The male elf breaks the awkward silence. “I am Erefur. You must be Romulus. Welcome. Neral, thank you. Would you mind leaving us,” he said as more of a request than a question. “I will have someone return him to the guest quarters.” Neral bows and leaves.
“I am Romulus. It is a pleasure to meet you, Erefur. So… are you like the head guy,” Romulus says, unaware that the question is awkward.
“I suppose you could say that I am the leader of the community. But we don’t have titles here,” responds Erefur. “So, you are a pupil of Nikail? And from what I understand, you are one of the few who has the pleasure of calling him Preceptor.”
“Yes, sir,” Romulus bows his head. “I am anxious to learn, Erefur. Can I stay with you for a while and learn your magic? Do you have any spells I can scribe?”
“Whoa, slow down child,” Erefur holds up his hand as if to halt Romulus in his steps. “One thing at a time. I don’t believe you are done with the Preceptor yet; however, when you are done, we can discuss your next steps to enhance your power. But I think you are in good hands. The Preceptor is a true mage, both in craft and research. There is still much for you to learn from him. But he has asked a favor. This chest,” Erefur gestures to a treasure chest sitting atop a wooden table against the earth-toned wall, “has contents for the Preceptor. He would like for you to make sure it gets back to him. I will give it to you when you leave tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks Erefur,” Romulus pauses for about 30 seconds. “Is that all? Any tricks or spells for me?” Seeing the quiet frustration on Erefur’s face, Romulus quickly covers his words. “I’m just kidding. Thanks Erefur. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Romulus bows his head and leaves quickly, bumping into the wall as he turns around. “Idiot,” he thinks to himself. “Any tricks,” he mimics to himself. “I’m treating the guy like a neophyte. What am I thinking?”
Meanwhile, Nifen, Goth, Turo, Nafu, and Heron are escorted to the guest quarters that Romulus and Neral passed by a few minutes earlier. They enter a building that looks to be a modified jail cell. The windows have vertical steel bars every four inches apart. The door they enter is at least four inches thick and reinforced with flat steel bars on the outside. The inside offers no privacy as all ten beds are visible to each other. Looking at the floor, there are burrowed holes into the ground every four inches apart. The holes outline what would be four rooms, or cells, within either side of the building. Turo and Nafu approach separate beds and collapse their weight like a sack of potatoes on top of the beds. “I’m restin’,” Nafu announces. “This bed feelz amazin’.” Heron and Goth each approach a bed and sit down.
Nifen debates with himself. “I think I’m going to go explore the town a little. The bed looks tempting, though.”
“Suit yourself,” replies Heron. “I’m taking a nap.”
Nifen nods and leaves. He approaches a building that can only be the new jail. There are no windows in the building measuring 10’ by 10’. The walls have 2” metal bands every two inches apart covering some sort of cement under-structure, forming a zebra-looking box. The roof is flat and appears to be solid steel. As he approaches, he sees a male elf close the door and fasten some sort of padlock on the outside. To his left, Nifen can see Neral approaching and heading straight for him. Nifen stops and waits until Neral’s brisk strides reach him.
“Good day, Nifen,” Neral greets. “I’m sorry I needed to leave the rest of you earlier, but I am back to check if there is anything you need. Where are the others?”
“Oh, they’re taking a little nap. We had a long couple…” Nifen gets interrupted by the sight of some commotion a hundred yards away near the arena.
“Nifen, are you coming?,” sounds a familiar voice with rapid footsteps. As she runs by, Stateira announces, “I saw this from my house, and exciting things never happen around here.”
Neral rolls his eyes. “Pardon me, Nifen, but I should check out what’s going on.” Neral chases after Stateira with Nifen following a few feet behind him.
As the three approach, they see a crowd surrounding a single man. All they can see of the man is matted hair and a sword point that bobs above the heads of the crowd as the paranoid man dances in circles fending off his attackers. As they get closer, Stateira turns to Nifen and whispers, “it’s Jameyes!”
“Huh?,” Nifen speaks as his brain processes the stunning realization. “Where the hell did he come from?,” Nifen thinks to himself. He approaches some of the onlookers. “Please, back away. We know this man, and he has been a great help to us.” One elf lowers his bow and relaxes the tension on the bowstring. Another elf lowers his sword, but does not sheath it. Nifen looks over to see Stateira successful in relaxing some other surrounding attackers. Nifen looks across the circle to see an elf steadfast in his resolve.
“This crazy man… he come in… uninvited… waving sword,” the elf struggles to speak his non-native tongue in a language Nifen can understand. Just then, Jameyes lunges toward the elf with the drawn bow. The elf draws back the string another inch, where the tension would surely let an arrow fly right through Jameyes’ body.
Neral yells out to the elf in his native tongue, “Stand down! I believe our guests are correct.”
The elf knows his status, relative to Neral, but still can’t bring himself to lower his bow while a crazy man waving his sword stands a mere ten feet away. Meanwhile, Nifen worked his way around the circle to approach the anxious elf.
“Please,” Nifen says in his common tongue, but really wishing he had learned elven, knowing that his words would be better received by this apprehensive elf. “Please, back away and lower your bow. I will take your place in the circle. If he attacks anyone, I will stand in his way. Please let me handle this—hopefully, without bloodshed.”
The elf pauses, takes five steps back and lowers his bow.
Jameyes looks at Nifen with a sort of empty recognition. Then collapses to the ground.
Nifen rushes over. “He’s still breathing.”
Stateira and another female elf rush in. The female elf states, “He’s unconscious. I will take him to my home and help him to get well. If that’s okay with you?”
Nifen and Stateira help the middle-aged woman carry the collapsed Jameyes back to her house. Nifen tries everything he can think of to rouse the catatonic Jameyes.
“I think your efforts will be for not,” the elven woman states. “He needs rest and natural healing. He will wake when he is ready. Do not worry; I will look after him.”
Synopsis
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment