By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (31 page)

         “Oh loads of it,” Selric laughed.  “Much
of it not typical on an adventure.”  He paused, composed himself then asked as
seriously as he could:  “Have men and women adventured together before?  Or
were we the first?”  Again he began to laugh.

         “So no real adventure?  Tis a shame,”
Mendric said, shaking his head sadly, having been hoping to hear grand tales of
things he was forbidden to do.

         “Oh eventually, yes.  The kind of
adventure you refer to found its way across our path, thanks to Cinder.”

         “Oh?”

         “Well first, to let you know how our trip
began, the first night out, while checking in to the
Red Swallow Inn
,
whether because Cinder was along or perhaps to prod Dirk into some sort of
decision, I think Melissa tried to make him jealous.”

         “Dirk?  The big fella you brought to
Sellore’s?”

         “Yep.”

         “Melissa?  Is she the farm girl who got
that bow from Ponjess?”

         “That’s her,” Selric said.  “So she
thought to make him jealous, or he just took it on himself, for when she stood
a little too close to me and smiled a little too much he grabbed a hold of
Cinder and hit her with a hot kiss.”

         “How hot?” Mendric asked with a smile.

         “Hot enough to make Mel explode.  She
took her mug of ale—full—and let it fly.  She pegged him in the head and he
dropped like a stone.”

         “Whoa,” Mendric laughed, draining his own
mug and motioning for another.  “Those two—they are…romantic?”

         “Hmm,” Selric sighed.  “It is hard to
tell sometimes.  But Cinder can confuse things…so many things.  But anyway,
luckily for us, Melissa was in the resultant mood for much of the trip and she
is skilled with a bow like none I have ever seen.  She’s like me with my
sword,” Selric bragged, half-believing his words, but saying them more to get a
rise out of his half-brother.

         “Oh, naturally,” Mendric scoffed,
punching his slighter brother in the shoulder.  “So how did this adventure
start?”

         “Well, once on the moors, Fiona woke me
in the middle of the night, saying she woke to find Cinder missing.”

         “Oh dear,” Mendric said.  “Fiona?  The short…”

         “Yep.  So we roused the others and
Melissa was able to track Cinder’s barefoot tracks down the slight rise to the
edge of the river.”

         “What was she doing at the river?”

         “Drinking perhaps, or something elves do
at night…who knows.”

         “Elves.  Cinder?”

         “She is half-elven,” Selric explained.

         “Of course!  That explains why she is
so…”

         “Lovely?” Selric interrupted.

         “Why yes,” Mendric said, nodding his
understanding.  “She is beautiful.”

         “Well we had passed some moorsmen earlier
that day, so I raced back to them to ask for help, for Melissa could not track
on the spongy turf on the far side of the river.  The leader of the small group
we had met, Ansorock, agreed to come with us and he led us across the moors and
on Cinder’s trail. Several times on the journey we came under missile fire from
nearby hills.  But by the time Ansorock, Melissa and I reached the point of
attack the snipers had fled and rather than track them, we kept on Cinder’s
trail.”

         “Probably smart.  They may have been
trying to divert you from your more important course,” Mendric said.

         “Most likely.  So we drove on and near
sunrise we topped a mound and saw that we stood above the ruins of a great
city, its white stones jutting out of the mists of the moors.”

         “Fascinating,” Mendric sighed.

         “Ansorock, who speaks our western trade
language passably, broke down into sign language closer to his own tongue,
which Fiona could roughly translate.  He was giving us the signal for ‘evil’
and for ‘ogres’.

         “Beastmen?  Formidable foes indeed!”
Mendric gasped, his eyes alight with interest.

