returned to his cart and began pulling it away.

“See you tomorrow!” Ithan called after Shalin. After Shalin was out of sight, Ithan looked down at the necklace again. What were you doing here? He set the necklace aside and returned to cleaning the bloodied rags. Even after giving them a thorough cleaning, the rags remained stained with firenewt blood. Displeased by the sight, he uttered a spell and brought fire to life in the nearby pit. He would buy new rags from Shalin tomorrow. As he tossed the rags into the fire, the scent of burning blood made him feel sick.

“What in the name of Elteus are you doing back here?” Taer’inar’s voice called suddenly from behind him. Ithan jumped from his seat, almost stumbling into the fire. Taer’inar caught the back of his shirt and pulled him away.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Ithan barked. He waved his hand at the fire, causing it to dissipate.

“Everyone in the inn can smell that!” Taer’inar yelled. “It’s disgusting!”

“It’ll go away soon enough,” Ithan said.

“I hope so,” Taer’inar replied. “And why are you covered in blood?”

“Are you serious?” Ithan asked. “You all left me to clean up the mess you made last night.”

“Oh. I… Sorry about that.” Taer’inar scratched the back of his head. “You know I would have helped if you had asked.”

“Why should I have to ask for you to help me clean up your mess?”

“You should have just left it for us to clean, then,” Taer’inar sighed. He spotted the necklace and walked toward it. “Whose is this?”

“Mine now, I guess,” Ithan replied. “Shalin gave it to me.”

“May I?” Taer’inar asked, gesturing toward the necklace. Ithan nodded, and Taer’inar picked it up to inspect it, mumbling to himself as he turned it around in his hands. “The design is exquisite. Silver of the highest quality. The carvings are flawless… Almost certainly of elven origin.”

“Shalin said Elyan gave it to him,” Ithan said.

“I am quite intrigued by this Elyan character,” Taer’inar said, passing the necklace back to Ithan. “No doubt he was a noble, if he possessed such trinkets as this. I wonder how he found himself all the way out here…” He shook his head. “Well, no time for pondering now. Wash up, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“You haven’t even been back a day yet,” Ithan said. “Where are you off to this time?”

“Storm is leading a party into the Lizard Marsh,” Taer’inar replied. “Perhaps we will find something there that will take care of…” He waved his hand around at Ithan. “…this.”

“Glad to know you’re still thinking of me,” Ithan joked. Taer’inar rolled his eyes. “I assume Storm is looking for something else, though.”

“Apparently the last group of adventurers to venture there had stolen an artifact from his homeland,” Taer’inar explained. “He means to reclaim it.” The elf spun around and withdrew into the tavern. Ithan quickly cleaned his bucket and followed inside after him. He made his way past the chef, who looked at him begrudgingly, and into the main room. Pushing his way past the dragonkin who were already flooding in for their afternoon grog, Ithan ascended the stairs and made it to his room. He threw on his armor and returned to the tavern below, where Briryn was waiting for him.

“You didn’t think you were gonna slip by me, did you?” the dragonkin asked.

“No, sir,” Ithan responded. “I was just about to let you know I was taking my leave.”

“I smelled something burning earlier.”

“The rags I used to clean up. They were ruined, unusable. I’ll buy new ones tomorrow.”

“And what are you to use tonight?” Briryn asked. Ithan looked around quickly, realizing he would certainly have more mess to clean up when he returned.

“My… shirt,” he replied.

“Your shirt.”

“Yes sir. I’ll use my shirt.”

“Well, aren’t you resourceful?” Briryn laughed. “Go on, then.” Ithan smiled and waved as he dashed through the tavern door. Storm, Dhurik, and Taer’inar all awaited him outside.

“You couldn’t be bothered to clean up a bit first?” Taer’inar asked as Storm and Dhurik began walking.

“We’re going to a marsh,” Ithan replied as he and Taer’inar followed behind Dhurik. “I’ll just wash up there.”

“Fair enough,” Taer’inar said. “So, Storm, would you care to debrief Mor’lavan here?”

“We’re looking for a bow,” Storm stated dryly.

“That’s it?” Ithan asked.

