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Movement

The ship stared moving, gliding over the sand.  The three that were sitting by the barrel on the main deck were joined by ship’s captain.  He addressed them, “We’ll stop in a few hours. Traveling by night time in the desert is optimal.  We will stop before dawn for breakfast.”  The man sighed.  “I’ll show you to your cabins.  The girls will share, unless you, Dena would like to share mine.”  He stated hopefully.  By the expression he saw on Dena’s face, he deducted that she was not interested in that proposal, at that time.  “Ooookay, I will open up my cabin to you Garrick. I’ll sleep here on the deck.”

     All went to rest.

 

Healing a Wound, resting

All the people that sat around Lord Byrum agreed.  Danulf got up and offered his ship for passage and rest.  He knew they would have to work together for this, even though they had not agreed to formed a team.

     On the ship everyone started settling down for the night. Dena, still favoring her left shoulder, sat against a barrel.  Her large hound was lying protectively at her feet.  Dena seldom succumbed to tears, but tonight was an exception.  The pain in her shoulder did not stop the grieving in her soul.  Mindy sat next her Dena and placed a hand on Dena’s left shoulder.  “Ouch!” Dena groaned.

     “I’m sorry.”  Mindy said quietly lowering her hand from Dena’s shoulder.

     Garrick came over to the girls sitting near a Dena.  “Can I be of assistance?”  He asked and without waiting for an answer, he touched Dena’s shoulder.  “Ah,” was all he said before his large hands grasped her shoulder and arm.  He swiftly popped the arm into the shoulder, and she screamed.

     “There.”  He said.  A self satisfied expression crossed his facial features.  “It will be sore for a few days.”

     “Thank-you.”  Dena squeaked out.

     “No problem.”  Garrick replied.

     Tears now streamed down Dena’s face. 

Finding out about the job

Lord Byrum looked directly into Dena’s eyes.  “Your eyes are marked with blood.  Are you sure not of the house...”

     “I am not of the house of Iris.”  Dena said defensively.  The servant offered her a cup and Dena took it with her right hand, milk was her favorite.  Taking a sip she stated, “Let’s talk this job.”

     Lord Byrum took his gaze from her eyes. “Yes let’s.  I have a problem, an undead problem.  The job is simple-get rid of an unnatural creature.  A woman who has taken residence on my property to the south-east of here.  A woman who looks like a corpse and yet has not died.  I will pay handsomely when the job is finished.”

     “Handsomely?” Garrick asked. 

     “Yes,” Lord Byrum said, “say one hundred gold crescents each.”

     “That is a fair wage,” Danulf said, “If it is just an undead.”

     “Yes just a simple task. Are all of you up to it?”

Introductions

“Let me introduce myself.  I am Lord Nalo Byrum. You can call me Lord Byrum.”  He sat back down on his plush light blue pillow on the ground then he indicated various colored pillows set in front of his by servants.  “Do any of you need refreshment? Water, cocktail, ale, or milk.”  He smiled to a serving girl, and waited for a response. 

     The black haired man responded first, asking for milk.  The northern man guffawed at the offers, and said “Have you nothing with bite?”  The elf grimaced, and asked for water, and the silver haired woman asked for milk as well.

     The girl left quickly with the various requests.  Lord Byrum looked at each individual and waited for introductions.  When none came he simply asked, “How are we to do business if I do not know who you are and what you are capable of?”

     This prompted Mindy to speak up, “Why send out requests for mercenaries without some knowledge of who would get your summons.”

     “Alas, out here in the desert, I do not have the ability to research for-as you put it-Mercenaries.”  Lord Byrum sighed in displeasure at her question.

     “Fair enough.”  Mindy stated.  “I am Mindy Bluewing.”  Her blue butterfly flew into the tent.  “I am good with the crossbow and a cook.”  She smiled and winked at the blonde headed giant that sat kitty corner to her.

     The serving girl walked in with five containers.  She handed Mindy her water.  The blonde man spoke up, “I am Garrick Thornbridge from the lands of Icedragon.  I am a healer and a fighter, that is all you need to know.”  He snorted at the bold red head named Mindy and accepted a black fluid.

     “Danulf the Bold here,” the dark haired man said.  “I’m into magic and whatever I can invent.  That ship out there is ‘The Sand Glider,’ and my pride.”  He accepted his milk from the servant and waited for the name of the woman he was enamored with; the woman with moon-beam hair, favoring her left shoulder.