         “Ansorock quickly disappeared into the
city and when he returned he assured us he knew where Cinder was being held and
he pointed us to the building and we set off into the ruins.  We approached the
building, a sturdy structure which sat on a rise above a tight turn in the road
as the way bent back around on itself in a tight turn, giving those inside a
good stretch of road in each direction under their eye.  As Dirk and Fiona
rushed the building, under a rain of arrows, Mel, and I with my crossbow, shot
back into the dark windows, but we couldn’t see anybody.  One arrow stuck in
Dirk’s cloak, fluttering behind him as he ran, but they reached the door
safely, and Dirk began pounding it with his huge warhammer, while Mel and I
rushed up.  No one fired at us.”

         “Did you check for movement behind you?”
Mendric asked, being a gifted military strategist himself and he had, unlike
Selric, proven it on an actual battlefield.

         “No time,” Selric said, with a wave of
his hand.  “We rushed in the door but it was stoutly barred.  Dirk drank the
potion of strength we had gotten from Ponjess for that temple thief thing and
he bashed the door in.  When Dirk brought it down the missile fire in there was
tremendous.  I was nicked.  Melissa took one through the thigh guard, the tip
just barely penetrating the thick steel and grazing her thigh.  Dirk’s
breastplate that he had bought with his reward money, was dented by several
shots since he decided to charge straight at them, far in front of us all.  One
shaft cut his ear; another inch and it would have pierced his eye, and he knew
it.”

         “The room was full of squirrelly men and
rats the size of small dogs.  Dirk was furious at being so close to death, and
that was what saved him.  He charged and swept all resistance from around the
door, where they had tried to hold a line of spears against us.  Melissa and I
were dropping their archers left and right, while Fiona wove some spell and
sent sparkling lights throughout the room, driving the rats crazy with fear. 
Even the men broke.  Here’s the weird part; when we killed a rat, it changed
into a man!”

         “Shapeshifters!” Mendric cried. 
“Marvelous.”

         “We were grand, Mendric,” Selric said. 
“It was as if nothing could harm us.  Two dozen, at least, we drove from the
room, killing most of their number there.  Dirk was on those that fled like a
hound after the fox.  He met another five or six behind a rubble wall, but
Melissa was already behind him, and shot two before they could jump him, and
Dirk slew the rest.  Fiona and I ran through the only other doorway, and
apparently they expected their defenses to last a bit longer.  A man, taller
than the rest, was untying Cinder, who was covered in an abundance of gold
jewels and a crown, from this throne-like chair in the corner set up on a
dais.  I ran over, but he avoided my swing and picked up a coffer spilling with
jewels and dove down a hole in the floor.”

         “Ahh!” Mendric sighed, slamming the table
in frustration.  “How could you miss?”

         “Mel ran immediately to the hole and with
the twang of her string we heard a scream,” Selric continued unabated.  “By her
look, we knew she’d gotten him.  Fiona had finished untying Cinder who stood
looking as if it all was an everyday occurrence.  The hole where the rat man
had jumped led to the great sewers and was full of ancient treasure that they
must have gathered from all over the city.”

         “The sewer tunnels were spectacular,
Mendric:  large, perfectly square and straight.  It’s hard to believe that an
ancient people had built them, especially a nomadic one.  We eventually
stumbled onto the sewer level entrance to the large tower Ansorock had pointed
to where he knew the beastmen were.  There must have been twenty of ‘em in the
structure.  Most we caught alone, but there were two guard points and the
fighting there was fierce.  They had even more relics and we gathered
everything up.  That’s where I found this gold brooch for mother,” Selric said,
holding up the beautiful, flawless piece.

         “Great gods!” Mendric exclaimed.  “That’s
sounds fun.  I’m going one of these days with Arikson and Mendel, and Endros
Danber.  Frego wants to go, and probably a priest from the Temple of Aurus, and
a few other guy’s from Sellore’s.  No women in my party.  So how did you get
home?  Did you go to that other city?”

         “Ansorock took us with him back to his
homestead.  But no, we didn’t go on any farther.  Ansorock hinted strongly that
we shouldn’t go there.  I guess it is sort of sacred to his people.  We owed
them that much so we came home.  So, like I said,” Selric continued, “we went
with Ansorock and spent two days there.  It seems that this family lived in
scattered homes across the north moors.  In all, they have seventeen members
who meet and move around all the time.  That was just their clan that we had
met.  Their extended family consisted of some seventy-odd other family units
which made up their tribe.”