“Well, no, it’s a special kind of bow, isn’t it, Storm?” Taer’inar prodded.

“Yes, yes, a special kind of bow.” Storm’s voice had a faint air of annoyance. “Of the magical variety, you might say.”

“What does it do?” Ithan asked.

“It is made of the purest crystal,” Storm replied. “It can materialize crystalline arrows from nothing. It is said to have been used to slay many a great beast.”

“Sounds like my kind of weapon,” Dhurik muttered.

“Such an artifact could be useful for my own ends, as well,” Taer’inar said.

“Its power is exactly why it was stolen from my homeland,” Storm growled.

This sounds promising. Ithan shook his head, hoping by some miracle that the thought of claiming the bow for himself would leave him. Yet his master was persistent. Another powerful artifact to add to our collection.

“So why do you seek it?” Taer’inar asked. “If its power is too great for anyone to wield, is it not better to leave it lost?”

“I would rather it be in my peoples’ hands,” Storm replied. “It was not an auran who stole the bow. Of that I am certain.”

❧

It took a few hours to travel far enough west past the Spider Forest for the party to begin traveling southward. Storm had insisted on avoiding the forest to ease their journey, even though it would double their time. A wall lay on the horizon ahead of them. At least, it looked like a wall. Ithan could only make out the shape: a black rectangular object stretching out across the land. Beyond it was a dense fog.

“The Black Gate, they call it,” Taer’inar said suddenly. “Fitting, is it not?”

“What’s past it?” Dhurik asked.

“That I do not know,” Taer’inar replied. “I should very much like to find out.” He and Storm exchanged glances. “We’ll save that for another time, though.”

Is that the only way through to the city? Ithan asked Kiraan.

It is the fastest. So as far as you are concerned, yes.

How am I supposed to find my way through there?

I am sure you will manage. Especially if you bring the elf. But first, this bow intrigues me. Collect it from the auran. It may suit our purposes well.

But‍—

Do not fail. Kiraan’s words sharpened as they echoed through Ithan’s mind. Then, before Ithan could have any more say, his presence vanished.

“You all right?” Ithan heard Dhurik say suddenly. When he jerked his head up, all of his companions were staring at him. “Spaced out there for a minute.”

“I’m fine,” Ithan replied, shaking his head. “How much further, do you think?”

“If the old records Taer’inar found are to be believed, it should be just another few hours or so.” Storm looked to the sky, placing his hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. “We should make it there by nightfall.”

“Records?” Ithan asked as he turned to Taer’inar.

“Hm? Oh yes, those adventurers left some of their notes behind.” Taer’inar pulled a scroll from a pouch on his hip and opened it as the group began moving south. It was stained yellow with age; how long ago were these adventurers in Greenreach? “It seems they were looking for a cavern in the marsh. Something about completing a rune circle…? But what would this circle do? And why did they need to find this cave to complete it?” He groaned in frustration as he returned the scroll to his pouch.

“Where’d you find that, anyway?” Ithan asked.

“It was in between the floorboards of my room,” Taer’inar answered. “I found it while I was cleaning my first night in Greenreach. Briryn probably has more of their belongings stashed somewhere.”

“You never asked him?” Ithan prodded.

“I’m hoping he’ll just let us have it when we purchase the inn. He can’t have too much use for it, can he?”

“Depends on what’s in there,” Dhurik grunted. “Weapons? Yes. Prissy things like your tea set? Probably not.”

“I’ll have you know that tea set is an artifact of the ancient elves‍—”

“Still a tea set. Who drinks tea nowadays anyway? Even Lucky drinks coffee.”

“I don’t care about anything the ignan does,” Taer’inar growled.

“I really don’t understand your issue with them,” Ithan said. “They’re actually quite nice to talk to.”

“All they do all day is spout nonsense about Laht,” Taer’inar continued. “And their voice! It’s like listening to a banshee!”

“So they have some… quirks,” Ithan said. “You don’t need to berate them every chance you get.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty now, Dogboy,” Dhurik chided. “You did the same thing a few weeks ago.”

“I was stressed, there were spiders everywhere, and we were trying to save Fenvyre.”

“Excuses,” Dhurik muttered.

