The remains of the ruin came into view as the pair crested the ridge line of the trail. The huge, black stone building, with its arched buttresses and hideous designs, remained a horrific testament to the darker side of this world's history. Twisted forms of demonic creatures and arcane mastery found purchase on the carved surface of the ruin unlike anything Callia had previously seen. The massive main doors were crowned with winged beasts and tortured figures that sent a chill down her spine. Large stones littered the lawn leading up to the courtyard of the stone dwelling. The mighty structure bore many scars of attacks, including gouged walls, shattered rooftops, and broken gates. She noticed the aged black stone walls enclosing this ancient tower had seen much damage, judging from the thick cracks that spread like spiderwebs through the walls. The crumbling battlements left chunks of stone and mortar at the base of the tower.
"Not much of a going concern, is it?" Callia quipped, as she scanned the area in front of the ruin. "Still I can't say I like the look of this place."
"From the looks of the damage here, I'd say a mage battle took place here long ago. We will need to be on our guard. Mages are known to leave behind many terrible guardians to protect their legacy." Jaz'rin replied. "I am going to scout around the area. Stay put and stay hidden."
Callia glared at him, but did his bidding anyway. She crouched behind a large boulder and watched as he slinked off toward the ruin. A few moments went by as she lost track of his movements.
Damn rogues
, she muttered to herself, scanning the area for any sign of him. She shook her head and recalled the numerous times she had seen Verrshaun disappear before her very eyes just as easily.
Sneaky little bastards
!
For several tense minutes, Callia sat waiting for him to return. She let out a sigh of disgust and flopped down to the hard ground. She grabbed her backpack and pulled out her trusty haversack. From within it she produced a travel-worn journal, ink pen, and vial of ink.
Schooling her thoughts, she uncorked the vial and dipped the pen into it. She flipped to a blank page and began to write.
Dear Journal,
It has been weeks since I last took time to write down my thoughts. So much has come to pass. I have given much thought to the task at hand, yet can come to no real conclusions about such events. I have also thought much on the situation at home. I know deep inside my heart that I was wrong to so blindly trust Amakiir, but I can no longer deny that it did not expect him to betray me. Somehow I knew he would find a way to hurt me like he always did. By all that is good in this world, I should have known better.
That is the part of me that recognizes Jaz'rin as a potent addiction. I can no longer resist him. From the moment he levels those intense cerulean blue eyes upon me, my pulse begins to race and I can think no further than the pleasure he will give me. My soul calls out to his in a manner I've never known before. I can not seem to get enough of him. The sight of him, his scent, the way his hair falls down his back, the sensual manner in the way he walks, that incredibly sexy voice. It is all an aphrodisiac and I am helpless against it.
My need for him has increased a hundredfold since we've spent this time together in this strange world. He has made love to me in more ways than I thought possible. He has taken me to heights I never knew existed. Yet when faced with my feelings for him, he withdraws behind an arrogant façade. I suspect it is one that has helped him survive in the cruel world that is the Ilythiiri. He will not speak of his life before Amakiir freed him from slavery and has said very little of his relationship with my former lover. I know those experiences have scarred him deeply. My own tattered emotions clearly recognize that in him. I would gladly share his pain if he would but trust me enough to open up to me.
Sometimes I catch glimpses of the real Jaz'rin in brief moments when he has lowered his guard. In such moments when he believes that I am not watching him. Sometimes I feel like an intruder, but I can not give up hope that he will someday grow to trust me enough, to love me enough, and to confide his deepest secrets and his darkest fears. Because I would wish for nothing more than to live out the rest of my life with this wonderful man at my side.
I know that he is older than I am, by about sixty some years. And I know he fathered two daughters with the Matron of his house. Though I do not know how long ago that was or how old his daughters may be. I think it hurts him to know his daughters will grow up to be as cruel as their mother, following in the traditions that have governed all dark elf females.
If only...
If only I could give him such that would fill his heart.
Callia closed the journal and put it away along with the quill and ink. She gave into her wandering thoughts of what a child born of the green elf race and the dark elf race would look like. It would have dusky skin and jewel-toned eyes and hair that rivaled the beauty of a summer sunset. Callia brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek as she knew that would never be until he was free of whatever haunted him. How she ached for that day. She let out a tiny squeak as hand covered her mouth. "
Ol zhah uns'aa
(It is me)!" The dark elf whispered, silencing her quickly. "It is me!"