     She spoke up last, “I would not be here if I was not so low on money.  I am Dena.  Just Dena.  I can scout.  Plus my animal is as valuable as I.”  She smiled outside to her pet.  She looked around the tent and shifted in her seat.  This man’s tent poles had long black fringes, they were feathers.  Something reverberated in her brain, a familiarity, 

Being Invited In by Host

Danulf’s attention was on the remaining attackers.  A big blonde man cleaved two men and had the remaining men around him fleeing in terror.  A small red headed woman wounded one of her attackers before he reached her.  Danulf had three men on the ground moaning in pain.  That was when a glimmer of moonlight shimmered in the sun, catching his attention.  The woman mounted a large dog.  Danulf got in an eyeful of bright white hair.  He had never seen such a beautiful color.  It distracted him for a moment.  He looked at her body-the ladies figure was something out of his dreams.  He felt himself stir with lust.  He realized with a shock that he wanted her, something that had not happened to him before.  But the last two attackers were almost upon her, and she seemed unable to fight back.  He took the pike and ran toward her.

     Danulf realized he would not get to the two attackers on time.  He spun the pike, throwing it at the men.  The pike flew through the air with a whistling sound, first hitting one of the men in the back of the head, then ricocheting to pierce the other in the arm.  Danulf ran forward to make sure the men were not going to get up again.

     The man, in the caravan tent, sat back watching the combat.

He started thinking that these individuals would do nicely for the task he wanted finished.  Smiling he got up off his pillow leaving the tent.  He walked toward the combatants.  He watched a man with jet black hair lift, a man with the stab wound, punching him in the face.  The man with jet black hair dropped the man, then the man with jet black hair shouted,  “Don’t come any closer.”

     “I am duly warned.  But before you deal with me as you did these dogs, know that I am the man who sent the letters.” He shouted back and smiled reaching out his left hand in greeting.  The man with jet black hair reluctantly accepted.  The woman on the hound heard what was said the turned the beast around.  The giant blonde man walked forward with the red haired woman.  “Let’s go to my tent and talk the particulars of the job I need of all of you to do.”  He looked each of the individuals in the eye, waved his hands toward his tent then lead the way into the shady coolness. 

Fight continues

Garrick Thornbridge turned his blonde head to see three man with bent clubs charging.  He sighed as he dropped his knapsack to the ground.  He lifted his right hand to the handle of “Neck Chopper”, the large hand-ax he carried on his back.  His left hand lifted up his antler topped walking stick.  Once both weapons were in readied, he shouted, “I am Garrick Thornbridge. Attack me and I will take your life honorably.”

     A little ahead of Garrick, Mindy shook her red head, ‘the arrogance of some people,’ she thought to herself.  She too noticed the men come ever closer to her position.  She flipped her cloak around, forcing her large blue butterfly to take to the air.  As she dropped her cloak, in her hand was a large light crossbow.  She took her first shot.  The bolt soared right past the furthest man’s ear.  She smiled to herself, some might think she missed but that was only a warning shot. “Stay back!” She commanded.

     Danulf had no weapon, he never brought a weapon into a new town.  He never had any trouble with locals whenever he came into town.  So as one of the men with a pike approached him rapidly, he stepped to the side and removed the pike from the man’s possession.  Then he used the long pole to wound the men who came forward to attack him.  He disarmed and maimed, but did not kill any of the three men who foolishly attacked him.    

     Dena dismounted her hound and lovingly patted it’s muzzle.  She was deep in thought when a club came down on her shoulder.  She turned holding her left upper shoulder.  By reflex she backhanded him with her right arm, hitting so hard that some of the rat teeth dislodged from her armor.  She felt disadvantaged with her flail arm damaged.  She mounted her hound to ride away from battle.  After all, she had not traveled all this way just to fight with local thugs. 

The man who summoned

The man who sent the note sat in an open caravan tent in the northern part of the village.  He watched the man desend from the Sand boat and smiled to himself.  Sand boat was amusing, he had seen a boat, no a ship, before.  When he went to the west he had visited the ocean town which had a ship like the one he watched the man disembark from.

