Well, uh… after my lovely rant on porn, I’d like to get back on the topic of fantasy. Writing it in particular. One of my current projects closer to completion is a two-part epic called Heathersoul and Barrensoul. Set in a land with advances in culture similar to the dark ages coming into the renaissance age, where magic holds various power and influence over the lands and its secrets can cause great enlightenment or diabolical corruption. So there is a mystery/drama element to it, but there is also comedy, action/adventure, political, spiritual concepts as well as a touch of troubled romance. You’ve already seen images of some of the characters on the sight, so allow me to introduce them to you in their element:
***
“Land Ho!”
“Finally…” Amalia breathed, rising from her railing seat and stretching the stiffness from her neck and spine. The past three days had been quite boring. Reyson had resigned himself to the corner of the cafeteria, scribbling in his ragged leather bound book, but she just couldn’t handle the smell of the crowd of slaves that clearly didn’t bathe more than a few times a month, if that. Trying to keep track of Y’lenn was like trying to strain salt from seawater—half the time not even Jace knew where he was. She decided that so long as he was alive and didn’t endanger the welfare of anyone else, she was satisfied with not knowing what he was up to.
Something she came to regret, of course.
“I’ve… never seen the captain act like that in my entire life…” Stephen said, scratching his head. “Two days later and I still can’t believe it.”
“Why do you put up with that abusive nonsense?” Amalia asked him. “That kind of behavior is unacceptable.”
Stephen sort of looked out to the spec of land at the end of the strait that was now visible a bit wistfully. “I don’t bear the mark because I’m human, but that doesn’t make me any less his slave.”
“You can’t own people,” Amalia insisted firmly.
“You know he lost his family to non-humans in the war?”
“… No.”
“They were butchered quite mercilessly while he was in the military. You can imagine his distrust of his very own crew afterwords. Most of the humans left his service because he kept them after the legislation passed. I stayed.”
“Why?”
“I owe him my very life. Trust me when I say he doesn’t hate me or any of us.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“Miss Seaflame, is it so hard to believe that things are not so black and white? Does it always have to be about good and evil? I’ve come to the conclusion that you yourself are not human, but I don’t find you evil at all. Yet you are clearly capable of evil acts—especially that Esh descendant, but you’ve done no harm to me. I am human—am I evil to you?”
“Hm,” was all she said after a moment.
By noon they were anchored in the harbor and ready to disembark. Ohbron stopped Y’lenn with a malicious suspicion on the way out. “You didn’t have that sack when you waltzed your filthy feet onto my boat.”
“Is it a crime to carry a bag in Shendosa?” he asked in an almost mocking tone.
“What’s in the sack?”
“None of your business.”
“Y’lenn…” Amalia sighed. “Don’t be difficult… if you stole something, just return it and make life easier for all of us…”
“STEAL?!” he demanded. “Why Amalia, I’m offended that you would imply such a thing!! Me? Steal??”
“What’s in the damn bag, Y’lenn?” Reyson sighed.
“Purchased goods, thank you very much!”
“Prove it,” Ohbron growled. “Or I’ll lock you up so fast you won’t have time to wipe that disgusting smirk of your face. Mind you this is a Rajeran occupied port. I will turn you in.”
Y’lenn made a show of being miffed, then opened the sack that clinked and jangled with every movement. In it was enough hard liqueur to last him a year given the size of the bag. “See?”
“You dirty thief, you dare raid my shelves?!” Ohbron began, that vein beginning to rise under his temple again.
“Thief? Thief?! I bought these, you accusatory bastard!! Just ask Algharf!!”
Ohbron glared at his kitchen-keep and the Durg-blooded nodded. “Hard coin, sir. Kid was loaded the whole time. Iffit weren’t for him, I don’t think we coulda restocked so quickly.”
Ohbron scowled. “Good riddance, you filthy lot. You’re lucky I was paid so finely to cart your blasphemous hides across the strait—ah!”
He held his head in pain, Stephen moving to steady him but being brushed aside. “Are you alright, sir?”
“Migraine is all… get outta my sight you lousy heathens…”
“The feeling is mutual…” Amalia told him, exchanging a knowing smile with Reyson, the glow in her eyes fading.
“Clearly he doesn’t know the meaning of ‘heathen,’” Reyson muttered as they stepped off onto the docks. He gave Y’lenn a hard look as he slouched and immediately seemed to strain under the weight of his hefty purchase. “Should have thought about carrying all that alcohol before you bought it.”
“Heh…” he chuckled, shifting the weight over his shoulder. “I’m not that stupid.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see. Jace, help me out, man.”
Jace hefted the bag up and seemed surprised at how heavy it was. “Holy crap, buddy—planning a party?”
“You could say that…”
“And where did you get the money for all that god-awful stuff?” Amalia asked, having a feeling she knew the answer.
“I creatively and dexterously acquired it.”
“You stole it.”
“You and this… STEALING theory of yours…”
“Just… ugh. Just keep your hands to yourself while we’re here—at least until this recon fiasco is over with. If we get stopped, let me do the talking, will you?”
“Sure. You do the blabby, I do the stabby.”
“There will be NO stabby.”
“LAAAAAAAAME.”
Port Kellona was more of a fort, as Rajera had acquired it from Shendosa and was using it to push further east and south. Militia overran the place, which made them all uncomfortable to a degree. There was even a stonewall facing the harbor, making entry impossible not to notice. The gates were well fortified and observed. Amalia thought of it as disgusting. Y’lenn liked to think of it more as a challenge.
Predictably, a man in silver full-plate approached them with a lion etching on the left breastplate almost as soon as they were off the docks. They paused for him, and he nodded to each of them. “Amalia. Y’lenn. Reyson. Jace,” he addressed.
