Sellsword Ch. 07 - The Avatar
Kal-Sorak stood much as they had left it. A town typical of it's time and place. Old stone building, none higher than two floors, lined cobbled streets, streets too narrow for two wagons to pass each other.
A wagon was rattling over those cobblestones, between the buildings at the edge of town. Garth, the sellsword, was in the driving box, while two women, Jarveena and Moira rode in the back, lounging amongst chests and large leathern sacks.
The sacks and chests held a vast treasure.
"I need to see Dargeth," Garth called back as he coaxed the draft horses through the narrow streets. "I was serious about having some of his ale shipped to Hawk," his scarred face was split by a broad grin.
"I'd like to taste some of his fabled ale," Moira chuckled.
"There's none better," Jarveena confirmed.
The small group was in high spirits; their coffers were overflowing with gold, and they had triumphed over the deadliest foe any of them had ever encountered.
Moira, quickly recovering from Wulf's death, was excited to be facing a new day and new adventures. Though she had said nothing to Garth or Jarveena, Moira hoped to remain with them for as long as they would permit. They had become a large part of her life.
"Dargeth!" Garth shouted. "You old drunkard, where are you?"
A short, stocky figure appeared from behind a wagon load of barrels. His long, russet beard was tucked into his wide leather belt, the stem of a pipe was clenched in his teeth. He squinted his eyes at the big warrior.
"About time ye got back, owin' me a fortune for all the ale I've been sending to that flop house ye call an inn."
Laughing, Garth took a purse from beneath the wagon seat and tossed it to the dwarf.
Dargeth snatched the purse from the air, and hefted in his gnarled hand.
"That should square us, old friend," Garth said.
"It should just about cover it." Dargeth agreed, as the purse vanished beneath his apron.
"Our old comrade, Hawk, has bought the Longsword Inn in Kaladur," Garth said, filling his pipe. "It's a nice place, but the ale is like Dragon piss. I want you to ship a load of your best ale to him."
"That purse will na' cover a wagon load, Garth," the brewmaster said, leaning against a wagon wheel.
"Hawk can pay for his own ale," Garth tossed Dargeth another purse, "this should pay for shipping."
"I'll get the shipment under way and meet ye at the inn," the dwarf said, then grinned broadly, "what did ye say the name of that dive of yours was?"
Dargeth looked at Moira, "My old comrade always did have the manners of a common clod." He doffed his cap and bowed at the waist. "I am Dargeth, Son of Boreth, Master Brewer and retired Free Companion." He cast an eye at Garth, adding, "and former friend of yon ill bred barbarian."
Moira laughed, making her eyes sparkle, "and I am Moira, Daughter of Shelton of Tarsk," she said. "Sorceress, and friend to Jarveena and Garth."
Dargeth took Moira's hand and kissed it. "I pledge you my strong right arm in friendship, Moira of Tarsk."
"I accept your friendship, Dargeth, Son of Boreth, and pledge you mine in return."
Garth snapped the reins, and the wagon rumbled off.
"I'll be a son of a bitch," Dargeth said as they left, "he's doin' BOTH of those lassies."
The sign on the door said "Preston's"
"What about the, ah, cargo?" Jarveena asked as the wagon stopped behind the inn.
"As soon as I cut the road dust, I'll carry it to the basement vault," Garth said, helping the women down from the wagon.
The cool air of the common room felt refreshing as the women let their eyes grow accustomed to the dim lighting.
"There's powerful magic present here," Moira said, instantly on her guard.
Jarveena's sharp eyes fell upon a solitary figure seated at a table in the far corner. He was robed and hooded, the hood hiding his features in dark shadow.
Jarveena recognized the scabbarded sword that lay across the table. "Gavin," she asked, "is it you?"
The figure lifted a hand and swept back his hood. The face now revealed was gaunt, dusky skinned and marked by the most hideous of scars. His hair was black, save foe two streaks of white that ran one from each temple.
But it was his eyes that struck the women the most. They were black, haunted eyes. Eyes set much deeper than Jarveena had remembered. The mark of many sleepless nights hung beneath them, and a fire glowed behind them that Jarveena had never seen before.