"
Xsa dos
(Damn you)!" Callia growled through clenched teeth.
"
VENORSH
(SILENCE)!" Jaz'rin hissed.
"
Vel'bol?!
(What)"
"
Udos ph' naut maglust
(We are not alone)!" He growled.
"
Vel'bol zhah doeb gaer
(What is out there)?" Callia snarled lowly.
"
Izznarg tagnik'zur saph aterruce
."
"DRAGON!" she squealed before Jaz'rin clamped his hand over her mouth.
"
Venorsh, l'essnil
!!!"
"Just who do you think you are calling me a 'wench'?" Callia retorted.
"Do you want to get us killed? The creature looked like a dragon. It has similar draconic features, but I don't know how closely related it is to the dragons from our realm. It is quite big. It has made its lair within one of the smaller wings of the tower. It appeared to be sleeping on a tremendous hoard of gold and gems. I filched this one for you." Jaz'rin winked as he tossed her a faceted diamond the size of her fist.
"Ph' dos vigh (Are you crazy)?" Callia hissed.
"Yes, mad with desire to please my beautiful
jalil
," he murmured as he embraced her. "Do you not like it?"
"It is beautiful."
"The
tagnik'zur
will never miss it."
"We had better hope not." She shook her head in skepticism as she dropped the stone into her pack. "Did you find a way in?"
"Of course I did, but we must be quiet about it. That means that clanking chainmail of yours must go."
"You can't expect me to remove my armor?"
"No, not completely." Jaz'rin dug into his pack and pulled out something black and handed it to her. "Put that on. It'll be more useful to you than your elven chain."
Callia examined the lightweight suit of silkiness. "What is it?"
"Shadowhisp silk. It'll help you blend into darkness around you."
"And this will protect me better than my armor?"
"Have I not said so? I would not risk our lives so foolishly," the dark elf sneered at her. "Just put it on."
Callia hastily removed her chainmail and slipped into the sleek softness of the Shadowsilk armor. It fitted itself to her contours, giving her a freedom she had not known with her mithral chainmail. "What is it made of?"
"Silk from the dreaded shadowhisp spider. What else would you expect from a dark elf?"
Callia groaned and shook her head. "Can we go now?"
He nodded and led her as silently as possible toward the ruin. Instead of heading directly to the tower's main door, he veered off to the left past a jumble of blackened stones to a gigantic crack in the wall wide enough for a thin humanoid to pass through. Jaz'rin shimmied through the crack and extended his hand out to Callia to help her make her way inside.
He attuned his infravision to the darkness of the large hall that spread forth before him. Though in tatters, massive tapestries still hung on the walls, their faded and torn images harkening back to the glory days of the now ruined tower. At the rear of the room sat an ornate chair on a raised dais. It looked nearly untouched by the ravages of time. In contrast, broken remnants of wooden trestle tables and benches littered the stone floor.
Upon exploration of the room, Callia discovered a heavy sack tucked beneath the tattered pillow resting upon the seat of the chair. She peaked inside, finding it full of glittery jewels and a bejeweled dagger. She tucked the sack into her haversack and continued her search of the dais. As she slipped behind the platform, she noticed the skeletal forms of two humanoids locked in a clutching embrace. She whispered a prayer, suspecting they had been lovers who had died together.
Moving passed them, she spied an archway concealed by the tattered remainder of a wall-hanging depicting a crest of faded arcane symbols. She softly whistled to Jaz'rin as she pushed it aside and stepped through the arched entrance. A small chamber lined with dilapidated bookshelves and more broken furniture was all that remained. She noted a curving staircase at the rear of the room. Her curiosity got the best of her and she picked her way across the rubble strewn floor to ascend the stairs.
What she found as she crested the top made her look twice. The circular chamber appeared far less touched by the passage of the ages. Its immaculacy gleamed in comparison to all she had seen so far. The walls appeared smoothly worked and tinted with a pale pink wash while the rest of the room beheld the finest luxuries. A large elaborately carved 4-poster bed made up the focal point of the room. A pristine bookshelf, wardrobe, artworks, and a vanity with a highly polished mirror filled the rest of the magnificently appointed room. A smoldering fire burned in the fireplace. As she made a circuit around the room, a wave of uncertainty settled in her gut. Something didn't feel right.
