Miscellaneous Stories
Page 3
The Burgomeister’s Sin - A Lost Tale of Valrin
He paced back and forth in his private chamber, where his wife knew she was not allowed. He used the pretext that there were many sensitive parchments related to his work for the town's trade. She trusted him and believed him completely. Why would she doubt him, she loved him deeply. They had lived peacefully for 10 years together in their cottage in the forest.
She was a native of the town, as was he, but his work made him see the inner working, the day to day muck that was a sightless blight and an odorless stink upon the city. She agreed to come to the forest and make their home there. It was peaceful, quiet and clean. Away from its sight he could forget what he did, what he had to do and could bask in love of his beautiful wife.
That soon changed though, and he had to bring his work home. First it was a few sensitive documents, papers that had to be kept safe until the proper transaction was over, and then they could be destroyed. Slowly though the he worked for asked more and more, and what he had to bring home was more and more dangerous.
Vials, and books, knowledge of such dark matters that it slipped into his dreams at night. He hid it well and his wife noticed nothing wrong though. As he sank into the darkness his wife continued to be the light of his life.
And so he paced his chamber in worry and fear. What they asked of him this was unthinkable. He had kept their books, kept their secrets, made sure their cargo moved from one place to another without question, without notice, but now, now they wanted him.
They knew he had peeked at the books, read the forbidden knowledge. It burned in his thoughts ever since, and found himself again and again going back to the books. He learned much, and was quite a natural at it. He tested his abilities on nearby frogs and other small denizens of the forest. The power fascinated him on a almost logical level. He wanted to record its nuance, record every detail of it, he wanted to quantify it, after all, it was his nature as a bookkeeper.
Somehow they learned of his tests, saw his notes and were impressed. They wanted him to work on a full subject, wanted to truly test what he could do.
He looked at the contents of their latest package, though these items were not meant to be smuggled. They had no other recipient but him. He stared at them, laying out on his desk, as if their mere presence was about to bring forth the god's divine justice on him at any moment.
The candle was black and rich or writing. The book, scribbled with half notes and diagrams was meant to be the starting point. The crystal, the crystal was the most interesting and frightening of the bunch. It glowed warmly, softly, hiding the truly evil nature of its existence. He could almost hear the cries from within of the poor trapped…a scream and a crash brought him back to conscious thought.
He leapt from where he had slumped down on the floor and out his door. His wife's voice screamed out again from their bedroom and he rushed to her, as he voice cut out suddenly. He barged into the room and found her laying on his bed, some vile dirty excuse for a human on top of her, ready to tarnish her purity to match it's own sickly existence.
The intruder leapt up, a knife in hand, red its color in the candle light, a dark red as if made of the most precious rubies. He stared as the intruder rushed at him, stared at the blood of his wife on the hands and face of this thing that dared excuse itself as a living creature. He stared as he raised his hand and finally tested what he had learned in books and scrolls and in the deep quiet place of the forest.
He stared as the flesh turned black, then white. As the eyes went wide with shock, then pain and finally rolled backwards in fear. He stared as any last excuse this being could have used for being a human being was drained away in necrotic energy, energy that danced around the room like some malevolent fairy finally free from its glass jar prison.
The intruder's corpse fell as the man rushed to his wife side. He placed his hands on chest and tried to hold back the torrent of life as it rushed out of her. He stared at her eyes, those trusting, loving eyes.
"Husband, please don't cry."
"Don't go my angel, please don't go. I can get help, I can do something please don't go."
"Do not worry husband of mine, I promise I will never leave you. I love you."
He repeated the words back but they fell on deaf ears. He held her, cradling her in his arms.
"No, I cannot lose you, please no!"
He held her and wept, his heart using all of its energy at that moment to express the great grief that had befallen this poor man. And when it was empty, when all grief had left him, he heard the words, heard them whisper in his empty heart.
{You do not have to…you know what to do…}
He closed his now dry eyes and saw the candle, the book and the crystal. He knew. He knew what to do.
He knew how to do it.
And he knew, he was theirs now, forever.
Tristen Blackscale
Tristen studied the various maps in front of him and went back to the reference book. They were all old war maps, records of battles that had taken place in the past. He found the task calming if perhaps mildly fustrating. More often than not the records of the battles we inaccurate or worse incomplete, leaving many factor for him to simply guess at. He heard the tic and looked up, his opponent had moved.
He walked over to the board and surveyed the pieces closely. The move was bold if perhaps a touch impetuous, today's opponent wasn't as good as the others.
He went back to his book and maps, and started placing the tokens he used for the various troops. The Battle of Spine Gorge was interesting to him. Based on the sole data, the Eladrin should have lost the battle. There were far too many orcs, and they had the advantage. He surveyed the landscape and began moving pieces, mimicking the movements. Another tic interrupted him and he went back to the game being played.