“Quiet,” Storm interrupted, stopping abruptly and holding his arms out in front of the group. The friends stopped their bickering and looked to the auran. “Do you hear that?” A few moments passed, but only the sound of the wind blew through the area. “It sounds like‍—” Before he could continue, a sudden tremor caused the four of them to fall to the ground, and moments later the ground caved in and Ithan and his friends began falling. In a panic, Ithan flailed around in the air, nearly kicking the nearby Taer’inar.

“Stop freaking out and hold your breath!” Taer’inar shouted. Ithan did not have time to process Taer’inar’s order before hitting not ground, but water. He sank below the surface and struggled to find it again, but someone grabbed his arm and pulled him up. As he coughed out the water that had made its way into his lungs, the rescuer wrapped their arm around his torso.

“Hang on, Dogboy!” Dhurik yelled over the roar of the water around them. It flowed fast and chaotically, carrying the two away from the light peering through the hole above formed by the quake. Taer’inar and Storm were nowhere to be found in the rapids, but there was a bank where Ithan and Dhurik could escape up ahead. Ithan put all his concentration into casting his spell, a surge of energy flowed through him and extended to Dhurik as he spoke in his master’s tongue. As he spoke the last word of his spell, he and Dhurik were teleported to the bank of the river.

“Did you see the others?” Ithan asked Dhurik as they caught their breath.

“I saw them hit the water, but not after that,” Dhurik replied. “I grabbed you because you were the closest to me.” Ithan looked out at the river again, searching for any sign of Taer’inar or Storm. Alas, the darkness of the cavern made it near impossible for him to see beyond the raging water. Don’t die on me now. As if in answer to his command, a familiar white owl appeared from the darkness, swooping down to meet Ithan.

“Nyctea!” Ithan exclaimed. “Thank the gods!” By now Dhurik had produced a torch and had lit it, allowing the two of them to follow Nyctea through the cavern as she flew down the river. She perched every so often on a nearby rock to allow them to catch up to her, preening her feathers as she waited. After a good trek, she suddenly slowed her flight and veered right. When Ithan and Dhurik turned the corner, they found her perched on Taer’inar’s shoulder. He was resting along the wall next to a motionless Storm.

“Thank you, Nyctea,” Taer’inar whispered as he stroked the owl’s head. Nyctea closed her eyes and cooed affectionately before vanishing in a puff of smoke. “I’m glad you’re both okay,” he said with a smile.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Ithan commented. He motioned at Storm. “Is he…”

“He’s alive, just worn out,” Taer’inar replied. “He exhausted all his energy dragging the both of us out of the river.” He looked over at Dhurik and pointed at his torch. “Do you mind bringing that over here? I’m freezing.”

“Fine,” Dhurik huffed. He set the torch down in front of the two, and Taer’inar immediately huddled closer to the flame. “I guess we’ll just rest here for a bit,” the minotaur grumbled.

“How far do you think the river took us?” Ithan asked, looking up toward the ceiling of the cave. The torch’s light was too dim to reach all the way up, but it was able to illuminate the tips of the stalactites above.

“I’m not sure,” Taer’inar replied, “but at least it’s flowing in the direction we were heading.” He muttered something to Nyctea, then sent her back into the darkness. “Maybe there’s a way out up ahead.” He closed his eyes and straightened his posture, assuming the meditative position that Ithan every so often found him in around the inn. Ithan sat down across from him, waiting patiently while Dhurik paced across the floor.

“Will you just relax for two minutes?” Ithan mumbled.

“I’ve been waiting to fight something all day,” Dhurik scoffed. “Birdbrain promised there’d be things to fight when we got to the marsh. I just wanna get there already.”

“Well, I have some good news, then,” Taer’inar interrupted. “The river carried us further than I expected. Another hour or so and we’ll be directly underneath the marsh.”

“Well let’s get a move on, then!” Dhurik cried.

“Not while Storm’s out,” Taer’inar argued.

“I’ll carry him out!”

“Please don’t.” Taer’inar laid back against the wall once more. “We could all use some rest before we move on. We’ll go when Storm’s awake.” Dhurik growled, then sat down in a huff, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. Ithan sprawled himself out on the ground and closed his eyes. The dim light from the torch shone through his eyelids, but it was not so bright as to keep him from drifting to sleep.