"What's wrong, Gavin?" Jarveena asked, approaching the table.
"A Stygian?" Moira wondered, following at a discreet distance.
Gavin's tormented eyes looked at Moira, "Who is the sorceress?"
"This is Moira, friend to Garth and me, and as much family as you and Robyn," Jarveena assured him.
"Where is Garth?" Gavin asked. His answer came immediately.
"GAVIN!" Garth roared from the side door, "what are you doing here? Where's Robyn?" Garth strode to the table signaling the barkeep for ale all around.
"Robyn is with her people, she can have no part in what I must do," the Stygian responded, his voice low and filled with pain.
Garth sat back and lifted his ale, "and what is it we must do?" The inclusion of himself was a mark of the depth of his friendship with the mage."
Gavin's black eyes grew harder, "It seems that it is time to repay Azog for all his years of patronage." Gavin paused, "I must destroy Set."
Garth looked at him, "Slaying a god! That should make for an interesting adventure." Garth leaned forward, "when do we leave?"
Gavin looked about the table and went on, "I was visited in my sleep. Azog told me to come here and wait. He told me I must send Robyn to her people, since she bore the fulfillment of Owl's prophesy. So I am here, Robyn is with her people, and I wait."
"Owl's prophesy?" Garth said, "She's PREGNANT?"
Gavin nodded, "So I could never risk her safety."
Before anything more could be said, the door flew open.
"Where's that damned skinny Stygian?" Dargeth bellowed from the doorway.
"Dwarf," Gavin said, "I had despaired of ever seeing your ugly face again." He grasped Dargeth's wrist in greeting.
When Dargeth had a jack of ale in his fist, Gavin recanted his tale so far.
"Is that all?" Dargeth said in disbelief, "JUST a god slaying? Have ye lost ALL of your senses lad?"
"It is a quest given me by Azog, I cannot refuse it."
At the mention of Azog, Dargeth's face lost all color. "The god of fear, again?" The dwarf recalled his first, and only, encounter with Azog, the god of fear. It was not a pleasant memory.
Gavin told of Azog's visit and of his instructions.
"Well," Garth put in, "that would be the end of your being pursued."
Gavin nodded, "yes, one way or the other."
As evening approached, Topaz, the serving wench arrived for work. Dargeth immediately gave her the once over. Her hair was dark blond and her eyes a deep ocean blue. While her body was concealed the tight bodice did lift her ample breasts high and squeezed them together provide the deep, dark canyon of cleavage that she displayed with such pride.
"New blood, Garth?" Dargeth asked appreciatively, nodding in Topaz' direction.
Garth called the barkeep over and asked about the serving wench, new to his employee.
"I had to hire someone," the barkeep began. "It gets too busy in here for me to handle alone. She does her job well and the customers seem to like her."
A roar of laughter erupted as Topaz poured a full jack of ale over the head of a too forward customer.
"That could be trouble," Garth said, about to rise.
Topaz defused the situation by planting a load, wet kiss on the customer's bald pate, then spinning out of his reach.
"How much are we paying her?" Jarveena asked. "Double it," she said when told the girl's wage.
As the evening became night, first Gavin retired, then Garth, arm in arm with Jarveena and Moira, went upstairs.
Dargeth remained in the common room, drinking ale, and watching Topaz. When the girl slipped upstairs, Dargeth followed.
Gavin sat on his bed, alone with his desire for Robyn's gentle touch. He was unable to sleep for worry over what was to happen. At last he lay back, looking up at the flaking plaster of the ceiling. The room became engulfed in a pale, blue-white light. The light grew from a place in the corner of the room, becoming brighter as seconds passed. It began to take a shape.
"Robyn?" Gavin gasped as the beautiful apparition stepped from the brilliance and stood at the foot of the bed. "Is it you? Is this your spirit? Are you. . .?"
"No, Gavin, my love, Brianna's soul keeps my body well, and I was able to conjure sufficient magic to visit you this way."
She approached the bed and sat beside Gavin. Her hand caressed his. Her touch was at once cool, but with the warmth of love. "I have a corporeal presence, my love," Robyn's voice was soft and musical. "I want to make love with you," Robyn said, slipping into bed with Gavin.