Tristen laughed and moved a piece easily, and took one of his opponent's pieces. "You chose to move there, don't give me that look."
He left his opponent to consider its imminent defeat and went back to his map. He reached the part of the battle that was the turning point. Something happened there that turned the battle against the orcs. He surveyed the landscape, trying to image what could have drastically changed the odds so much. As he surveyed the landscape, he realized, something looked familiar. He started to describe the scene to himself and it hit him.
He walked and grabbed one of his mother's books and began to flip through it. He found it, a bard's story. He skimmed through the story and found the scene he was looking for, it matched exactly with the battle. How had he never realized that the story was about the battle?
He heard the tic again and began reading out loud as he walked over to the game board. "Sirocco and Gelid watched as their foes pushed them back, their numbers dwindling; they knew if something didn't change they would all die there in the valley. They heard a yell come from below, as a group made a charge against the orc flank. Gelid gasp, for her sister was leading the charge. Her heart broke, as the last words with her sister had been an argument. Gelid looked at Sirocco and they both new, it was now or nothing. With reserves that they did not know they had, they crashed upon their foes, like hammer on steel. The orcs, distracted by the foolishness of the earlier maneuver, were caught unawares by the more experienced troop. Gelid and Sirocco became sheer forces of nature, calling forth every piece of their fey heritage as they crashed down upon their foes. The orcs rallied, but it was not enough, for the two elder Eladrin had temporarily awoken the ancient forces of nature. Corpses froze and burned in their wake. The battle was no longer about control of the valley, it was one brother and sister, doing everything they can to save their younger sibling."
Tristen closed the book and looked at his opponent, "I wondered how they did that. I knew it must have been some mighty force, but I didn't expect that there were two elder eladrin there. And to save their youngest sibling, it's a wonder the valley is even still standing." His opponent looked at him, its head cocking to one side. "Emotion can be a very powerful tool; I have to remember that more often." Tristen moved a piece and smiled. "Checkmate, guess you're dinner."
His opponent clucked at him angrily as his mother walked through the door.
"So did it win?"
"Nope, this one did worse than the others actually."
"I really do wish you would stop teaching our dinner to play."
"They are unpredictable, they don't plan ahead, almost makes it harder to win sometimes."
He watched as his mother grabbed the chicken from the table and put it back in the cage.
"Not gonna kill it now?"
"No, I have more pressing matters, here." Tristen grabbed the sealed envelope from his mother's hand.
"What's this?" he asked as he looked over the parchment. "Tristen Blackscale? Mother what did you do?"
"Figure it out, and you can't open it yet."
Tristen eyed his mother then looked over the parchement. It was sealed with the Solem City Sigil. It was fairly light, but the parchment was crisp, sturdy, definitely of a higher quality. The letters were written in plain and sharp lettering, not cursive, and then there was the matter of the different surname, Blackscale.
"You're sending me to Solem, to be amongst the humans." He pondered for a bit more, "This is from the military academy isn't it!"
"That's a good lad. Open it up."
Tristen opened the letter and quickly read it. It was almost exactly what he had deduced. The writing was the same short clear writing as the outside. A script often used when relaying orders. This also explained the Blackscale, his mother was renowned even in some of the human military circles, the DeSala name would be as much burden to him and helpful.
"Did you apply on my behalf? Why?"
Tristen sat down across from his mother as she sat down.
"You're old enough to attend a proper school on your own. I thought the Solem Academy would be ideal."
"I can handle myself here mother, you know I don't care what the others here say about me."
"No, no my dear, it's not that at all. You have a unique eye for strategy. The old soldiers who teach in our village are all glory and honor. They would rather die honorable for a cause than actually win the battle. You however, never take that approach. You are always finding a path to victory."
"Which usually causes them to accuse me of being a coward." Tristen said a touch of disdain in his voice. He never understood why they rushed to protect their honor so much. To call him a coward was even worse. He did not fear death, in fact he honored it more than those old soldiers did, and he didn't hide anything behind the veneer of honor or glory.
Tristen noticed his mother was smiling at him. "What?"
"You're eyes shimmer when you get angry. You don't have to hide your emotions Tristen. They can be a very powerful tool, even in strategy."
Tristen glanced at the book on the table, recalling how emotion turned the tide of a near impossible battle.
"Solem Academy."
"I made sure to apply under a different surname, the human's won't know the difference anyways, but just in case better they not think you got in simply because you're my son."
"Adopted."
"You know very well that has never mattered to me. As far as I am concerned, you are of my blood, breath and scale. I would be honored, when you are ready, to have you command under the DeSala name, a true heir to the glorious military career of Oma DeSala." She said as she puffed up her bright golden scaled chest and let a brief cloud of cold air escape from her nostrils.
Tristen stared at his mother and couldn't help but laugh.
Oma gazed lovingly at her son as he laughed at her pompousness. Such life in those eyes she thought; such wonderful life.