     He stared at the four people walking into the middle of Raja.  In his minds eye he continued to plan his next move.  He believed that life was like chess, and that while novices only decided what to do as they saw the field, true masters looked far to the future, seeing every more their opponents might make.  He casually raised his left hand and waved slightly, giving the signal.  Ten men from four corners of the village charged at the strangers.     

Gathering

At a village a group of strangers came together.

     A woman with glorious gray hair and azure eyes rode on top of a great hound.  She came from a land where trees and hills dominated the land scape.  Her land was to the west of this desolated desert town.  She wore basic brown leather armor with small teeth from rodents sewn into patterns along her sleeves and leggings.

     From the North a man sailed in on his desert keel boat.  A boat he was proud of because it was the only one that existed, he had created it.  His black hair obscured his equally dark eyes, his weather-beaten copper skin spoke of the burning sun of his homeland, even hotter than the sands in which he now found himself.

     A six foot nine, three-hundred pound, bearded man strode in from the south.  His giant physique covered with overgrown hair made him look sweaty and dirty to the villagers, that stared rudely at him.    

     He wore his over large leathers, with the furs that kept him warm in the frozen lake lands tucked away in a crude knapsack slung over his shoulder.  He still refused to cut his waist length blonde hair and beard.  In his left hand he held a ten foot pole, he used this as a walking stick.  On the pole toward the top there were many different sharp looking antlers. His eyes looked over the crude village with a critical purple gaze.  

     The east brought the rarest beauty ever seen in those parts. A woman whose tiny figure seemed to make other ladies jealous. As she came abreast of the blonde giant, she barely came up to his chest.  Her fiery red hair was close cropped, revealing pointed ears.  She wore a tunic and tightly cinched knee-pants.  A cloak so black it shimmered hung from her shoulders, seeming floor length one moment, waist length the next.  On her shoulder road a large blue butterfly.  The body of the insect came down her back half way and its six legs held onto the side of her arm. 

     All of these people had a piece of paper in their possession.  On that paper was written, “Come to Raja, wealth and glory await.” One sought only riches, another could care less about money.  One sought the glory.  The last... she was there for revenge, so the note gave a good reason to travel so far. 

     There was only one problem.  Who sent the note?

Danulf

Danulf stood at the wheel of his ship.  The skies at the bottom of the ship glided effortlessly over the bright yellow sand of the northern desert.  He was at peace with his life and enjoying the morning. 

     The sun was not too hot and the sky a deep blue.  He looked up at the sky taking in everything he enjoyed.  A piece of parchment came down from the heavens hitting Danulf right on the nose.  It bounce off, his face, then rolled off the wheel, to drop down to the floor with a plunk sound.

     Danulf looked up once again to see where this parchment came from.  There was nothing to see.  He shrugged his shoulders took his hand off the wheel, bent down to get the parchment.  He unrolled it and read the contents of the message.  He then went back to the wheel of his ship changing coarse.

 

Dena

     Dena sat at her camp fire brooding.  She had a flask of very poor wine in her hand.  She had not drank a drop, she just stared into the moving flames.  Sleep took her away from her grief. 

     When Dena woke she found a parchment hanging over her head from a low tree branch.  She jumped to her feet grabbing her sword.  She scanned the meadow that she decided to sleep in, nothing was there.  Nobody. 

     Now she must have drank some of that wine for her to fall into a deep enough sleep for someone to approach her and the tree she slept under.  She sheathed her sword and untied the parchment.  Opening it she read it, then she jumped on her hound, Greenly.  This might be the lead that she was looking for all along. 

Mindy

     Mindy stood at a table of necklaces.  She was not looking at the necklaces but at her people standing around various booths.  What she saw discussed her.  Men lounging around in mechanical scooters, their bodies so tall and large from extra weight they could not walk on their own.

     Her blue butterfly flew down to perch on her shoulder.  She reached up to scratch her head.  She continued to gaze at men she was supposed to be attracted to.  How could she pick a mate from these unlikely unattractive men?  She had to since she was the leader of her people. 

     There was another problem.  She and her people were broke.  She needed money to hire someone to find out why her people were getting so big. 

     Opportunity was there reading Mindy’s thoughts.  Her gaze moved  to the table where a piece of parchment lay open.  She happened to read the contents that were obviously not for her.  When she understood the words she stole the parchment, slipping it under her cloak.

Garrick

     Garrick Thornbridge stood at the alter for his god, Kyp.  He stood there giving thanks for the successful campaign he had just completed.  This was a joyous day, the large bear that had been harming children would not harm any child again. 

