Chapter one. “An unlikely encounter and one too many drinks”

 

A true musician knows when to enter the stage, knows what the audience before him wants and it is said that the musicians with magical affinity could feel the vibrations in a room, carefully and masterfully arranging the notes, pursuing the highest level of satisfaction to the eager and drunk people that await for the concert to start in the Hopping Snake, as the light starts to escape on the horizon, and the shadows of night slowly embrace the scenery around the tavern.

The atmosphere in the tavern was always pleasant, as one of the most famous ale-makers built the place some decades ago. The Hopping Snake has always welcomed people of all races. From the Thorn-Beards of the Mountains of Thrak, to the occasional wanderer Draglin, from humans of the Northrise Plains, to the Elves of the Cravar Isle. Sitting in the center of the continent, this tavern has always been a refuge for all those seeking shelter, a bed to sleep, and of course, a variety of wonderfully crafted beers. You could see the pride on the bar-keeper’s face. For years, he had made his father proud by maintaining the title of “Silver Bar-keep”. No wonder the tavern was packed and booming with laughter, song and stories.

Tribarr, the legendary fiddler of the DullBlade Plains hops on stage, waving his bow, and takes a moment to visually explore the tavern. He takes a deep breath and with an unexpectedly strong and deep voice, he shouts:

“Hear, hear! The good people of the Seven Peers! I am proud to announce, that tonight, I shall be joined in a sound as strong as a fight! A song, so fierce, a melody, so bright, as three souls will stand in front of you tonight!” shouted Tribarr in a voice filled with self-adulation.

With a quick movement, Tribarr points his bow towards the side of the stage. Two other musicians take their places at each of Tribarr’s side.

“Welcome, to the Three Red Goblins’ first concert!” shouts Tribarr even stronger than before, announcing the name of his newly formed band, as the music explosively begins to fill the Hopping Snake Tavern.

“Bar-keep, another!” howls a thirsty soldier in shinning grey armor sitting by the bar, tapping his feet on the ground to the rhythm of the song.

“Aye-aye, sir!”

As the bar-keeper reaches towards a dark brown barrel, the soldier continuously taps his empty glass on the wooden bar table filled with the stain of a myriad of unknown liquids.

With an experienced movement of his arm, the bar keeper fills the glass with a brew so brown, even the mountain bears revere it and are jealous of its shine.

He turns around, but by the time he places the glass on the counter, the soldier grabs it and raises it, playfully singing along the tune.

“I will never understand how some people can drink that Finnox piss you call ale.” The soldier’s joyful dance is interrupted by a stranger seated next to him. “Bar-keep, have you, please, an ale fit for a weary traveler?” continues the stranger as he places his hat on the counter.

“Aye, sir, ‘specially brought today from over-seas, a potion so strong it can make the Gods cough!” laughs the bar-keeper as he grabs a cloth, wipes his hands and opens a bottle labeled “Forever-Sleep”.”

“I suppose the fine taste of a proper drink is well above a…” the soldier takes a moment to look at the stranger as he notices the scruffy black leather coat that seemed to carefully conceal an unknown amount of secrets “… bounty-hunter’s understanding.” Says the soldier in a mocking manner.

“Heh, I suppose you are right, my friend” the stranger replies.

The end of the first song was followed by clapping from the crowd, as Tribarr starts clapping as well, to synchronize his audience to the rhythm of the next song. “And now, a song of a long-lost love, and a fiery sword that pierced the lover’s heart!” Tribarr’s voice is strong enough to drown the crowd’s now coordinated clapping. The “woos” and “yees” of the crowd is what Tribarr was born to hear.

Placing another glass on the counter, in front of the stranger, the bar-keeper nods “ ‘Ere ye go, sir, fresh out of a devil’s belly”

“I appreciate it. How much?”

“Well that’ll be 3 silvers, sir!”

The stranger reaches to one of his inner pockets and takes out an odd-looking small bag and starts scrambling with his hand, pulling out 4 silvers. “For your troubles!” says the stranger.

“Oh, but, thank ye, sir!” The bar-keeper takes the money, smiling.

“Even the price is fit for a bounty-hunter” shrugs the soldier and he places his glass to his mouth, looking towards the stage.

“The more expensive the brew, my friend…” the stranger gently spins the glass analyzing the strange color of the liquid. “… the less drunk I get, and the less drunk I get, the more money I’ll make tomorrow.”