They all exchanged a glance. Amalia nodded. “Can we assume you’re with the Order of the Lion?”
“Indeed. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. Come with me.”
“Why always morning?” Y’lenn grumbled.
“Oh stop whining,” Amalia told him. “You can get into trouble AFTER we’re done here.”
“We can only offer so much protection,” the Knight told them as they walked the crowded streets. “This city is ten times worse than Azenra, so keep your faces and your appearances to yourselves. You will be attacked under the slightest suspicion.” He glanced at Jace. “Best find a leash for him.”
“Yeah… a leash,” Y’lenn teased.
“You keep your hood up—given what Ohbron told us, I don’t think it would take much for you to be lynched.” They approached a flat building with only thin slots for windows off of a filthy alleyway. He began to unlock deadbolts with a set of keys then led them into a barely furnished and cramped suite. “We cannot be held responsible for your irresponsibility, so for your own safety, please stay indoors as much as possible.”
“Are you implying that we’re irresponsible?” Amalia demanded curtly. Reyson elbowed her and gestured to Y’lenn and Jace. She cleared her throat.
The Knight either ignored her or had no answer. He handed the keys to Amalia and saluted. “Consider this your headquarters for now. We expect to see you at the Lion’s Hall an hour past dawn.” With no other explanation, he left at a brisk pace.
Reyson made a face and scuffed a bit of loose ash from the filthy fireplace—if one could call it that. “This just keeps getting better and better…”
“Bag,” Y’lenn ordered quickly, reaching for it. Jace hefted it over to him, and Y’lenn dumped it out, bottles and flasks clanking everywhere. However, there wasn’t even half as much drink as it had externally appeared. In the mess of alcohol was a very small being that tumbled out gasping for air.
“Fat lot of luck that was!” he cried. “I’m never doing that again!”
Amalia gawked and Reyson’s jaw dropped. “You smuggled a SLAVE off the BOAT?!”
“Eh. You give you take,” Y’lenn said with a shrug as he helped his new friend to his feet, brushing lint and dirt from his sweaty shoulders. “Cog here’ll be helping me with a few engineering projects, won’t you?”
Cog made a mock salute. “Sure am, my quarter demon friend! Freedom is sweet, yessir!”
“Are you CRAZY?!”
Y’lenn gave Amalia a very hard look. “You can’t own people, Amalia.”
Amalia opened and closed her mouth, unsure how he found her words and used them against her. “Are you trying to get us arrested? Killed?!”
“Prison and stake outs are for losers,” Y’lenn scoffed. He gestured to his new posse. “And clearly, we have won.”
“Yeah, for now,” Reyson warned. He took his book from his bag and started towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Amalia asked. “The Order of the Lion can’t protect us, it’s dangerous.”
“I’m human,” Reyson told her. “I’m going to go get the lay of the land—see what faces and names come up. If this is going to be our headquarters, I want to know what’s in every direction a mile from here.”
“I’ll come!” Y’lenn cried, jumping up.
“No, I’LL go,” Amalia corrected. “At least I look human. None of you could pass for human without a lot of magic, which we are sorely lacking.”
“But…but… there are bars to be ransacked…!”
“Dude, you just BOUGHT a bar,” Jace reminded him.
“It’s alright, Master Y’lenn,” Cog told him, starting a fire with a set of billows. “I can tell you how my great-great grandfather Ulysses was the first Jodari to travel to the Maho Wastes to the far, far east—”
Y’lenn got that cute and innocent begging look on his face. He even trembled his lip to try and get Amalia to take him with her, but to no avail. Her face was carved of stone; her arms affixed in a crossed position across her chest.
“It’s not safe, Y’lenn, otherwise I wouldn’t trust you alone.”
“For the love of the gods, if you obey one request in your life it’s this—stay inside tonight, please,” Reyson begged. “It’s moronic to try and tell you guys what to do, but seriously, Amalia’s right.”
“Tch,” was his final reply, which was as close to an affirmative as anyone could pry from him.
“Might I request a new set of clothes and a jeweler’s tool kit?” Cog piped up. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am?”
“Of course, Cog. Call me ma’am again, I’ll make sure you’re on the streets by dawn.”
Reyson shook his head vigorously at Cog behind her back with a “knock-it-off” motion and pretended to scratch his ear when she turned to join him out the door. “Don’t do anything stupid,” was his final request as they left.
Jace turned and looked to Y’lenn, who had just finished laying out every single bottle of alcohol he had bought with his ill-earned funds across the rickety wooden table. It filled the entire surface. He sat there and looked at it for a minute. “Wow.”
“Wow,” Jace echoed.
“Big score man.”
“No kidding. What are we going to do with it all??”
Y’lenn got a sly, fanged grin on his mischievous, pale face. “There is only one thing to do.”
“Are you serious??” Cog asked in amazement.
“LIQUOR PARTY!” Y’lenn and Jace slammed their heads into each other’s then scrambled to claim dibs on what looked most intoxicating. Cog was handed bottles that were almost as large as he was, and bewildered, he witnessed and eventually joined what the duo called a “tox-fest.” This involved an elaborate system of drinking games, sobriety tests (the worse the fail the better), mixology and the lack of memory of most of it the next day.
***
This of course, is still when Amalia is an insecure bitch and Y’lenn’s antics don’t involve killing people yet. Eventually, their ideals diverge and it becomes harder for them to work together. Which of course, is exactly the tension i want to convey in later chapters. If y’all enjoyed it, I will happily post more. Constructive criticism is welcome, but keep in mind this is an isolated chapter among many, and the full scope of the picture is not captured in this snippet alone.
Happy to share! Enjoy your week, y’all!
featured image by anikakinka on Deviantart.com
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