🙡◊🙣

A blackened heart floats in a dark cavern. It beats in unison with Ithan’s as black ichor drips onto the ground around it. The ichor spreads quickly, and soon it reaches Ithan as the heart beats faster with each passing moment. Hands begin to emerge from the ichor and grab Ithan. He struggles as he is pulled into the pool of inky darkness and dragged underneath its surface. As his heart continues to beat ever faster, he cries out, praying that someone will come to his aid.

Alas, all that answers is darkness.

🙠◊🙢

“Ithan.” Ithan groaned as he opened his eyes. He sat up to see his friends, all packed up and ready to go. He breathed a sigh of relief; he had not succumbed to his nightmare.

“What?” Ithan asked, looking up at his friends. They gave each other confused looks before looking back at him.

“We didn’t say anything,” Taer’inar replied. Ithan scowled at the elf.

“Very funny,” he said as he stood up and stretched. “One of you called me.”

“No, I was just about to dunk your head in the river,” Dhurik grunted. “Still might. It’ll probably still be funny.”

“Ithan.” Ithan’s chest tightened. This voice could not be his friends. It was much too quiet to be coming from someone standing so close to him and it did not even sound like them. Besides which, they did not even know his real name. He looked around, trying to find its source.

“Are… we ready to get going?” Storm asked.

“Ithan.” The voice was coming from behind the wall. Ithan brushed past Storm and Taer’inar and held his head against the wall. “Ithan.” Louder now. Ithan was sure that whoever was calling him was just beyond the wall. He motioned for his friends to stand back, then muttered an incantation, intending to blow the wall apart. Within moments, the loud ringing sound that he produced caused the wall to crumble, allowing him to see what lay past it. A faint blue glow emanating from the inside this new cave.

“Are you insane?!” Taer’inar scolded. “You could have brought the whole cave down on us! What were you‍—” Taer’inar’s words were cut short as he stepped next to Ithan. “By the gods…” He walked past Ithan in awe and into the cave, moving slowly as he looked around in astonishment. Storm and Dhurik edged past Ithan as well as he himself tried to make sense of the strange patterns that adorned the cave. They were etched into what looked like giant bones that lined the cave walls.

“What are these…?” Ithan asked slowly. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“These are dragon runes,” Taer’inar replied, still swiveling about the room. “And those…” he muttered as he suddenly stopped moving, “…are dead bodies.” There were, in fact, three decayed corpses lying at the far end of the cave.

“Could they be the adventurers we’re looking for?” Storm asked. He began investigating the corpses almost immediately after the words left his lips.

“Almost certainly,” Taer’inar muttered. He looked up again at the dragon runes. “We’re in a cave with runes literally everywhere.” He mumbled something to himself, and a scroll and quill appeared in his hands. He began scribbling on the scroll, looking back up at the runes every so often. “Do they have the bow?”

“It’s not here,” Storm grumbled. “Where’s the fourth? I thought you said there were four of them.”

“There were,” the elf said. “Maybe the missing one escaped somehow.”

“Stop that for a second and look at this,” Storm said. Taer’inar set down his scroll and walked over to the auran. Ithan continued to search the room for the source of the voice he had heard earlier, listening to their conversation as he traversed the room.

“Disgusting,” Taer’inar said. “Why did you want to show me this?”

“This isn’t normal decay,” Storm muttered. “Whatever did this wasn’t natural.”

“Perhaps it’s some sort of fungus‍—”

“I don’t think so. Don’t you have some sort of spell to help here?”

“I do, I suppose. Give me a moment.”

“Ithan.” The voice came now from near Storm and Taer’inar. Taer’inar was still concentrating on casting his spell. As Ithan walked toward them, Taer’inar held out his arm and ushered him and Storm away from the bodies.

“We need to leave,” he said.

“What about the runes?” Storm asked.

“To oblivion with those,” Taer’inar snapped. “They’re not worth whatever happened to these people.” He turned to leave the cave. “We’ll share their fate if we don’t leave now.”

“Who said anything about leaving?”