The soldier, already with some alcohol in his system, bursts into laughter “You are right, you are right. Too bad you’re not a soldier, as you seem like a great fit for the role!”

“Heh, about that” the stranger turns his head towards the soldier. “I wish to ask for a favor from my fellow country-man.”

“And what favor is that?”

By this time, the soldier had taken a seat, ending his agitated foot tapping and is intrigued by what this bounty-hunter has to say.

“I do no favor to men whose names I do not know” says the soldier.

“My name is too ugly for me to proudly give it to anyone, but you can call me “Shadow”.” The stranger waves his hand, slightly revealing a peculiar object fixed to his wrist.

“A peculiar name, but to be honest, I have quit wondering about why Magos like you choose such names.”

Shadow, calmly, yet with a surprised face, asks the soldier “How did you know I am a Magos?”

“By that fancy little crest you’ve got there, Shadow. It is an Ancient Amulet, is it not? Used to harness one of the Five Primordial Gods’ magic. However, I do not recall seeing that specific crest anywhere before.” The soldier is fully captivated by the discussion and the alcohol makes it hard for him to contain his emotions and excitement.

            Tapping gently on the amulet, “This is the crest of Flow-magic.”

            “Ah, I see.”

            “I have given you my name, soldier. Is it not customary for a soldier as mighty as you to follow the Code of Honor and give his name also?”

            “Diokleth, son of Thadin and Erin.”

            “How strange, is that not a royal name?”

            “It is indeed” chuckles Diokleth “But my family has a debt to pay, and as such, we have been stripped of our royal status until my duty is fulfilled.”

It was pretty common in these parts that royal officials, due to a drunken state, overstep their position and anger the Crowns.

“And what favor have you to ask of a soldier, Shadow?” Diokleth takes another sip of his drink.

Shadow slowly tilts his head left and right after drinking the entire glass in one go. “Nothing too big, or complicated. A little bird informed me of some disappearances that started happening two moons ago in this beautiful town of yours. I wish to know more.”

“HAH!” Diokleth slaps his thigh, laughing nervously. He grunts forgetting of the heavy armor he is wearing. “That is nothing but a hoax! A rumor spread by farmers to attract the attention of this town’s ruler. They hope for lower taxes.” Diokleth’s voice starts to shake softly as he lowers his face towards the now empty glass.

“You don’t sound convinced. And your heart is beating faster. I hope you haven’t forgotten how risky it is to lie to a Magos, my friend.”

“Forget not you place, bounty-hunter!” Diokleth’s threat was empty, and Shadow felt that.

“I heard, my friend, that the lost souls are young.”

Diokleth looks at Shadow with concern, leaning forward even more. “So they are. And the Barron Gold ordered us to leave it at peace.”

It did not take long for Shadow to realize what was hiding behind the soldier’s bravado. It seemed as he had some personal feelings regarding these events. Out of all the possible causes for Diokleth’s disturbed aura, one stood out.

“Who did you lose?” asks Shadow, moving his head towards the stage. Diokleth averts his eyes, quickly following Shadow’s movements and glancing over at the stage.

A small moment of silence engulfs the tavern as the band prepares the next song and devours the adulation of the crowd.

“THIS shall shake the deep ends of your hearts, my beloved audience!” Tribarr points forward with his bow, marking the beginning of a heart-warming tune.

“A niece.” At this point, Diokleth, with a heart of sorrow and an empty glass, forfeits to Shadow’s questioning. He feels that he had finally found the right person to avenge the victims.

“I have heard that the culprit is a creature hidden in an abandoned barn, belonging to the Pleonas family, at the center of these woods.” Says Shadow.

“A creature?!” says Diokleth disgusted. “That was surely worse than any creature. I have seen it once, during a routine patrol, wandering the woods.”

“What did it look like?” Shadow signals the bar-keeper to refill their glasses and hands over ten silvers before the bar-keeper even got the chance to respond. “I have heard it is made of flesh, with a mark on its eye.”