     A tiny man half of Garrick’s six foot nine inch size came up from behind.  The man cleared his throat to get Garrick’s attention.  “I have this for you.”

     Garrick turned to see who had interrupted his prayer.  The tiny man held out a parchment.  Garrick took it, and then turned back to his prayers summarily dismissing the tiny man.  He would read the contents of the parchment later.  

Annoyance

“Whom are you talking to Mistress?” A female servant asked as she had just entered behind Grisum.  She was of no particular notice to Grisum, just a gifted indentured servant given by the lord who claimed her land.

     Grisum looked up. “You speak to me?”  She turned her head to look at the girl who spoke.  This bubbly full figured girl, no woman, carried a bucket of fresh water.  She set the water down near Grisum’s chair.   The servant’s appearance looked as if the girl had not worked a day of hard labor in her life.  Her green dress had a simple high waist just under her perky breasts.  The skirt of the dress fell just above the girls ankles showing trim heals.  The girl wore no shoes but that was what Grisum liked,  no dirty shoes would be drug across her hall. 

     The female servant approached the table.  She placed a hand foolishly on Grisum’s shoulder, brushing the glistening black silver hair aside.  “I can tell you are lonely.” Empathy glistened in the girls rich blue eyes.

     Grisum did not reply.  She just turned a her head a little bit more to look at the hand.  The young plump fleshy hand that touched Grisum’s should.  A hand that violated her by being placed on her shoulder.  This was a touch that if there was skin underneath it would have caused Grisum’s skin to crawl with revolution.  This intimate touch was the first in a hundred years.  Was the girl touched in the head?

     The servant spoke again.  “My mother talked to herself too.”  She paused not paying attention to what was about to happen.  “She was terribly sick...”

     Words were mumbled, “incantos, incindos, mortis!” and the lich raised her right hand.

     The girl’s arm flickered with a small flame at the finger tips. The girl’s eyes widened in fear as she screamed in pain. The flame quickly drove up the flesh, getting wider as it gained momentum and more flesh to burn, turning the girl bit by bit to ash. The girl’s hysterics ceased when the flame reached her throat. The ash floated down to the floor.  Some of the girls ash fell on Grisum but the lich did not care.  There was a faint smell of burnt flesh that floated around the room. 

     Another servant came into the room to clean up the mess. 

     Grisum looked at the pile of ash on the floor with revulsion.  The new servant that entered did not look at the lich, she just brushed the ash into a dust bin.  The servant left with the bin not giving a word to Grisum which was exactly what the lich liked. 

     Grisum thought, that girl had no right to touch her.  A peasant touching her!  The outrage, but the girls touch made her mind drift.  Drift to above her castle cave, drift to the sand that once had been her home.  If a lich could cry, Grisum would have...

 

     

Cold Room

The cold room with gray stonewalls claimed its silence.  No tapestries adorned the walls, no paintings to brighten, and no paint to change the wall color was seen just gray stone.  In the room could be observed two huge sculptures of giant winged beasts with hawk heads and serpent bodies.  Those stood adjacent to the door.  A lone figure sat in the middle of the room on a carved gray stone seat. That seat had a high back with carvings of the hawk beast with serpents body.  The figure had a square table in front of it with an assortment of objects the thing sitting in the chair needed.

     Behind the chair was another undecorated door.  This depressing entrance was where many servants came and left the room.  This was the portal for common folk to gain the attention of the figure that so dominated.  Then it spoke.     

     “Immortality creates boredom.” Grisum said as she reached out a fleshy boney gaunt hand to grab her five-inch diameter purple orb sitting on the table in front of her.  Her pale skin hung off of her loosely as her boney fingers grasp the slippery surface, mocking life because she was undead.  Scabs showed the depredations of time.  Insects, and the inability to heal kept her looking decayed.  Her burgundy, off-the-shoulder Vest and baggy pantaloons were moth eaten and ripped in several areas by her exposed bones.  The only remnant of Grisum’s appearance was her rich black silver hair, though her skull hinted at a once beautiful face.  She placed the orb in her lap then spoke to herself, “Three hundred years since I cast this curse on myself.”

The Tome Keeper

This blog is set up for my amusement.  Follow the one story I will post to perpetuity. I hope to have www.tomekeeper.com up soon.