         “At first they seemed barbaric, but when
we talked to them, we realized that as people descended from Thegoric’s own,
they had retained much knowledge and still forged exceptional blades.  Quite
handy craftsmen, actually.  We invited them to Andrelia when they feel ready to
learn some of our ways.”

         “Melissa and Dirk made up on the way
home.  I think Mel decided that she’s not going to wait for him anymore, so
there’s no reason to be jealous, and the journey back was without excitement,
and except for the harried caravans, we saw very little traffic on the roads.”

         “Well, it seems that you had a passable
adventure,” Mendric said with a nod of self-disappointment.

         “Most passable,” Selric agreed.  “Now, I
guess, it’s time to settle in for another winter.  I dread the thought of
another boring snowy season.”  Both men were silent, then Selric added:  “Well,
I’m going down to Bessemer’s and pick out everyone’s gifts.  Come with me and
you can pick your own,” he said, slapping Mendric’s arm.  “That way, you’ll be
able to see our haul.”  With that, they rose and walked out.

         Several figures lurked around the
doorway, many cloaked.  They approached at the sound of the opening door, but
withdrew when they saw that it was the Stormweather lads emerging.  The figures
were patrons, waiting for the festhall to open, cloaked to keep family and
colleagues from seeing them patronize a pleasure house.  Selric recognized
many, regardless of their disguises, and greeted them by name as he walked by. 
Their response was usually mumbling and coughing, followed by a quick exit to
the nearest alley or doorway.

         “That’s not good for business,” Mendric
said.

         “Business is good enough that we can have
a laugh,” said Selric.  And they did.  Mendric turned up the collar of his
expensive robe while Selric pulled the hood of his worn adventuring cloak up
over his head.  It was cold for mid-autumn, especially since the sun had gone
below the rooftops, leaving most streets in shadow.  The city seemed tired. 
People were lethargic, as if nothing was serious enough to cause emotion in
them.  City life was slow during a normally turbulent season and there was an
air that something was very different.

         “By the way,” Mendric said after more
than a block of walking.  “There’s a party in two days at the Briganston’s.” 
He watched Selric out of the corner of his eye.

         “So?  I grew tired of those affairs long
ago and I don’t think I’ll go to any, not for a while.”

         “I hear Justin Briganston has asked
Angelique von Yelson to be his personal guest.”  He raised his brows.  “I don’t
think you were expected back for some time.”

         “That little weasel,” Selric muttered. 
“I mean, it’ll be easy.  I’ll go.  It
has
been a while since my last.”

         “Good,” Mendric said.  “Find a date.” 
They walked a few more blocks and Mendric spoke again. “Do you remember
Alistair Duncan?”

         “From Sellore’s?” Selric asked.  Mendric
nodded.  “Yes, why?”

         “I spoke to him a few weeks back,”
Mendric said, lowering his voice and looking over his shoulder.  Selric did the
same, but in his hood, had to turn all the way around.  “Stop it!” Mendric
said, not appreciating his brother’s humor.  “Alistair has been with the watch
since he left us four years ago.  He’s a sub-constable and oversees a section
of the Dock District...”

         “I know that,” Selric said with a
chuckle, as if he had reason to know the fact from personal experience. 

         “...He was nervous, almost scared, when I
talked to him.”

         “About what?” Selric asked.  “He was one
of the best instructors at the House.”

         “It seems some of the constables believe
that there is something preying on citizens, targeting mostly women.  Many of
the younger wardens believe it just coincidence.  But those with more
experience think otherwise.  And disappearances have been rising for almost two
years.”

         “Bogey stories,” Selric said
skeptically.  “I can’t believe it from Alistair.  He must have lost his wits. 
He’ll be telling you it’s the Gronga next.”