“Yes… Though it is hard to say what the creature looked like, I can say that it was amonst the most unholy creatures. When I saw it, I have felt a huge wave of fear, unlike anything I have encountered in my life. I fought hard to tame my mind and come back to my senses, as I ran away, containing a primal scream that wished to escape my mouth. The only thing that I remember is… Its teeth, hundreds of them, ready to snatch its victims and never let go.” Diokleth takes a sip of his drink and looks towards Shadow, as he reveals the scar beneath his left eye and long, dark hair. He takes a moment as the intimidating stature that Shadow was presenting seemed to soothe his fears and a strange wave of hope fills his hurting heart. He smiles “I do not see any shred of reluctance in your eyes, Shadow. Why are you not deterred by what I speak of? What atrocities have you witnessed in your life and what monsters have you bore witness to?”

“My name is Shadow. I have chosen it to fit my magical traits, but that is not the only reason. I have stared into the Great Abyss once before, as a child” Shadow puts his hand on Diokleth’s shoulder, and with a soft, calm voice, he says “And have gained enough knowledge from that darkness to know what you’re describing.”

“And what is that? Wh-what took my niece?”

“A demon.”

Diokleth shucks and nods his head. “The least, it explains why its victims are younglings. Only a demon’s soul is as stained as to hunt the innocent so.”

Shadow takes a deep breath as silence ensues in their conversation, and song fills the space between them. He leans backwards and looks up at the old ceiling. This marked the end of a long search, and the chance to grab fate.

“Do you intend to hunt that demon?” asks Diokleth.

“Yes.”

“Heh. Oh, Shadow, how strong my wish is for you to succeed, however, it is well known that hunting a demon, is a death wish.”

“I know.”

Surprised by the answer, Diokleth drops with glass, but the sound made is lost in the tune of the song. “If you so wish to die, then, why not choose to have a pretty girl suffocate you to death?”

Laughing, Shadow replies “I admire your imagination, my friend. But such death, is far more than anything someone like me can ask for. I have my ways, and my magic is strong.”

“You sound very confident.”

It was said that asking about a Magos’ magic would bring misfortune, and most people would tame their curiosity, but right now, that is a luxury for our drunken soldier.

“I have a reason to be as such. I have goal in mind. A purpose. This demon is not but a pebble on the road that my fate has pathed for me.” Confirms Shadow.

“I thought the same,” said Diokleth “until my stupid father went against Barron Gold’s orders. He could not fulfill them.”

Before Shadow could even ask what order the soldier was speaking of, Diokleth continued “My father received instructions to… “confiscate” some elvish slaves. Barron Gold is also a Magos. But just as you said that you have pierced into the Great Abyss, the Great Abyss pierced into him, as his heart is darker than it.”

Shadow felt the shift in the soldier’s heart. Although he was a violent cascade of uncoordinated emotions, one stands up. Hate.

“People have always wondered why he is the richest man in the empire. My father was close to finding the truth, and because of that, he refused to carry the order he was given.”

“And why did the Barron choose to leave the demon alone?” asks Shadow, playing with a wooden spoon that he found on the counter.

“Who knows? As far as I’m concerned, out of pure devilish boredom.”

The concert ends with a powerful harmony of strings being caressed, as some would say Tribarr was in love with his fiddle. Glasses were raised, pink cloths and roses were thrown by the young, red-cheecked ladies on the stage and hands were showing their wielders’ appreciation with loud claps. Cheers, shouts, and screams fill the tavern, as the sound of the instruments slowly fades and the band takes a bow.

Shadow and Diokleth shake hands as the soldier says “May your magic be pure and path righteous. When you slay that wretched demon, bring its head to me. I need a new trophy, my sister will love it.”

“I sure will, my friend, now go and rest. Your feet seem to fall asleep, and I need to start my chants and brew my potions.”

With a small chuckle, the soldier now leaves the tavern, looking behind one more time, as if saying goodbye to an old friend. It is safe to say that this unexpected encounter had shaken not only Diokleth, but also Shadow, as their fates seem to intertwine, bound to each other by a new friendship. In his heart, Diokleth could only hope for Shadow to return victorious from the upcoming battle, as he departs together with the rest of the crowd. Now he found something he had lost a long time ago. Hope.

Shadow’s body moves with a slight tremor as the purpose of his quest deepens with each new encounter, each day writing a new name in his glossary of light. He felt for a long time that his destiny was to bring light back into the world and weaken or even destroy the darkness he had seen all these years.

Turning towards the bar-keeper, Shadow asks “Bar-keep, have you got a room to spare?”

The bar-keeper nods “Aye, sir. For how long?”

Shadow replies as if speaking to himself, thinking about what the soldier said about the Barron. “For longer than I thought...”